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Authors: Sarah McCarty

Tags: #Fiction, #Erotica, #General, #Short Stories (Single Author)

Letting Go (2 page)

BOOK: Letting Go
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turbulence of the evening. Jealousy that her husband’s past

lovers had been more adventurous than she.

He came up behind her as she stood by the fire. She

shivered as he moved her hair aside, baring her neck. The

heat of his breath touched her first, moist and tantalizing,

brushing across her sensitive nerve endings in an

evocative arc.

“Ready?”

The question whispered against her neck. Goose

bumps sprang up in a silent “Hel , yes,” she couldn’t get

past her throat. She tilted her head, inviting a kiss instead,

shuddering when he gave it to her. His cock pressed

against her buttocks, rock hard and eager while his hands

slid down her sleeves until his fingers intertwined with hers.

She gripped his hands in hers. “As I’l ever be.”

He laughed into the curve of her shoulder, sending new

goose bumps chasing after the last set, the flick of his

tongue encouraging their tingling spread to her breast and

nipples. His big hands whispered across the front of her

coat, taunting both breasts with the promise of a touch she

couldn’t feel, making her strain for any ghost of sensation.

The tension in her limbs gathered in her pussy, throbbing

with an eagerness that faintly embarrassed her. As if a

woman should consider her attraction to her husband a

weakness.

“Having second thoughts?”

“I’m a little stuck in my ways.”

He turned her in his arms. “At the risk of repeating

myself yet again, I like your ways.”

No, he didn’t; he couldn’t. She didn’t even like them.

“And that’s why you always hold back with me.”

“Is that a complaint?”

She wanted to stamp her foot in frustration. “I’m not the

one who should be complaining.”

Two fingers under her chin brought her gaze up. “The

reason you haven’t heard me complain is because I don’t

have any complaints.”

“You want a woman who lets go, who can let you be in

charge.”

His gaze never wavered from hers. “The only woman I

want is you.”

She dropped her forehead into his chest. The down of

his coat cushioned her landing. “I know.”

His arms came around her shoulders. “So what’s the

problem?”

“I want to be that woman, too!”

There, her not-so-secret secret was out.

His coat rustled as his lips touched her temple. “Have I

ever told you I think you’re a nut?”

She shook her head.

His smile spread against her temple. “I’m fairly sure I

have.”

“Not today.”

“My mistake.” This time it was his thumb that propped

her chin up. “You know I’l give you anything you want, in or

out of the bedroom.”

She knew that. He was a very generous lover. She

turned her head and cleared her throat. To her dismay, her

voice was stil held a betraying husk of uncertainty. “I know.”

“And you want this?”

She wrapped her fingers around his wrist and held on.

“The one place I never wanted to be in charge was the

bedroom.”

And it was the one place where she couldn’t seem to let

go. His hand stroked her hair, pul ing her cheek to his

chest, holding her tight. “Ah, baby.”

“I know.” She closed her eyes. “I’m a nut.”

His thumb pressed against her lower lip, bringing her

eyes back open. “No, you’re my wife.”

She angled her head back wrinkled her nose. “Who’s a

nut.”

“Who’s everything I want.” His gaze didn’t leave hers.

“Just the way she is.”

That wasn’t good enough anymore. At least not for her.

“But what if I don’t want to be this way?”

“Then we change.”

She had so many hang-ups, so many reasons for how

she was, none of them worth holding onto. “What if I can’t?”

“Then we keep trying.”

She took a breath and released his wrist, clutching his

coat sleeve instead. She sighed. “You make it sound so

easy.”

“Al you’ve got to do is whatever I tel you. No right, no

wrong. No need to think.” He arched his eyebrow at her.

“How hard can it be?”

Not that hard. At least in theory. “Marc?”

He reached around her and closed the door to the

woodstove. “Right here.”

“Have I mentioned how much I love you?”

“I’m open to hearing it again.”

The familiar response given with that familiar smile took

away more of her nervousness. This was Marc. She trusted

him with her life. She could certainly trust him with her

sexuality. She linked her hands around his neck and

snuggled her hips into his, giving him a smile back of her

own. “Make it worth my while and I wil .”

His brow arched. “Is that a chal enge?”

She did her best to look demure. “Maybe.”

“That sounded like a chal enge.”

“I would never chal enge you.”

His smile spread. “Like hel .”

“Wel ,” she amended, “not without reason.”

His hands cupped her hips, his fingers stretching to the

sensitive inside of her thighs. With an easy flex of muscle

he lifted her up. Becky wrapped her legs around his hips as

he turned. This close she could see the desire darkening

the green of his eyes, feel the tension humming under his

skin, feel that side of his personality she’d always fought

surge. His gaze held hers, the blue more prominent than the

green as it always was when he was aroused. “It’s risky

business chal enging a man with my nature.”

She feathered her fingers in the hair at the base of his

neck. “Maybe I’ve just decided it’s time to see how much

bite there is to your bark.”

“Uh-huh. Know what happens to women who play with

fire?”

Her hips jostled against his as he walked to the

bedroom, the soft cotton of her sweatpants doing nothing to

protect her from the pressure against her clit. Desire

sparkled through her blood. Excitement shortened her

breath. She loved it when he went al macho on her. “Nope.”

Marc stopped just inside the bedroom door, his gaze

holding hers as he let her slide down his body, the hot

length of his cock caressing the inside of her thighs until her toes touched the floor. Her held her there, suspended in his

embrace, his cock notched between her legs, pressing

against her through his jeans and her pants as he drawled,

“Their husbands get to see how hot they can make them

burn.”

He let her go. She stumbled, caught between the king-

size bed behind her and her husband in front, daring and

dread rising with equal fervor.

