Wicked Burn (3 page)

He focused on her sweat-dampened face. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was scattered across the pillow. She stared at him with desire-glazed eyes, her breath coming in choppy, shallow pants. The muscular, tight walls of her vagina tormented him. Every time he moved out of her, she pulled and sucked at his cock, demanding that he sink back into her depths before he was ready.

He pushed back first one thigh, and then the other, into her chest and began to pound into her. She shrieked in shock. It might have been in pain. It might have been in desire.

The only thing Vic knew for certain was that she had the tightest, sweetest little pussy he’d ever ridden.

“Vic! Vic?” she cried out in disbelieving ecstasy. He rocketed into her again and again, every driving downstroke pushing her body farther and farther up on the bed until her forearms were trapped between her skull and the wrought iron headboard.

Vic paused for a moment, still fully sheathed in her, and reached between their sweat-dampened bodies. His fingers spread the lips of her outer sex wide before he ground his pelvis against the nerve-packed tissues between her labia. She shimmered around him in post-orgasmic bliss. Her whole body began to tremble and shake when he surged up against her, scraping the narrow path of hair that trailed from his taut bellybutton to the thatch around his cock against her sensitive, exposed cleft and erect clit, applying a steady, relentless pressure.

When she groaned in misery, Vic knew she shook not only in post-orgasmic bliss but also in pre-orgasmic anticipation.

She opened her eyes dazedly. Vic watched her through narrowed eyelids.

“You want to come again?”

“
Yes
,” she entreated.

He smiled at the stark evidence of her need. He used his forearm to push her knees down hard into her shoulders. She keened at the increased pressure from the altered angle of his cock stabbing deeply into her body. When he grabbed a round buttock and smacked her ass twice lightly, she cried out in surprise.

“Give it to me, then,” he demanded harshly.

Her entire body began to shudder and shake once again in release.

Vic gave a tense bark of laughter, immensely pleased and aroused when he felt her heat rush around him.

“You liked that, baby?” he rasped as he began to pound into her quivering, hot pussy with quick, ruthless thrusts. Not that he expected her to answer. She was too busy climaxing, gushing liquid heat around him and squeezing his cock until he saw only a red haze in front of his eyes. Silk and pearls aside, Niall had liked it when he had spanked her plump little ass.

He struck their flesh together rapidly now, holding back nothing, striving madly to find relief in her farthest depths. She was immobilized against the headboard. He smacked their flesh together once more, the walls of her vagina still convulsing and pulling and taunting him.

God, she was a sweet fuck, he thought dazedly in the seconds before orgasm ripped through his flesh.

He threw his head back and roared between clenched jaws, pumping her hard and fast, shooting off what felt like gallons of his semen in a gloriously scalding climax.

 

 

Niall’s eyes clenched closed at the sensation of Vic throbbing in release even as he continued to fuck her. Tears leaked onto her cheeks. The truth of the matter was that the sensation of him coming so powerfully in her body was one of the two most poignant, profoundly wonderful experiences she’d ever had in her life.

The other had been when she’d first heard the sound of her baby’s cry and felt the slight, precious weight of his damp, warm body against her breast.

This had been, by far, the craziest, most impulsive thing Niall had ever done in her life. She didn’t even know Vic’s last name.

She couldn’t regret a second of it, though. Not then. Not at that moment, when blood pounded in her veins, vibrant and hot.

She felt reborn—raw, confused, shaky . . . and utterly, completely alive.

TWO

Vic collapsed over her, his ribcage expanding and contracting wildly for air. His cock was still hard as a pike. Her muscular channel still clamped him tightly inside her. All he could think about was taking her again and repeating that hot, pounding, exhilarating ride.

But his lungs couldn’t seem to catch a sufficient amount of air, momentarily stilling him.

So did the soft whimper that he heard her make in her throat.

His head came up. Their eyes met. Something in her wide-eyed stare made regret flicker through his awareness. He’d pounded her so hard. True, Vic liked his sex rigorous and hot, but because of that, he usually chose robust, experienced women who liked it that way as well.

