Big Love Abroad (Big Girls Do It Book 11) Page 6

  Oh. I smiled at him, tracing the grooves of his washboard abs. I mean, damn. Just damn. And he had a V-cut? That sexy V of toned muscle pointing down beneath his boxers and the waist of his jeans to the promised land. It beckoned to me, called out to me. I felt needy, hungry, drunk with want. I wasn’t myself. I wasn’t this girl, the one who slept with guys she didn’t know, the one who shoved her hands down his pants, but here I was, fairly panting with desire for Ian’s body, for the heat of his flesh and the hard muscle and the way his hands made me feel. My palms flattened against his stomach, my fingertips pointing downward. I slid my hands against his firm hot skin down beneath the elastic of his underwear.

  Ian’s stomach muscles tensed as I reached in, and now it was his turn to catch his breath as I found his silky-soft yet iron-hard cock. Ohhh my. Oh my. Ohmygod. Dear sweet Jesus, this was going to be good. I withdrew my hands and made quick work of the button and zipper, tugging his jeans and boxers down around his hips. He pried one shoe off with his toe, and then the other, and then he stepped out of his jeans and kicked them across the floor, then peeled his socks off.

  It was my turn to step back and admire him, well over six feet of ripped, toned, nude male hotness. His cock was thick and tall, hard as a rock, straining up and laying flat against his belly.

  “God, Ian. You are…a lot of man.” I closed my eyes briefly, taking a step toward him, letting out a breath. Then I closed the space between us, pressing my body against his. “A lot of insanely hot man.”

  Ian’s hands slid over my shoulders, down my back, curling around my sides to hold me against him. “I’m glad you think so. And thank you.” He traced the waistline of my jeans from hip to hip, then slid his hands between our bodies. “Except now I’m naked and you’re not. That is an inequity we shall have to rectify post-haste.”

  “Indeed we shall,” I breathed.

  Okay, so I may have a tendency to sometimes slip into a weird kind of faux-formal, almost British, Regency Romance-inspired manner of speech complete with accent. I’m kind of a nerd that way, and Ian’s accent helped to pull it out of me. It was embarrassing and awful and something I could do nothing to stop, especially as aroused as I was in that moment.

  Ian hooked his thumbs between the flesh of my hips and my jeans and underwear.

  I concentrated on the feel of Ian’s skin under my hands as I explored his bare shoulders, focusing on the feel of his muscles playing and shifting as he moved, focusing on anything other than the fact that I was about to be totally naked in front of a man for the first time in a very long time, and it was happening in the middle of my well-lit living room. I caressed the expanse of his back with both hands, rested my forehead on his shoulder for a moment as I cupped his ass.

  And fuck me if his ass wasn’t delectably perfect. A taut, round bubble of rock-solid muscle. I spent several moments just gripping it, holding onto it, exploring the firmness of it, simply enjoying it. Meanwhile, Ian was slowly working my jeans off, slipping them down over one hip, palming the exposed flesh over my hipbone, and then lowering the other side, taking my underwear with the denim. Oh man. Oh boy. He had my pants down far enough that the top of my pussy was exposed. Just the creases between my legs and my core and a hint of close-trimmed pubic hair, but enough to have me trembling and nervous.

  I clutched Ian’s butt with suddenly panicked fingers as he gently tugged one side of my jeans down another two inches, and then the other side, baring me completely now.

  Swallowing was nearly impossible, and my breathing was coming in deep, fast gasps.

  I should have shaved down there. I mean, my legs were smooth, having been shaved just before I left the States, but I’d never been brave enough to totally shave my privates. Now, with Ian’s gaze on me, with his hands about to touch me there, I wished I had. He probably thought the pubic hair was gross.

  Thoughts were zapped away as Ian let my jeans and underwear fall in a heap around my ankles. On shaky legs I stepped out of them, one at a time, forcing my muscles to obey despite my fear and uncertainty and worry and discomfort. Despite my best efforts, my insecurities revealed themselves again. They were, in fact, rising to the surface as Ian’s hands roamed down my hips, sliding around to sweep soft yet insistent caresses over my ass, cupping one side and lifting, and then the other, and then both sides, his hands squeezing, kneading. His mouth was on my shoulder, and I tilted my jaw up to face him. His lips met mine, his tongue drifted between my teeth and his right hand now moved in a circuit from my shoulders down my spine to slide over one hip and then across my lumbar region to my opposite hip, and then to my ass, where he remained for a moment or two before ascending once again. His other hand held my cheek and jaw, his thumb on my cheekbone. Ian’s kiss stole the thoughts from my brain and the insecurities from my heart, and his caressing hands enflamed the hot fires of need inside me.

