Taste of Lacey (2 page)

An acute sense of loss took her by surprise when he broke their connection. Excitement replaced disappointment, though, when he nibbled a trail down her neck toward her bosom. The closer he got to her rigid buds, the more they tightened, beckoning him. He answered, pushing her sturdy cotton bra beneath one needy globe and then lowering his head.

“Rye,” she moaned, almost in a panic. At first she was scared he would suck on her trembling mound. Then she was afraid he wouldn’t. When he did, the need generated by his seesawing jaw was so powerful and wicked it made her pussy throb.

Oh goodness
. She’d referred to her female bits as her pussy, a word she’d always found utterly distasteful. Under the current circumstances, it fit. No nice, genteel expression could describe the plump, dewy flesh Rye had awakened. Tightening her legs around his lean waist, she rotated against his hardness. They were in the middle of a huge dining area at a public convention center where security could come along at any time, but there she was, grinding on him like a nympho.

“Damn, Lacey. Where the fuck you been hiding all this fire?” Rye whispered roughly.

In slow increments, she slid down his muscular body to stand on legs that had the fortitude of cotton balls. She was dazed and confused. One minute she was celebrating a major milestone for her company; the next she was on the verge of begging Ryder McKay to make her come. He was her brother’s best friend and their neighbor. When Kyle had broken his leg and couldn’t drive, it was Rye’s job to pick her up from school every afternoon for a month. This man was on her “family” Christmas list and was as familiar with the nooks and crannies of her parents’ home as she was, yet he’d turned her panties into a soaking mess.

Her behavior was so out of character she didn’t know exactly how to react. Her normal practice was to write everything down, twist it, turn it, and evaluate it before taking the first step. Well, she didn’t feel that way tonight. She wanted Rye. Bad.

According to her ex-fiancé, she was
“a cold bitch with a frozen pussy to match.”
She’d believed him because he hadn’t done a thing to thaw her out. But as far as she could tell, her pussy worked just fine, because it was on fire for Rye.

“I don’t know,” she finally answered.

“This is what I know: I’m going to take you home, and either I can leave you there and we forget this ever happened, or,” he continued in a hard, menacing tone, “you’re going to invite me in, and we’re going to fuck until neither of us can walk.”

At the possibility of him filling her with his hardness, she was no longer dazed or confused. She was hot as hell. Lacey Bishop, independent, logical black female, was about to fuck the white boy next door. She’d question her sanity later.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Although she was standing much taller than her normal five feet six in her high heels, he bent until his ear was close to her mouth.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I’m going to invite you in,” she said, her voice firm.

“For what? I need the words, Lacey.”

“Ryder Jackson McKay, I want you to take me home so we can fuck until neither of us can walk.”

She strutted out of the building, check in hand.

* * * *

Rye helped her into his beloved Jeep Rubicon, and then they rode in silence until they came to a twenty-four-hour drugstore.

“I’ll be right back,” he muttered. Leaving the vehicle running, he locked the doors before walking inside with his long, sure stride.

She released her breath with the force of air from a popped balloon. Her hands were shaking, so she curled them into fists to keep them steady. Rye was going to get condoms so they could fuck responsibly. She almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of the concept, only she didn’t because this was real. It was a good thing he had some sense; protection hadn’t once crossed her mind, which obviously was on vacation. She and Rye. Together.
What the hell?

After witnessing many discarded females act a fool when Rye was ready to move on, Lacey should be running in the other direction. Instead, she was anxious to learn what the fuss was about. Rye’s goods had to be potent, because she felt like an addict after a sample. She could only imagine what shape she’d be in with a full dose.

It was almost midnight, so there were very few people milling around the well-lit chain store, and Lacey had no problem spotting him through the wall of windows. Well over six feet tall, he towered over the lone man in line. Whether it was his stealth or his confidence, Rye gave the impression of power. Of course she’d always been conscious of his physical appeal, but since she was now aware of his dick, his fineness was taking on new meaning.

