Big Love Abroad Page 8

  "Ian...god." I didn't know what I was trying to say. I didn't care. He felt too good, and I needed more.

  "I know, Nina. Me too."

  Him too? Did he know what I meant, when I didn't? It was entirely possible. He seemed to know what I wanted instinctively.

  Except for right now. I needed him fully in me. I needed to feel him surge in and seat deep, needed to be hip to hip with him. Needed to be full. And he was pushing slowly, gradually, carefully.

  I palmed his ass, pulled roughly at him and slammed my hips up against his, driving his hot thick cock into me hard and sudden and perfect.

  "Holy shit, Nina." His eyes flew wide as he filled me.

  "Jesusfuckyes," I groaned, grinding my hips against his. "Give it to me, Ian."

  "Say that again," he growled.

  "Give it to me, Ian."

  "How? How do you want it, baby?"

  Baby? That did something to me. Made something go all squishy and tender inside me. No. Nopenopenope. I refused that emotion, pushed it away.

  "Hard and fast," I told him, flexing my hips away and then slamming back up against him. "Fuck me, Ian."

  I wasn't sure what was coming over me, what strange erotic demon was possessing me to talk this way, behave this way. I wasn't this girl. I wasn't this woman. I was the one who let out a genteel whimper at most, when I came. I didn't beg to be fucked. I didn't even use the word "fuck". I didn't even usually curse all that much. But this man, something about him just drove me wild. He made me into some woman I didn't recognize.

  And damn if I didn't like her.

  At my demand, Ian's eyes went hooded and primal. He used his free hand to brush my hair away from my face. "Oh really? You want it hard and fast, do you?" He pressed his hand to my hip, pushed my ass down into the mattress and held me in place, withdrew his cock slowly and gradually. Surged deep, withdrew slowly, agonizingly slowly, now torturing and teasing me.

  I tried to thrust up against him. "Yeah, I do. Hard and fast, Ian."

  He held me down, let his weight crush me against the bed, at which point I realized he'd been holding himself almost entirely off of me. And now, with his weight on me, I couldn't move. I was pinned. His lips curled in that signature sexy smirk of his, and he began a slow, deliberate, gentle rhythm.

  "I don't think so, Nina. I want to savor this. I want to feel it."

  "Savor it?" I gazed up at him, my fingers digging into his shoulders, clawing down his back, kneading his firm ass.

  "You're so soft beneath me, and your pussy is so wet, so tight. I can't get enough of how you feel. So yeah, I want to savor it." He moved so his dick was almost out of me, and thrust quickly and shallowly, so just the tip of him fucked between my labia. "I'm going to take my time with this one. You've already come twice, and I promise you'll come again. But this...Nina, this is for me."

  "For you, huh?" I was repeating him, stupidly, vapidly. But his cock just felt so fucking good inside me that I couldn't make any sense.

  "Yeah. It's a reward. I wanted to bury myself inside you the moment I saw you on the plane. I wanted to rip those yoga pants off you and bend you over the seat and fuck you right there on the damned airplane. But I didn't. And I wanted to fuck you here, last night. But I didn't. I needed your pussy so bad, last night, but I had to wait. Now I'm inside you, and I'm not going to rush it."

  He fluttered shallowly again a few more times, and then, without any warning, plunged deep, and my breath left me in a whoosh. His hipbones bumped against mine, and I could do nothing but grind against him and clutch his muscular ass and hold on as he withdrew slowly. I expected him to tease me with shallow thrusts again, but instead he did the opposite, slamming home hard, once, twice, three times. I felt electric bursts of heat pulse through me once, twice, three times, and I started to moan, and then he slowed it, pushing deep in gradual glides. I felt the length of his cock dragging between my lips, felt our bodies bump together, and then the glide and drag, shivers thrilling through me at the feel of his length juddering out of me, thick and smooth and warm. His chest pressed me to the bed, hard muscles like slabs, his heart hammering in his ribs against mine, his thighs flexing, his breath on my neck, his arm a pillar by my face.

