Читать книгу Purely Sexual - Delta Dupree - Страница 8

Everything tingled in her body; every atom multiplied. Challie was afraid to breathe, let alone think.

Amobi, the young man from the town near her village, had never kissed her this well. Never this thoroughly.

Fontana tasted like mint. The cool freshness danced over her taste buds. His tongue touched every crevice inside, almost went down her throat.

Goodness.

She matched his teasing, tasting every bit of him as his arms closed around her. As he lifted her off the floor, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing more firmly against his solid body, moving her hips to the exciting music playing inside her brain.

His man-thing pushed insistently against her pelvis, touching the tip of her most private possession, sending a devastating shimmer through her body. Automatically, she clamped her thighs around his waist, wanting to feel more, wanting something she didn’t recognize.

She was wet again. Really wet. The harder his thrusts, the wetter her panties, the more her insides quivered in response. Gripping her bottom, he pulled her forward then eased her backward in a rhythm she remembered. Yet those memories weren’t as sensuous as today’s delicious event. Even the pain she remembered had nearly faded from her mind.

Until she thought about the python.

Challie broke away and turned her head. “No.” Except she forgot to move her legs, or they forgot to move, or they didn’t want to move.

Ignoring her protest, he smoothed his lips over her cheeks and nibbled a path down the sensitive column of her neck. Something free-flowing rushed through Challie’s system. On fire, she clamped her lower lip between her teeth, nearly drew blood and gripped her legs tightly, thrusting her hips forward to meet his.

Donnie eased her back onto the counter. “Relax,” he said.

Working free of the cumbersome jeans, he somehow got his zipper hung up. Damn. The more he fought the contraption, the harder his cock grew. If he didn’t hurry, he’d ram into Challie like an unsophisticated teenager working his first piece of ass.

He fumbled, pulled and jerked, trying to free Duke with one hand, holding on to her waist with the other.

“I don’t think I want to do this,” she said, drawing her legs away.

Bullshit. He slid his fingers between the shorts and her leg, touched the source of her heat, stroking the lips of her opening, teasing. Her fingers tightened on his shirt. The sound of her seductive whimper urged him on. Donnie delved his middle finger into liquid fire. She was tight as hell, slick, sopping wet.

Finger two joined in. Challie squeaked. A good-sounding squeak, a lusty cry of pleasure. This pussy would open like a morning flower. Take him completely inside her. Consume him—if he was able to free his cock of these damn jeans.

When he twisted his fingers inside her, she let out a low groan and tried to wiggle away, still clutching his arms. Donnie forgot the pants. He gripped her hips, held her in place then smoothed his creamy fingers sensuously over her slick folds.

“I’ve only done it once,” Challie said.

He stilled his fingers. It. Oh shit. Basically untouched. He’d never laid a virgin before, but there was always a first time. Except if he hurt her, made sex unbearable, she’d never marry him. They had to get married, but right now, he needed this fuck badly.

Leaning forward, nuzzling the soft tissue of her throat, he inhaled. She smelled cleaner than fresh mountain air. Donnie licked a path down her chest to her breasts. Through the thin shirt, he bit gently and sucked. Something hit the cabinet above him. Had to be her head.

Arching forward, she grabbed hold of his ears, held him in place.

He lifted the fabric. Large nipples budded, peaked. Donnie latched onto one and worked it with his teeth, gnawed, laving her breast with everything he had. He gave the second the same undivided attention.

Above him, Challie moaned, lacing her fingers through his hair.

Focusing on the object of her heat, he slid farther down. He circled his tongue over the button of her existence, then tore shorts and panties at the inseams, freeing all her glory. A triangular tuft of dark, springy hair. Inhaling deeply, nostrils flared, her scent aroused him. He loved the intoxicating fragrance of a woman in heat, a woman in every man’s fantasy—in the take-me mode.

When he touched his tongue to the tip of her swollen nub, she tried to scramble away.

“No!”

“Oh, yes,” he said. “Hell, yes.”

Nothing could stop him, even when she’d nearly scalped him.

Donnie dove in with busy fingers and his tongue, tasting her sweet nectar. He took Challie to the brink of a powerful climax, had her writhing above him as she tightened her fingers in his hair, legs jerking. She was sure to explode at any moment, gushing.

He shoved her legs over his shoulders. Strong thighs clamped a viselike grip over his ears. He continued the assault, thrusting his tongue, retreating slowly, thrusting again. Latching onto her clit, Donnie sucked hard while his fingers kept busy.

