Kinky Claus Page 7

  She really needed to stop picturing him tearing his clothes off. Or her doing it for him.

  He glanced at the keys dangling from her fingertips. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

  “Yeah, I only intended to stop by, and...” Gusting a weary breath, she unclenched her fist. “The truth is I don’t know what I was doing in there. I shouldn’t have come.”

  He moved in closer, revealing the dark intensity in his eyes. “I’m glad you did. Rissa—” He bracketed her face between his hands, his compelling gaze an irresistible magnet. Then again, the same could be said about every component of his being. “I know we have a million reasons not to pursue this. But the thing is, I can’t stop thinking about you.” He pressed his forehead against hers and caressed her cheek. “If this is a mistake, it doesn’t feel like it. Not to me.” Their noses brushed as he lowered his mouth toward hers. The next instant those incredibly skilled lips were coaxing hers open and she yielded with a helpless moan.

  The kiss was a deeper exploration this time. Trig put his entire body into it, coaxing her up against the side of her car as his hands snuck inside her coat. He palmed her breasts through her sweater, kneading and massaging until she was dizzy from his kisses and the hot, achy need building deep in her core. She wrapped her arms around him, partly to save herself from slumping but mostly so she could feel the tactile strength in his hard, beautiful body again. He slid his hands to her butt and hiked her up into his arms. Her thighs cradled his hips and he rocked against her in a similar fashion to the simulated sex he’d performed in his routine. Only this time he wasn’t doing it for the benefit of horny women.

  Well, maybe one horny woman.

  Whimpering, she tunneled her fingers through his silky hair and rubbed her pussy up and down along the delicious hard bulge behind his fly. Yes, it was a completely shameful and desperate attempt to gain some friction where she needed it most. But Trig didn’t seem to mind in the least. Groaning, he sucked her tongue before catching her bottom lip between his teeth. She squeezed her legs around him, hugging him tight. He broke their kiss, his breaths harsh and labored. “Fuck. I wanna spend all night making you come.”

  Her clit tingled, both at his words and the determined set of his features. “What time do you get off work?”

  “Midnight.”

  Good Lord. “You’re going to make me wait three hours for an orgasm?”

  A good deal of the tension dissolved from his face. It wasn’t until that moment that she realized he’d been worried she’d reject him. How insane was that notion?

  “I’ll make it worth it.” The boast wasn’t so much cocky as assured. She didn’t doubt he’d deliver on his promise.

  Shivering, both from the cold and anticipation, she cuddled into his radiant warmth. “Okay, then I’ll wait up for you.”

  He pulled back enough to look in her eyes. “I can’t believe I’m going to risk what you might say to this, but—are you sure? I don’t want you to regret anything that happens between us. So if you still have reservations about being with me...”

  She toyed with his hair, fascinated with the way the fine strands curled around her fingers. “I’ll be honest. My head might, but my body doesn’t. I know that isn’t smart, letting my pussy get the final say.”

  He grinned. “Hm, so your little honey pot calls all the shots, eh?”

  “Um, did you seriously just say honey pot?”

  “Yeah, I figured I’d save sweet snatch for when I’m deep inside you. Less likely to offend if you’re coming your brains out.”

  She snorted. “And here I was just admiring your lack of cockiness.”

  “You don’t have to worry about me lacking in that department.” He ground against her suggestively and snuck another kiss before easing her back onto her feet. “I might be able to convince one of the guys to cover my last routine. If so, I’ll be at your place no later than eleven.”

  “And deprive those women of the original Kinky Claus? I feel so greedy.” She tiptoed her fingertips along the buttons of his shirt. “Any chance you’ll bring your giant candy cane tonight?”

  “Never fear, naughty girl, I’ll have something bigger and tastier for you to suck.”

  “Mm, lucky me.”

  “That’s supposed to be my line.” He swooped in for one final kiss and patted her ass. “See you soon.”

  Limp as a noddle, she sagged against her car door and watched him lope toward the rear of the club. Any minute now she expected to wake up and discover the last hour had been a fantastical dream. The cold began to seep into her bones, making her teeth chatter and snapping her back to reality. Shivering uncontrollably, she ducked inside her vehicle.

