I squeeze my eyes shut and count to ten, considering making a break for the front door, when the crushing drumbeat of the Disturbed song that was playing turns to the twanging guitar intro to one of my favorite songs and I realize he’s playing one of my playlists.
The first few lines, I stay still, eyes shut, then I hear the movement of his bare feet on the floorboards. A creak, just on the other side of the open door, then Dutch’s low voice joins the chorus as his fingertips brush my cheek, and I feel like my heart will burst from my chest.
Fuck, he’s singing to me.
Lord, come on, now. I’m only human. How am I supposed to stay strong?
You’re as smooth, as Tennessee Whiskey.
You’re as sweet as strawberry wine…
“You’ve already seen me,” he whispers, his hand running down my arm until his thick, rough fingers entwine with mine. “Did you like watching?”
What the hell do I say to that?
Well, anatomically you are a perfect male specimen, and my interest is purely scientific…but, damn, yeaaaaah buddy, I liked watching.
“Yes,” I blurt out. Feeling like that single word is telling him a thousand stories of the fantasies I’ve had for the last year.
He pulls me around the door frame into the small bedroom, the music making me want to sway as a thick, hot, churning lust builds, making me feel like I’ve downed a few shots of Fireball.
“You and your letters have made me hard like this for a long time. But today? When I walked in the house and saw you?” He shakes his head slowly, almost angrily, as I battle to keep my eyes from pinning on his erection. “God damn. I know there’s no relief without you ever again, little girl.”
He pulls me against him, his hardness driving against my hip. One thick, tattooed arm slips around my back. His other hand meets mine, our bodies moving, swaying, and to anyone else I’m sure it would look ridiculous.
Me, dressed in my jeans and thermal top, black snow boots, hair in a messy bun and him…oh, God, him dressed in only his ink and the scent of a man tasting freedom for the first time in years.
“I can feel your heartbeat,” I whisper as he tugs me against him, pressing his thick hardness into my belly.
“I know that’s not all you feel. Feel what you do to me. I can already taste you, Daphne. My first meal as a free man…I want it to be you.”
I rest my face into the muscular cords of his neck, trying to work out if this is real or one of my dreams.
His entire body is hard, coiled, like he’s a spring wound too tight. I hold my breath as I pull back, looking up into his bluest eyes, seeing a desperation that makes me want to be the balm for whatever he needs.
“I—I…” I start, not even sure what I want to say, when his hands sweep upward to my cheeks and he kisses me with a moan. I have that feverish sort of feeling you get when reality and dreams blend together, when you’re just waking or just falling asleep. The ache between my legs throbs, my core buckles, and I nearly sink to my knees.
I’ve never come close to what’s happening right now. Standing with a man I honestly met just minutes before, naked. He doesn’t know it, but I’ve never seen a real, live man naked before Dutch. I’ve never been so close to such power. His hands slide up and down my back, our lips crushing together as his tongue moves, warm against mine.
My nipples tingle, being zapped with what feels like an electrical current. Suddenly, all I want is to be rid of all my clothes. I slide my hands all over his chest, his shoulders, down his biceps, wanting to touch him everywhere as I listen to the way his moans change pitch as my hands glide over his flesh.
“You keep doing that, I’m not going to last,” he whispers, hard to hear over the music and the pounding of my heart in my ears.
Boldness overtakes me, and I slip my hand down between us, his mouth back on mine, feeling his abs tighten as I go lower, then slip my fingers around the tip of his massive cock. The wetness spurts out into my palm as he lets out a painful grunt, breaking our kiss, pressing his forehead to the part in my hair.
“Daph. Fuck, how many times I’ve dreamed of you. Of this, of you touching me. I want to be inside you. I can’t lie. It’s all I can think about.”
This is so intense.
So fucking hot.
I’ve had flickers of something I guess you’d call lust or desire before, but nothing like this. This is a grinding need, clawing inside me, desperate for release. I slide my hand down lower, my fingers barely able to encircle his girth as wet heat engulfs me between my legs.
His fingertips dig into the sides of my face like he’s losing control. I love the sense of power I have. The warmth coming from his body seems to surge and this whole moment suddenly feels surreal.
Even, shit…comical.
Me, fully clothed, my prison pen pal naked as we dance, my hand gripping his dripping cock like we are acting out some over-the-top porn scene.
A giggle bursts from my lips and he pulls back, and I see the confusion in his eyes.
“This is funny?”
“No. I mean…yes,” I sputter. “I have a bad habit of laughing at the wrong times. When I feel nervous. It’s like a defense mechanism, I guess. I’m sorry, it’s just…” Somehow I stop my babbling. I smile on a snort, fighting off another burst of inappropriate laughter when his eyes darken, his tongue tracing along his top teeth as he nods.
“We better give that mouth something else to do then.” His hands tangle in my hair as he stares at me, licking his lips.
He presses me downward and I bend my knees, sliding my hands down his hips, then take a detour and let them sweep over his tight ass before settling at the altar of dick in front of me.
I don’t know what I’m doing, but I pretend. I follow my instincts. I do what seems right. I look up, fluttering my lashes as I stick out my tongue and flick it where the slit on the tip is seeping creamy liquid.
I moan, trading my tongue for my lips, giving that part of him a little kiss then a gentle suck, the masculine flavor better than I could have imagined. I want more.
And suddenly, my awkward laughter, my discomfort is just gone. I suck harder, swallowing the pre-cum he’s offering, looking up to see his head fall back, and for a second he looks like he might be losing consciousness.
“Fuck, baby. I love how your eyes look with my dick in your mouth. That cock tastes like it was made just for you, doesn’t it?”
I slide the head over my tongue, feeling the smooth skin, the thick vein that throbs, all the while answering him with a little nod as my pussy pulses and clenches, waiting for its turn to swap places with my mouth. I never imagined sucking a cock could turn me on so much, but I’m ready to spin into my own oblivion after 3.5 seconds.
I moan as I take another inch, then another, back and forth through my lips until the tip teases at the back of my throat. I flick my gaze up to see him staring down, brow tight, and I wonder if I’m doing it wrong.
He thrusts his hips, going deeper. “You have some talent there. That little mouth can barely open wide enough, can it?” The words feel hard and my stomach flips over as I slip him in and out faster. “Please fucking tell me you practiced on a banana or a carrot or some goddamn thing.”
Understanding floods through me and I withdraw in a gasp for air.