Читать книгу Operation G-spot - Jodi Lynn Copeland - Страница 8

“Dusty…” The one-word warning was all Liz could get out, and she was amazed it even came out sounding relatively calm. She didn’t feel calm. She felt like her heart and her pussy were having a contest to see which would explode first.

He extended his hand toward her mouth, until his whipped-cream-covered finger hovered inches from her desert-dry lips. “Try it,” he urged in a rough whisper.

She wanted to, wanted to lick his finger off slowly, sensuously. Suck every last bit of cream away. The memory of sucking the salty-sweet cum from his dick as he’d climaxed in her mouth pushed through her mind and further heated the molten liquid burning in her sex.

He obviously ate his Brussels sprouts. They were rumored to enhance the flavor of a man’s cum, and his had tasted like her favorite new snack.

“Scared?” Dusty questioned when she remained motionless, silent.

To death.

It was ridiculous to fear him, but the damn man had thrown her for a loop. First by seeing past her bigmouthed and carefree charade to her cynicism. Then with the reality of his upbringing.

She’d imagined his childhood ideal, something to dislike him for all the more. In reality, it sounded like it had been less desirable than her own. Her mother might be an absentee flake whose greatest concern was what man she would do next, but at least Liz had had her father and Colin, misguided though their good intentions were at times. Outside of the letters Colin had exchanged with Dusty following a chance meeting when Colin had spent several weeks at a Texas ranch camp, Dusty had had only his brothers to share his youth with. Who knew if they’d even gotten along?

Damnit, she would not feel sorry for him. What he’d endured as a kid didn’t change the arrogant dickhead he’d turned into as a man.

“You know me so well,” she managed sarcastically.

He smiled in the way that drew out the sharp angles of his jawline beneath the day’s growth of sandy-blond stubble, and her heart stuttered. “Maybe not everything, but I’d like to think I know a thing or two. Like how wet you are right now, wondering what my next move will be. I want to show you my favorite cream, Elizabeth. I want to show you exactly how much I enjoy tonguing you, making you squirm in my hands, making you come so hard, you can’t help but scream. Just say the words. Tell me you want it.”

Jesus. Liz trembled with the thought of how incredible his tongue felt pushing inside her body, licking at her with slow, firm, masterful strokes. How close he’d brought her to climax twice now.

Only a woman with the IQ of a stick of Juicy Fruit would be stupid enough to break her vow not to give in to him. After all, they were in a public place again. A place where anyone could walk in on them. Then there was the fact that she’d already given him to Kristi. Of course, in the name of orgasm and the Operation G-Spot creed, Kristi would forgive her. And, really, it was too late for anyone to be coming around. Even if someone did pass by, the door was locked. It seemed Dusty knew who he was with, too, since he was calling her by her ridiculously sweet full name.

Only her name didn’t sound sweet rolling off his tongue. It sounded sexy. Sensual. It made her feel feminine in a way she’d never imagined possible.

Fiona and Kristi might be nutso for telling her to give Dusty another try, but maybe they were also right. So long as she was maybeing, maybe her intelligence level wasn’t so far off from that stick of gum because she was seriously considering this.

A little lick couldn’t hurt anything, right?

Denying further thought, Liz brought her tongue out slowly, wetting her dry lips before flicking the tip of her tongue across his finger. “Oooh…” He was sooo right. They did do great things together. The whipped cream was heavenly. She lapped at his finger, eagerly savoring the sweet, light, velvety taste. She moaned her delight.

“More?”

Hearing the strained sound of his voice, she met his eyes. They burned dark with lust, hunger, and, most importantly, stark reality. He wanted her. She wanted him. One night would be okay. One quick screw to get her off and get him out of her life.

He could pretend he’d come here for cooking lessons, but the truth was clear. He’d come here because he’d yet to give her an orgasm, and his ego couldn’t handle that fact; it wouldn’t be able to let go and move on until he proved he knew where her G-spot lived and exactly how it wanted to be stroked. He’d come here because the cooking class was one of the few places she wouldn’t make a scene, where she would be forced to listen to him, be forced to wiggle her way around his finger and want every little thing he hinted at. His finger that she could go on licking for days…

The whipped cream was gone, and it was skin she tasted. Hot, potent, virile male skin.