  By the time she pulled into her driveway twenty minutes later, warmth had finally returned, along with a healthy dose of uncertainty. Trig—owner of the damn finest body on the planet—was about to see her naked. Oh crapola. Okay, deep breaths. Surely she could lose fifteen pounds before he got here, right?

  Panic setting in, she hoofed it to the porch and jammed the key into the lock. She stumbled inside the house and wrestled out of her coat. On the bright side, Trig had insisted he liked a woman with curves. She certainly wouldn’t disappoint him in that department. Maybe if she put on something that really emphasized her boobs he’d be too distracted to notice the few extra inches she’d packed on her belly thanks to all the holiday treats brought in by her diet-sabotaging coworkers lately.

  She hurried to her bedroom and yanked open her dresser’s top drawer. Pawing through her bras and panties, she fished out the couple of teddies she’d splurged on during Victoria Secret’s last big sale. Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, she inspected her options and settled on the champagne silk and lace number. Now all she had left to do was jump in the shower before Trig arrived. Or she could always wait and see if he wanted to take one with her.

  Intrigued by that possibility, she stared at the glass-enclosed stall and imagined getting to run her soapy hands all over Trig’s velvety skin. The visual was so real, it sent a hot flush through her, the sensation coalescing into a heavy ache between her legs. Jeez, if she kept this up she’d have to relieve some of the pressure with one of her vibrators or risk tackling Trig the second he walked through the door.

  She stripped and donned her favorite short pink satin robe for the time being. After twisting her hair up with a clip, she padded to the kitchen and poured a much-needed glass of wine. She carried it with her to the living room and stopped to plug in the Christmas tree lights before curling up on the couch and turning on the tube. A holiday special managed to hold her attention for roughly an hour before nerves and anticipation got the better of her again. Flicking off the set, she stared at the small square section of the bay window not blocked by the tree. Who knows how long she sat there, fixating on that spot and butterflies making a mosh pit of her stomach, before the blinding beam of headlights flashed across the pane.

  Her pulse revved into supersonic speed. She skipped her focus to the door. Should she meet him there, or would that look totally desperate? Maybe she should have showered before he got here. Concerned, she inched back the sleeve of her robe and sniffed. Whew. Coast was clear.

  The doorbell rang, and she jumped. Oh for Pete’s sake. It wasn’t like she hadn’t known he was there. Mutely scolding her trigger-happy nerves—perfect pun if ever there was one—she shoved up from the couch cushion and dragged in a steadying breath. Cinching her belt, she walked to the door and peeked through the peephole to verify it was Trig. Unless he had an identical twin or a gorgeous Doppelganger, it was definitely him. He stood on the porch, a pensive expression etched into his features. He removed his hand from his pocket and smoothed it through his hair.

  She blinked. Wow. Was he nervous too? Farfetched as the notion likely was, it still eased a fraction of her stress. She released the deadbolt and cracked open the door. The overpowering heat in Trig’s gaze as it swept her from head to toe instantly banished her lingering nervousness. She ho
oked her fingers in his belt loops and tugged him toward her. He required no further invitation than that, apparently.

  Nudging the door closed behind him with his foot, he pulled her into his arms. Their mouths crashed together in a hungry collision of mutual need and unrestrained craving. He walked her backwards into the living room, never once removing his lips from hers as he slipped the robe from her shoulders. His knuckles grazed the outer swells of her breasts before he palmed their full weight. Swallowing her gasp, he swirled the pads of his fingers across her nipples. His tongue danced with the tip of hers, a light enticing graze, and then he thrust deeper, cranking up the hot carnality of the kiss until she swore her bones would liquefy.

  She whimpered and he pulled back to look down at her. The intense fire in his eyes threatened to burn her alive. “Goddamn. You are a walking wet dream, sweetheart.” He flexed his fingers, squeezing her breasts together as he lowered his head and flicked his tongue over the stiffened crest of her nipple. With a wet, luxurious glide, he laved the peak before sucking it into his mouth and drawing it firm against his tongue. She felt the sensation all the way to her clit. A persistent throb beat in her core and she writhed against Trig restlessly.