  There was no rhythm to his motions. He really was just taking his time, enjoying the feel of the way our bodies fit together, reveling in the slide of his dick through my pussy, groaning in pleasure as he seated himself fully into me, moaning-- "mmmmm, god, Nina" --as he withdrew. And now his hand left my hip to palm my tits, one and then the other, lifting the weight of one and letting it fall to the side, kneading the softness, thumbing my nipples until I inhaled and arched my spine.

  I felt a hollow need chasming within me, a hunger, a burning wild starvation. I needed more. I needed to come. I needed to feel him explode. I needed to feel us fused as we fucked.

  Us?

  Another thought pushed aside, buried deep, subsumed beneath my overwhelming carnal need.

  "Ian...please," I gasped, unashamed of how desperate I sounded. In fact, I gave in totally; let myself sound breathy and slutty and as sensually flushed with arousal as a porn star. "Fuck me, Ian. Stop playing with me and fuck me. Please, Ian. Please fuck me."

  "I like the way you sound when you beg, Nina."

  "Want me to beg again?"

  "Yeah, Nina. I do. Beg me to fuck you."

  I wrapped my heels around his waist and my arms around his neck and put my lips to his ear, breathed and whispered so softly he'd have to strain to hear. "Fuck me, Ian. Fuck me hard. I'm begging you...fuck me until I can't take it anymore."

  At that, Ian lost it. He growled deep in his chest, pulled completely out of me so suddenly I whimpered from the abrupt loss of his cock inside me. His hands pinioned my hips, urging me to roll over. Yet before he let me flip over onto my stomach, his mouth crashed down over mine and his tongue slid between my lips and this kiss, holy hell, this kiss, it scorched and burned and melted everything inside me, devoured any last hint of resistance, fanning the candle flame of desire I'd been feeling up to that point into a raging wildfire. And then he pulled my hips backward, lifting my ass into the air. This all happened so suddenly I was still adjusting my weight on my elbows and knees when he thrust into me and slammed home so hard his thighs slapped against my ass. I cried out, rocked forward.

  "Okay, Nina?"

  "Yeah--god, yeah." I'd been shocked, but it had felt good. Way too good, possibly. Addictingly good. "Again."

  He pressed a palm flat against the broad expanse of my right ass cheek, caressing it in wide circles as, instead of pulling back and thrusting again, he merely pressed deeper, pushing his cock more fully into me, wiggling his hips until I somehow managed to take him so deep I felt him bump against something inside me.

  And then, oh god--and then he drew back and fucked me, once, hard, accompanying the sudden thrust with a resounding smack of his palm against my ass. I shrieked out loud, startled, stung, and speared by ecstasy all at once.

  "Jesus, Ian!"

  "This what you wanted, Nina?"

  I couldn't answer, though, because he'd done it again, thrusting and spanking at the same time. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Why do I like this so much? He gripped my right hip in his hand and thrust again, this time smacking my left cheek. The right side still stung, and now the left did too, my entire ass stinging from smack after smack as he surged into me, faster and faster and faster, each spank coming on the heels of the last one, right-left-right-left, until I was crying out from the stinging pain and the aching bliss and the swelling ecstasy. It hurt, the spanking. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't playful little smacks. It was full-on spanking, now, but each time his palm cracked against my ass, his thrusting cock filled me and sent surging waves of pleasure through me. I didn't stop him. I let him spank me. I let him spank me as he fucked me from behind, and I felt myself anticipating the resounding crack and the sting of pleasurable pain with each juddering crush of his throbbing cock into my trembling pussy. I pushed back into h
is thrusts. Arched my spine, offering my ass for the spanking. Rested my weight on my forearms, chest to the mattress, thrusting my ass higher in the air. I cried out louder and louder with each spank, each thrust.

  And within me, an orgasm blossomed with furious ferocity. It took hold of me low down, deep inside me. Teeth sinking in, clenching vise-like on my core, claws hooked around my gut, into my spine. Thighs shook. Heart palpitated. Breath came in shaky gusts. And I was screaming. Screaming. Mouth to the sheet angled slightly to one side, pushing back with my entire body and getting rocked forward, every muscle spasming with each thrust and smack.

  "Come, Nina. I feel you clenching around me. Say my name when you come, Nina."

  Again, it was as if his words acted like a trigger; I exploded without warning, the blossom detonating into a fireburst of endorphins and oxytocin and dopamine. "IAN! Oh god, IAN!"

