Wallbanger (47 page)

Tongue. Lips. Fingers. Hands. All of it dedicated to me and my pleasure. A girl could get used to this.

I could feel the sweet tension begin to build, but this time my body received it differently. My body, perfectly in tune for once, was ready, and in my mind, behind closed eyes, I saw myself begin to approach that cliff. In my head, I grinned, because I knew this time I was gonna catch that bitch. And then? Really amazing things began to happen down below. Long gorgeous fingers pressed inside me, twisting, and curving, and finding that secret spot. Lips and tongue encircled that other spot, sucking and licking, pressing and pulsing. Tiny pricks of light began to dance behind my eyelids, intense and wild.

“Oh, God…Simon…that’s so…good…don’t…stop…don’t…stop…”

I groaned loud, louder, and then louder still, unable to contain the sounds I was making. It was so good, so good, so very, very good, so close, so close…

And then the screaming began. And it was not my own.

Out of the corner of my eye, I became aware of some kind of furry missile racing across the floor.

Like some kind of pussified dive bomb, Clive ran at Simon, leaped, and dug into his back, attacking him from behind.

Simon ran from the bedroom into the hallway, then back in again, Clive still latched on like some kind of rabid coonskin back cap that would not shake off. He had his arms—does a cat have arms?—wrapped around Simon’s neck in a way that under other circumstances would have seemed like an adorable cat hug. But right now, he meant business.

I ran after them, naked except for my apron, trying to get Simon to slow down, but with those ten claws digging deeper in, he continued running from room to room.

The irony that Simon was literally trying to run away from pussy was not lost on me.

If I could have watched from outside, rather than being involved, I would have peed myself. As it was, I was having a hard time stifling myself listening to Simon’s screams. I really must love him.

Finally, I backed them both into a corner, turned Simon around, resisted the urge to squeeze buns, and pried Clive loose. I quickly headed out to the living room and deposited him on the sofa with a thunk, patting him on the head once as a thank you for the defense, unwarranted as it was. Clive responded with a prideful meow and began licking his whiskers.

I went back into the kitchen to find Simon, still huddled against the wall. I appraised him, his eyes wild as he leaned against the wall, wincing at his back. My gaze was drawn lower. Unbelievable.

He

Was

Still

Hard.

He saw my eyes travel down his body, reminiscent of the first time we met face to face. He nodded sheepishly.

“You’re still hard,” I blurted, breathing heavily as I tried once more to untie my apron.

“Yeah.”

“That’s amazing.”

“You’re amazing.”

“Ah, fuck,” I huffed, giving up on the knot.

“Yes, please.”

I paused for a split second, then whirled the apron around to my back in one swift movement. I leaped across the room, my apron flying behind me like a low-rider cape and crashed into him, driving him up against the wall as I assaulted him. He caught me as I wrapped around him like a feisty blanket, kissing him furiously. My nails raked down his chest, and he gasped.

“Your back okay?” I asked between kisses.

“I’ll live. Your cat, however…”

“He’s protective. He thought you were hurting Mommy.”

“Was I?”

“Oh no, quite the opposite.”

“Really?”

“Hell yes,” I cried, sliding against him, manipulating my body against his, honey and sugar slick and gritty between us.

I dragged myself down his body, stopping to kiss the very tip of him. I pulled him down onto the floor with me and flipped him onto his back so quickly a puff of flour clouded the air. There, in the middle of the kitchen, naked with marmalade dotting my breasts, I straddled him. Raising up just a little bit, I caught his hands and encouraged him to grab my hips.

“You’re gonna want to hold on for this,” I whispered, and sank down onto him. We both sighed at the same time, the feeling of him inside me once more just amazing. I arched my back and flexed my hips experimentally…once…twice…a third time. It really was true what they said about riding a bike. My body remembered this just as quickly.

With my stupid apron riding bitch behind me, I began to move above Simon, feeling him move inside me, responding and rewarding, thrusting and never relenting. Driving, pushing, we moved together—actually even moving across the kitchen floor a little. He sat up underneath me, moving deeper into me as I cried out. My hands were wild in his hair. It was standing straight up beneath my fingers as I took hold, anchoring myself as I closed my eyes and began.

Began that long march to the edge of the cliff.

I could see the edge, high above the raging waters. As I peeked over the edge, I saw her. O. She waved at me, diving under and over the water like a sexual porpoise. Crafty little bitch.

Simon was kissing my neck, licking and sucking my skin, making me insane.

I stuck one foot over the edge, pointing my toes directly at her, rolling my ankle and waving little circles in the air in her direction.

Little circles.

I pushed Simon back onto the floor, grabbed his hand in mine, and brought it between my legs. I rode him hard, pressing my fingers against his, my cries getting louder as we sped up our rocking, both of us, in tune and right there. Right there. Right, right, right…there…

“Caroline, Jesus, you…are…amazing…love…you…so…much…killing…me…”

And that’s the little extra I needed.

In my head, I took one step back, then dove. Not jumped. Dove. Executed a perfect swan dive, thank you very much, straight into the water. Clean and true, I grabbed onto her and didn’t let go as I slipped into the water.

The O had returned.

White noise filled my ears as my toes and fingers got the news first. They tingled, tiny fizzles and sparks of energy spinning up and out, driving through every nerve and every cell that had been starving for this for months. These cells told other cells, communicating to their sisters that something fantastic was happening. Color exploded behind my eyelids, bursting brightly into tiny little sensory fireworks as the feeling continued to spread to every corner of my body. Pure pleasure shot through me, pulsing and slicing, filling me up as I shook and shimmied on top of Simon, who hung on through the entire thing.

