Bad Behaviour

Delaney smiled and did it again, harder this time. Then she licked him from base to tip, stroking that sensitive patch of skin over and over, feeling his cock twitch with her every touch. Tilting her head slightly, she opened her mouth to suck on the shaft so that her lips were half around him, moving her head just to tease him, letting him feel the warm heat on one side and nothing on the other. She held him in place with one hand, slid the other up his back, over the marble-hard cheeks of his ass.

And she was betting it was a perfect ass, but as hard as it was, it was nothing compared to his cock. Hunger stirred in her and she substituted her hand for her lips, stroking the hard shaft of him as she positioning her mouth over his glans. And then she took him deep and fast.

It ripped a groan from him. And how was it that as she licked his most sensitive spots, she was the one who was feeling the growing heat of arousal between her thighs? There was no mouth on her breasts, no hands between her thighs, only the sound and the textures, the hard and the soft of giving him pleasure. She moved the circle of her mouth over his shaft, working him with one hand below, where she couldn’t reach.

And then she took a breath and bobbed her head down, taking him deep, taking him all the way in.

A curse exploded out of his lips. His fingers clutched her shoulders, digging in mindlessly as she did it again, then once more. And then he was holding her head with shaking hands. “Stop or I’m going to lose it right now.”

“So lose it.”

“No way. There’s too much else I want to do.” He drew her to her feet. “And the first thing is to get you out of that dress.”

He dragged the green fabric up over her head. Delaney raised her arms up to help him, laughing softly. “Aren’t you worried about being naked out on the balcony?”

“I don’t give a damn,” he muttered, pressing her back down on the chaise. “Besides, if you’d stop arguing and lay back, you’d be out of sight.”

And with a chuckle of delight, she obeyed.

For a minute, he simply stood and stared at her. It made Delaney’s breath come faster, the look of total absorption, discovery in his eyes. Then he started to touch. His hands were urgent and a little bit rough as he unsnapped the clasp of her bra and peeled back the cups. Like being tugged out of the bar, it turned her on in some elemental way. She liked it a little rough. She liked him rough.

When he bent to her, she drew in a breath of giddy expectation. She could feel the heat of his mouth on her skin. At the touch of his tongue on her nipple, she said his name. But when he blew on it, bringing her a momentary chill, he won a moan from her. And the dark red nub furled into a tight bead.

Delaney stared in awe. “You didn’t know how to do this in eighth grade.”

As though ravenous, he drew her nipples into his mouth one at a time, sucking them, licking them as he molded her breasts with his hands. Each touch sent a pulse through her body, setting up an answering throb of arousal lower down. Lightly, playfully he bit at one of her nipples with his teeth, sending a sensation through her like an electrical shock.

She jolted and gave a strangled cry. “You definitely didn’t know how to do this back in eighth grade,” she gasped, fighting for breath as he did it again.

He shifted, licking his way down over her flat belly. “I’ve learned a few things since then. Want me to show you?”

“Show and tell was always my favorite part of school,” she managed, moving against that wet, tantalizing touch, the light brush of fingers that had her shivering.

“Me, too. Although maybe I should concentrate on the tell part—I’m better with my mouth.” He moved down, settling between her parted legs, curving his arms around them, his rough cheek next to her skin.

Delaney prepared for his onslaught, but all he did was lick first one thigh, then another. Slowly, he kissed his way closer to where she ached for him to touch her. When he finally did, it was only with the tip of his tongue, stroking those private lips folded protectively together. She quivered at the contact. He gave a long, leisurely stroke of his tongue, then another, tracing a gradual furrow into where she was already slick and hot and wanting. With his fingers, he traced the dip, then for a breathless, whirling instant, he opened her to his gaze, his breath.

And then the shocking heat of his mouth was on her.

Her body bucked against him. He’d learned, oh, he’d learned since junior high, things she’d never had any idea of back then. Liquid caresses, slick patterns that tormented as much as they satisfied. If his tongue had teased her in their kisses, that was nothing compared to what it was doing to her now, flicking over her clit, stroking it. And each touch sent a pulse of arousal to every part of her body. She moved helplessly, moaned as the tension wound tighter, like an arc of heat across her hips.

When he brought one of his hands back under her, she barely noticed. Until his fingertips moved lower to find other places, other sensations even as his tongue and lips drove her relentlessly.

She didn’t know she could teeter so completely on the edge of orgasm, be dragged higher and higher still without going over. She was stretched tight as a wire, heart pounding, lungs tight, every fiber of her focused on that one spot where he used his mouth, his lips and tongue to torment her with desire. Then he pushed his fingers inside her and it was that that had the orgasm exploding through her, tearing a strangled gasp from her throat even as she jolted against him.

He didn’t stop, though. He kept at her with his mouth, so that the climax went on and on. And startlingly, instead of ebbing away into hypersensitivity, the sensations began to swell again to another peak, this one bigger, more powerful. She cried out in shock, in arousal, in pleasure, and when she finally went, it rocketed through her body, wracking her with intensity, sending her shaking against him with a single, long gasping cry.