Blond hair and blue eyes were a dime a dozen, but when combined with Rye’s strong jaw and chiseled lips, they were lethal. He’d ditched his jacket and tie, but in the crisp white shirt and black slacks, he was elegance walking. Lacey could also attest to his ability to look as good in a pair of threadbare jeans. An avid jogger and no stranger to a basketball court or the gym, he was long and muscular, strong without being bulky. Sexy as hell. So sexy it caused zero concern that she was about get down and dirty with someone outside her race.

Lacey tingled in anticipation. Seeking to satisfy a sexual itch for the hell of it was virgin territory to her, but she wanted the pleasure he offered if only for a few hours. She wasn’t a connoisseur of dicks like her cousin Monica, but she was positive Rye was packing some heat. He’d felt huge against her, contrary to stereotypes about white men and small penises.

Sensual pressure built between her thighs, and as she shifted to get some relief, Rye returned to the Jeep. Not saying a word, he unceremoniously dropped a box of extra-large condoms in her lap before pulling onto the highway. He hadn’t bothered with a bag.

“You still okay with this?” he asked, his gaze boring into her.

“I know what I’m doing. If you’re afraid I’m going to stalk you or something afterward, don’t worry. I’m horny, you’re horny, and we’re scratching an itch.”

Rye arched his thick eyebrows. “I had to check.”

“Look, we’re adults. If it helps, we can pretend we just met at a bar. When the sex is over, so are we. Like a one-night stand.”

“One-night stand?”

“Yes. We fuck. No strings. No rings. Is that what you want to hear?” At this point she’d say anything to make him fulfill his promise. She could definitely handle not being able to walk for a while.

“As long as it’s not awkward between us later. I never thought I’d want you so bad my fucking head is spinning in circles.”

She looked straight into his eyes without flinching. “Did it feel awkward when you had your hand down my blouse?”

He grunted. “Hell no.”

“Then keep rolling.” Abruptly she turned toward the window to focus on the passing scenery. She didn’t want to look at him. That might spur second thoughts, and she didn’t want to be logical or rational. She wanted him.

At her brownstone they went straight to her bedroom. With no other warning, he swirled her around and locked his hard, plundering mouth onto hers as he cupped her breasts. She moaned, relishing in the kiss, but before she allowed him to make a feast of her, she tore her lips away and took a step back.

“I’ve been working all evening. I need to shower,” she said, her breath thin and labored.

“Fine. But don’t take too long, and don’t bother putting any clothes back on.”

His stern order took her by surprise, but she nodded. He was always so laid-back that seeing this macho side of him made her girl parts even hotter. As instructed, her detour would not be a long one.

RYE HEARD THE spray of water from the en suite bath. After placing a handful of condoms from the box onto the bedside table, he stripped and laid his clothes on a side chair near the window. He ran a hand across his jaw and felt the prick of an emerging beard, but no way was he was going to borrow a razor to shave. Right now his main concern was uncovering more of Lacey’s secrets. He chuckled, recalling her saying “fuck” earlier. He’d never heard her break a verb, let alone use street vernacular, which she had several times tonight. For all her proper trappings, there was plenty of fire in Miss Lacey Bishop.

Looking around her bedroom, he realized how familiar he was with the space. In fact, he’d helped her brother haul in many of the hodgepodge pieces of furniture over the years. Never had he imagined he’d be pacing her private lair, dick hard, aching to plunge as deep inside her as he could get.

What in the world was going on with him?

He wasn’t suffering from lack of female attention, so he couldn’t blame his raging need for Lacey on a dry spell. Beyond her being a gorgeous woman, he didn’t know what fueled his urgent hunger, but he couldn’t wait to explore her svelte body, tasting her until she shattered to pieces. At the prospect of riding her, his balls tightened, and his cock rose to point almost accusingly at him, demanding relief.

His patience was wearing thin; how clean was she trying to get? Hell, he was about to make her hot and sweaty again anyway. Determined not to wait a second longer, he moved to retrieve her when she stepped into the bedroom. Naked.

The room seemed to shrink and he struggled to suck in enough air. Her brown palette seemed creamier and more luminous than possible on a human being. He couldn’t help but touch her to make sure she was real.