The woman who lay beneath him, watching him with huge hazel eyes, was curved enticingly, but also slender and delicate. The smattering of freckles on her nose made her look young, belying her natural elegance and grace. He grimaced slightly when he glanced at her wrists, still pinned next to the headboard. He’d kept her in a ruthless hold while he plowed into her body—into that wet, tight pussy that enfolded him like a second skin even now. He’d probably bruised her.

His head lowered slowly to scan her for any damage.

Big mistake. Vic wasn’t talking himself out of his singular lust, he just enflamed it by examining her. He could see the blueness of her veins beneath her small, pointed breasts. The nipples were dark pink verging on red, large for the size of her breasts, erect and distended . . .

Succulent.

He swallowed convulsively as his cock jerked in agonized pleasure in her clasping sheath.

Niall felt the surging of his penis and the tightening of his body. It echoed her own increasing tension. She also saw the unrest on his rugged face as he stared fixedly at her breasts.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered.

His light gray eyes flickered to her face.

“Nothing.”

Niall gasped when he rolled off her. The abrupt withdrawal of his cock from her body felt harsh and completely unnatural. Uneasiness seeped into her awareness as she studied his stark profile. She saw a muscle twitch in his lean cheek.

Was this it? she wondered in rising confusion. Was she supposed to get up and politely make an exit before awkwardness settled in? Was that how these impulsive, carnal, completely irrational trysts between two strangers typically ended?

She wouldn’t know. This had been her first, Niall thought in rising disorientation.

He didn’t say anything as she scooted to the end of the bed, but she sensed his gaze on her back. She quickly readjusted her bra and found her panties. She didn’t stand and turn to face him until she’d pulled her dress back over her head. It struck her as surreal, how she’d been lying beneath him just minutes ago as he pried and pounded his essence seemingly into every cell of her being, and now they were apart, separate . . . once again what they truly were to each other.

Complete strangers.

A lump formed in her throat when her eyes lowered across his muscled, lean torso as he lay there in repose. His jeans were still shoved down around his thighs. Perhaps it had been wrong to say that he was in repose. His cock may not have been as iron-hard as it had been when he’d hammered it into her body a while ago, but it was still ample. It lay along his taut belly, still stretching the latex of the condom tightly . . . still glistening with moisture.

Her mouth went completely dry. Those were her juices coating the most shapely, beautiful cock she’d ever seen. The sight should have made panic rise in her.

But it didn’t. Desire swamped her instead, the magnitude of it shocking her.

She opened her mouth to speak, but there was nothing she could say that wouldn’t seem ridiculous under these circumstances.

Niall turned and left the room. She fumbled as she picked up her purse, dropping it clumsily in her haste to get out of there. She’d made it to within three feet of his front door when he called her name from directly behind her. She stopped dead in her tracks, afraid to turn around.

Afraid to face him.

She made a choking sound of longing in her throat when she felt his hands encircle her waist. He leaned down, brushing aside her hair with his lips and nose before he pressed a hot kiss against her neck.

 

 

Vic sprang off the bed, quickly disposing of the condom in the bathroom and jerking up his jeans before he followed Niall.

He cursed himself for not just letting her go. She was trouble. A woman as beautiful as she was, a woman who seemed formed for the express purpose of making a man hunger and want—how could such a woman not be selfish? How could she not drain a man of every last bit of himself, all of his energy, his creativity . . . his self-worth?

And once you were just the shell of the man that you had been, when you could no longer give her everything that she demanded of you . . . everything she needed? She’d go elsewhere to find it. It was only natural.

A woman like her was like a bright, blinding star that consumed as fuel everything—and everyone—in its path.

He should know. He’d learned that lesson firsthand from Jenny. It had taken him four years to recover. Only recently had he begun to truly be satisfied again with his life and his writing.

And what was he doing, but setting himself in the path of another woman so beautiful that it made him ache to look at her, unable to resist her steady, magnetic pull?