I don’t know if he could see the choirs of dirty angels singing, but no matter. I could. And it was the definition of bliss.

O came back, and she brought friends.

Wave after wave crashed through me as Simon and I continued to press and twist, arching into every single one of them. My head was thrown back as I continued to scream lustfully, not caring who or what could hear me in my own House of Orgasm.

I opened my eyes at one point to see Simon below me, frantic and happy, smiling big as he stayed with me through it all, his strenuous effort clear across his face as the flour in his hair turned into a wonderful little paste.

He was becoming papier-maché.

Still onward I thrashed, passing through the land of multiples and into some kind of no man’s land. Passing six and seven, my body became limp with ecstasy.

But O brought one more friend. She brought along G, the Holy Grail.

Stuttering like an idiot, I grasped hold of Simon, holding on for dear life as the biggest tidal wave of love and toe-curling heat hit me like a ton of bricks. Sensing I needed help for this one, Simon sat up, which positioned him even more uniquely. He found a spot deep inside, hidden to most, and he leaned into me, driving himself over and over again as I held my breath and hung on tight.

I finally opened my eyes again, seeing light spark around the room as oxygen rushed back into my system. I babbled incomprehensibly into his chest as he rocked into me again and again, finally finding his own kind of amazing somewhere deep inside me.

I held onto him, feeling the waves finally retreat, both of us shaking now. As we panted, the pleasure left and the love simply rushed in, filling me back up again. My mouth was too tired to move. He had taken my breath away. So I did the best I could, I placed his hand over my heart and kissed his sweet face. He seemed to understand, and kissed me back. I hummed with happiness. Humming didn’t take as much effort.

Utterly spent and exhausted, punch drunk and covered in sticky sweat, I lay back against his legs, not caring a bit how contorted and ridiculous I looked as tension tears ran down the sides of my face and into my ears. Sensing this was not the most comfortable position for me, Simon moved out from under me and helped to unbend my pretzel legs before cradling me in his arms on the kitchen floor.

We lay quietly, not speaking for a while. I noticed Clive sitting just inside the doorway to the bedroom licking his paws quietly.

All was good.

When movement seemed possible, I tried to sit up, the room spinning a little. Simon kept one arm around me as we appraised the situation, the overturned bowls and bottles, the scattered bread, the chaos that was my kitchen. I laughed quietly and turned to him. He watched me with happy eyes.

“Should we clean this up?” he asked.

“No, let’s shower.”

“’Kay,” he answered, helping me up.

I cracked my back like an old lady, wincing at the good hurt my body felt. I started for the bathroom, then changed direction, heading for the fridge. I grabbed a bottle of Gatorade and tossed it to him. “You’re gonna need it.” I winked, flouncing my apron on my way to the shower. Now that the O was back, I planned to waste no time in summoning her again.

As Simon followed me to the bathroom, taking a swig of Gatorade, Clive suddenly flopped onto the floor, rolling over on his back. He seemed to be waving Simon over with his paws. Simon looked at me, and I shrugged. We both looked at Clive, who wiggled on his back, continuing to wave him over. Simon knelt right next to him, cautiously extending one hand. Winking at me—I swear to Christ he did—Clive wiggled a little closer. Knowing this could still be a trap, Simon cautiously reached down and rumpled the fur on his belly. Clive let him. I even heard a tentative purr.

I left the two boys alone for a moment and went to turn on the shower so it could heat up. I finally got the apron knot undone and was able to abandon it on the floor. Stepping under the spray, I moaned at the feeling of the warm water hitting my still-sensitive skin.

“You coming? ’Cause I sure did,” I called over the rush of the shower, laughing at my own joke. A moment later Simon poked back the corner of the shower curtain to watch me naked and covered in bubbles. He smiled like the devil as he climbed in. I drew in a breath at the sight of ten tiny punctures in his back, but he laughed it away.

“We’re good. I think we just made friends,” he assured, pulling me against him and joining me under the water.

I sighed, relaxing. “This is nice,” I murmured.

“Yeah.”

The water beat down around us. I was in the arms of my Simon, and it couldn’t get any better.

He pulled back a little, a question on his face. “Caroline?”

“Hmm?”

“Is any of that bread I threw on the floor…well…”

“Yes?”

“Is any of it zucchini?”

“Yes, Simon, there’s zucchini bread.”

Silence once again, but for the water.

“Caroline?”

“Hmm?”

“I didn’t think I could love you more, but I really kind of do.”

“I’m glad, Simon. Now gimme some sugar.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

4:37 p.m., that same day

“I
S
T
HAT
T
HE
S
OAP
? Don’t slip on the soap.”

“I won’t slip on the soap.”

“I don’t want you to slip. Be careful.”

“I won’t slip on the soap. Now turn back around and be quiet.”

“Quiet? Not possible, not when you…mmm…and then when you…ooohhh…and then when you—ow, that hurt, Simon. You okay back there?”

“I slipped on the soap.”

I started to turn around to see if he was indeed okay when he suddenly pressed me up against the shower wall, holding my hands flat against the tile. Lips tickled and water sprinkled down my skin and across my shoulders as his body flexed against mine. Thoughts of runaway soap slipped from my mind as he slipped inside me, hard and thick and delicious. My breath left me in a gasp, amplified by the tile walls, made sexy by the water falling, and quickly followed by another gasp as he proceeded to thrust into me, achingly slowly and purposefully, his hands now gripping my hips.

I threw my head backward, turning my face to find the sight of Simon, naked and wet. His brow was furrowed, mouth open as he invaded completely and without apology. I spiraled fast, awareness and clear thought narrowing down to a pinpoint before exploding, wordless words falling out of my mouth and down to the water, circling the drain.