  I reached between us and wrapped my fingers around his thick cock, stroking him from root to tip, returning his kiss with all the hunger I felt raging inside me. Ian rumbled deep in his chest, a sound of pleasure. I glided my fingers and palm around him, thumbed his tip, stroked him again and again, and then suddenly he was pushing me away.

  “Keep doing that, Nina, and this’ll be over before it really gets started.”

  “We wouldn’t want that, would we?”

  Ian shook his head, reaching for my hands and placing them on his shoulders. “No, we wouldn’t. Not until I’ve made you come at least twice.”

  “Twice?” My voice may or may not have squeaked a little again.

  “At least.” He let his hands rest on the bell of my hips. “Why do you sound surprised by that?”

  “It’s just…I’ve only had a multiple orgasm once, and I don’t think it was on purpose.”

  Ian grinned, a slow and eager spread of his lips. “Oh, Nina. You’ve been missing out, then. You deserve attention, you deserve as many orgasms as you can handle, and I’m going to make it my goal to find out how many that is.”

  I could only swallow and blink owlishly at him. “Ambitious?” I managed.

  “Very.” He ran his thumb across my lips. “Feel free to pull my hair if you want. I rather like it, actually.”

  Before I could ask why I would pull his hair, Ian was kneeling and I was spreading my feet apart at his nudge to my thighs. He didn’t give me any warning. He put his lips to my pussy and thrust his tongue between my labia, striking my clit with the tip of his tongue and flicking, licking, swirling around and around, and I was tangling my fingers in his hair and squeezing and pulling, and moaning nonstop. Each strike of his tongue against my superheated, aching clit had me whimpering, and his tongue was moving with lightning speed, faster than any tongue had any business moving. I was within seconds of hitting that edge, of just falling apart right there, and he’d barely begun touching me. Jesus. I mean, Jesus. Not fair. But then he slowed down, pressed his tongue flat and wide and very literally slurping upward, and the sound of his tongue lapping at my juices should’ve been gross but it wasn’t, it had me trembling and gasping and fisting my fingers in his hair.

  And then, oh god…then he pursed his lips and sucked my clit into his mouth, pulling with vacuum suction. I released a throaty, half-muffled howl as my knees buckled. Which, not accidentally, I assumed, coincided with the sudden and shocking feel of his fingers spearing up into my opening, spreading my pussy apart and curling inward to massage deep and high inside me.

  I had to brace myself with my hands on his shoulders as my legs gave in, rollicking spasms of heat pulsating somewhere between my spine and my navel, shooting up from my curling toes clear into my brain, which was short-circuiting.

  I came with a loud shout. “OhfuckOHSHITOHGOD!”

  Apparently those spasms were just precursors.

  Abruptly, Ian was standing up and pushing me backward. “One.”

  “One?” My brain was clouded. Why was he counting?

  “One orgasm. Now, perhaps you should sit down?”

&nb
sp; My knees hit the couch and I fell backward. Somehow, totally accidentally, my knees parted to allow Ian between them, and his hands slid along the outside of my thighs and curled around my ass and pulled me toward him, my butt at the edge of the cushions. My neck was bent, my hands sliding over his shoulders and down his back, and I managed to get my eyes open and I was staring down between my tits at Ian’s broad back and the top of his ass as he knelt on the floor, his face between my thighs.

  One touch of his tongue, and I was jerking, knees lifting my feet off the floor as I curled in to absorb the jerking thrill of a spasm of heat.

  “Well Jesus, Nina. You’re sensitive, aren’t you?”

  “God yes. Be gentle?”

  “Oh no. That wouldn’t do at all. Gentle just won’t do.” He tilted his face to look at me, assessing my reaction as he withdrew his right hand from around my butt and slid it between my thighs, tucking it beneath his chin. A single finger, piercing my pussy. A second. Two fingers curling up and in, sliding out slowly and gently, eliciting mellow breaths from me, shallow gasps as he slicked my juices from inside to the outside, smearing my clit and labia with my own wetness, as if I wasn’t already drenched. Then a third finger, stretching me.

