*32 - Close Enough

The sharp flare of her nostrils only validated Jon’s claim.  She would be his, and Delaney wanted it to happen as much as he did. 

The instant he opened the door, he’d known she had more than dinner on her mind.  A woman whose primary wardrobe consisted of jeans didn’t show up in a sexy little dress without plans to see it on the floor.  When the sexy little dress exposed as much cleavage as hers did, that was also a damn good indicator of her willingness to get naked.

Right now, that impressive display of cleavage held his eyes like a magnet as she leaned to deposit her wineglass on the coffee table.  His gaze lifted higher when she gently pried away his glass to join it.

“I’m going to be yours, huh?”

With her standing about eight inches from his knees, Jon had to tilt his head back to find her erotically stormy irises to avow, “Without a doubt.”

“Well,” she noted coyly.  “There is another possibility, you know.”

“Maybe in your world, but not mine.”

Delicate fingertips brushed the hair from his temple and her thumb followed behind to smooth the skin.  “There's always the off chance that you'll end up belonging to me.” 

The hypothesis was as soft as her touch and caused a fierce twitch in his cock, making Jon unable to keep itchy palms from reaching for the thighs left exposed by her dress.  The scrape of bare skin only made the itch worse, and he snuck frustrated fingers around to the backs of those bare thighs and grasped solidly.  Her legs were firmly toned and the contrast between them and the magnetic cleavage begged him to haul her on top of him for the remainder of this debate. 

Jesus Christ, it’s been too long since I got laid.

“Ya think?”

Lightning and thunder waged behind the gorgeous eyes of his miniature Greek beauty, beckoning to the barbarian who was eager to rage in the storm with her.  With all the volatility that muddled her irises, though, Delaney’s touch in cupping his jaw was petal-soft as she glided to stand between his knees and bend forward. 

“Guess we oughta find out,” was the compromise she breathed against his mouth. 

It was no more than a puff of air, but that puff carried the destructive force of a category five hurricane.  The gates holding the Barbarian at bay were ripped from their hinges, freeing him to what he’d wanted to do all along. 

Her tongue snaked in to slither against his, and Jon grunted.  His vocabulary was reverting to the same primal condition as the wave of desire consuming him.  Boorish hands no longer knew the meaning of caution and ransacked their way under her skirt, gripping the womanly curve of her hips and yanking – hard.

The surprised gasp when she landed on him only made Jon harder, and he ground into the thigh wedged against his crotch.

“Mou,” he insisted, nipping at the succulent bottom lip shining in the lamplight and finally touching her in ways he’d only dreamed about – with entitlement and without apology.  Lecherous paws kneaded the globes of her ass while brazen fingers traced its crevice.  “You feel so fuckin’ good.”

She scrambled for purchase, finally managing to plant her knees in the cushions on either side of him to frantically pluck at his buttons.  “I wanna feel you.  Touch that gorgeous chest.”

He’d let her do anything if she stayed right here.  This new position parted rock-solid thighs wide, and Jon blatantly traveled the pert little curve of her ass.  Proprietary fingers stroked along the underside just long enough to confirm its softness matched that of the lips nuzzling his Adam’s apple before he moved to a more central location – and a panel of sodden lace. 

Those panties weren’t the only thing sodden between her legs, either.  Shoving the girly crotch cover aside exposed a wetness epitomizing exactly what a man hoped to inspire in a woman.  Blood pumped painfully through his cock as Jon delved into the slippery plumpness and groaned.

There was nothing that felt quite the same – or as decadent – as the hidden parts of a woman’s body. 

 “You’re wet for me.”  The observation was delivered as a reprimand, but he couldn’t have been any fucking happier about the greedy heat swallowing his finger and clamping tight.

“Since before you opened the door,” she rasped against his throat through an open-mouthed kiss. 

Petite hands slipped inside the front of a newly unbuttoned shirt as Delaney’s hips rocked against the hand that was still plundering her pussy.  His little Greek storm was as eager to be touched as she was to touch and spread her legs wider, offering him everything.

It was an offer he couldn’t – wouldn’t – refuse.

In the space of a shocked breath, Delaney’s back hit the couch cushions and Jon shoved the skirt up to her waist. 

“What are you doing?”

“I hope that’s a rhetorical question.” 

The growl was suitable for a barbarian, and his manners didn’t stray from course.  Both uncivilized hands tucked in behind her knees, pushing one out and hooking the other over his shoulder.  That freed up a hand to jerk aside the scrap of lace that didn’t do a damn thing to maintain her modesty, and he replaced it with his face. 

“Ohhhhh!  Toso kala.”

It was his official welcome as he burrowed into the smoothness that was adorned only with a tiny tuft of hair at her apex.  Plump lips were smooth as a baby’s butt, and he used the full breadth of his tongue to split them, accessing that which they hid.  

There would be no hiding from him.  Tonight, she was his, and he would have everything. 

