Dirty Scoundrel(19)

That's all right. I remember how to deal with Uptight Natalie. I  remember she liked kissin'. A lot. And that it felt really good to kiss  the hell out of her for what felt like hours on end.

I'm more'n happy to do that again right now.

I cup her jaw and tilt her mouth toward mine again. This time, I brush  my lips gently over hers. Once. Twice. Then again and again. Light,  feathery little kisses to distract her and make her keep guessin' what  I'm gonna do with my mouth next. Somewhere in the steady stream of  light, unobtrusive kisses, she relaxes. Her body leans into mine a bit  more and her lips move against mine with every caress. She makes a soft  little sound in her throat when my tongue grazes over the seam of her  lips, and I know she's mine. She ain't thinkin' about anything but my  mouth now.

Good. I'm claimin' her tonight. I've waited seven years to make her mine, and I don't want to wait another moment longer.

Our kisses grow hungrier, deeper. My tongue brushes against hers, and  when she responds eagerly, I intensify the kiss. Over and over, I stroke  my tongue, fucking her mouth like I want to fuck her cunt. Her hands  curl against my shirt and she makes a little whimper with every drag of  my tongue against hers. I don't let up, though. I just keep kissin' her  with all the intensity I'm feeling at this moment. There's nothing I  want more than those little sounds coming from her throat. I live for  that. I live for the sweep of her tongue against mine.         

     



 

When I finally break away from kissing her, she looks dazed. The lower  half of her face is bright red from where my beard has rubbed against  her face, and I feel a twinge of guilt at the sight. Kissing me is  tearin' up her skin. She doesn't look upset, though. She looks soft and  fuckable and like she wants more. Makes me growl low in my throat, and I  can't resist pressing another kiss to her parted lips.

I'm the first one to touch this virgin territory. She's mine. It just  fuels my possessiveness. Natalie was born to be mine, I realize. I'm  never lettin' her go. Not now, not ever.

"I'm gonna take this dress off you now, Nat," I whisper between kisses,  and slip a finger under one spaghetti strap. "Or would you rather I get  naked first?"

Her hands move to my shoulders. She curls her fingers against my shirt  again, and then gives me a breathless shake of her head. "I don't know."

"How about I take my shirt off first, then?" I press a tiny kiss on the  tip of her nose, then the corner of her mouth. I keep kissin' while she  nods, distracted. Goddamn, she's pretty. I can't wait to get every inch  of her naked. My cock aches fiercely at the thought.

"Okay," she whispers, her mouth impossibly close to mine.

It tears me up to have to pull my hands off of her. I want them all over  her-caressin' those rounded, delicious breasts of hers, the ample ass  that I've been eyein' all day, her soft, pale legs with the most  delicate ankles. All of her is appealin'. Ain't none of it I'd kick out  of bed for eatin' crackers. I just hope she finds me half as appealing. I  run a hand down my beard, noticing her flushed skin again. Nothin' to  be done about that now, though, and she hasn't complained. I grab the  front of my shirt and rip the buttons apart in a quick motion, not  caring that the fabric makes a ripping sound. It's just a shirt. I got  plenty more of those. I toss it on the floor and wait for her to react.

Just like she's changed since high school, I have, too. I'm a lot  hairier, I gotta admit. Back then, I had a lean chest without much of a  tan. Now I've got hair all over my pectorals and I'm burnt a dark tan by  the sun. My belly ain't fat at least, but I do wonder what she's gonna  think of me.

Nat makes a breathless sound and she puts a hand on my shoulder, then  squeezes. "You're . . . Wow. You look different than I remember."

"Can't help that," I mutter. I ain't waxin' my chest. That's just fuckin' weird.

"I like it," she tells me, and her hand smooths down one pectoral and  then she reaches over and squeezes my bicep. "You're so . . . big. I  don't remember you being so big."

Well, damn. Makes me want to show off for her, flex my muscles a little like the vain idiot I am.

She gives a nervous little laugh and meets my eyes. "Is it weird that  I'm scared? I just . . . waited so long and now it's going to be like  this-"

"It's going to be amazing," I reassure her, hatin' that my heart  squeezes a little at her words. "I would have wanted you to be my first  anyhow. Always did."

