When Sparks Fly (Sexy Secrets Book 2) (7 page)

“Um, I wanted to do something memorable for my 30
^th
birthday, so it was either the piercings or a tattoo.  I figured that the
piercings would be easier to remove if I decided later I didn’t like them.”

I smile at her before lowering my head and taking her lips
in a soft kiss.  

“I really like them,” I mumble against her lips when I come
up for air.  My hand that is resting on her stomach - I let it drift down until
I reach her pussy.  I run my fingers through her folds, loving the wetness I
seem to be creating.  I also love that she is not totally bare down there.  Her
pussy lips are bare, but there is a soft patch of neatly trimmed hair on top. 
I reach for another condom.  I roll it on and situate myself until I am
hovering over Olivia. 

With the first nut out of the way, I will be able to last
longer this time – I hope anyway.

When I slide into her for the second time, I fight the
shiver that runs up my spine and I feel like I am about to cum already.  I hold
still, giving myself a few moments to adjust to her snug heat so I don’t cum. 
I slowly start to move.  One stroke, two strokes, three strokes and just like
that, I am lost in Olivia.  I bury my face in her neck as I take my time,
taking long deep strokes into her, concentrating on this blissful feeling that
is making me think of happily ever after.

Her soft hands stroking up and down my sides have me wanting
to go faster, but I keep my pace slow and steady as I plan to wring all the
pleasure I can out of Olivia.

__________________________

Olivia -
the morning after

I’m hot
.

I slowly start to wake up and wonder if I forgot to turn
down the heat last night before going to bed.  I go to shove my heavy comforter
off me, but I pause when I come into contact with an arm.  In an instant, I
remember what Isaac and I did last night.  I am on my side and he is behind me,
spooning me with his arm draped over my mid-section.  His thigh is more or less
thrown over my legs and his face is buried in my neck; and I am hot.  His body
is like a furnace.  

I don’t want to wake him just yet, so I stealthily start to
maneuver from his hold.  It takes a while, but I am finally free and I deduce
that Isaac sleeps like the dead. 

I start to stand, only to pitch forward because my foot has
somehow tangled in the sheet.  I land in a heap on the floor – a naked heap. 
And wouldn’t you know it – this is what wakes him up.

“You okay Olivia?” he asks in a sleep roughen voice.  He
sits up on the edge of the bed before reaching to untangle my foot from the
sheet.  In my current position – me on the floor with my foot caught in the
sheet that is hanging of the bed – he has a good view of my girly parts.  I can
already feel my face heating up at my predicament.  Once my foot is free, I
quickly scramble to my knees and snatch the sheet from the bed, wrapping it
haphazardly around me as I stand. 

Isaac gives me a slight frown, quirking his eyebrow at me. 

“I have seen every single inch of your naked body – why are
you trying to hide it from me?”

I simply shrug, not wanting to admit that I feel somewhat
awkward and incredibly vulnerable being naked in front of him.  My mouth goes
dry when he stands up and approaches me.  It is obvious that Isaac has no
problem with being naked.  I try my best to look at his face and not at his
morning wood, but every few seconds my gaze glances down at it.  He tugs on the
sheet I have wrapped around me and I hold on tight.  Before I can comprehend
what he is about to do, he is kissing me – morning breath and all.  My guess is
that two morning breaths cancel each other out because I am not repulsed. 

I forget about the sheet when he tugs on it again and this
time it falls to floor.  I plaster myself to him as his hands start to roam
over my body.  His very large hands cup my ass, squeezing hard as he groans
into the kiss and picks me up as if I weigh nothing.  I instinctively wrap my
legs around him as he takes a few steps and takes me back to the bed.  My back
meets the bed softly as he gently lays me down, covering my body with his -
never breaking the kiss.  When he slides his cock through my wet folds, I cry
out in pleasure wishing for a brief second we didn’t have to use a condom.  I
want to know how he feels without a condom. 

“You feel so damn good,” he says and then he suddenly leaves
me. 