  As if he were completely unconcerned with the torture he was inflicting on her, he slid his mouth to her other breast and treated it to the same meticulous exploration he’d given to its mate. She slid trembling fingers through his hair and he glanced up at her, the smokiness in his stare searing along her already ragged nerve endings. Straightening, he shrugged his jacket off and let it drop to the carpet. She battled to free the buttons on his shirt. When they both grew too impatient with the frustrating closures, he yanked the garment off over his head and tossed that aside too.

  She smoothed her hands over the delicious contours of his sculpted pecs and washboard abs before pressing up against his chest and wrapping her arms around his neck. Their tongues tangled in another mating dance as he slid his palms underneath the hem of her robe and squeezed her naked ass.

  His appreciative groan rumbled from the depths of his chest. “You’re not wearing any panties. Halleluiah.”

  She giggled. “I take it you approve?”

  “Fuck yeah. I’m always a huge fan of easier access.” He sealed his point by delving his hand lower between her legs and cupping her pussy. They both moaned at the brush of his fingers along her slick folds. “Damn, baby, you are dripping.”

  “I might be a tad excited,” she informed him breathlessly.

  “I wanna see how wet you are for me.” He led her to the couch and as soon as she took a seat, hunkered to his knees in front of her. Licking his lips, he freed the knot on her robe and parted the material. She shivered at the satiny slither of the fabric along her thighs, as well as the focused way Trig gazed at her pussy when he coaxed her legs open. Any worries she’d harbored of him being turned off by the few extra inches she carried around her waistline floated into the ether. If he noticed, he sure didn’t seem to care. So why should she?

  He glossed his fingertips through her wetness and circled her clit with his thumb. “Pretty.”

  Her breath snared in her throat and she wiggled against the cushion.

  “Mm, sensitive. Just the way I like.” He scooted her closer to the edge of the couch and tucked her legs over his broad shoulders. The first teasing flicker of his tongue on her clit made her hips jerk. He slipped his hands under her butt and drew her back to him, holding her firmly as his mouth wrecked its unrelenting devastation. She’d had a good inkling he’d know his way around a pussy, but nothing had prepared her for just how amazing his oral skills were. Granted, she didn’t have a ton of past lovers to base her comparisons on, but holy hell, Trig made them all look like amateurs. For starters, he ate her pussy like he was sitting down to a gourmet feast he intended to savor all night long. There was no impatient or uncomfortable tongue jabbing. No rush to move to the next course. Just complete focus on her pleasure.

  Sliding two fingers inside her, he concentrated on the supersensitive patch of tissues on the upper wall of her pussy. Good Lord. He’d found her G spot quicker than she had. The man possessed superhuman abilities when it came to a woman’s anatomy.

  He settled back on his haunches. “Pinch your nipples for me.”

  She didn’t think twice about honoring the request, and was rewarded with a hissed breath between his teeth. He hooked the two fingers inside of her, pressing in exactly the right spot as he tapped her clit with his thumb. “You are so fucking sexy when your sweet little snatch is hugging me tight.” He grinned at her failed attempt at giving him the stink eye. Kinda hard to pull it off when she was having a devil of a time keeping her eyes from rolling back in her head.

  “What? Told ya I would spring that one on you,” he reminded her with a smirk.

  “After I was coming my brains out. But I guess you forgot that part.”

  “Oh no. See, I don’t think it’s gonna be long before you lose it on me.” His voice dipped to a husky low octave that she almost had to strain to hear. “I can feel you getting tighter and tighter. Wetter and wetter.” The pass of his thumb over her clit trailed to a slow, concentrated figure-eight on the aching bundle of nerves.

  She curled her fingers into the seam of the cushion, panting and shaking. “Trig.”

  “I’m gonna take you there, baby. Right now.” He lowered his face back between her legs and flattened his tongue, rolling the tip with soft flickers directly on her clit while he rubbed her G spot.

