My excerpt today is a very generous contribution from the most wonderful writer, Sommer Marsden. This is a super-hot scene from her current title, Restricted Release.
“Were you watching me?” he whispered against my neck, surprising me.
He had me pinned to the side table in his foyer and his hands cupped my ass so that I couldn’t get away. I had no choice. Honesty was the only way to fly.
“Yes. Why? Did you…” Had he seen me masturbating at my window? Dear God, what a nightmare. How shameful and yet under it all was a thrill that radiated through my bones.
“I saw a bit of movement. Streetlights on shadows. Like a person. I’m used to observing shadows and movement and people and…” He pushed my leggings and panties down so they were around my hips but no farther. His hands covered the exposed skin of my lower back, the top of my buttocks. He waited, kissing me like we had all the time in the world.
I could feel his cock, hard and ready but still covered by fabric, pressed to the split of my pussy lips. The air in my lungs felt meager. I slipped my hand between us and found him. I gripped his erection through his gray sweatpants and he groaned.
“You’re so pretty,” I confessed. “In sweatpants and nothing else. And you are gorgeous naked.”
I pushed myself to say the words. I was having an out-of-body experience, I thought. Or more accurately, some strange woman with a big mouth had taken over mine. Most men, most arousal, most attraction scared the shit out of me.
However, fear was not an option. If I wanted him I had to be bold.
“Isn’t it me who should be flattering you, Clara?” He sucked my nipple right through my cornflower-blue shirt. It hung off one shoulder like the tops I’d worn as a teenager. My nipple spiked inside my thin bra and I gasped. He sucked harder.
“I guess.” It was the smartest thing I could think to say, sadly.
“Are we going to do this? I need to know.” He stroked up my flanks and along the knobs of my spine, his mouth constantly moving along my throat and over my face. The softest kisses I could ever remember receiving.
And I realized I felt safe in his hands. It was a very foreign feeling to me. Security was extinct in my world.
“Clara?” He pulled back, dark eyes studying me. Instead of feeling the urge to shrink away I felt the urge to tempt him.
I couldn’t focus on it or it would terrify me.
I nodded. “We’re going to do this. Yes. But I need something from you.” I found my bravery and leaned in to kiss his neck. He smelled like soap and coffee and saltwater.
The smell was intoxicating, like huffing human vapors. I smiled and licked him to see if he tasted the same way he smelled.
“Jesus. What? If you’re going to do that right there you might have to drug me so I don’t come in my pants.”
A bubble of laughter burst out of me and I said, “Well, that’s sort of what I was getting at. I wanted to ask you to go slow.” I pressed my mouth to his ear and then licked him again. I felt his cock jump to press against my palm. He was big and Lord, was he hard.
My body let loose a lubricating rush of moisture. I had not wanted a man like this since before my marriage. I had not wanted a man period for what felt like decades. But my want was back with a vengeance because I wanted this one. For hours and hours, I wanted him. And then I wanted him again.
“I can go slow,” he said and pushed my leggings down farther.
When you come from a background like mine and find yourself nude in front of a new man, you have the urge it to cover up. To shield yourself and your undoubtable ugliness from him. So you won’t offend. I had to force myself to squash that impulse.
“Arms up,” he said.
“You have no curtains. Anywhere,” I murmured even as I obeyed him.
Matt yanked my top off and dropped it. My bra was next to fall victim to his nimble fingers. He latched his hot mouth around my nipple, his hands gripping my hips with a strength that startled me.
“I do right there,” he said against my skin, vaguely nodding toward the front window. And then he sucked again.
Heat spiked in my gut, my womb, my cunt. When he drew on my nipple again there was a slight tickling in my throat and a resounding tug in my pussy. He pushed a finger into me as if he knew how wet I was and I arched up to meet him. He curled his fingers and pushed a bit deeper.
“Congratulations on that curtain,” I said, smiling.
I was naked and he was not. It was making me nervous. “You need to take something off or put something back on me,” I said. I rubbed the hard arc of his cock. I could see it clearly pressing against the faded and worn fabric of his sweats.
“Right.” He pushed his pants down. He was bare underneath. When he kicked them off to the side, his cock arched up, pressed to my thigh. “Done.”
“That was easy.”
Matt grunted and kissed me. His mouth tasted like something sweet—soda, wine, tea. I bit his tongue gently and he growled. “Easy if you want me to last.”
“I’m starting to think if we finish fast we can start again.” I curled my fingers around his shaft, sliding my loose fist gently up and down. I refused to examine my boldness. I just went with it. Sex, gorgeous man, a sense of joy in my chest—why question it?