I open my eyes and see him reaching over to grab the last
condom from the bedside table.  I watch him anxiously as he opens the wrapper,
remove the condom and roll it down his hard length.  I find myself excited,
bracing for when he will enter me. He sits back on his haunches before gripping
my left calf and lifts it in the air, holding it out in front of him.  He then
slides into me…all the way and I am in heaven. 

His strokes are slow and deep as he moves in me. 

This man fucks like a porn star; not that I have experience
with fucking a porn star, but I have seen enough porn videos to know that he
has the moves like one.

Isaac falters above me for second or two, before he stops
moving altogether.  He is laughing.  I open my eyes, trying to figure out what
is so funny.

 “You do know that you are talking out loud – right?” he
asks, still laughing but starting to move again. 

“Don’t care,” I say, smiling big as a wave of bliss
envelopes me when he hits a particularly good spot.  I should be ashamed of my
behavior – acting all unstrained and saying whatever is on my mind – but I
don’t.  I feel liberated. 

“You feel liberated huh?” he replies.

“I’m still talking out loud, huh?”

Instead of responding, he releases my leg, leans forward and
scoops me up.  After a few moments of maneuvering, he is sitting on the edge of
the bed and I am straddling his lap, his cock still inside me.  I start to roll
my hips, letting my forehead drop to his - loving the closeness of this
position.  His hands rest lightly on my hips and he lets me lead.  He starts to
kiss me and I swear it feels like I am being drugged.  After a few moments of
this, I can feel my orgasm starting to approach; my fingers and toes are
tingling. 

I start to move my hips faster, but Isaac surprises me by
lying back on the bed then rolling us over until I am on my back again.  He
grabs both my hands, pins them above my head and stokes into me long and hard.

“Baby Girl, your pussy feels so good.” He groans out just
before he changes the angle a bit and gets a little deeper it seems.

“Fuck” is all I can moan out.  With every stroke he takes, I
feel that roller coaster dropping sensation in my stomach.  The orgasm that I
was chasing earlier has found me; my fingers and toes tingly with my
approaching explosion.  Isaac leans down, putting his mouth to my ear. 

“I don’t think I am gonna ever let you go Olivia Simone.” 

With that declaration, I clamp down on his cock, my back
arching almost painfully as my orgasm explodes like the Star Wars Death
Star.     

__________________________

Olivia – the morning after - after

I finish dicing the green peppers and scrape them into the
small empty bowl on the counter next to the stove for the omelets Isaac and I
are making for breakfast (more like brunch since it is after 11am).  So far, we
have mushrooms, shredded cheese, Canadian bacon and green peppers.  I grab my
omelet pan and turn on the burner as Isaac whisks the eggs.  I’m about to put
the pan on the burner, but his deep voice stops me.

“What’s that?” he asks, looking perplexed.

I look down at my omelet pan – it is a two-sided pan than
flips close – making the perfect folded omelet – fifty percent of the time. 
Fifty percent of the time, it comes out great and fifty percent of the time, it
makes comes out a burned, sticky mess.  I look down at my omelet pan, flipping
it open and close as I bounce it in my hand, then I look back at him.

“It’s my omelet pan.”

He just continues to look at me and then he shakes his head,
a slight smile playing in his lips.

“No,” is all he says.  He comes towards me, setting the bowl
of whisked eggs next to the stove.  He takes the pan from me, scrutinizing it
before he says, “This is not an omelet pan…this is…,” he trails off while
opening and closing the pan – shaking his head again.  “I don’t know what the
hell this is, but we are not using it to make omelets.”

“Then what are we going to use?”  I ask.  I am a little bit
irritated that he dissed my omelet pan.  I watch him grab one of my stainless
steel frying pans from the overhead pot rack.

“We are going to use this.”  He sprays the pan with cooking
spray and places it on the burner to heat.  He grabs a spatula from my utensil
crock, looks back at me and says, “Well get over here and let me show you how
to make an omelet using a normal pan.”

“You’re a bossy one aren’t you?”  I give him a wink so he
knows that I’m joking.

I stand beside him, but he wraps his arm around my waist and
pulls me in front of him, so that I am standing with my back to his front.  I
lean back into his arms and it feels heavenly. 

“So the first thing we need to do is make sure that the pan
is hot.”  He holds his hand above the pan.  “I think it’s hot enough.” 