  She bucked in his grip, a strangled gasp lodging in her throat. The orgasm spread through her in a warm blissful wave before hitting its peak with a sharp explosion of exquisite pleasure. She floated on the sea of sensation, woozy and drunk on its aftershocks. It wasn’t until Trig kicked off his shoes and tugged down his jeans and boxers that she began to resurface from the glow. There was no way she’d let a post-orgasmic nuclear meltdown deprive her of properly enjoying the gorgeous perfection of the man standing over her. Struggling into a sitting position, she ran her fingertips along the chiseled ridges of his abdomen, basking in its rippling response. Then there was the other mouthwatering stiff muscle bobbing so invitingly in front of her face. Really, how could she say no to that?

  Ghosting her hand lower, she stroked his cock from root to tip, thoroughly fascinated with the contrast of his steely hardness and silky smoothness. A quiver shook through him, followed by a low, sexy groan. Desperately wanting to hear that sound from him again, she kissed the velvety gland of his shaft before sucking the entire head between her lips.

  Screw that damn candy cane. This was more like it. Humming in pleasure, she coasted her tongue over the groove beneath his cockhead and followed the main vein down, bobbing her head as she sucked him toward the back of her throat.

  “Jaysus.” His knees wobbling, Trig groaned again and steadied himself with a hand on her shoulder while she continued to lick and suck him. He brushed aside one of the strands that’d fallen from her hairclip before cradling the back of her head. The stroke of his fingertips along her scalp as she worshipped him with her mouth only added to the intimacy of the moment.

  He lengthened and thickened to even greater proportions under her tender loving care, until it became increasingly difficult to take more than half of him. Fortunately her hand made up for the shortage, but she was seriously beginning to question how the hell he was going to fit her pussy.

  As if he’d read her mind, he carefully withdrew from her mouth and strode to his discarded jacket. She took advantage of the opportunity to ogle his world-class butt. Mm hm. Those fine buns were just asking to be bitten. She chomped her teeth and corked a giggle.

  After fetching a box from the inner pocket of his jacket, he returned to her and ripped open the cardboard flap. She sent him a teasing look. “Are those ribbed for my pleasure?”

  He held up one of the packets for her inspection, and she laughed. “Now if only someone would invent ones that vibrate.”

  “They pro
bably exist.” His expression turned considering. “Do you own a vibrator?”

  She could feel the warmth spreading through her cheeks. “Um, yes. A few.”

  “This is gonna be fun.” He snatched her hand and hauled her up off the couch. “Bedroom?”

  Twining her fingers with his, she led him down the hallway. She clicked on the table lamp next to her queen-sized bed and glanced at him, an odd shyness gripping her. Possibly that had something to do with the small arsenal of self-pleasuring devices he was about to discover in her nightstand drawer. He was probably going to presume she was either a nymphomaniac, sorely deprived of the real thing, or on a first name basis with the sales department of every erotic device retailer in North America.

  All of the above might be true.

  He offered her a questioning look and she sighed before opening the top drawer. Without batting a single eyelash, he inspected the various options and reached for her favorite silver bullet. “This will do nicely.” He tossed it on the bed and pulled her into his arms. The drugging intoxication of his kisses making her lightheaded, she whimpered and rubbed shamelessly against his cock until a silky trail of his pre-come dampened her belly.

  Moaning, he fumbled with the condom packet, finally tearing it open with his teeth. Desperate to feel every hard inch of him sinking deep inside her, she flopped backwards onto the bed in what must have been the most ungraceful move in history. Fortunately Trig seemed to be too wrapped up in his own raging state of lust to judge much less give a rat’s ass. Sheathing his cock with three down strokes of his fist, he climbed over her and claimed her mouth with an insatiable hunger that stole her remaining breath. He slicked his tongue along hers and positioned his cockhead at her entrance before sinking to the hilt with one long, gliding thrust.

  She raked her nails along the small of his back, following the deep grooves of his spine down to his sculpted buttocks. With a fluid flex of his glutes, he retreated a few inches, coming up on his elbows to look into her eyes. In that moment, the connection between them moved beyond the physical. Or at least it did for her. It was impossible for her to narrow her emotions to this being a simple joining of two bodies. It somehow felt more than that. Bigger than that.