“It’s good.” Liz licked her tongue across the tip of his finger and sighed. “Damned good.” She traveled her tongue up his finger, knuckle to knuckle, and then turned her mouth on his hand, nibbling along the soft web of flesh between finger and thumb.

Warm. Salty. So incredibly masculine.

Dusty grunted and she released his hand to again meet his eyes. Heat rolled through her with the raw desire burning there, turning his eyes to the darkest of chocolates and cascading a rush of wet warmth from her pussy.

If she hadn’t worn panties tonight, she would be dripping all over the classroom floor. Instead she would be dripping all over his hard cock, in approximately three seconds.

Christ, the way this man affected her. The other night he’d had her totally forgetting time and place. And now, now he had her so impatient to get them both naked and panting, for the first time in her life she wished she hadn’t made a hobby out of snacking on her fingernails—long ones would seriously come in handy when it came to shredding the clothes from his fine-ass body.

Speaking of fine asses…

“You were right—as good as that cream is, it’s still only second best. I’d rather have the first.” Liz flung herself at Dusty, ready to grab hold of his buttocks while she attacked his mouth, devoured his kiss, stripped away his clothes until only sun-bronzed skin kept her from all that first-class muscle and sinew.

Her hands skimmed the worn cotton of his black T-shirt en route to his delectable behind. Before they could go any farther, she found her hands pushed away from him and pressed up against the refrigerator door along with the rest of her overheated body.

Holding her wrists above her head in one hand, Dusty brought his free hand to her face. He tilted her chin up and teased a warm, damp kiss at the corner of her lips. “You don’t say,” he taunted, rocking up against her, pressing his dick against her swollen sex, making her ache in a way that couldn’t be legal.

“Never second-guess me, Marr. Especially when you’re getting what you want. I’m liable to take it away, and we both know how you naughty little boys cry when that happens.”

His cocky smirk said what they were both thinking: She could never escape his viselike grip. However twisted it might be, she found herself glad for that fact in a way she would never admit to him. Her happiness shot up a level as he tugged the apron from her body with a quick jerk. That happiness flowed over into the serious jubilant range as his hand fisted in the waist of her T-shirt and yanked.

The sound of ripping cotton filled Liz’s ears and spiked her heart rate. Her pussy thrummed as the torn shirt fell to the ground. Dusty’s attention dropped to her breasts, half-concealed by a black bra. He had the bra off in the instant it took to pop the front clasp, and he sent the lacy garment sailing. For all she knew, her bra had landed on the range top. If the range was hot from the oven beneath, the lace could catch fire. And wouldn’t burning down the building impress the cooking class’s instructor? And wasn’t her messed-up mind totally attempting to take over?

Cool whipped cream fingered onto her erect nipples had Liz gasping back into the moment. Dusty’s mouth came down, latching onto her swollen tit and sucking at the aching crown. The heat of his mouth quickly replaced the chill of the cream. The grip on her wrists intensified. His sucking turned to tender bites that had liquid longing pumping through her veins and jetting to her core. That longing only grew as the coarse hair of his goatee abraded a nipple.

Her hips shot forward, connecting her weeping sex with the hard ridge of his cock. Brushing her nipple with his goatee a second time, he pumped his hips back toward her, pushing his shaft harder against her pussy, applying pressure at just the right angle to bring her clit to hot, hungry life.

Holy shit! Her clit was hungry.

Now there was something she’d never experienced before. Another brush of his goatee. Another pump of his hips. Her clit went from hungry to famished, tingling with its urgent want. Her sex grew heavy, unbearably moist. So damned needy. She whimpered against the erotic thrill of the foreign sensations and knew beyond a fact that, even though he had yet to move beneath her jeans and panties, he not only knew where her G-spot was, but he also had complete control over it.