He reached, snagging her even as she stretched out a hand for the front doorknob.

He closed his eyes as Niall’s sweet, musky scent filled his nostrils. He spread his hands wide across her belly and hips as his lips brushed and rubbed against her silky skin. She was so small in comparison to the voluptuous women he usually favored. But Christ, hadn’t she cradled him like she’d been tailor-made for his cock?

He inhaled slowly. She smelled different from Jenny. She felt different. Niall obviously hadn’t been intimate with a man for a long, long time.

That was a significant difference from Jenny. Jenny couldn’t exist without a man in her bed . . . someone to constantly be holding up the figurative mirror that reflected her undeniable brilliance back to her, assuring her of its existence. Even though he’d built a career with words, Vic had failed miserably at providing her with what she needed. He couldn’t say it right for her, couldn’t say it fast enough. He couldn’t read Jenny’s enigmatic female mind and give her what she needed just when the desire occurred to her.

Yeah, Vic accepted that he was a complete and utter failure at understanding women . . . even the one that he’d wanted to comprehend most.

But no matter what Niall was or what Vic wasn’t, she deserved something more from him than what he’d given her just now.

Vic didn’t let himself think about why it was so important for him to prove to Niall Chandler that he could be soft as well as hard.

 

 

Niall tilted her neck to grant Vic more access to her skin. Her throat vibrated with pleasure as he kissed and nibbled with a potent mixture of patience and hunger. His hands moved over her belly, waist, and hips in a sensual caress.

She should stop this, shouldn’t she? How could adding to the foolishness of her actions make things any better?

“Vic? I’m not so sure this is a good idea.”

“I am,” he replied in a gravelly voice. He turned her in his arms. Her head fell back as she looked up at him. His eyes burned like flames in his otherwise stony countenance. He looked so hard and formidable that it took her lust-impaired brain a few seconds to interpret what he said next.

“You haven’t been with a man in a long time, have you?”

Her lower lip fell open in surprise. “I . . . Was it that ob—?”

She stopped abruptly. Her cheeks flooded with heat. She’d been about to ask him if it had been that obvious when she realized how stupid that would have sounded. Her body had been so stiff and resistive to his presence that he’d probably wondered if she was a virgin. Humiliation swamped her awareness. She noticed the way his eyes narrowed as he looked at her face, and she glanced away uncomfortably.

“No. No, I haven’t,” she finally answered throatily.

He tilted her chin so that she faced him again.

“I must have made you burn.”

Niall blinked in amazement. Made her burn? God,
yes
, he’d made her burn—like a thousand suns.

“I . . . Vic, I don’t know . . .” she began awkwardly before a choking sensation in her throat muted her. Tears flooded her eyes, but she couldn’t say why. It had been something in his tone that did it, something that belied his stark, cold features . . . something that sounded very much like tenderness.

“Let me make it better for you, Niall,” he whispered. He leaned down and brushed soft kisses across her cheeks and nose before he settled on her parted lips.

Niall’s eyelids fluttered closed as he used his lips and teeth to gently nip at her mouth. His big hands spread across her ribcage in a light, elusive embrace. The distant thought occurred to her that he was an expert at this—at soothing anxious animals, at mesmerizing with his deep voice and spare words, at coaxing a creature with his magical touch until its will perfectly matched his own.

She craned up for his mouth, hungry for the remembered rich taste that she knew she’d find in his depths. They both turned slightly. Their mouths slid and fastened into a perfect fit.

Niall’s bones turned to jelly. God, it had been way,
way
too long for her. She’d had no idea that her body was so primed, so needy for the pleasures that a man could give it.

She sighed at the sensation of his hands on her breasts, his fingers rubbing and pinching lightly at her sensitized nipples. Heat swept through her genitals, leaving a dull ache of longing in its wake. A sound of protest rose in her throat when his mouth left hers. Her eyes blinked open when she felt him back her against the wall of the hallway. She stared down, the image of the top of his dark head as it sank before her emblazoning itself on her memory.