Of course, he saw. He touched her cheek. “What?”

“Don’t let me ruin this.”

He shook his head, the firm line of his mouth softening.

“There’s no way you can ruin anything.”

But she could fail. She grabbed his hand. “Promise me

you’l just do it like we talked about.”

He frowned. “I can’t promise that. Not if you’re not

enjoying yourself.”

“I might be uncomfortable at first, but I swear I’l enjoy it.”

“Let’s see.”

He took her hand in his, pul ing it behind his back, pul ing

her into his arms. The touch of his lips on hers was firm

when she’d expected soft, commanding when she’d

expected reassurance, throwing her off balance. While she

struggled to find the rhythm in the kiss, he caught both of

her hands and moved them behind her back, anchoring

them in one of his, keeping her helpless as his mouth took

charge of hers. Fire streaked from her breasts, her thighs,

her lips, leaping along her nerve endings, the feeling of

helplessness feeding the flames.

The zipper of her coat rasped louder than her heartbeat

as he slid it down. His palm swal owed the smal mound of

her breast, bare beneath her shirt because he’d requested

it, pressing and massaging, stoking the burning ache,

sending it deeper, and al she could do was stand there

and take the pleasure he was giving her. The way he

wanted. Oh God. Her knees buckled. It was so good.

He caught her easily, holding her stil for more of his

touch, his desire. The pinch of his thumb and forefinger on

her nipple made her jump, except she couldn’t go

anywhere, do anything. He was in charge. In complete

control. Her lids fluttered open. He was staring down at her,

the desire burning so brightly in her mirrored in the tight set of his expression. Along with that realization came another.

He liked her like this. The knowledge settled deep, giving

her the courage to lower her lids, lick her lips, and ask, “Is

that al you’ve got?”

His laugh was more sensual than amused; the answer

he gave short and to the point. “Hardly.”

The pressure on her nipple increased to the point of

pain. His gaze never left hers as she waited, breath

suspended in her chest, womb clenched expectantly,

whether in hope or dread, she didn’t know. With a smal

smile, he released her nipple and turned her around. Becky

stood there, breath shuddering, adrenalin flowing for three

uncomprehending seconds until he said, “Bend over.”

And the conflagration started again, her mind racing

ahead of her actions, picturing how she’d look to him, her

hands braced on the bed, her rear thrust back in a purely

submissive pose.

When she would have shrugged off her coat, Marc

caught her shoulders.

“No.”

Subtle pressure bent her over. She caught her weight on

her hands, feeling awkward and vulnerable and as turned

on as she’d ever been as his hand grazed up the inside of

her thigh, pressing her leg to the left in a smooth demand

before repeating the same caress with the other leg.

His fingertips pressed lightly against her pussy. “I’ve

been thinking about this since morning.”

It was a struggle to find her voice. “What exactly is

‘this’?”

His shadow fel over her as he stood, making her vividly

aware of his size, the need to dominate he’d always kept in

check for her. The need she’d asked him to let loose. His

hands on the waistband of her sweatpants were cold. She

jumped. Her pants and underwear fol owed the shiver as it

snaked down to her toes. “Your ass.”

Which told her nothing and suggested everything.

The snap of his fingers against her right cheek had her

jumping again. “Push back.”

She did.

Another tiny slap, this one so soft it seemed to absorb

the sting of the other. In the aftermath, his palm lingered.

“You liked that?”

There was no way she could deny it, even if every

liberated bone in her body demanded that she do so.

Those betraying goose bumps were at it again,

telegraphing her delight. The zipper of his jeans rasped

loudly in the silence. She swal owed hard; the image of him

taking her ful y clothed played like a siren’s lure in her mind.

Hard, deep, his focus on his pleasure. Oh yes. She wanted

him to take her like that. To use her for his satisfaction, to

let her be nothing more than what he needed this once. Not

having to think, to worry, just being there to satisfy him

would be so good.

His fingers slipped between her thighs, cal used and

rough, sliding easily across her shaved labia. His laugh,

when he found her open and wet, held the smile she’d

missed earlier.

“Looks like you’ve been thinking, too.”

“Yes.” She always thought about him.

“Did you prepare yourself like I ordered?”

He could feel that she had, so he must just want to hear

her say it. “Yes.” Admitting that sent another quiver of

delight through her. Took her another step deeper into her

fantasy where her submissive side got free rein.

“Good.”

He eased his cock up the crack of her ass. It slid

smoothly on the lubricated skin, making her shudder and

push back. His thumbs rubbed the inside of her cheeks,

holding her open for the next stroke.

The fat head of his cock caught on the edge of her anus.

Hunger, hot and dark, shot inward. Her cry was involuntary.

He didn’t move, didn’t even seem to breathe for a second

— and then he snuggled the broad head against the tight

opening, teasing her with the promise of the forbidden.

“Step out of your pants,” he ordered darkly, then stood

stil , letting her efforts to fol ow his order work him up and

down the crease.

As soon as she was free, she resumed her position. He

pushed her ankle with his foot. “Wider.”

She complied immediately, feeling completely exposed.

It only increased her excitement. His cock throbbed against

her. The touch of his fingers changed from caressing to

possessive as he moved her around, letting the head of his

cock probe first her ass and then lower; not entering, just

stroking like one might with a finger.

It was pure torment to stand so, bent over, exposed,

wondering where he would take her. When? Would he be

fast or slow? Would he let her come, or would he leave her

hanging, deliciously ful of his semen, pulsing with

anticipation?

He rubbed his cock over her buttocks. Despite her

efforts to stay quiet, a whimper escaped. It felt too good to

tolerate in silence. He rubbed some more. She gave up the

BOOK: Letting Go
5.49Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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