“Enough of the nipple action. Get the fuck in me!”

Popping the button and easing the zipper down on her jeans, he lifted his mouth from her breast to eye her. “Aren’t much one for patience, are you, babe?”

Not tonight. Going fast and keeping her mind from straying was the only way to achieve the orgasm slowly building inside her. Not even that was a guarantee. More like a chance in hell. “Now or never. Your choice.”

Dusty’s fingers uncoiled from her wrists. The hand at the open fly of her jeans fell away. He took a step back.

Air wheezed in between Liz’s lips and died ice cold in her throat. No way was he stopping. No way would he take her up on that “never” option. He wasn’t even supposed to have an option; they were just stupid words she’d spoken to keep in line with the brash-talking woman she made herself out to be.

“In that case, see ya around.”

“Don’t you dare leave me like this, you dickhead!” Liz clamped her mouth shut the second the words left her mouth. It wasn’t fast enough. The knowing smile that curved his lips said he’d heard the desperation in her voice loud and clear.

She opened her mouth to say something more, anything to knock the arrogant smile off his face. His fingers returned to her body before she could get a word out.

Coated with a fresh layer of whipped cream, they traveled over her breasts, across her nipples, and down the slope of her belly. She sucked in a breath as two fingers moved farther south, disappearing beneath the fly of her jeans and then the lace of her panties.

She forgot to breathe altogether when cool cream met with the heated flesh of her pussy lips. One finger speared between the slick folds, caressing the ravenous pearl of her clit, and her breathing returned as a ragged sigh.

“Now, Marr. I said now!” Liz grabbed hold of the hem of his T-shirt and tugged upward. Her mouth watered as his defined musculature came into view.

Goddamn, she could run her tongue all over him.

Then again, no she couldn’t. They had to keep things moving along. They had to get to the main event. Get her off and him out of her life. He might be her brother’s friend, but she’d already vowed to move out of Colin’s house. Once she had her own place, she’d be sure to call ahead and check for unwanted company before dropping by Colin’s.

“Like you thought I’d leave you.” Dusty’s drawl was strengthened with lust, and the rich, husky words stroked over her senses as effectively as his fingers stroked her labia. His fingers pushed into her cunt then, pumping with unhurried thrusts. “You know me better than that, Elizabeth. I’d never leave a woman wanting.”

Gritting her teeth at his continual slow pace, she yanked at the button on the fly of his jeans. “At least not more than twice.”

For an instant, his fingers stilled and he winced. His fingers started to move again, only slower than before, as if he was punishing her for bringing up his past failures—failures that she knew were all her fault.

“Those times were your own damned fault,” he said as if reading her mind.

Admitting the truth to herself was one thing; she would never do so to Dusty. Instead she concentrated on his jeans. She tugged down the tab of his zipper and pushed her hand inside the snug denim. Fisting his erection, she challenged, “Prove it. Stick this infamous, monstrous cock in me and make me come.”

He laughed. “I’d hardly call it infamous. Nice to see you’re finally acknowledging the monstrous part, though.”

Any comment she might have made in return died on her tongue as he pulled his hand from her panties and shucked the jeans down his thighs along with his boxers. His dick pushed free, standing at full, gloriously long and thick attention from a swath of dark blond pubic hair. Monstrous might be pushing it just a little, but only just a little.

His cock bobbed toward her, and she practically drooled with the memory of the last time she’d had his hard length buried between her lips.

How would he taste with her second favorite cream mingling with her first?

Though it took time she shouldn’t be risking, Liz grabbed the bowl of whipped cream from the counter and went down on her knees. Scooping up a fingerful of cream, she took his cock in one hand and trailed a line of velvety white along the bulging vein that traveled the underside of his shaft. She followed her finger with her tongue, licking the sweet, rich substance until her tongue reached the deep purple head of his cock. Another sweet, totally male substance enlivened her taste buds.

Ah, sooo good…exactly the way she’d remembered.

