Authors: H.M. Ward
his book is
a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 by H. M. Ward
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form.
LAREE BAILEY PRESS
First Edition: JUNE 2016
stand there flabbergasted
, my jaw flapping in the wind. That can’t be true. Josh raped someone? A heavy daze settles on my shoulders making the world around me morph into a fishbowl. Everything sounds far away and warped. My head is too heavy and I find myself reaching for a kitchen chair. I barely graze it with my fingertips and lower myself, not blinking, still shocked.
“Kerry, whoa, what are you—” Nate steps toward me, but it’s too late.
It turns out said chair wasn’t lined up with said ass. I pass the cute seat where my posterior should have landed on my way down to the linoleum floor.
. I let out a hard rush of air on impact.
Nate rushes, offering a hand. “Are you okay?”
When I don’t slip my palm into his, his crouch changes to a kneel. He places his hand on my shoulder. I want to cry or scream that Josh couldn’t do something so heinous. There’s no way. But he told me he did something horrible. I didn’t believe him.
I glance over at the sexy professor’s face. Nate is beautiful as always, but there are little worry lines around those cool blue eyes. The way he lingers close, waiting for me to respond—waiting to hear I’m all right—coupled with the confession of concern that lingers on his lips is way too intense. I didn’t want a relationship. I can’t handle another failure right now.
“Kerry?” Nate slides his knees around and sits on his back pockets, stretching those long legs out in front of him.
“I know you care about this guy. I can tell from the way you’re talking about him and the sucker-punched expression on your face.”
I glance at him out of the corner of my eyes. “You’re not jealous?” I’m a little shocked that the question fell out of my mouth, but yeah, it’s weird. He’s not pissing all over his territory like a horn-dog.
“It’s not like that with us. You said so yourself. There’s nothing lasting about this.” He gestures between us. “As it is, it’s insanely dicey for you to be here. Some things are worth the risk.” Leaning in, he sweeps his lips against my cheek.
I stare straight forward and feel a rush of warmth flood through me. I’m in emotional overload. Fragments of my mind are cracking under duress and I no longer want to think about anything. That’s what this guy is for—that’s why I came here.
Nate’s lips linger next to my cheek, a breath away. I turn slowly and lower my lashes, to watch his mouth. I stay there, not moving for a long time, lost in silence. When I finally lean forward to close the distance, my heart is pounding at a deafening volume and every inch of my skin tingles, anticipating Nate’s touch.
Eyes fixated on his beautiful pink lips, I breathe, “Can you make me forget everything for a little while? I don’t want to think anymore.”
Nate answers by pressing his mouth to mine. At the same time, his hand laces around the back of my neck so he can pull me close. His other hand finds my cheek, and cups it as he kisses me harder. Thoughts scatter across my mind like a deck of cards in the wind. They’re no longer in a neat stack, easily read and pondered. Instead, they’re floating fragments that will soon be banished from my mind.
I concentrate on the way his mouth feels, on the touch of his tongue and the way he takes control of the kiss. I relax into him, letting him move me as he likes. A moment later, I feel my arm trembling and realize that I’ve leaned back and placed my hands behind me to prop my body up. I’m no longer able to support our weight, and before I can break the kiss to say so, Nate lowers me to the floor while keeping the kiss intact. His firm body comes down on top of mine, then shifts to the side while leaving one leg over my hips, knee bent, and pressing me to the floor. The coldness of the plastic tile against my back is jarring. I arch my back and gasp into his mouth as I tangle my hands in his hair.
Nate’s lips soon drift from my mouth to my neck. There’s not a thought in my head when his tongue touches that sensitive, smooth skin. Every time he kisses me there my eyes roll back and my lashes lower. I try not to moan, and then give up.
Nate smiles against my skin when I become vocal. He stops for a moment and pulls back enough to see my face. He’s breathing hard and hovering right above me. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear as he speaks. “Don’t hide from me. Don’t hold back. Pretend there’s no tomorrow, no repercussions, no consequences.”
Pressing my lips together nervously, I listen, wondering if I can do that—a little frightened of what it would mean. I will see him tomorrow. There will be consequences.
It’s as if he can read my mind, because he adds, “This may be the last time we get to be together.”