  He wasn’t licking me, though. He was just watching me and finger-fucking me. I was fine with that. I could see the gleam of my essence mixed with his saliva around his lips, and that was hot. He was sliding his fingers in and out, in and out, in—curl, scrape, massage—and out, circle my clit, once, twice, three times—and that was hot.

  “Come for me, Nina,” he ordered.

  Impossibly, I obeyed, and that was hot.

  It started slow, like rolling thunder in the distance, and then it hit all at once, his three fingertips moving around my throbbing clit without actually touching it and I was lifting my ass off the cushions and riding his finger, grinding into his touch, and he was sliding his fingers into me as I started to come, seconds after his command, and then I felt his lips on my pussy and his tongue on my clit and I was unable to breathe or gasp or anything because my orgasm was a breath-stealing tornado.

  “Count,” he said, mumbling the instruction into my folds.

  “Two—ohgod.”

  He was over me, his mouth sucking at the side of my neck, his fingers buried deep inside me, his other hand gripping the top of the back of the couch, one foot on the floor, knee on the couch.

  “Take hold of my cock,” he whispered.

  “Gladly,” I murmured back, wrapping my fist around his hot girth. I stroked him slowly, savoring the feel of his flesh sliding past my fingers.

  “No, don’t do that. I can’t handle much of that. Use me. Make yourself come with me.”

  “Wha—what?”

  He curled his fingers inside me, and I jerked, gasped. “I’ll do this,” he said, “while you touch your clit with my cock. Make yourself come.”

  “Oh. Um. Okay?” Weird.

  I pulled him closer to me, angled his cock down so the tip nudged into my folds, slipping between my nether lips to nuzzle against my clit, and then I forgot all thoughts and reservations because damn, that felt good, hot thick broad male flesh, real man’s penis, not a vibrator or dildo, not my fingers, not my imagination, a real cock and it was so much better than I’d ever dreamed, so much better than I remembered it feeling. I brought his cock in a circle around my clit, and immediately felt the shaking take hold, felt the eager burn of impending orgasm juddering low in my belly, my core gushing wetness around his fingers. He fucked my pussy with his fingers, sliding in and out, deep and hard, and I had absolutely no choice but to move his cock in ever-faster circles around my clitoris and then I was growling past clenched teeth as a scream bubbled inside me.

  “Give me your mouth,” I said. He started to descend, and I shook my head. “No, dumbass. Kiss me.”

  “Call me a dumbass while I’m in the middle of giving you your third orgasm in less than ten minutes?” He said this with a laugh, touching his lips to mine.

  “You taste like pussy,” I said, my mouth moving softly against his.

  “Yes, I do.” He kissed me, and I forgot to think or breathe, forgot everything except kissing him as I used his massive dick to bring myself to climax.

  “Three…” I managed to choke out, past my groaning and gasping.

  My entire body was spasming now, each orgasm having built upon the last, making this one something other than a mere orgasm, making it a whole-body detonation, my fingers tingling and my toes curling and my scalp tightening and my throat closing down around a scream, my belly tensing and my thighs going rock hard, my heels involuntarily wrapping around his waist.

  It wasn’t a conscious decision on either of our parts, I don’t think. It just happened. Midway through my third orgasm, I flexed my hips and pushed his cock down, and his fingers left my opening to clutch the couch and both his knees were on the cushion and I was scraping out a whining growl as his dick pushed into my pussy. He filled me. Fuck me running, he filled me. Stretched me. Burn, sweet, aching, stretching burn. There was no time to grow accustomed to his size, there was only the frenzied ache, the need to be filled, to be fulfilled, to be finished, to feel him. My heels had to leave his back and I planted them on the floor for leverage. Then I was grinding my hips against his, feeling his cock bury deep and deep and deeper.

  “Oh shit, oh fuck, oh god,” I gasped, shaking my face to dislodge sweat-stuck strands of hair from over my eyes.

  This is an intensely uncomfortable position, I thought, randomly.

