Frank shifted and readjusted his cock that was clearly straining against his jeans as I flipped my hair and docked the iPod, a pleasant buzz fogging my head. The Christmas lights swirled across the artwork-studded walls and the sheer-shaded windows of the living room.
My pulse quickened. Desire set my flesh and blood on fire.
I watched Frank’s expression change from lax to heated as the jazzy, mid-tempo tune blared from the speakers. He bit his bottom lip and rested his hand on his erection. His eyes shone with a sinister glow.
I moved across the room slowly, swaying my hips to the tempting beat of the song. My dress was a knee-length wrap with a zipper on one side. There wasn’t much to work with, but I’d worn a pair of sexy pumps and a lace lingerie set and I wanted to show off. I wanted to strip and I wanted to ride Frank in the most inelegant way.
His breath hitched as my fingers began to play with the skirt, dragging the light fabric up my thighs. He parted his lips to suck in more air through his teeth. A grin of satisfaction spread to his stubbly cheeks. Men truly needed so little to be happy. It was almost too easy.
I stopped front and center to ensure Frank had the best view and whirled on my heels. My heart thrummed along with the music. Potent and tasteful, the melody became my pulse. I felt its erotic beat in my temples and dripping between my thighs. Dizzy with lyrics, my head continued to spin. My hair whipped across my face and I couldn’t see anything but the blurred lines of Frank’s silhouette splayed over the white upholstery of the couch.
He breathed hard. His lungs couldn’t catch up with his want. This craving that filled the empty space between us was a deadly case of passion. Hips rolling, I inched closer and pulled down the zipper of my dress to reveal some more skin. Frank’s hooded gaze followed my every move, his hand squeezed his erection. He was a goner.
Satisfied with the results, I wrestled the silk off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor.
He released a strained moan. “I’m going to come in my jeans if you keep this up.”
“Is that a challenge?” I laughed, taking a step forward. My hair fell down my back and over my breasts in messy cascades of black.
Frank tore his hand from his bulge and reached out for me. “Come closer, doll.”
I obliged. He ran his palm along the curve of my waist and to my bare hip. His thumb slid beneath my lacy panties.
“Patience.” I slapped his knuckles lightly and retreated.
He let out a groan, and his eyes grew darker.
The song reached its peak and the ragged rhythm galloped through my body, twisting and bending me like a willow tree. I was raw and undone between my legs and parts of me needed Frank to put out the damn fire he’d lit. Other parts of me were enjoying the torturous look on his face.
My hands moved around my back to unhook my bra. Cupping my breasts, I swayed to the music. The unsteady click of my heels meshed with the leisurely beat of the drums and the rough grit of the vocals.
Frank patted his thigh invitingly and I strutted toward the couch to take the space between his legs. Gliding my hands over my skin, I peeled off my bra and it dropped across my shoes.
Face flushed with delight, Frank snaked his arm around me and palmed my ass. His gaze danced a lustful path up my body.
I could tell he was torn between touching me and touching himself, and part of me felt bad that he only had one good hand, but I was dead set on making him forget about his injuries. I was a girlfriend on a mission. And the mission was to give my man an orgasm.
Dropping to my knees, I reached for his zipper and freed his cock. He was beautiful, hard, and ready for me to suck him. Fingers tangled in my hair, Frank tossed his head back. A ravaged growl lingered on his lips for a few seconds before he released it into the music.
I took him into my mouth slowly, wetting him and relaxing my throat. His hips bucked. His body stiffened. The tip of him slid in deep, salty precum blending with my saliva.
“Fuck, baby.” I heard him mutter under his breath as his hand pushed against the back of my head slowly and carefully. My belly squeezed at the guttural sound of his voice. He was the epitome of masculinity—tight, sensual, and writhing under my touch. Every part of me ached for him after seven nights of absolute loneliness in my bed, but I wanted to grant him his pleasure first.
Inhaling deeply through my nose, I slid my mouth around his length, all the way down until there was no room left.
“Oh God. Yes,” he murmured, nearly convulsing beneath me. His rasp reverberated inside my head, and my sex clenched with need.
I worked his cock with delicacy and attention. My tongue swirled over each ridge of his thickness in sharp precision. Quick, skillful, moan-inducing movements, until he neared the edge.
Releasing him from my mouth, I gasped for air and stood. He was spent, eyes closed, lashes fluttering, hand gripped around his wet cock. My hips wavered as I slid my panties off and straddled him. My shoes were still on and he grinned at me like a teenager who’d just gotten his first blowjob. Heat flashed where our bodies connected. His thickness pressed to my center, which pulsed as I moved along its length with a sluggish rhythm, teasing him.
Frank was panting with need. His broken breaths grew louder and he grabbed at my waist.
“Shhh, baby.” I palmed his cheeks. “Relax. Let me do all the work. You can make it up to me in a couple of months.”
He laughed feverishly through his frenzy, and my emotions swelled in my chest. It was almost too much. Too many feelings. My mind spun out of control. I rested my hands atop the back pillow to leverage myself.
“Come on, doll. Put me out of my misery. Fuck me already.”
I leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on his forehead. “As you wish.” His skin was slick with sweat and I rubbed my chin against the side of his face. He was every bit the mess a person in his delicate situation should be, but he was my mess. And I wanted to make him feel good.
Our bodies mingled, mine small and lithe and his large and trim. We fit together perfectly. My thighs moved carefully, rocking to the dark, slow beat. The song changed and we were now wrapped into the divine voice of Leonard Cohen’s “Thousand Kisses Deep.” I froze at the tip of him, soaking in the final moment of the prelude as our flesh brushed one last time. Then he slid into me gently, his hand gripping my leg. I lowered my body onto his, every single inch of his cock buried in me so deep, there was barely enough room to breathe.
A tremor rushed through my limbs from the friction of our skin. My head fell back. I was losing my mind, and euphoria had begun to take over. Nothing existed right now—just the insanity of us. My body welcomed his modest thrusts. Rolling my hips, I pumped him carefully, ripping low, pleasured growls from his chest. He remained still, hand on my thigh, lips invitingly open.
We were caught up in a wild trance of sex, pain, and rock ’n’ roll. It was an agonizingly slow ride. I rocked to the music against his lap, my bare breasts bouncing tauntingly in front of his face. Craning his neck, he reached for my left nipple, and I arched to give him better access. He sucked me into his mouth ravenously. The devilish flicks of his tongue were going to be my undoing.
“Does it feel good?” I asked, quickening my pace to match the tempo of the next song.
“Is that a rhetorical question?” He laughed softly.
“I want you to be comfortable, because I’m just getting started,” I explained, licking his cheek.