That punches my ticket. I understand what that means. No more Nate is like no more freedom, no more sweet, fresh air to fill my lungs and no freeing wind at my back. The world is listless and stale without him, and yet that’s the way it is. We aren’t supposed to be together. He’s risking everything for this moment. His career will tank if someone discovers us. And my reputation will be torched. No one will believe I earned my grades—any of them. There will be sweeping assumptions that I screwed my way to the top, that I didn’t deserve it. I know the risk and yet I can’t walk away from him. I’m all too aware this could be the last chance we have to be together, and I don’t want to hold back.
I slip my fingers around his neck and pull him down on top of me. I don’t want him on the side. I want to be crushed to the floor. I want to feel his power, his strength. I want to be pinned in place and lose myself while he’s inside me. If this is our last time, that’s what I want. Clarity hits me hard and suddenly I’m all instinct and carnal urges. I’m writhing beneath him, spreading my legs wide, and bucking up into him wishing he’d free me from my jeans.
Breathless, I nip his neck as his hands rove my body. His hot mouth devours my neck as a lightness fills my body, making me smile. The bulge in his pants is hard and grinding against me, too many layers of fabric separating us. I don’t want anything between us. I want to be covered in sweat and Nate. My stomach twists at the thought of being tangled together with Nate, skin on skin, slick and sweaty with him driving into me until I lose every inch of restraint and cry out his name.
I slam my hands into his chest, and flip us over. I straddle his lap with my thighs spread wide and shuck my shirt and bra in a blink. Then, I stand and kick off the rest of my clothes. When I straddle his hips again I’m completely naked. And he’s not. He’s still dressed with a nude woman on his lap.
A coy smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I sit there, watching his gaze consume every inch of me. When he lifts his hands, ready to touch the soft curves of my breasts, I stop him, threading my fingers through his and slamming them down next to his head.
Pinning his hands down with one to each side of his face, I lower myself so the curve of my breast is just above his lips. My nipples are taut and aching for his touch. I want him to take me in his mouth and tease me until I beg to be fucked.
Logic is trying to break through, but it’s as soft as an echo. Is it so bad to want to be this man’s plaything? The idea of being his fuckbuddy is immensely appealing, but I wonder if it’s more than that. Is there more here? And do I want it if there is?
My thoughts suddenly rush away, caught in a current of lust as his lips come down around my nipple. He sucks me into his mouth tasting me, teasing me, and lavishing me with attention that makes it hard not to grind against him.
Moaning deeply, I pull him upright while staying on his lap, his mouth still on my breast. I gasp and throw my head back as he nips, sucks, and flicks my sensitive skin. Every inch of my body is hot and demands his touch. I want his hands on me, in me, and tangled in my hair. I want him to pull and tug, to own me and take me.
Nate rolls me back to the floor and continues his unrestrained affection, covering me with kisses. I’m vaguely aware that he kicks off his shoes, then I hear the sound of a zipper lowering, before he tugs my nip hard. Gasping, I dart upright slightly when he pulls away, watching him toss his shirt aside. He grabs a foil packet from his jeans and slips the condom in place. The beautiful naked man returns to me in an instant and presses me to the floor, crushing me against it. He spreads my thighs and skips the finger check. His hard length shoves inside me without caution. He’s not shy about what he wants and I’m glad. I don’t want to make love. I don’t want gentle kindness and soft touches. I want to be fucked. I want to forget everything plaguing me and weighing me down. I want him to use me, to make himself feel totally high and take me with him.
As his hips pound against mine, his shaft slams harder with each thrust. I claw at his back and spread my legs wider, trying to take him deeper. I’m begging, asking him for things, telling him how much I want him as we slide across the kitchen floor—which doesn’t have a crumb on it. I’m thinking of ordering take-out when we’re done, eating down here, and making him fuck me again.
The thought shatters when his lips touch my breast and he slams into me. The sensations are overwhelming and I start to buck uncontrollably, gasping for air, begging for release. It’s too soon, but I don’t care. I want him. I want him to come with me.
I cup his ass and grip his cheeks as he hammers into me until I can’t control myself. I grab at him however I can, trying to force him harder, deeper, and bucking against him as the rhythm of our bodies gets frantic. I’m so close to the edge and have floated so high that I’m no longer aware of anything except him and me.
Crying out his name, I claw his waist as he presses into me. Heart pounding, I take him in deep and feel myself start to shatter. I can barely speak, but I manage to tell him, “Come with me.”
