This is a big Saturday for me! It’s time again for another SEX SCENE SATURDAY, where you get to read a snippet of naughty from one of my pseudonym’s hot romances and get a chance to win the book.
Last week, you guys entered to win ALL STEAMED UP: BOUND IN BRASS, and I’m so pleased to announce the winner, by random.org draw:
What am I doing? Chris had been doing his best to ignore his rational side all evening. It was stupid of him to have agreed to sneak off with Maggie. It was stupid of him to have brought her back here. It was supremely stupid of him to have his face buried in her cunt and her legs locked around his neck.
This is Coach’s daughter, his brain reminded him. Fuck his brain—he’d never liked it, anyway. Besides, she wasn’t a teenager anymore. No, she was definitely a full grown woman, and she wanted this as much as Chris did, judging from the way she rolled her hips against his mouth.
Beneath his lips she was hot, wet, and open. He ran his tongue over her clit and sucked the hard knot with merciless pressure. She groaned and took loud, deep breaths. When he looked up, he almost laughed. Her head was turned to the microwave and the green numbers on its clock face.
If she thought she would really last ten minutes, she was insane. At least, if she was as turned on as he was. He certainly didn’t know if he could last for ten minutes without fucking her right there on the kitchen island. He rolled his tongue around in lazy circles then dipped down to push inside her. She gave a long, noisy exhalation, and her palm slapped the counter.
“How many minutes has it been?” he asked, bumping his nose against her folds as he raised his head.
She replied through gritted teeth. “Four.”
“Hmm. Not even halfway done yet.” He parted her with his thumbs and stroked down the bundle of nerves slowly, savoring the taste of her, the feel of the frilled edge of her flesh against
his tongue. Alternating between slowly lapping at her and darting his tongue in precision strikes, until she wriggled her hips and clawed at his hair with her shiny red nails.
Her mound, waxed bare, was like velvet on his face. He groaned against her and slipped his tongue inside, curling over her internal ridges. With his hand splayed over her lower abdomen, he rubbed her clit over and over with his thumb, faster and faster, until her whole body curled up from the counter and she screamed, “Oh, fuck!”
He pushed up, laughing, and she wriggled back, pulling her skirt down pretty demurely for a woman who was still breathing hard after a screaming orgasm on a kitchen counter.
“Look, before we go any further…”
“Yeah, I’ll be right back.” He left her there only for a minute, running to the bathroom, shedding his shirt along the way. In the medicine cabinet, he found condoms, and with a grimace of dismay, reluctantly checked the expiration date. It had been a really long time. When he saw that they were good to go, he breathed a sigh of relief and headed back out. He’d expected her to have moved to someplace more comfortable. The couch, maybe, or even upstairs in his bed, if he thought they would make it that far. She sat on one of the bar stools at the island, leaning back with her elbows on the counter. One leg rested lazily over the other stool, giving him a spectacular view of her glistening cunt.
“Six minutes,” she said, in answer to a question he wouldn’t have been smart enough to ask, anyway.
“You wanna move to the couch?” he asked, not sure what they were talking about, just absolutely certain that he would fall to his knees and beg her if he didn’t get inside her soon.
“No, no, no, I don’t think we can see the clock from there.” She swung her long leg down from the bar stool, her heels clacking on the stained concrete as she closed the distance between them. “Wanna go double or nothing? See if you can’t beat six minutes?”
Oh, so it was that game, was it? There was no way he’d be able to last six minutes. She might as well have asked to go six years. As she dropped to her knees in front of him, he held his breath. He tried to keep cool, but all he could think of was how hot her cherry-red lips would look wrapped around his cock. Already painfully hard, he groaned as she unzipped his fly and released him. She stroked one hand down him slowly, bending her wrist as she did. “Wow. It’s just as impressive up close.”
He laughed weakly, too overcome by the flood of sensation as she pumped him. When sweat beaded on his forehead and he closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on anything but the feel of her warm, soft hand gliding like silk over his dick, she stopped.
“Look at me,” she practically cooed, and he was helpless to resist. When he opened his eyes, her lips hovered just a fraction from the head of his cock. Her tongue darted out, and he felt the heat of it, but not the touch, as she wet her lips. “I’m going to make you come.”
Before he could think of a witty retort, she slid her lips over him, gliding them down his shaft until he touched the back of her throat, then pulling completely back, her tongue swiping along the underside of his cock as she went. His toes curled against the cold floor.
Kneeling before him, she looked like a pin-up sex goddess come to life. She held his hips for stability as she bobbed and slid her mouth over him. Her ankles were crossed, the red heels gleaming. Her fantastic breasts pressed against his thighs, and he could vividly imagine how they would bounce as she rode him. He couldn’t wait to experience it, but a look at the clock told him he’d endured only three minutes of her acrobatic tongue and mouth.
Things…weren’t going well. He wasn’t going to make it six minutes, absolutely no way. He might not make it another thirty seconds. “I think I have to give up,” he managed through gritted back teeth.
She slipped her mouth slowly, torturously free, her tongue tapping the underside of his head as she did. “I never said you were going to have the option of yielding.”
Apparently, she did not grasp the seriousness of the situation. “Maggie, I’m telling you, I’m close.”
She pumped him in her hand and swirled her tongue around him like goddamned lollipop. “Make me stop.”
His hips bucked, his balls drew up. The white hot threat of orgasm curled tighter, and in his desperation, he used the only defense available to him. He grabbed the detachable faucet head from the bar sink on the island, and he sprayed her.
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