Followed by helpless laughter.

He raised his head. “You’re laughing?” he growled. “You’re not supposed to be laughing. You’re supposed to tell me this was a life-changing experience.”

“Oh, it was, it was,” she assured him, giggling helplessly. “But we’d better get inside before someone calls the policia on us.”

“More like the Federales. They probably thought someone got murdered.”

“They don’t call it the little death for nothing.” She levered herself upright and sagged against him, finding her legs almost too weak to hold her up. “Although I’m not usually so loud.”

He moved back to let her through the door. “I’m not buying that,” he said, following her into the room. “I bet you make all kinds of noises.” He caught her around the waist from behind and swung her onto the bed, making her yelp. “Like that.”

She turned into him with a throaty chuckle. “Give me reasons to make noise and you’ll see.”

And then he did and the laughter was forgotten.

How extraordinary it was that they could morph that quickly from heated intensity to laughter and back to passion. His mouth was urgent against hers, his hands demanding on her breasts. When she slid her fingers down, she found his cock harder than ever, almost flat up against his belly.

“Tell me you were serious about those condoms,” he said hoarsely.

“In my bag, on the bedside bureau.”

He handed it to her. With clumsy fingers, she dug out the condom, tore open the package. “Roll over on your back,” she murmured.

“Wait, I want to—”

“Roll over.” She pressed his shoulder.

DON COULDN’T REMEMBER having been so turned on in his entire life. His cock ached, he ached with the need to drive himself into her. He waited to feel her roll on the condom.

Instead, he felt the warm heat of her tongue. And his fingers clenched the sheets. “I want to be in you,” he said raggedly. Then he realized that she was rolling the condom onto him with her mouth. And even through the latex, he felt the soft stroking pressure that had him grinding his teeth. “You really are trying to drive me crazy, aren’t you?” His voice was tight with strain.

Delaney just chuckled, but she started using her hand, too, to speed things up.

He wasn’t sure if that made things better or worse.

And then it was on. She worked her way up to straddle him. “Now, what was that about being in me?” she murmured.

He caught her by the shoulders and flipped her onto the mattress and poised himself over her. She looked like some goddess of eroticism, her eyes large and dark, her lips swollen from his. And with a mischievous, knowing smile, she reached down to take him in her hands, to rub him through the slickness between her thighs.

It had come to this, all the anticipation, all the banter, all the caresses. It had come to this breathless moment when it was just the two of them, their naked bodies and no barrier at all between what was him and what was her.

And then he pumped his hips and the two were one.

It tore a cry from her, a cry echoed by his groan.

“Is it all right?” He trembled with the effort of not moving in the sheath of her tight, wet heat.

She let out a held breath. “Oh, yeah,” she said, and he began to slide, cautiously, clenching his jaw with the need for control. “Oh, glory, it’s better than all right,” she breathed. “And it’ll be better still when you really fuck me.”

“That’s what I’m doing,” he told her.

“No, right now you’re trying to be careful, trying to go slow.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Trust me, big boy, you won’t.”

Gradually, his strokes lengthened, deepened until he was moving rhythmically. He’d tried to imagine it all those years ago, taken the stories he’d heard, the kisses he’d stolen, the fevered moments he’d had of finding his own private release. He’d tried to imagine what it would be like to slide into her, how soft, how slick, how hot.

He’d fallen miserably short of the mind-blasting pleasure. She was under him, lithe and strong, her legs around his waist, pumping her hips against him, tightening on every stroke so that every inch of him was straining to hold himself back. And oh, those throaty little moans of hers worked on him, pushing him even closer to the point of no return.

“Come on,” Delaney muttered, clutching his back, wrapping her legs up higher. “You can do better than that. Let it go, let it go. Oh, like that.” Her voice rose like an incantation as he pumped harder, faster. He felt her rake his back with her nails and the last vestiges of civilization fell away. Unleashed, he stroked into her, searching out his own ecstasy, hearing hers in her cries.

Pleasure became pain, pain became pleasure, labels irrelevant in the face of such utter sensory overload. Delaney felt him so deep she thought he was going all the way through her. Every instant she was sure she couldn’t take another moment of it, and she couldn’t bear to have it end as each stroke dragged her past any feeling she’d ever known. So she clutched at his slippery back, trying to hold on to her sanity even as she cried out without volition, her body drawn tight with tension. She felt the orgasm looming, building, swelling, enormous and more intense than she’d ever felt before with anyone.

Head flung back on the pillow, she opened her eyes and found Dom staring down at her, his eyes burning with heat, his face taut. “Come on, give it to me,” he muttered and slammed into her hard.

And suddenly the climax exploded along her entire body, shaking her, shattering her into a million burning pieces. Dimly, she heard herself crying out and felt Dom stroke a handful of times more before he spilled himself into her while she was still convulsing.

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