* * * *
Warm waves from the heating vent blew against her pussy and her bare bottom. She started to sweat. His long fingers now massaged around her clit with skill, not quite touching it directly. Just teasing. Still riding the wave of an intense orgasm, Bry didn't want to think too long about where he gained his experience, but she supposed she ought to be grateful to whichever bold woman had shown him the way and saved her the trouble.
The window was cool against her back and she took advantage of that to keep from exploding in a fireball. She could no longer hear the icy rain rattling the glass. There was only her racing heartbeat and his shattered breathing.
Ben dropped to his knees, pushing her thighs wider apart with his hands.
Oh, god!
If he did that, she'd be lost. She'd be—
His mouth touched her inner thigh in a soft kiss. First one side and then the other. She gripped her dress where it was bunched around her waist. She daren't take it all off yet. Too self-conscious at the last minute.
But part of her wanted to pull it off over her head and give herself up completely to the savage lust writhing through her like a wicked snake. Ben Petruska tempted her to throw caution to the four winds. A stronger part of Bryony, however, clung to her dress as if it was her shield in battle.
His lips brushed over her pussy and she held her breath. Slowly his tongue swept between her labia. Once, twice, three times. A hard gust of wind flung rain at the window behind her. Ben set his mouth over her slit and thrust his tongue deeper, faster. She exhaled, grabbed his hair, held on.
She was coming again already.
His hands grabbed her butt, lifted her onto his mouth and Bryony melted around his tongue, her pussy walls squeezing, contracting hard. She knew she must be creaming. He made a low, excited sound, muffled between her thighs, and then diligently lapped up every trickle. Bry's sex was so sensitive then, her orgasm so deep, that yet another, smaller tremor followed.
Aftershock, she thought drowsily. Must be. No way did he just give her three orgasms in a row.
Ben stood between her legs, hooked her knees over his arms and entered her with his thick cock. In only one solid thrust he was deep and she was filled. Finally he stripped off his open shirt, tossing it to the hardwood floor with the rest of his clothing and he fucked her with a hard, steady rhythm, looking down between their bodies, as she did, watching the wild coupling. When she looked up there was fire in his dark, passionate gaze and she was burned by it, melted like wax.
His forceful shaft stretched her, possessed her. Like a sleek, well-oiled piston it worked in and out of her body. She shuddered as more waves of heat floated upward. The ridges of the air vent were no doubt marking her cheeks with red lines, but what did she care?
Ben took her nipple between his firm lips again. He sucked a little but not hard, just enough to keep the peak damp and roused. She felt his teeth gently tease her areola, his tongue flicking at the swollen bud slowly, gently until she wanted to scream. Finally, just when she thought she'd have to beg, he began to suckle harder at her nipple, closing his hard lips around it.
His lower body worked tirelessly, every ridge of his long cock tickling her pussy, stroking her inner walls. She could hear the wetness of their bodies joining, could smell sex, thick and heavy in the air. Even deeper he impaled her now, rocking her body, his knees knocking into the wall below her.
Then he stilled. His head went back and she saw the thick muscles straining taut in his neck. His hot cum poured into her, his fingers digging into her ass cheeks, his balls emptying their load just as he emptied a long, contented growl from somewhere inside his being.
And only then, as she felt another orgasm flutter through her pussy, did Bryony realize their utter stupidity.
No condom.
What on earth had she been thinking? For the first time in her entire adult life she'd been thoughtless and completely irresponsible.
So had he.
Chapter Five
He wanted to see her in bra and panties—the way he'd fantasized. Fortunately she'd stopped clinging to her dress and let him do what he wanted now with very little persuading. She had a great ass for those lace "cheeky" panties. They weren't red, as he'd imagined, but pink. Close enough.
The shelf-bra was just right. His hands were shaking so much he could barely get the clasp snapped and she squirmed about, complaining his breath tickled her neck.
"Now walk around the bed," he said huskily, planting a kiss on her shoulder. "While I watch."
"And give me orders?"
"Exactly." Grinning he leaned back on the bed, stark naked, head propped up on his arms. "Go ahead. I want to see you walk." She still wore her thigh high stockings and, at his insistence, had put her heels back on. "I love to look at you in lingerie. Ready for me. For my eyes only."