“You’re breathtaking,”

He pulled her into his arms, before covering her mouth with his. He offered her tongue, and his shaft hardened when she took it. After engaging in a sweet battle, he lowered his mouth to her round breast. He was so hungry he’d suck both of them at the same time if he could. When he pulled on her luscious flesh, her resulting moans were the equivalent of having her hands wrapped around his cock, squeezing. He’d never been so damn needy, so ready to open her legs and shove his hard—

Stop.

Keep it together, McKay.

He licked her hard nipple and then blew on the wetness he left. Shit, her tits were perfect. Full but firm, they were just the right shape, and the dark brown areolae provided a perfect backdrop for the chestnut tips. How had he never noticed how fucking sexy she was? Everything was exactly where it was supposed to be, and his dick approved.

It didn’t take much effort to pick her up and place her slender frame in the middle of the bed. Her body was pliant, signaling she was almost ready for his cock. He pushed her legs wide until she was on full display. Lean and taut, her thighs curved around a strip of black curls framing her slit. The little nubbin holding the key to her pleasure hid in her folds as if it was shy, daring him to explore her softness, so he did.

“Damn, you’re so wet for me,” he growled.

“I thought you knew.” Her throaty rasp penetrated his sensual fog.

“What?”

“I’ve been wet since the second you touched me.”

He went still and tried to keep his composure as a sudden rush of precum emerged from his cock. He had to have her right damn now, but he needed to make sure she was ready. With one finger, then with two, he parted her nether lips and salivated when her clitoris came into full view. He bent down, and after several light flicks of his tongue along her moist slit, he landed on her clit and sucked it into his mouth. She bucked so hard he had to latch on to her hips to keep her in place, but he loved her reaction. He used his thumbs to keep her open as he suckled her nub in earnest.

“Rye, what are you doing?” Her voice was thick and garbled.

“Tasting Lacey.” Like he was feasting on a juicy nectarine, he sent his tongue over her moist, ripe flesh before applying a strong suction. His reward was her undulating hips and choppy moans. When she tried to push him away, he pinned her hips to the mattress, keeping her still. She was his buffet, and he was going to eat until she lost her damn mind. The task would be easy, because her pussy was the best thing he’d ever tasted. Ever.

“
Rye
.”

He held his head at an angle, tugging her clit in a firm, milking motion. When her creamy essence spilled from her, he slurped up every drop.

“Ahh,” she screamed and jerked and arched her sex against his face. “Oh God, I’m coming.”

As she shook through her climax, the urge to pound his chest like a primate was strong, but he resisted. Instead, he stood and retrieved a condom from the nightstand. He groaned when he almost shot his load at his own touch. Hell no, not happening; he was determined to be surrounded by her hot walls when he came.

After taking several calming breaths, he climbed onto the bed between her widespread legs. Eyes closed and hands clutching the sheets, he trembled at the first connection of his engorged cock to her moist opening. His paler skin against her brown softness fucked with his head so badly he had to stop and savor the contrast of their complexions.

“Lacey, look at us.”

Her chocolate, glazed eyes shifted down. When she looked at his face again, all he saw was need.

“Please,” she whispered, twisting her hips toward him in a feeble attempt to capture his cock.

Her movements sent shocks through his system, making him flinch. “Please what?”

“Rye!”

“Come on, Lacey. Say it. Tell me what you want.”

“I want
you
.”

“You want me to what?”

“Fuck me. I want you to fuck me!”

“My pleasure.” He grunted as he gripped her ass and surged forward. His cockhead managed to delve into her glory, but the rest of his dick went into panic mode when he couldn’t go any farther. She was as unyielding as fucking a virgin.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered. Her pussy was so hot and good he wanted to tap her fucking backbone, but no way would he hurt her.

“You’re so tight,” he growled as he eased forward inch by agonizing inch. He damn near couldn’t breathe, and his eyes were crossed, but her silken tunnel widened to make room for him. No sooner than he was in to the hilt, he pulled out and then circled his hips until he established an acceptable rhythm. He almost couldn’t believe it. He was fucking Lacey Bishop.