Her fingers threaded back into his hair again, slowly, as if she couldn’t stop them. “Insanity runs on the Anderson Y chromosome.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“Pussy works, you know. For a term.” He sank his tongue alongside his fingers into her pussy. She sucked in a breath. “But you have to stop doing that.”
“Then fine. Your pussy is hot and wet. Just for me.” He grinned up at her, his fingers still buried deep in her tight channel. He’d come to grips with the dirty words while creating apologies over his raging hard cock. “Is cunt too crude?”
Aaron loved the look of shock on her face. He had a feeling it took a hell of a lot to shock Charlotte.
She stopped gaping to ask, “You can say cunt, but I can’t say cock? Last night you were ready to keel over.”
“Time changes things. Ma’am has shown me that dirty talk is fun.”
The shocked look continued and she wet her lips. “How does a man go from being a former seminarian to asking me what he can call my woman bits?”
“Does it freak you out?”
“Yes, honestly.”
“Good.” He bent and continued his leisurely explorations. It didn’t freak him out one bit, but he also had a long time to come to grips with his reality. He swore now as a way to show his disobedience. You couldn’t F-bomb in church, so the F-bomb was now his bitch. And if he had been brave enough, he would have done this exploration much sooner.
Once his brothers had been drinking, talking about eating pussy and other manly things Aaron had thought beneath him at the time. How could anything as unsexy sounding as eating pussy be remotely fun? But now that he was tongue deep in the sweetest folds of the most incredible woman, he got it.
He understood why his brothers talked endlessly of how they enjoyed sex, watching a woman come, waiting for her reactions. The guys he’d met on film sets talked of how much pussy they could pound. How hard she would suck, how much she’d swallow.
But not his brothers. They got off on seeing how high they could take a woman. They saw it as a challenge. How much would she scream, how long would she last, how many big-O’s would she experience before the Anderson shot the moon in his own blaze of orgasmic glory. Three seemed to be the sticking number, and they had a contest going to see who could achieve more. He now understood completely, because he wanted those things and more for Charlotte. He wanted four.
“Aaron, stop.”
“Why.”
“Because I said so. Look, that’s your punishment. You are enjoying this way too much. So stop. Now.”
He wasn’t stupid. Somewhere in the beginning of foreplay, the power had shifted and she’d gone from hard bitch to soft and pliant in his hands. Gooey. Though the frosty bitch excited the hell out of him, soft and pliant Charlotte called to something deeper. Something that liked being in control.
But the power was tipping again, like a seesaw on the playground, and it wasn’t going his way. “Don’t you want to come?”
“No.”
How did she go from jungle hot back to ice cold? “Baby, I’m camped out for the first time at the South Pole, wanting nothing more than to watch the fireworks, and you say no? Because I’m good here. Waiting for you to come. I’m Occupying Charlotte.”
“Let’s just say the moment for fireworks has passed.” She struggled, slammed her long legs shut on the international border and exported the hell out of his hands.
Huh?
“Did I do something wrong?”
She scooted up the bed and put a pillow over her lap, her knees to her chest, eyeing him the way she would something suspicious. “No. Not everything is about you, love.”
“Baggage.”
“Andersons are as smart as they are horny.”
He rolled onto his back and squeezed his eyes shut tight. Then he slung his arm over them. “Should I have done more with the G-spot? Because honest to fuck, I tried to find it. I’m assuming I was close, but it’s all so hot and wet down there—”
“Where are you getting this information?”
“The Internet. You can learn just about anything on the Internet. I could grow cotton in the back yard and raise llamas in the front. But instead, I chose South Pole explorations, which did me a fucking world of good.”
She made this noise in the back of her throat—it wasn’t pleasant. “No more Internet for you. Punishment.”
“What? No! Fuck that. You’re…dragon mean.” He yanked his arm off his face and titled his head back to glare at her upside down face. “And frosty hard.” He sounded fifteen instead of his age, but damned if he didn’t feel like a jilted teen told no in the back of his mother’s station wagon.
She pursed her pink lips into hard lines. “No more Internet. You want to learn about sex, you talk to me. God only knows what you’ll find out there and try to do to me.”
“Oh, so now I have to ask you? Really?
Ma’am?