  Ian must have read my mind, because he wrapped a hand around the back of my neck and twisted with me, laying me down on the couch cushions, kneeling over me with one foot on the floor, one knee wedged against the couch-back, my thighs around his waist and my heels hooked together around his ass. I clutched his shoulders with my fingernails, arched my back, and fucked my hips up against his.

  “Shit…SHIT…Nina, oh god, you’re so tight it hurts. God, Nina.” Ian’s voice was raspy, grating, low.

  He rhythmed into me, in and out and in and out, a slow hard slide, and I was totally lost to it, to him, to the way he filled me and stretched me even as three orgasms had me loose and primed and ready for him.

  A thought hit me like a bolt of lightning from almighty Zeus, a warning spitting from me as Ian started to lose control: “Holy shit, Ian don’t come! Don’t come inside me!”

  He pulled out instantly, fists curling, his entire body straining and shaking and tensed. “You’re not…on the pill?”

  “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t think—”

  “I’m sorry, I should’ve thought about it too, and I didn’t.”

  “Neither of us did.” My hands were, of their own accord, smoothing in circles on his back. “That was close, wasn’t it?”

  “You have no idea,” he growled, and started to get up. “I need a minute.”

  “Wait,” I said, not letting him go. “How about I return the favor?” I slipped my fingers around him, stroked him slowly, delicately.

  “Not what I had in mind for our first time,” he muttered past clenched teeth. “If you’re not serious about it, stop now. I’m right on the edge.”

  I slid my body between his knees, gazing up at him. His jaw was pulsing as he fought for control, his abs hard, each slab of washboard muscle delineated. One hand was on the back of the couch, the other clutching his thigh, his head ducked, eyes closed.

  “I’m a lot of things, Ian,” I said, letting go of his cock and putting my palms to the outsides of my boobs and pushing them together, “but I’m not a tease.”

  He wasn’t looking, fighting for control. “I know you’re not, I—”

  “Open your eyes, dummy.” I said it with a grin, even though I was scared absolutely shitless by what I was about to do. It was stupid, probably. He’d hate it. No one actually did this, probably. But it was all I could think of.

  Ian’s eyes flicked open, widened when he saw what I was doing. “Nina, you don’t have to—
”

  “Just try it.”

  “Why don’t I run out and get some condoms?”

  “Sure. As soon as you titty-fuck me.” I blushed as I said the phrase. He hesitated, and I let my boobs go. “It’s stupid, isn’t it? Never mind.”

  “Nina, wait. No, I just—it’s not stupid. It sounds hot. I’ve just never done that before. A first is rare for me. As long as you’re sure….”

  He grabbed his rigid dick and pushed it down against my chest, grinning a lopsided smile at me. I lifted my tits and squashed them around his cock, and he thrust forward. I watched as the tip of him emerged from between my tits, pushing through, smeared with pre-come. As soon as he was near enough, I lifted forward and took his bulbous head into my mouth, sucking hard, tasting the musky salt of his essence on my tongue. And then he was pulling back and shoving forward again, and I got another taste, and then another, loving the way he was groaning and growling and couldn’t seem to stem the tide of his need, losing control as he fucked harder and harder, keeping his cock pushed down between my boobs.

  After a few moments he lost all sense, and I abandoned all pretense. I let go of my tits and wrapped both hands around his girth, stroking him hard and fast, fastening my lips around the broad, soft mushroom head of his cock, letting him fuck between my hands and into my mouth.

  “Shit, Nina, I’m—oh god, I’m gonna come. I can’t stop, please, don’t stop—” His voice was a rough mumble, and I worked him harder, my fists plunging around him, burying at his base and rising up to my chin, slicking and sliding fast and rough.

  He jerked backward out of my mouth abruptly, bending forward to bring his hips back, and I followed him, stroking him, watching as he let his head hang on his neck, groaning and grunting. I knew, somehow, what he wanted, and I didn’t need to question it, not then. I cupped his heavy balls in one hand and continued stroking him with the other, keeping my motions short and fast, my fist barely closed around him and descending maybe halfway down his considerable length before rising again to squeeze around his head, then jerking down once more. Hard and fast, quick and rough. He moved his hips involuntarily, and I didn’t need the warning when he growled— “I’m coming, shit, I’m coming right now, Nina, right now,” —to know he was about to unleash.