It's the right thing to say. The smile returns to her face and she gives a little nod. "Me too. I just wish . . ."

The words trail off and I don't want her goin' down that path. I have a R  on my knuckles, don't I? I need to be ruthless. Or is it a scoundrel  today? Fuck if I know. Fuck if I care. I just want to get that sad  expression off her face. So I take her hand and put it on my breast  again, and her fingers curl in my chest hair. She seems fascinated by  it, and while she's distracted, I lean in and press another gentle kiss  to her mouth. She makes a delicious, toe-curling sound of pleasure when I  pull away, and I take that moment to tug one of the tiny straps down  her arm.

Or at least I try to. I tug at the strap but it's digging into her skin and doesn't seem to want to move.

"One of the perils of having a larger chest," she admits, and eases the  strap down her shoulder with a snap of the material. "You need more  support than you think."

I trace a finger over the red mark the strap left on her skin. Well,  damn. If I'd have known it was gonna mark her up-I'd have undressed her  hours ago. "You need to quit talkin' about yourself like you're shit now  that you gained weight. I don't like it."

Her eyes go wide and the nervous look returns to her face. It doesn't  fade even when I lean in to press a kiss to one creamy white shoulder.  "I just . . . You're paying a lot of money, Clay. I don't want you  finding me . . . unpleasant. I shouldn't care, but I do. I worry. I'm  not the same size I was in high school. After my stepmom moved out, I  realized she'd done a number on my self-esteem and it took me a while  before I could eat like a normal person again. I packed on some weight. I  . . . Well, normally I don't care but you remember me as skinny-"         

     



 

"I remember you as pretty," I tell her. "And soft. And mine. None of  that's changed." I trace a finger down her arm. Still so damn soft. "If  it'll make you stop worryin', I like your big tits. I like your big  butt. I like your rounded thighs. I'm pretty sure I'm gonna like your  rounded belly when I put my mouth on it. And I know I'm gonna like it  when I put my mouth on-"

Her fingers press to my lips again, and she gives a girlish giggle that  warms my heart. "I get the point. No need to go into detail."

"Party pooper."

Her laughter is a beautiful thing, just as beautiful as this body she  worries about. I kiss her shoulder again, and then ease-or fight  with-the other strap, until they're both dangling off her shoulders and  her breasts look like they're about to spill out of the tight top of her  dress. And fuck, if that ain't a pretty sight, I don't know what is. I  run a knuckle against the line of her cleavage. "Don't see how you could  see this as anythin' but gorgeous, Nat."

"I just want you to be satisfied with your purchase-"

"If I didn't like the way you looked, I'd have never bought you in the  first place," I tell her, but I don't even know if that's true. Her ass  could be twice as wide and she could have her hair in a buzz cut and she  could be wearin' a muumuu and I'd still want her because she's Natalie  Weston.

Seven years later, I'm still madly in love with her.

The realization hits me like a ton of bricks. It ain't infatuation or  obsession. I ain't angry at her anymore. I just ache with wantin' her.  Knowing that she's still a virgin-that she's never taken anyone else to  her bed, just like me-it frees up somethin' in my chest. I feel . . .  lighter. Complete.

I feel like the last seven years didn't matter so much after all.

Maybe Natalie Weston didn't wanna marry me seven years ago, but I can  convince her that she wants to marry me now. First, though, I'm gonna  claim her thoroughly. I put my hands around her waist, lean in, and bury  my face in those glorious breasts of hers.

She squeals in surprise as I do, wriggling against me.

"Love these gorgeous tits," I tell her as I slowly peel one of the cups  of her dress down. She sucks in a breath, going stiff as I pop one  nipple free from its confines. Prettiest damn thing I've ever seen. I  lean down and brush my mouth over the pink tip, and Nat's moan of  response nearly makes me lose control. "So fuckin' beautiful," I tell  her. "Lean back on the bed for me so I can look at you properly."

Nat does, and it lets me feast on the gorgeous sight of her, dark hair  spillin' around her shoulders. She's practically comin' out of the top  of that dress now, one bouncy breast freed from its confines and the  other strainin' to make its escape. Her eyes are wide and dark with  need, and she's breathing hard, either nervous or excited-or both.