” He slung his hand back over his eyes. His balls hurt like a motherfucker. His dick throbbed. And he just wanted to go back to the South Pole. “If you hang with Jake, you’re probably the queen of kink. I should be more worried about what you’ll teach me. Immoral, wicked things.”
“You’re sounding judgmental, Aaron,” she said softly. “Don’t make me kill you.”
“You’re already killing me.” But he sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m being a punk, as you like to call me. I’m sorry you have baggage. I wish I could make it easier for you, so that you would feel comfortable to come with me. Punish me at your will.”
“That was almost…nice.”
He dragged his arm off his eyes. She stared down at him, still upside down, her violet eyes surprised.
His cock demanded he be nicer. “What can I do to make it
really
nice?”
“Why didn’t you become a priest?”
Well,
that
wasn’t what he expected to hear. He sighed. “Really? You want to talk about that instead of letting me make you come.”
“Share and I will reward you.”
Aaron didn’t share well, despite the fact that her voice made sharing sound like a dirty, wicked promise. “What if we trade baggage? I let you snoop in my carry-on, I get a peek at yours.”
She frowned. “No deal.”
He flung his arm back over his eyes. The silence grew. His cock throbbed over aching balls.
Shit.
“I didn’t become a priest because it wasn’t what God intended.”
“Why not.”
Why?
Burning question. Hard, shameful answer. “I don’t know why. Go ask God. According to some song he’s riding the bus downtown.”
She giggled. His Danger Girl. Giggling. “I’m not looking for divine intervention. I want to know what made you, Aaron, stop the chosen path in his tracks and tuck tail.”
He sighed again. She wanted to trust him and would reward him for doing so. But the old Aaron was hidden behind the punk because he was chicken shit of everything. “Can you believe no one has asked me this? No one. Not my mother, or any of my brothers, or anyone.”
“That must be difficult.”
“They’re ashamed, I’m sure. Though I got out before I was a laughing stock. It’s not a sin to change your mind in the seminary. But no one asked.”
“I’m asking,” she said softly.
Would she reward him for the truth? He hoped so. He sucked in a breath and blew it out. And said, in true punk style, “I left because I had a hard time not picturing Madison Greeley naked underneath me, screaming the lord’s name in vain.”
“Oh, Aaron.”
He gulped and suddenly wanted to tell her everything. The truth was like a hundred pounds of pressure hanging in a sack noosed around his neck. “That’s not the only reason. But I went from having no trouble keeping my thoughts pure to having the dirtiest mind on Earth. And I was so freaking lonely. I know you’d never believe that I’m shy, but I am. I’d rather hide in my room than make friends.
“It came down to did I want to be horny, lonely, and obedient for the rest of my life? You know I’m not obedient. Prayer eventually showed me that the path I had chosen was for the wrong reasons.” He shrugged. “It went from feeling like home to being…home at eighteen when you can’t wait to get out.”
“That must have stung.”
“Yeah.” Stung wasn’t the right word. It was like a machete to his heart, to his mind, hacking away parts of him he thought he knew and understood. “So I moved out here, again for all the wrong reasons, but I think it’s worked.”
“I don’t agree.”
“No?” He took his arm off his eyes and met her upside down surprised gaze.
She shook her head. “If it was working, I wouldn’t be here.”
“Then thank fuck it didn’t work.”
She gaped at him. He at her, because he couldn’t believe he’d just said that, either. But then she smiled, her cheeks dimpling with radiance. She leaned in and kissed him, upside down, her lips soft and persuasive. He closed his eyes and thanked God that it hadn’t worked.
“I’m going to blow you,” she whispered. “For sharing the truth.”
“Okay.” He gulped. His balls turned into little rocks of blue ice beneath a shaft of concrete. He didn’t want to lie down for this. Too many bad memories. “Can we change positions?”
“You don’t want to lie down.”
“No.”
“Why?”
He winced. “Can I tell you why another time? I’m horny. And I can’t lie here, under you. Please? Ma’am?”
She glanced around the room. “Why don’t you sit in the chair by the window?”
“Okay.” He rose and shucked his underwear, a little self-conscious. Usually, he had no problem walking naked anywhere as long as women didn’t drool. But she was staring and he never cared more about what someone thought.
He glanced at Charlotte. She leaned forward on the bed, watching each step intently. She seemed to devour him, which was cliché, but that’s how he felt. Licking, lapping, biting from her gaze, every inch of him from mouth to cock swallowed whole by those violet eyes. That was probably the only thing he didn’t like about being an actor because it made him uneasy to have women stare like that. Like Charlotte was staring.