  His palms both pressed against my ass, stuttered over onto my back, and he leaned over me, caressing my spine and my shoulders, and then taking a handful of hair, gathering it into a ponytail and tugging sharply. I lifted up onto my hands and knees, pushed back against him, crying out as he fucked me relentlessly, hard and fast, hips slapping loudly against my ass cheeks.

  No more spanking, now, just his cock fucking into me over and over and over, my orgasm detonating and expanding, and detonating again, his fist around my hair tugging me back into his thrusts. I felt a faint worry somewhere inside me about how much I liked being spanked and having my hair pulled and getting creamed on, being fucked from behind, manhandled, made to beg....

  And then Ian came. It wasn't quick, or quiet, or slow. It was sudden and loud and ferocious and wild, one hand tugging sharply on my hair, the other cradling my hip and jerking me back into his thrusts, his cock throbbing inside me, his voice shouting out loud, his sweat smearing on my skin.

  "Say...my name...Ian," I demanded, between gasps.

  "Nina, oh god, Nina, fuck--I'm coming, Nina!"

  Slam. Pound. Crash. Smack. His thrusts stuttered, faltered, and stopped, his cock buried deep, and he could only grind deeper, both hands clutching my hips and keeping me pinned back against him, jerking hard as he ground deeper, groaning wordlessly, pulsing against my ass.

  He collapsed forward onto me, plastered his face to my back. "Nina, holy shit Nina."

  Ian let me go, rolling onto his back as I fell forward onto my stomach, moaning in relief as the aftershocks shook me, my thighs trembling, arms aching. I was breathing hard, and strangely close to tears.

  "Jesus, Ian." I rested my cheek on my forearm, gasping for breath.

  "Yeah. Jesus." He rolled off the bed and I heard his feet padding on the hardwood floor to the bathroom, heard him strip off the condom and then silence as he cleaned himself off, running water and a cabinet opening as he hunted for a towel.

  I focused on listening and interpreting the sounds rather than paying attention to the frantic turmoil going on inside me. I had all sorts of feelings going on, and I wasn't sure I was ready to examine any of them just yet. Maybe not ever. I'd promised myself this was just going to be fun, that it was going to be what it was while I was in London, and then he'd go his way and I'd go mine and that'd be that. No emotions, no clingy attachment on my part.

  The problem with Nina: I have a tendency toward addiction. When I discover something I like, I want ALL OF IT, ALL THE TIME. If I find a good TV show, I binge watch it until there's nothing left to watch. Find a good restaurant, I go there every day until I'm sick of it, or they know me by name and what I order. Discover a new band? Listen to the entire discography in chronological order A DOZEN TIMES.

  So now I've found a drop-dead gorgeous man with a sexy-as-fuck accent and muscles for days and a lovely, beautiful, delicious cock and god can he use it well, and he seems to like me exactly as I am, excess of curves and all. So, yeah. Debilitating addiction, here I come. But I promised myself I wouldn't let that happen.

  That's why the other guys I dated or slept with or whatever didn't last too long: I think I intentionally chose--not mediocre, just...average guys. Men who were attractive and fun and seemed to be into me, but...they weren't addiction-worthy.

  And Ian? So, so, SO addiction-worthy. Swoon-worthy. I mean, shit, I was still swooning, still dizzy from three orgasms in a row, and we'd only fucked once. Our first encounter wasn't really sex-sex. It was foreplay, sexual play. I knew then, though, that sex with Ian was going to rock my world, and god...my world was still rocking.

  Ian slipped back into the bed beside me, reached out an arm, slipped it under my head. And I, in a motion as natural as breathing, as automatic as the way you find your favorite position for sleeping when you first get into bed, I rolled into the cradling nook of his arms.

  And tensed.

  Stopped breathing.

  Holy emotional overload, Batman.

  This felt so good. So right. Like I'd always been here. Like I belonged in the shelter of his burly arms.

  I couldn't feel this way. Couldn't. Didn't. I was imagining it. I'd just met him. We had sex once. I did NOT belong in his arms.

  Stop thinking, Nina, I told myself.

  "Stop thinking, Nina," Ian told me.