Humming her elation, she lapped at the silky fluid and then sank her mouth onto his dick as far as she could take him. Dusty’s fingers threaded through her short hair, gripping none too gently. She applied pressure, pumping his erection with her lips while her tongue caressed the highly sensitive skin in slow circles. His full-bodied groan echoed off the classroom walls and sent a fresh wave of juices trickling into her panties.

“What happened to not blowing anything but my time?”

The words sliced through Liz. Damnit, he was right. As much as she thrived on going down on him and tasting his cum, it couldn’t be happening tonight, or ever.

She jerked her mouth from his shaft and stood. Without ceremony, she toed off her sneakers and socks, then removed her jeans and panties and left them in a pile next to her bare feet.

She cast him an assessing look, doing her best to camouflage the excitement that filled her as her gaze slid over his big cock made shiny wet by her mouth. “I was making sure you had enough staying power to actually finish the job for once. Since you planned this, I’m assuming you have a condom?”

“What makes you so sure I planned this?”

Hearing his defensive tone, she met his eyes. They held…what? Anger over her accusation? Or was it disappointment that she’d caught on to his ruse? “Don’t tell me you think you’re so suave I’d miss the setup. Lucky for you, I’m in the mood to get laid and am nice enough to give you another try at locating my G-spot.”

Whatever emotion had been in Dusty’s eyes gave way to blistering challenge as he grabbed hold of her wrist and yanked her back against the refrigerator door. One of the fingers from his free hand was between her thighs and pushing past her pussy lips before she could get out a breath.

“As I recall”—he plunged deep into the slick valley of her sex and stroked with vigor—“it was right about here.”

Liz swallowed her gasp as the violent need to explode clawed at her from deep within. She couldn’t help the breathless quality of her voice. “That’s not it,” she lied.

He pulled out of her, only to plunge back in, this time adding a second finger and quickening his pace. Her eyes widened with the exquisite pressure rippling through her body and soul.

Dusty let out a deep, rolling chuckle. “Lying little bitch.”

“So what?” she bit out, struggling not to chase his fingers with her body each time he withdrew. “Anyone can find it with their fingers. It takes a real man to do it with his dick.”

A gorgeously cocky grin claimed his mouth. “Real man this, babe.”

As quickly as he’d pushed into her with his fingers, he lifted a condom from his jeans pocket and sheathed himself, then grabbed her around the waist, lifted her up his body, and plunged into her slick heat. For an instant, as her legs automatically wound around his waist and his monstrous member filled her, Liz could only gasp and blink. Then all she could do was stare, openmouthed and panting, as her pussy gobbled up his cock, again and again, and raw desire unfurled thick as honey in her belly.

Oh gawd! The man had to-die-for positioning. Each thrust had his shaft rubbing over her clit, the back and forth slide of his pubis adding delicious friction.

Thick, white cream coated both of their sexes and tangled in their pubic hair. Some of it might be whipped cream, but sure as hell not all. Make that not even close to most of it. No, most of it was the juices gushing from her cunt.

From the sweltering heat stealing over her body to the quaking that started in her toes and ended in her nipples, orgasm was building, ready to erupt, to tear through her limb from limb and have her crying out her rapture.

Only a truly experienced man could accomplish such a seemingly impossible task so quickly. Only a man-whore. Which was what Dusty was. But Liz wasn’t going to think about that. No way. No how. She was going to be one with that stick of Juicy Fruit and stop thinking altogether. Stop focusing. Give herself over to the moment, to her lust, to the rich, musky scent of sex and something else infiltrating her senses.

What else? It didn’t smell good. It smelled, sort of…not good. “Wait.”

The thrust of his hips ceased. He looked up from the vicinity of her breasts to ask incredulously, “Wait?”

She dragged in a long breath. Burning. It smelled like something was burning. Not like the burning lace of her bra, but…Jesus H. Christ! The pie. The pie was burning.

“What am I waiting for?”

She had to block the smell out. The big one was seconds away. The long-awaited O. The climax that would assuage Dusty’s wounded ego and stop him from wanting her ever again. The big dickhead would be all but out of her life. Yes, she wanted that. Wanted orgasm even more.