He sat and she scooted off the bed, down to her knees on the area rug. She crawled to him, so sexy, feline. Which was hot. And odd, but way hot, her gaze fastened to his cock.
She gave him a feral smile as she licked her lips. The panic shot up, out of his gut, numbing his limbs. He freaked inside, quaking. “You’re not going to hurt me, right?”
She stopped crawling and rose up between his thighs. “You are a pansy.”
But he wasn’t. Not really. He swallowed, his heart hammering so hard, sweat breaking out on his palms. “Can I tell you something?”
“If you must.”
“My first time with a woman was…bad. And I’m…nervous.”
“You mentioned that last night.” She sat back on her heels, so pretty and confused, naked at his feet. “I’m sorry. Can I ask what happened?”
“I should tell you, so you’ll stop calling me a pansy. My cock is getting a complex. But you can’t laugh.” His cock wasn’t worried. It was hard and at attention, but he was still nervous.
“Okay. I promise not to laugh.”
He closed his eyes. “My first time was with Paul’s kinky friend’s even kinkier older sister. She handcuffed me to a bed, spanked the shit out of me with this weird, crop thing. Then she sucked me, scraped the shit out of my dick with her teeth and then rode me until she screamed and came all over.”
“And you didn’t enjoy this?”
Aaron hung his head. “It sounds like it should have been mind-blowing for a sixteen-year-old, but it wasn’t, even though I did come about fifty times. That’s why I ran to the church, so I wouldn’t have to do that again. Ever. Only here you are, and there’s my cock, and I am scared as shit. So don’t hurt me.”
“Oh, Aaron. How horrid.” She touched his thigh with the pads of her fingers. He didn’t dare look at her despite the compassion in her voice, so he closed his eyes. “I’m so sorry you were treated that way.”
“I pick on Jake and them for being kinky bastards because I don’t get it. How can they enjoy
that
?”
“Kink isn’t like that. Not at all,” she soothed. “Why don’t you come back to the bed? I wish to hold you.”
He opened his eyes. She rose, held out her hand, and he took it. They climbed onto the bed, she on her back. He laid his head on her right breast, his mouth so close to her nipple, but he had no desire to suck it. One delicate hand sank into his hair, and she smoothed the strands, the other caressing his jaw.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I’m sure I’m not helping.”
“No.” He inhaled her floral scent, his heart settling. “I know, pansy me. But that’s why, Aaron James, at thirty-one, is no sex god. And no Anderson.”
“Shame on Paul. Did you ever tell him what that slut did?” She sounded indignant and protective, all at once. For him.
“No. He just laughed and slapped me on the back and asked if I liked fucking her. He thought he’d share the action, since I was his twin. He’d been screwing anything not nailed down since fifteen.”
“Did they all start that young? Your brothers?”
“Well, Jake was sixteen, but he had a girlfriend. She later became his fiancé.”
“Maria.”
“He told you?”
“No, but I lived at the ranch for a bit with your mum. Jake talks in his sleep, too, so I know enough.”
“Yeah.” Aaron snuggled deeper into her cleavage. “My first experience with sex was watching Jake and his girlfriend in the hayloft. It was beautiful. He loved her so much, and he was gentle. She wasn’t.
“Holy hell, she was almost abusive, yanking his hair, screaming for him to fuck her harder. But he would just laugh and they’d finish, and then do it again, and again. All afternoon. So much better than porn. I think I jacked off more that summer than ever.”
He cupped the breast opposite of his cheek, unable to resist her soft warmth after dealing with those memories. “So how could Jake go from beautiful to that kink? How?”
She skimmed her palm over his forehead, smoothing back his hair. “Kink can be beautiful, too. I’m sure he has beautiful, kinky sex with Tia. It’s about making sex more exciting. Feeling more, experiencing the most you can with someone. It doesn’t have to hurt, or be dirty, or shameful.”
“You’ve done kink.”
“Oh, yes. You name it; I’ve done it, except for ménage and the more dangerous or painful things. My husband was a kinky bastard.” She tipped his chin up so he looked at her. “A blowjob isn’t kink, though. It’s just oral sex, something normal people do quite a bit.”