His first flick against the florist’s secret petals incited feverish fingers to knot in his hair, accompanied by a rasping of words he didn’t recognize.  He’d give anything to hear those dirty endearments in English, but Jon wouldn’t be deterred from his task.  He simply let the eroticism of a foreign tongue seduce him as he slathered her with good old Jersey-style seduction. 

“Tróne to mounáki mou!”

The taste of her was nothing like his dreams.  Like the woman herself, Delaney’s essence was complex, and defied description.  Sweet and salty.  Sweet and spicy.  Sweet and slick.  Sweet and…  He hoisted her high and dug deep for a better sample

Humming into the syrupiness, he zeroed in on the passageway that radiated smoky heat, flicking a lazy tongue around the entrance.    One leisurely rotation was followed by another, which was drawn out into a third before temptation finally lured Jon into tunneling deep enough to risk suffocation.  

He impaled and invaded the savory silken sheath, fucking her with his tongue just like he’d fuck her with his cock.  Intimacy took on a new meaning as he lapped her from the inside out. 

Persistent.  Determined.  Hungry. 

Delaney jolted lightly against him.  The lighting was hitting closer to home, striking a water tower that inundated the valley.  They hadn’t hit flood stage yet, but unwilling to let the opportunity pass, Jon bowled his tongue to collect the nectar that was her signature flavor. 

The sharp tug of his scalp was a perfect complement to the wickedness he swallowed, and the pain was a fair price for his drink, so he went back for another.  The tip split her, mopping away drop after drop to store in his taste buds for later.  This time, when he woke in the middle of the night, it would be authentic Delaney that filled his mouth and not a dream.

On and on, he tirelessly consumed what she offered.  Unfamiliar words rained from her mouth as readily as her sweet syrup flowed over his tongue and made the back of his neck prickle.  He had no idea what the cries filling the air meant, but the passion behind them was contagious.  It made him impatient with his task.  He wanted to know what it would sound like when the lighting finally struck its final destination, electrocuting her with the full voltage of orgasm.

Anticipation spurred his lazy licks into a purposeful pucker, and Jon mercilessly inhaled her clit.  It only took about three determined slurps and a firm flick against her candied nub before the night was pierced by brilliant lightning – and a lusty scream that satisfied him as much as it did the squirming, panting spitfire under him.

Blunt nails abraded his nape as Delaney’s hips bucked with a release that fulfilled the promise of passion he’d seen since the beginning.  Jon cashed in on that promise until there was nothing left but quivering thighs, whimpering breathiness and the lingering taste of his newest addiction. 

After dragging his mouth along the inside of her thigh, he peeked up to find glassy eyes trained on him. The storm had passed, leaving behind placid, dove-like irises and a mouth softened with gratification. 

“Anybody ever tell you you’re good at that?”

“Maybe,” he chuckled, putting panties to rights and closing her knees.  “Anybody ever tell you that you taste like a man’s wet dream?”

“Not today.”

The wryness was oddly appropriate and a smile flirted at the corners of his mouth as Jon gently tugged her into a sitting position.  Other than a slightly skewed neckline, disheveled hair and an aura of contentment, she looked no different than she had when she got here.

She could walk out of here looking the same as when she arrived, and he experienced a brief stab of guilt for it.  Years had passed since he last went down on a fully dressed woman.  Years and years. 

“Well, your pussy is the best thing I’ve eaten in a long time,” he complimented, stifling his remorse in favor of delight at the heated tinge flooding her cheeks.  “What?  English gutter talk embarrasses you?  ‘Cause I’d give anything to know what you were sayin’ while you were humpin’ my face.”

“Okay, that’s about enough of that.”  Her feet planted firmly on the carpet so that she could rise.  “Give me a sec in the ladies’ and we can continue this however you want.”

The ballsy little hellion was embarrassed, and damn if the unexpectedness of it wasn’t a bigger turn-on than his favorite Vancouver titty bar. 

“Mou.”   Jon snagged her fingers the instant before she escaped.  “Teach me your Greek.”

Her cheeks went redder, but this time he wasn’t sure if it was fueled by embarrassment or arousal.  “I don’t think so.”

“Teach me or I’ll find someone else to,” he warned pointedly.  “Either way, I’m gonna know what you say next time you melt in my mouth.”

Her facial features relaxed before Delaney conjured the faintest hint of dimples and came close enough to cup his jaw.  “Your tongue is of silver and brings pleasure to anything it touches.  When you sing it’s auditory pleasure.  When you flirt, it’s mental pleasure.  When you lick… it’s the ultimate pleasure.”

Her little speech came across like a lover’s touch, caressing all the right places within him.  The tang of intimacy was still fresh on his lips, but it dulled in the shadow of a desire for something more.   There were parts of her still yet unclaimed, and Jon needed to rectify that – right after he called her out on that line of bullshit.

“That’s very eloquent, but I get the feeling maybe it’s not quite a word-for-word translation.”

One dimple went full-power at his skepticism, and she dipped to brush twitching lips across his.    

“Close enough.”