She peaked, came apart bit by electric bit. Challie’s high-pitched scream surely rocked the prairie, stampeding cattle, clearing every acre of the ranch. Trembling as the tumultuous climax subsided, her legs dropped limply to Donnie’s shoulders. He eased her through the aftermath with gentle tongue licks.

So this is what was supposed to happen, Challie thought. Had Amobi started his seduction the same way, before plowing his giant man-thing inside her, she would’ve happily continued having sex with him. Maybe the act had been fun and exhilarating for him, but he didn’t seem to care that he’d hurt her. She’d refused him afterward, even when he’d begged, even when he’d promised to marry her. Marriage just wasn’t part of her future. Neither was sex.

She forced her heavy eyelids to open, to see this wild man rising from between her legs, a smile on his face. A wicked grin.

Uh-oh.

When he straightened, Challie did want to pee. Boxers weren’t big enough for what he’d grown between his legs. Heavily veined, his man-thing reminded her of the anaconda she’d seen on a television movie, which had scared her senseless. Hanging free, bouncing, pulsing to its own music, the head was a crest of magnificence. This snake would rip her apart.

“I don’t think so. Nope. Uh-uh. Can’t do it.” She closed her legs tight enough to flatten a biscuit and started to scoot off the counter.

He held her in place. “I won’t hurt you. Promise.”

Challie shook her head. “You’d better go back to Arizona, get one of those big-breasted blondes. Maybe one lives here. This is out of the question. Never.” She just couldn’t stop her insides from quivering while staring at all that beauty reaching toward her, enticing her to stay.

He touched her again, ran his fingers up her thigh, stroked softly between her legs, coaxing them apart. Mesmerized, she watched two of his fingers slip inside her to the second knuckle and retreat, repeated, deeper.

She melted. Challie begged him to stop, to keep going, to stop again.

When he stepped between her legs, rubbing the engorged head against her slick opening, she knew her bones turned to butter, oozed over the counter and dripped to the floor. Drawing her knees up, he positioned her heels, spreading her bare feet apart. When he penetrated, Challie sucked in air. At most, one inch of the serpent disappeared inside her body, stretching her, only to reappear.

It hurt. She couldn’t take the pain. “I can’t. You’re too big. Hate pain.”

“Just relax. I’ll go slowly.”

He thrust forward a tiny bit farther. Fascinated by the sight of his man-thing vanishing only to reemerge, Challie relaxed her muscles.

“See? You’re not fighting me anymore,” Fontana said. “What’s changed?”

She licked her lips. She hadn’t gotten the chance to watch Amobi. He’d kept her above him at the start, then on her back for the duration. “Curiosity. I’ve always been curious about sex. We shouldn’t do this anyway. Hate pain for nothing.”

“Yes, we should. Believe me. It won’t be for nothing. We’ll both feel really good soon.” He slipped inside her again, added more length. “How does it feel?”

She bit her lip. “Better.” It wasn’t too, too bad. “Much better. Don’t push hard.”

“I won’t.” He pulled out slowly, rubbed the glistening head against her swollen nub then gave her more on the next deeper drive.

Each time he retreated, the serpent came out wet, slick. From her juices. Watching made the invasion easier, but he had not completely penetrated. Could she handle it? Oh, but she wanted to enjoy it all if she could.

Donnie began to shake. He wanted to bury himself to the hilt. Virginal goods. Watching her watch him increased his drive. No woman had ever paid attention, and he’d never moved this slowly before now.

With each stroke, he swelled. With each stroke, he neared the edge of delirium. With each languid thrust, he had a hell of a time holding back from jackhammering Challie through the wall.

“Is it getting bigger?” she asked, looking up into his face. “I don’t think I can take any more.”

Sweating now, he still had a good three inches left, wanted to feel her body against his, touch her very core. “We’ll go slow and easy. Tell me what you feel. Tell me what you like. Talk to me.” She swallowed several times, but her eyes glazed as he penetrated again. At least he was able to focus. Barely.

“It’s so smooth, like…like cotton. I feel like it’s caressing me the way classical music caresses. Chopin, Schumann, Tchaikovsky.”

“I am caressing you. Classical?” It was a style he’d mostly avoided. He had to admit, the slow sensuous movements were as caressing as music. Like the piano music that he’d heard at the mansion.

