Forever Pucked (27 page)

I make another noise. It’s similar to gears grinding. “That sounds fucking fabulous, Alex.” I pop the button on my jeans and yank the zipper down.

He’s still standing between my thighs and holding my hair, so I can’t do much more without some help.

He loosens his grip. “Lie back for me, please, baby.”

I do as I’m asked, because—hot damn!—after more than a month of me riding him and feeling compelled to be careful, we’re going to get our fuck on. But as a bonus, my ass has never been tighter.

I shiver when my back hits the cold granite, and flinch when I bang my head in my zeal to obey.

Alex pauses with his thumbs hooked in my belt loops. “You okay? Is it too cold? Should I take you upstairs?”

And there he is, my sweet, awesome fiancé, being his considerate self even when he’s hornier than hell and ready to bang me until I see stars and the Milky Way comes shooting out of my vagina.

“No, I don’t want to go upstairs. I want to get naked, and I want you to do what you said you were going to do.” I push my jeans and panties over my hips and pull my knees up so I can get them off.

Alex gets with the program and helps out. Except I’m in such a rush to get my pants off I don’t bother to lose the socks first, which complicates things. As much as skinny jeans look good on, they can be a pain in the ass to get off. We finally manage to wrestle me free of them. I shimmy back up on the island until my hair hangs over one end, and I can plant my feet at the other.

If I turned ninety degrees, I’d have a lot more room, but Alex’s hands are already smoothing up my shins, and I’m not about to stop him.

I spread my legs nice and wide so he’s got lots of room to work. He stops at my knees, frowning as he stares at my naked beaver. “Uh…Violet?”

I look down to see what has him so concerned. Which is when I remember I had my beaver decorated.

“Oh! Um…surprise!” I throw my hands up in the air and wave them around.

Alex sweeps his fingers over the awesomeness that covers my bare beaver mound. “How did you get these on here?”

“With glue. Like it?”

“Uh…”

“You don’t like it?”

“No, no, I like it,” he says quickly. He traces the outline of the letters that spell
Waters’
in red Swarovski crystals. Below that is a tiny beaver crafted out of more crystals. “Do I have to be careful? Like, do I need to worry about friction? Will I rub them off?”

“Uh, no? They’re stuck on pretty good. I think.” My waxer/beaver beautifier promised they’d stay on for at least a week if I covered them with Saran Wrap before I shower. I imagine they’ll stay put with friction, too, but I didn’t ask that question specifically. However, I’m not about to lose out on hot sex to preserve my vagazzling.

“This must have taken a while.” He settles both hands on my inner thighs.

“About an hour.”

“I’m gonna ask you an important question, ’kay, Violet?” His hands glide lower, thumbs skimming my beaver lips. Back and forth, up and down. He’s about half an inch shy of my clit on either side. I spread my legs wider, hoping to encourage a little clit rubbing while we converse about my bedazzled girl parts.

I moan instead of using words, because all I want is for him to touch me, damn it, and he’s not.

“What’s the person’s name who did this for you?”

That’s a weird question. “Jamie.”

Alex’s eyes lift to mine. The right side of his jaw tics. Oh, shitballs. I’ve seen that look before a few times.

“What does Jamie look like?” he asks.

I roll my eyes when I realize what he wants to know. “Jamie’s a girl, Alex. There aren’t any boy vagazzlers.”

“Right. Of course not.”

I’m not about to tell him Jamie has a girlfriend, though. I’m not her type, anyway, and I like penis way too much, especially his. Which I’m definitely getting a dose of soon, if he can stop asking about the blinged-out beave.

I might be less tolerant of his insecurity if I didn’t know he was struggling with not having been his full-on alpha, protective self for the past month. But because I realize how challenging it’s been, I’m much more patient. Also, his fingers are close to my vag.

And then I get what I’ve been waiting for: Alex grazes my beaver button.

I whore-moan nice and loud. I also lift my pelvis to encourage more contact.

Alex mutters a low
fuck
and starts circling, slow and soft. It’s killing me, but I’ll take it. The torture is definitely going to be worth it. We have more than four weeks of pent-up hot-sex-on-hold to release, and this is likely going to be round one of many as Alex recovers his stamina.

I’ll need to make sure I have Epsom salts handy.