Nate doesn’t deny me. He pummels me harder as I shatter around him, crying out with ecstasy. Nate’s body becomes rigid. He cries out at the same time, his voice deep and raw, with euphoria spreading across his face before he falls against my chest.
I’m never going to be with Nate again changes things. I'm free to cut through the pretense that could have been there. The normal insecurities fade away and it’s just us, two bodies, intertwined, moving in rhythm with one another. Pleasure lights me up, and after he gets up to take care of the condom, I stretch on the floor and stare at the ceiling. I’ve never been done on the kitchen floor before.
When Nate comes back, he’s smiling, looking down at me. I’m a naked, sweaty, sated mess with my hands tucked behind my head and my ankles crossed. I tip my chin up at him, and coolly say, “’Sup?”
Nate laughs, and runs a hand over his head and then down his neck. When he smiles, those dimples show. God, he’s beautiful. “Nothing much. Just had the most amazing, mind-blowing fuck of my life. How about you?” He stands next to me, one foot by my waist, the other by my shoulder.
I purr, “Mmmm, I’d have to agree.”
“So, what now?” He places his hands on his hips and I’m treated to a delicious Superman pose.
Nate needs a cape. I make a mental note to buy him one. I’d love to fuck him with a cape on. Is that mental? Can I run to his linen closet, grab a sheet, and put it around his neck? Maybe grab a fan so the cape hem flutters in the breeze. Then I can lie back against the floor, gaze up at his package, and swoon inwardly. I can beg him to do me again. Or we can skip all that stuff and I can just say it.
“I just did.” He smirks. “You can’t possibly be ready for more.”
I roll over onto my stomach, prop my head up in my hands and shrug. “Maybe.”
Nate represses a cocky smile. “How do you want it, Kerry?”
I feel his eyes on my back and wonder what I want, how far I’m willing to go with him. There are some things I liked that Matt didn’t, so we didn’t do them. I want every memory of Matt gone, and the thought of Nate defiling me in every way possible is completely appealing.
I kick up my feet and cross my ankles as I lower my head to the floor and place it on my arms. I glance at him with a playful look. “How do you want to give it, Nate?”
He grins, straddles my hips, and then sits on my bare ass pinning me to the floor. He’s facing toward my feet, but turns to the side, so I can see his profile. “Well, there’s the obvious place, right here.” I feel his finger touch my lower lips, slip inside, and push up into me. He turns toward me, watching my face from the corner of his eye as he does it. “I love fucking you here.”
“Really?” I gasp, lips parted, teeth showing and try to hide how much I like his touch.
Nate’s voice is light, happy. He watches me, eyes dark, as he slips his finger deeper before pulling his hand away. “Yes, it was a very pleasant experience, so much so that I’m thinking of leaving an online review. Five stars, your pussy is superior, perfect in every way.”
I giggle. I can’t help it. “Wow, you’re going to Yelp! me? That’s new.”
“Well, I only write reviews when I’m floored. You’re an amazingly good time. A good fuck, tight, wet, and all the things a guy could want, really.”
Grinning, I look back at him. “Ugh! Not another review praising my pussy—that will make five this week! It’s getting embarrassing.” I tease him, flashing a bright smile his way.
“Right, the people.” He refers to my comment a while back about doing it with randoms. “They like to ride Kerry.”
“Damn straight.” I shove my arm out to the side and offer a thumbs up.
He laughs. “I’m a jealous man, are you seriously going to taunt me with this?”
“Why not? It’s not like you’re going to do anything about it—” Before I can finish my sentence, he slips his hand between my legs and touches my clit, pressing it between his fingers, and then squeezes hard. I gasp and buck into the floor without meaning to. He laughs lightly and loosens his grip, but doesn’t move his hand.
“What the hell?”
“What part of possessive don’t you get? This is mine right now. Tomorrow is another story.”
I’m still perplexed as to why my hips dry humped the floor when he touched me that way. Whatever he did made an involuntary response. I wonder if it was a fluke or if he can just do that. “That part is a little evasive. Can you explain it to me again?”
He repeats the touch, and the same thing happens. My legs spread wide and my hips buck, slamming down into the floor, but that’s not the worst part. My body is on fire, begging to be fucked, suddenly a million times wetter and ever aware his dick is too far away. Desire becomes need and I think about him everywhere, filling me from every direction, all at once. It’s like a flash of lust on crack. It comes and goes in a blink when he does that with his hand down there.