“Go slower. I like watching,” she said, shifting on the counter. “More. Give me a little bit more.”

He sank into her another inch, retreated more the next withdrawal, ever so leisurely when on the verge of a cataclysmic eruption. He didn’t know how he could continue at this pace. The veins in his cock had expanded. Blood pumped madly, matching the beat of his heart. Fast. Pounding. Nowhere near classical standards, more like heavy metal.

She ran her finger down his wet length as he withdrew, then wiggled forward, balanced on the counter’s edge. “More.”

Shifting her legs over his arms, he pushed deeper, slightly harder. He touched the tip of her tiny protrusion with his fingertips, pressed down, making solid contact with Duke as he left her cocoon in measured degrees. The ragged hiss was his own.

A trickle of her sweet-tasting nectar followed, dribbled to the countertop, wasted when he should have lapped it up with his tongue. He withdrew and started down to his knees before Duke went on a plundering rampage.

“No! Don’t take it away.”

Okay. No problem. Bending his knees slightly, penetrating again, he shoved in an up angle, his fingers pressing firmly down on her clit.

She looked up, straight into his eyes. There was something there in those sparkling gray depths, something different when the pupils spread like water. Then he recognized the intensity in her storm gray eyes. G-spot. A second later, the first snap stunned Duke with such violence he nearly came.

“I w-want,” she stuttered. Her voice caught on a sob. “All of it. Now. Now!”

On that welcome demand, he surged forward. Impact dragged out a scream. Donnie let loose of her legs and wrapped his arms around her body. “I’m sorry. Sorry.” Embedded, he could hardly stand still, wanting to drive home again.

She wrapped all of her limbs around him. Challie lifted on a sleek rise and he forced her hips down, over and over again. The movements escalated to a wicked frenzy, taking them to the next unruly level.

He fought against the blur clouding his vision. Without warning, she clamped around him. Donnie detonated on a mighty roar, drowning out her strangled scream. He kissed her, drank deeply as his world turned upside down and went sideways.

Blinded by the climax’s ferocity, legs weak and swaying, he grabbed the counter to stabilize them, balancing Challie with one arm, and continued pounding with pillaging strokes. Until his thrusts slowed to a gentle rocking motion, until Duke lost his ravaging zeal.

Burying his face against her neck, moaning, he dropped tender kisses on her shoulder up to her ear.

As the tremors wore off, their breaths coming in shallow pants, Donnie deposited Challie on the counter, trying to remember if and when he’d climaxed like this before. She’d damn near sucked the life from his body.

Blinking several times, clearing his mind, he remembered one important fact.

Coed pool.

What if she got pregnant? He’d be stuck with a wife and a kid. He was too young for a family of his own, too wild for one. Families needed devotion, too much time, when he liked his foot-loose and fancy freedoms. Dedication belonged to other men. Not Donnie.

Unwrapping Challie, he eased out of her warmth. Dynamite snatch, one he’d love to dive into a second time when Duke was capable of getting another rise. In a few minutes. With a condom. Never this again without one. Risky business otherwise.

Leaning back, Donnie asked, “Are you protected?” He flinched at his brusque tone.

“From what?”

Ah, shit. “Pregnancy.”

She blinked rapidly. “Protected how?”

Ah, fuck. “Why the hell are you screwing when you’re not on the pill or wearing a diaphragm? Something to keep from having babies!”

“You’re the one who started this screwing. Why didn’t you use protection? I’d be cleaning if it hadn’t been for you.” She wore indignant well and slapped at his chest. “My clothes wouldn’t be ripped apart, either.” She jumped down from the counter, groaning, tattered shorts hanging like a raggedy skirt.

Donnie tucked away a wasted Duke. He zipped his pants and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“Yes, there is. What’s wrong?”

“I said nothing.” Taking a step, she cringed, noisily sucking in the next breath.

Hell, he’d done it now. She’d fucked his brains out. Now she couldn’t walk. He scooped her into his arms.

“Put me down, you big jerk.”

He started for her bedroom. Changing his mind, he took her to his room. The bed was bigger and closer to the bathroom. Donnie set her down gently. “Warm water will help. I’ll fill the tub.”

“I don’t need you to draw my bath water,” she snapped. “I don’t need you.” She crawled off the opposite side of the bed and hobbled across the room.

“Challie, come back here.”

Instead, she slammed his door, then the one to the bathroom.

Women.