Nauti Nights

Page 46

What would he do once that control slipped? Once the hunger had him by the throat, how much more intent would he become?
She didn’t want slow, easy sex. She didn’t want foreplay. She wanted affirmation. She wanted him hard and deep inside her, pounding into her pussy and marking her with his hunger.
She wanted Dawg wild. She wanted all that hunger and all that emotion washing over her like a tidal wave.
But he wasn’t going to be pushed into taking it.
“Yes, I’ve heard you’re easy.” She nodded sagely, hiding her grin at the frown that snapped between his brows.
“Easy for you,” he amended with scowl.
“Really?” She lifted her brows in disbelief. “You’re being very stubborn today.”
“You’re just not convincing me the right way.” His lips twitched in amusement, though his gaze was intent and hot.
“Really?” She shifted, her fingers playing with the hem of her T-shirt as she stared back at him beneath her lashes. “What would it take to convince you, Dawg?”
He swallowed tightly as she eased the T-shirt higher. She wasn’t wearing a bra. She hadn’t bothered after her shower in the face of Dawg’s stubborn refusal to go to the store.
His hands tightened on the back of the couch.
“Do you know what I used to dream, Dawg?” she whispered as her fingers played over her stomach.
“What?” His gaze was locked on those fingers, his own fingers caressing the back of the couch in reflex.
“I used to dream that you came to me. That you walked into the apartment I shared with Mark and Ty. They would be gone. You’d step into the door, take one look at me, and then you took me.
Against the wall. My legs wrapped around your hips as you pounded into me.”
She pulled the shirt over her head and tossed it to the floor before her hands moved to her shorts.
She got as far as pushing the elastic band over her thighs before he moved.
His shirt ripped over his head and flew to the side. Before she could do more than breathe in roughly, he was on his knees in front of her, pulling her thighs apart and burying his lips between them.
“Fuck it,” he snarled. “I’m a wimp. No control.”
She would have gone to the floor if he wasn’t holding her up. His tongue slid through the narrow slit of her pussy, licking as he moaned before his lips surrounded the hardened bud of her clit.
She wanted hard and hungry, and he was going to give it to her. She could feel it.
Her back met the wall before she realized he had maneuvered her the few steps to it. Her shorts were on the floor, and Dawg lifted her leg, laying it over his shoulder as his head dipped and his tongue drove inside her sex.
“Oh God!” Crista’s head hit the wall as she shuddered at the feel of his tongue fucking inside her.
His lips moved, slid back to her clit, while his fingers took the place of his tongue, and she was melting around him.
“I have to fuck you,” he muttered, licking around her clit, sipping at it, kissing it. “You’re killing me. I can’t wait a week.”
“Don’t wait a minute,” she moaned, pulling at his shoulders. “Fuck me, Dawg. Now.”
“Soon.”
“Now.”
He replaced her foot on the floor and rose to his feet, but his hands pressed to her shoulders.
“Suck my cock,” he ordered roughly. “Let me watch you suck me.”
Crista went eagerly to her knees, her hands surrounding the thick, hard flesh as she covered the head hungrily. She wasn’t teasing. She was too desperate now, the heat rising hard and fast inside her, burning her alive with the need to feel him inside her.
She sucked at the engorged crest, her tongue flickering over it as her hands stroked the throbbing shaft. She loved having him in her mouth, feeling the hard throb of blood pounding through it, tasting the sharp saltiness of pre-cum on her tongue.
He was fucking her lips with shallow movements, his hands tangling in her hair, his head thrown back in pleasure. His thighs were rock hard, his abs flexing tight as the fingers of one hand curled around his balls.
“Fuck. That’s good,” he groaned. “You suck like a dream, Crista. So fucking good.”
His voice was rasping, sending a thrill of sensation racing down her spine at the pleasure it contained.
Her tongue probed beneath the crest before curling over it, her mouth sucking him deeper as she stared up his broad chest.
Sweat beaded on the hair-spattered flesh, glistening on the teak skin and catching on the short curls. She mouthed his cock head, moaned on it, and then cried out in impending ecstasy as he pulled her to her feet.
“Against the wall,” he bit out, his lips pulling back from his teeth as he stared back at her with fiery lust. “Oh, baby, I can take you against the wall.”
One arm wrapped around her hips as he lifted her, the other easing one leg around his hip as her other leg followed on the opposite side.
A second later, Crista cried out sharply, pain and pleasure whipping through her at the fierce, hard thrust that sent him burrowing through the snug tissue of her pussy.