Breathless and gaping I look at his bare back, watch the lines of his muscles move as he breathes and wonder if he’s really a sex god. He’s incredibly beautiful and he can turn me into a total whore with minimal effort. The thing is, I was already thinking those thoughts they just weren’t very loud. When he touched me like that, they became earsplittingly loud and writhing for attention.
He doesn’t look back at me. “Tell me.”
“Tell you what?” My voice comes out way too airy and an octave higher than usual.
He grins. “Tell me what you want most. What are your most carnal desires?”
I blush. There’s no way I’m telling him I wish he had three dicks to fuck me with all at once. “Uh, I don’t think so.”
“Last chance, Kerry. We can do this the nice way or I can force it out of you.”
“No you can’t—” The rest of the sentence is suddenly sucked from my mind as if someone had placed a black hole in my brain. My thoughts are replaced with urges, things I need now. My breasts ache and I’m thinking things I can barely admit. But I want to do them. With him. Now.
He moves his hand, making me cry out loudly and tightening his grip on my sensitive flesh. My hips buck into the floor several times and I start saying insanely dirty things, begging him for it—telling him where I want him, how I’ll take it any way I can just so long as he fucks me hard, now.
Nate speaks firmly, cutting into my dirty monologue, “I’m not letting you up until you tell me something.”
I growl at him, as I try to clutch the floor, “Fuck me.”
My hips slam down again and this time, I feel him—a finger slips inside—but it’s not enough. I’m suddenly bucking so hard, backing into his hand, trying to fuck it. I’m not aware of anything else, and I feel my mind fighting my body for control and losing.
As I wildly pump against his finger, he asks, “What about here? Do you want me to fuck you here?”
While keeping his finger inside me, his thumb drifts south. It’s what I was thinking and too shy to ask for. No woman in her right mind likes that, but I do. Right now I want him to fuck me every way he can.
My mind is screaming at me to shut up, my mouth is open and I’m begging him for things I thought I’d never say. The words will make my entire body turn red with a bright blush if I ever hear them again, but it doesn’t stop me. I beg him and purr for him to do what I want.
Nate’s voice is liquid sex, “That’s the sluttiest thing I’ve ever heard.”
His touch lit an intensity within me that I didn’t know was there. Maybe it’s because I just orgasmed or maybe it’s because the last guy I was with didn’t know his way around down there, but either way—I’m elated and terrified at the same time. Even so, I can’t seem to shut up. I keep blurting out insanely sexy, carnal things—and demanding that he do them to me. Now.
Nate keeps his hand on me as he repositions himself behind me. I’m lying facedown on the kitchen floor.
Nate slaps my ass and demands, “Up.” As I push up he hooks his arm under my hips and pulls me back to him. I slide across the floor and when I slam against him I feel how hard he is again.
He moves his hand away from me and grabs another condom. I’m wondering if I should be concerned that he has more than one on him. Before I can think about it he puts it on and slips inside of me. My head is down, with my butt in the air. He slowly pushes in and then pulls out, watching as he does it. It’s completely erotic and makes me think about sucking him off. I want to taste him in my mouth without protection. I want to feel his velvety skin instead of the plastic condom and taste his come as it drips down my throat. I want that with him—which makes me feel conflicted. If he’s just a fuck there’s no way I should do that. If he’s more, we could. Do I want more?
I don’t get a chance to ponder the question. He slams into me, and reaches around front, between my legs, and starts to do that motion again. I buck back into him and feel my heart pounding so hard that it might explode. I dart upright, so I’m kneeling and he’s still inside of me. Weird position, but it feels good, putting pressure in all the right places.
Nate catches me with his other arm and holds me tight, restraining me. He whispers in my ear, “Don’t move, Kerry. Stay like this for a moment.” He’s still and I feel his hot breath wash across my neck, and hear his quick gasps of air. “Do you like this? Being touched all over, being owned?”
I’m trembling as I try to stay still. I nod.
“Say it.” He commands.
“No, I don’t like it. I fucking love it.” He moves his hand between my legs and pulls it away. The intensity of the carnal feelings flooding through me lessens, but they’re still there, loudly demanding the same thing as before. The only difference now? My rational half can drown them out if I want.