“Know what I love?” Alex’s voice is all sexy rasp. His attention is fixed on his fingers, still circling.

I have a feeling I already know the answer to this question, but Alex wants to tell me, because sometimes he likes to say dirty things. “What do you love, Alex?” I mostly moan his name.

His eyes flip up to mine. Mother of all things orgasmic, the expression on his face alone is almost enough to send me hurtling through Come-topia.

He slides one of his amazing fingers inside me. My eyes roll, taking away my fucktastic view for a second. He waits until they roll back down before he answers. “How wet you always are for me.”

Alex often comments on the rainforest-like state of my vag when he’s all up in there making me feel good. It’s as if my wetness is a litmus test for his sexiness.

“I can’t help it,” I tell him. “You’re just so good at making me hot.”

He adds another finger, fluttering faster. “Do I make you feel good?”

“So good.” I grip the edge of the counter behind my head and start rolling my hips to help him reach the goal. I have a feeling I’m going to be the recipient of a lot of orgasms.

The first one is like being punched in the clit with a gift bag of awesome. I moan Alex’s name extra loud.

“That’s it, Violet. I can’t wait to fuck you with my tongue.”

“Oh my God, yes, please.”

I’m not even done coming yet when he covers my still-throbbing clit with his mouth and starts sucking. I shriek and try to get away from his tongue, but he splays his hand out over my boob and holds me in place.

Releasing my death grip on the edge of the counter, I grab his hair and pull, hard. Alex groans and sucks even harder. My entire field of vision clouds with a starburst of white, a black haze crowding the edging. I can’t stop coming; it’s insane. I’m chanting something incoherent—words interspersed with moans.

I clamp his head with my thighs, and when my vision finally returns to normal, I look down my body, past where he’s holding onto my boob, over my stomach and bedazzled vagina mound to where his nose is pressed right below the crystal beaver.

His dark gaze is locked on my face. My mouth drops open when he stops with the rough sucking and starts the tongue swirls. He’s going to kill me with orgasms. I pull in a gasping breath when he leaves my poor, overstimulated beaver button, replaces his fingers with his tongue inside me, and makes good on his dirty promise to fuck me that way.

It’s like he’s trying to eat me alive, but not in a horror movie kind of way, in a love-the-fuck-out-of-me kind of way. Maybe I should vagazzle more often.

I think he’s going for an orgasms record. I don’t even know if I’ve stopped coming since I started. I throw my head back, but I don’t connect with granite. Instead my head hangs over the edge of the counter. The living room is upside down behind me.

Across the room I can see it’s dark out now. And the windows offer a mirror-like reflection of Alex’s massive, broad shoulders and his head between my legs. Wow, do we ever look hot. This is some seriously intense foreplay we’ve got going on. I glance to the right, where the sliding glass doors provide another version of the view, so of course the orgasm that hasn’t stopped revs right back up. I’m shuddering and moaning and fisting Alex’s hair while I grind all over his face.

He lifts his head and swipes across his mouth with the back of his hand. His chest is heaving, abs tight, expression fierce as he drags me down the counter toward him.

I try words, but all I get are some sounds and maybe part of his name.

His right dimple pops. “What was that?”

I push up on my elbows. It’s not that easy since my body seems to be made of wet noodles. “So many orgasms.”

“You want more?” He slides his hand into his Super MC boxer briefs and pushes the cotton down until his cock pops out. It’s one of my favorite parts of his body.

He really doesn’t need to ask. I think it’s pretty damn obvious with all my scream-coming that I’m more than happy to be on the receiving end of his orgasm gifts. But Alex would like to hear me say it, so I’m going to go ahead and give him what he wants, so he’ll give me what we both want, which is his magical dick inside me.

“Please.”

He’s stroking himself. I can’t decide where I want to look—at his gorgeous face or at his wide palm wrapped around his enormous cock.

“Please what?” He circles the head a few times with his thumb before he reverses the motion.

“I want more orgasms.” I scoot forward. The counter is slippery under my ass, possibly from my excessive coming, possibly from Alex’s sloppy eating.

Alex takes a step closer so his thighs rest against the counter. He taps my clit with the tip of Super MC.

I moan, because really, he’s so hot, and I’m so ready to be fucked.

“You want my cock, baby?”

I shudder and nod. “So bad.”