He gives me the spatula before pouring some of the whisked
eggs into the pan.  Over the course of the next five minutes, I am on my way to
making the perfect omelet as he instructs me.  The only trouble I have is
folding the omelet, but he helps me out.  When I make the second omelet and I
get to the folding step, he doesn’t have to help me, I am able to fold it
perfectly and slide the fluffy egg creation onto the plate. 

We eat breakfast, discussing the things we liked about the
cooking class from the night before.  After finishing breakfast, he helps me
rinse the dishes before placing them in the dishwasher.

As I am wiping down the counters, he comes up behind me and
wraps me in his arms.

“Let’s go back to bed,” is all he says, kissing my ear
wetly.

I stop what I am doing and toss the sponge into the sink.

“Okay,” I let him lead me out of the kitchen and back to my
bedroom.  Once there, he strips me of the clothes I am wearing (his t-shirt and
my panties).  I am naked, lying across my bed as I watch him, watch me. 

He looks like he is still hungry.

He grabs my ankle and drags me to the edge of the bed.  I
continue to watch him, watch me.  When he drops to his knees and runs his hands
up my thighs, I feel apprehensive.  He places a kiss on my knee and starts to
kiss up my right thigh.

Is he going to do what I think he is going to do?

When he reaches my inner thigh, I reach out and place my
palm against his forehead.

“Stop!”  I say, starting to panic.  My mind instantly going
back to the one and only time a guy went down on me.  Specifically, how he
started and then stopped abruptly, saying that I tasted funny.

__________________________

Isaac

I try to tamp down my irritation when she stops me.  I look
up and she looks freaked out.  Correction, she looks freaked out
and
embarrassed. 

I run a soothing hand down her thigh. 

“What’s wrong Olivia?”  I ask before nuzzling her hipbone
with my chin.  I can smell her arousal and I can’t wait to taste her.

“Nothing,” she replies to me softly.  Her eyes are looking
everywhere but at me.

“Olivia.”  I nip her hipbone softly, loving how soft her
skin is against my lips. 

She lets out an exasperated rush of air and finally looks at
me. 

“Remember how I said that it had been a long time since I
had sex?  Well, it has been even longer since anyone has gone down on me.”

I will admit - I was surprised when she told me she hadn’t
had sex in four years.  Therefore, I guess I shouldn’t be a shock that no one
has eaten her sweet pussy in a while – but I am.

“How long?”

She tries to close her legs and squirm away from me, but I
don’t let her.

“Nuh-uh.”  I move so that my shoulders are wedged between
her thighs, keeping her open to me.  “How long Baby Girl?”  I ask again,
placing a kiss right below her navel, I look down and her pussy lips are
glistening.

I wait. 

She doesn’t say a word.  I can hear Chewy’s snores as he
sleeps just outside the door. 

I wait.

She is still silent.  I can hear the hum of the furnace as
it kicks on.

“The first and only guy who went down on me was almost five
years ago and he said I tasted funny,” she finally says before plopping down on
the bed and covering her face with her hands.

I leave my perch between her thighs and move until I have
her in my arms.  I gently pry her hands away from her face and lift her chin
with my finger.  My heart does this funny clenching thing when I see unshed
tears in her eyes.

“Hey…what’s this?”  I swipe my thumb under her eye, catching
a fallen tear.

“I told you I was weird.  I mean come on – what 32-year-old
woman has never had her pussy eaten or foregoes sex in like – forever.  I told
you I wasn’t normal!”

She tries to squirm away from me again, but I’m not having
it.  I hold her chin firmly in my hand as I roll her onto her back with me
hovering over her.

“First of all – you are not weird.  You are perfect just the
way you are.  So what if you were not sexually active for a while – I like
that.  And I can tell you right now, I’m going to enjoy tasting you, because
just smelling you has me so hard right now.”  

She looks at me in wide-eyed wonder.  “But, but…,”she
stutters out.  “What if I don’t like it or I don’t taste right?”  She says the
last part in a whisper.

I shake my head, reigning in my anger at the asshole who
told her that she tasted funny.  I wish I could find him - I would gladly knock
him the fuck out.