“God, yes!” His hands gripped her rear as he rocked against her, stroking her internally, sending cataclysms of sensation to attack her nerve endings. “You’re so fucking tight, Crista. So hot and sweet.”
“Do it again,” she moaned, her hands gripping his shoulders, nails biting into his flesh as he pulled back. “Take me hard again.”
He retreated, nearly sliding free of her grip before shafting inside her with a quick, forceful thrust.
“Oh God, Dawg. I love that,” she cried out hoarsely.
“Love that, do you, sweetheart?” He retreated again, plunged inside her again, stroked the internal blaze higher until sweat soaked their bodies in an effort to regulate the body heat.
There was no regulating the hunger building sharp and fast inside them. Crista could feel her juices flowing between them in response to the pleasure. Dawg’s cock was fierce, thick inside her, stroking once-hidden nerve endings and burning her with the liquid-hot lust building harder inside them.
“Want more?” His hands tightened on her rear, his fingers sliding inside the narrow cleft until they met the damp entrance there.
He stroked, he played. He let his fingers dip inside her as his cock pounded inside her pussy.
Tingles of sharp heat, hard thrusts that sent shocking waves of sensation tearing through her womb.
It was too much. He began to thrust faster, harder inside her with deep, plunging strokes that sent waves of sensation, violent pleasure, and emotion clashing inside her.
“I love you.” She couldn’t hold the words back. “I love you. Always loved you. Dreamed…”
Tears filled her eyes and fell to her cheeks. “Oh God, Dawg, I dreamed…”
“And I dreamed, Crista,” he groaned, his lips moving to her shoulders, then her neck, as his hips thrust and surged, filling her with his cock in quick, hard strokes. “Dreamed of loving you. Holding you.
Always loving you.”
Emotion fueled pleasure and fueled lust. The conflagration that resulted had them both crying out.
Crista’s wails mixed with his harsh, male groans as ecstasy began to explode inside them, then around them.
She felt the hard, fierce jets of cum exploding inside her. He felt the tight, heated clasp of her pussy gripping him like a fiery fist, flexing around him and throwing him higher into his own release.
Long minutes later, they found themselves on the floor, breathing hard, their bodies still tangled together, arms wrapped tightly around each other.
“Leave me again, and I won’t fuck you for a week,” Dawg mumbled against her ear.
“Forget about fucking me again, and I’ll shoot you myself.” She gave him an unladylike snort, then smiled at the slow stiffening of his cock inside her.
“I didn’t forget the first time,” he whispered then. “I just didn’t want to accept that I had been so damned stupid. You lived in my dreams, Crista. Every night you were away from me, you lived in my dreams. And in my soul.”
She leaned back and stared at him, seeing the intensity in his eyes, the light green seeming to glow inside his dark face as the sensual fulfillment relaxed his features.
“No more dreams,” she whispered. “Just this.”
“Just this.”
This being more than love, more than lust. It was the dream, the hidden wish, and the fulfillment of two hearts meeting, two souls merging.
“I love you,” she whispered. “And I’m looking forward to many many naughty nights in your arms, Dawg.”
“Many,” he promised. “Many naughty nights in my heart.”
There, in the center of the room where it had all begun eight years before, the future began. For Dawg and Crista.
Weeks Later
Natches listened to the sounds of the night. It was late Summer. The lake was filled with those determined to take advantage of every second of the final days of summer.
Kids laughed, parents chided, teenagers dashed about the docks, and the sound of boats returning for the night filled the air with life.
And if he listened closely, really closely, he thought he could hear the sounds of pleasure coming from the boat beside his. He’d moved from his place beside the Nauti Boy after Kelly moved in with Rowdy. He’d parked the Nauti Dreams on the other side of Dawg’s boat instead.
There was no place left to move to avoid the late-night whispers of passion and pleasure that sometimes flowed from the two boats.
He slouched further in his chair and stared out over the lake from the upper deck of the boat and considered his options. There weren’t a lot.
He was sure sick of bullets chasing him, though, sick of toting a sniper’s rifle, and sick to damned death of the lovey-dovey kissyfaced shit going on around him. His two cousins and their women, monogamous and proud of it.
He finished his beer at the thought of that, then opened another. There wasn’t much danger of getting drunk; he didn’t keep the hard stuff on the boat, so that kinda canceled out becoming oblivious.
Hell, he could move into town. There was an apartment over the garage, and he was spending more time there anyway. Anything to get away from the monogamous bliss settling in on the back side of the Mackay docks.
He breathed out roughly. They weren’t the hell-raising, high-living, hard-loving trio they used to be. The Mackay cousins were no more.
And that made for a very, very lonely night.