He keeps his eyes on me while he rubs the head up and down my slit. “You want me to fuck your pussy?”

Jesus. He’s really into the dirty talking today. Not that I’m opposed. I’m not. He just hasn’t been like this in a long time, and I’m surprised at how much I’ve missed this side of him.

“Yes, please.”

Alex palms the back of my neck with the hand that isn’t gripping the Super MC and encourages me to sit up. We both look down as he lines himself up and the head disappears.

He doesn’t give me any more. Instead he pulls out and glides the head back up to circle my clit. I lean in and kiss his chin. His whole face smells like me. We’re both going to need a shower after this, and the island is going to need a hose down.

He lifts his head until his lips touch mine. I cup his face in my hands—they’re shaking, my whole body trembling with anticipation and residual orgasm aftershocks.

“I need you,” I whisper against his vagina-flavored lips.

On the next pass down he goes in a little farther. “How much of me?”

“All of you.” I’m not actually just referring to his Super MC, though I’d be more than happy to hug all of him. I’m referring to the entire package of gorgeous, sexy, NHL-playing, sometimes insecure, sensitive, alpha, polite, and thoughtful man.

Alex must sense this, because his eyes stay on mine as he eases inside, inch by mind-numbingly amazing inch. We both whore-moan. It feels so good to be full of him.

“I love you.” He strokes along the side of my neck.

“I love you back.” I nibble on his bottom lip.

He kisses me. It’s soft and warm, full of all the things I need: love, tenderness, and desire.

Neither of us does any hip shifting. I sit with my legs spread wide, topped up with Super MC, while we make out. Eventually Alex breaks the connection between the lips on our faces.

His nose brushes my cheek, and he breathes me in. “I’m gonna fuck you now, is that okay?”

“So okay.” I flex the beave, hugging his dick tightly.

He chuckles, then grabs my ass with his free hand. We both look down to watch as he eases out. The recessed lights overhead make his cock glisten. I get a glimpse of the ridge, and then he pushes back in.

At first I think maybe he’s lost the desire for the hard fuck, but then I realize he’s just warming me up. After four more slow strokes, Alex releases the back of my neck and puts a hand on the center of my chest, right between my boobs. I lie back on the counter again.

He runs both hands up my sides and palms my breasts. “I can’t believe I’ve ignored these.” He leans over me and kisses each nipple, sucking one and then the other. I run my fingers through his hair and try not to grip too tight as he starts up a hard grind. I’m slammed with another orgasm.

Alex straightens, grabs my hips, and then he rams me. It’s the fuck of the ages. He goes from slow to vigorous in an instant, pumping hard. When he can’t get the leverage he wants, he grabs both of my ankles and rests them on his left shoulder, pulling me right to the edge and fucking me like we’re making a porno.

God, he’s hot. His muscles strain, his biceps and forearms flexing. When that’s not enough for him—or maybe he’s not feeling like he can get deep enough, or he’s not close enough, who knows—he shifts my legs to the right, changing the angle. Then he puts his knee up on the counter and covers my body with his.

It’s a weird position, particularly since we’re on the island and both of us can’t really fit up here. Not that I’m going to complain. I’m on orgasm number sixty-five million, so it can be as awkward as Alex is comfortable with. I’m definitely going to have a few sore spots tomorrow, though. Which is also okay.

Alex keeps pounding away, and we migrate up the counter until my head is hanging over the edge again. Alex, being the considerate man he is, even in the middle of our fuck-a-thon, cradles the back of my head so I don’t have to hold it up.

“Look at the window,” I manage to rasp between moans.

“What?”

“The window, it’s like a mirror.” I let go of one of his shoulders so I can point behind us.

Alex lifts his head, and his rhythm falters for half a second. He breathes out a
fuck
, and suddenly I’m rearranged so one of my legs rests on his shoulder and the other is wrapped around his waist. And then he’s back to pounding, his attention divided between our reflection in the window and me. It’s a good thing it’s treated glass, otherwise those living nearby would be getting a whole lot more neighborly love than they anticipated.

The sex seems to go on forever. Alex must have jacked off while I was out.

When he comes, it’s on a guttural groan that includes my name. He collapses on top of me, his lips on my neck, his back expanding with each hard pant. I can feel his heart beating furiously against my boob.