  I laughed, a sarcastic guffaw. "Are you psychic or something?"

  He chuckled. "Not that I'm aware, why?"

  "Because I literally just told myself to stop thinking, and then you said the exact same thing."

  His hand skated up my arm, trailed through my hair, traced the shell of my ear. "No, it's you, Nina. You telegraph your emotions, especially when your thoughts start going into hyper speed."

  Silence.

  "Aren't you going to ask me what I'm thinking about so hard?"

  He rolled his head back and forth. "Nope."

  I craned my head to look at him. His chest was firm and soft and warm under my cheek, his arm a heavy, comforting weight on my waist, across my back. "You're not?"

  "Don't need to."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I'm assuming it's more of what you've been freaking out over since the moment we stepped off the plane at Heathrow. You're fighting with yourself over what this is between us. Totally understandable, by the way. It's new for me, too."

  "It is?" I knew sounded skeptical. "I was under the impression you did this kind of thing fairly frequently."

  "Have wildly intense and strangely emotionally-connected sex with a stunningly beautiful woman I just met?" He shook his head. "Nope. Not even close. I'm either in a long-term relationship, or it's a quick one-off. This with you? It's...both, somehow. And neither. I don't know."

  "You seem pretty calm about it," I pointed out.

  He shrugged. "No. But I'm a guy. I don't emote very easily."

  "Well, I'm emoting. A lot. And I don't know what to about it."

  "You don't have to do anything about it, Nina." He finally opened his eyes and looked down at me, an intense azure scrutiny. "Just feel it. Let it be. It is what it is. It doesn't have to be one thing or the other."

  "That's unsatisfying. I like things to be in neat little boxes. I felt oppressed and pressured to be someone I wasn't, back in Michigan. That's a fairly neat little box. So I took this opportunity to study here. A one-off, something quick, that's a box I can understand, even if I've never experienced it. Or so I thought. But now..."

  "Who said it's a one-off, Nina?" He scooted up to a sitting position, and I did as well. "Why couldn't it be a five-or six-or seven-off? Why couldn't it be a hundred-or a thousand-or a million-off? Why do we have to put a box around it, put a number or limit on it?"

  I could only shake my head and clutch the sheet to my chest. "I don't know."

  "What do you want it to be?"

  "I don't know."

  Ian frowned. "What do you know?"

  "I don't know!" I wanted to look away from him, but I couldn't. He was so compelling and far too sexy to stop looking at. His hair was messy, his skin flushed from our recent exertions, and his eyes so piercing and intense.
r />   "Tell me something you know for certain. Anything."

  I shrugged. "You and me, the way you make me feel...it's intense. That's a certainty I can admit to. I'm doing things I didn't know I'd ever do. Liking things I never thought I'd ever try, much less...do and enjoy."

  "That's a pretty neat little box, isn't it? Sexual discovery? Trying and liking new things? You came to England to study, right? You came here to learn new things, to get out of the box you'd been living in your whole life." He pushed a wayward lock of my long, thick, ink-black hair away from my eye, tucked it behind my ear. "Well, you're definitely out of that box, now, Nina. You're trying new things, and you're liking them. So am I, for that matter. You do something to me too, you know. Talking this openly about what's going on between us, this is new. Usually--well hell, there is no 'usually' for this. It's either long-term, or it's clearly but unspokenly short-term, one-night only. I slept in your bed, Nina. That's not something you do with a one-off girl. I don't know what's going on, what will happen, or what to do with what you make me feel. So that's honesty for you, right?"

  "Yeah. Maybe you're just more honest with yourself than I am."

  He shrugged and nodded. "Yeah, maybe. But I spent a long period of my life lying to myself, so now I'm sort of into brutal self-honesty."

  I fought with myself, and lost out to curiosity. "Lying to yourself how?"

  He sighed. "That's history, Nina. I don't mind talking about it, but it's up to you if you really want to know."

  I settled back against the headboard, sheet tucked under my arms. "I don't need the sordid details, but I'm curious now."

  "I wouldn't tell you the sordid details anyway, Nina. Just like if in some hypothetical future someone was to ask me about you and I, I wouldn't discuss the specifics. That's no one's business but mine and yours."