He wraps his other arm around me, crushing me against his chest, gripping my breasts and holding me tight while his dick is barely inside of me, pressing in all the right places, making me totally nuts. I begin to arch my back to feel him deeper.
“Don’t move,” he says, scolding me. “Feel everything. Let it flood you. There’s a damper on your sexuality. It’s like it’s muted or something. I’m guessing someone at some point told you something you wanted wasn’t sexy and it made you shy away from it. I want all of you here with me. If you want a freaky fuck, I want to give it to you. Tell me what you want Kerry.”
“I—” I’m trembling.
He’s right. Matt did that. Losing it with him wasn’t a thing. He wasn’t the kind of guy that liked to think of himself as an animal with carnal needs. That pressure is gone, but the threat of disappointment still lingers. I know what I want, but I’m afraid to tell him.
A question pops up and I blurt it out. “How come that happens? I mean, touching me like that. It made me feel everything.”
He breathes against my neck, his voice husky, “It’s your sexual center. Touching it like that makes you light up like a sexy Christmas tree and every desire you have is suddenly clear. It makes your mind take a back seat.”
“No one has ever touched me like that before.”
“I think it’s cheating, but you seem to be holding back. I won’t do it again. I just wanted you to recognize what you wanted. I’ll give it to you. Just say it, Kerry. Ask me for it.” His top arm slides up so that is across the lower part of my throat, tipping my neck back. “Do you like this? It’s a little too intense for some women.”
I don’t like him mentioning other women. I bristle. “It’s a little lax for me. I want more. I want it rougher and mindless.”
His lips are by my ear. He tightens his grip on my neck slightly, making my heart pound harder. “Tell me what’s off limits with you. I’ll give you everything you want, but I need to know if there’s something you don’t want to do.”
I turn my face to glance over my shoulder. I want to see his eyes. When his blue gaze locks with mine, I confess, “I want this. I like it intense. I like it when you touch me like that, and make me mindless. And to be clear, I’m okay with anything, anywhere. And I’d really like you to lose the condom.”
He’s perfectly still and for a second I think I’ve freaked him out. I keep thinking about how much better this will be without the sheath, and how much more we’ll feel without it. “You trust me that much?”
Nate pulls out of me, spins me around, so we’re face to face. “Kerry, are you sure? That makes things a lot more intimate.”
“I’ve already told you how I want to be taken and said things I’ll deny when I see you again. This never happened. I wasn’t here.” I splay my hands on his chest and look up into his eyes. “I want everything. I don’t want to wonder. I’m on the pill and have been for a while. I don’t have anything contagious or concerning—no STDs or weird infections. Do you?”
“No.” His gaze is brilliantly blue and wide, completely focused on me. His lips part slightly as he waits for my reply, perched like he’s incredibly excited or worried.
It’s funny how those two things can look the same at times. It’s the moment before you decide to literally jump off the cliff. It takes guts and a good amount of stupidity to actually consider doing it, but the amount of determination and courage needed to put said plan into action—to actually drag your feet toward the edge and hurl your body out into space—that’s something altogether different.
There’s a bit of doubt that continues to echo through my mind. It skittered in the day Matt dumped me and has been gnawing at me ever since. It’s like my mind is infested with doubt. All the what-ifs and failed attempts to become who I wanted to be won’t shut up. I thought I’d have the great love story. I found the boy when we were kids and we’d be together forever. Picket fences and 2.5 kids later, I’d be a schoolteacher and stay home during the summer to tend our little piece of the American dream.
But when Matt broke things off with me, that dream shattered. A wild weed grew up in the chasm he left in my heart, sinking its roots deep and making me pause, its bloom alluring and deadly. It taunts me with every impulse I’ve ever had and was too afraid to follow. It whispers of chances untaken and breathless encounters yet to be explored. It’s freeing and scary. It lifts me up and takes me high—so high I’m afraid the fall alone will kill me. I’m averse to taking risks and pushing the envelope, but that wild part of me—the part I didn’t know was there until recently—I’m having trouble tuning it out. The problem is daunting and I haven’t a clue as to how to fix it. How am I supposed to silence a part of me that’s crying out for freedom? Because that’s what it sounds like—a shrill voice in the darkness refusing to shrivel up and die. Is that really who I am? Is that wildness me? How am I supposed to know?