“Nothing. Keep going.” Tangling her arms around his neck, Liz brought them breasts-to-chest. She buried her tongue in his mouth and pumped her hips.

Cupping her naked ass in his large palms, he gave in to her silent encouragement. He resumed the pace, thrusting into her with long, hard, well-practiced strokes as his warm, silky tongue lapped at hers.

Seconds ago those strokes had had her ready to spiral into the great beyond of Orgasm Land. Those strokes still felt decent, but they weren’t pushing her higher anymore. His kiss was good, but wasn’t evoking the magical warmth and wetness she felt every other time he’d stuck his tongue in her mouth. The wild tattoo of her heart and the hasty speed of her breathing had slowed considerably.

Lust was taking a fast boat to Not-Gonna-Climax Land.

Shit. Shit. And shit.

Her and her goddamned ever-thinking mind. She couldn’t block out the smell. Couldn’t block out the visual of burned pie. Couldn’t stop the thought that she wasn’t her slut of a mother. If she were her mother, or even the sex-crazed version of Liz she’d led most everyone to buy into, she would be coming up a storm and basking in the glow of climax. Instead she was Liz the never-gonna-come farce.

At least that Liz had values. That Liz had a good reason for not being able to dismiss the burning smell. Because unlike her mother, she was incapable of shutting out the things that mattered most. This class mattered more than an orgasm ever could. It was a step on the way to becoming something more than an easily replaceable waitress. Warped as it sounded, given her penchant for destroying nearly every recipe she attempted, she had dreams of owning a pastry shop. And, warped as it sounded, she would make that dream come true, starting with passing this class.

Burnt pie didn’t equate to a passing grade.

She had to make Dusty stop with the damned thrusting and tongue-play already. But she couldn’t just end things the way she had the last two times. She couldn’t because he would keep coming back until he made her climax and his pathetic big-ass ego could be put to rest.

Fake it.

Yes, she could do that. Had done it dozens of times in the past, when she’d either grown tired of the act or she’d been doing a guy she cared about enough to not tarnish his ego over her deficiencies. Those guys had been too caught up in their own orgasm to notice if hers wasn’t exactly bona fide. Dusty might be a man-whore with a reputation of providing more female orgasms than there were women in the state of Georgia, but no way would he catch on.

She had to fake it, for the sake of burned desserts and wannabe pastry chefs, who could barely handle breaking an egg, everywhere.

Forcing her thoughts back into the moment, she grabbed hold of his shoulders and lifted from his mouth. Tossing back her head, she ground her hips against his and rode him hard and fast.

One-one-thousand. Two-one-thousand. Three-one-thousand.

The burning smell sneaked up and invaded her thoughts once more. If she allowed any more buildup time, the pie would be toast and not the kind that was edible.

Nipping her short nails into the soft cotton of his T-shirt, Liz sang out, “Ohmigawd!” She snapped her eyes shut and whimpered long and loud. “Yes. Yes. Yes. Right there. Oh yes! I can feel you all the way to my throat. So deep. So good. Oh wow. This is it. This is…I’m com-ing!”

Dusty buried his face in the crook of her neck. His warm, hasty breaths caressed her ear. His grip on her ass strengthened. The push of his dick into her body turned erratic. “Right there with you, babe,” he growled. “Oh fuck, am I ever.”

The last of the words barely left his mouth when she felt the hot push of cum filling up the condom. Thank God, it was finally over.

Tossing in one last pump, grind, and moan for good show, Liz released his shoulders and glanced past him. “What great timing! The pie’s done.”

“The pie’s done?”

His voice was still thick with lust, but he didn’t sound happy. Apparently, he and his enormous ego had been expecting a round of applause.

Looking back at his far-from-elated expression, she smiled. “Sorry. You were awesome. One of the best I’ve ever had.” She forgot about the smile then and swatted his arm. “Now, let me the fuck down. If that pie’s burned, your ass is dead.”