Havoc by Shannon McKenna

20

Cait had to choreograph the blowjob carefully. The head of his cock was so thick and blunt, pulsing in her hand. She loved that desperate look on his face. It made her feel powerful. The goddess of the storm, dangerous and mysterious, with endless pleasure to bestow. Even the awkward moments were fun, an occasion to giggle and joke. Every move she made seemed to astonish him. It was so exciting. Such a high.

Oral sex had always baffled her before. It seemed so awkward, the times she’d attempted it. Like she was missing something. Like, the whole point of it.

But having Mace in her mouth drove her crazy. She could hardly control that breathless, squirming ache between her legs. She was already so wet, just from lapping at his cock head, tasting his pre-come, tracing the pulsing veins along his shaft with the tip of her tongue, and then pulling him inside her mouth again.

Being turned on beyond all belief helped. Fake it till you make it, she’d always heard, except there was nothing faked about the eager, whimpering sounds that she made in the back of her throat, nothing faked about the way her thighs clenched around her own arousal as she sucked him, letting his cock slide deeper.

His fingers wound into her hair, guiding her. She felt tension gripping him as he was about to come, but suddenly he pulled away, gasping, eyes squeezed shut.

“Too soon,” he choked out.

“Why?” she asked. “We have all afternoon, all night. Come whenever you want.”

“But I’m the one who should be on my knees. This is a courtship ritual, right?”

“I’m enjoying myself just fine,” she told him. “You are delicious.”

He lifted her to her feet. “You first,” he insisted, nudging her back toward the bed.

“I’m already incredibly wet, just from going down on you,” she said.

“Awesome. Can’t wait to taste it.” He pushed her flat on her back, and let out a sigh of delight as her legs fell apart. “Finally, I see you in the daylight,” he said. “I’ve been wanting to see all your colors properly. The dark reds and the hot pinks. So pretty.”

He delicately tongued her clit, taking his time, touching her just right. Fingers delving tenderly inside as he licked her, until the pleasure overwhelmed her and the whole world unraveled, in a long, lovely, rippling orgasm.

When her eyes opened again, his big thick cock was deep inside of her. Moving, plunging. She gripped his arms, pulling him deeper. Egging him on.

Hard, slick and pounding. Being so lavishly, exquisitely prepared for sex, having her soul on fire for the man in her arms, it transformed everything, unleashing thundering pleasure. It rushed through every part of her.

She came back glowing, floating. Exquisitely relaxed. Clinging to him like he was life itself. She needed to slow this down. What was it, three days she’d known him?

This was a normal response to extreme circumstances. Made more intense by the fact that he was gorgeous, funny, smart, charming. Had devastating sexual skill.

But she had undertaken this task to try and heal her heart, not to crush it beyond all recovery.

She saw him frown as his hyper-sensitive antenna caught her thought.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Sure,” she whispered. “Amazing. Always.”’

“You look worried.”

“I’m good. You’re very good. So good it scares me.”

“But is there something you’re not telling me?”

She shook her head, smiling.

“Hmm.” He looked unconvinced. “There’s some champagne chilling in the bucket.” He pulled slowly out of her, and got up from the bed. “Shall we soak in the tub?”

“I’ll be right there.”

She washed up in the palatial bathroom, which was bigger than the entire combined living room and kitchen of her modest condo in Berkeley. Then she toweled off and joined him out on the terrace, admiring his spectacular body for the whole approach.

He handed her champagne flute. The bubbly wine was icy cold and delicious.

The cool air felt strange on her naked skin. It was a strange effect to be up so high, the city spread out before them. Mace hit the button, and the bubbles in the tub began to churn. A nice quiet motor, barely humming.

The warmth of the water was exquisite. The jets, soothing and massaging her.

Mace took her empty glass out of her hand and set it down. Then he lifted her up and settled her onto his lap, so that her labia pressed against his stiff erection.

She reached down, the water sloshing and heaving around them, until she managed to position him right where she wanted him. She sank down, taking him deep inside.

They moved together, slowly. Endless, surging, pulsing pleasure.

The sky darkened into evening as they drifted together. Sometimes joined, thrusting, gasping with pleasure as the water slapped and sloshed over the rim of the tub. Sometimes just clasped together in beatific haze, swaying in the bubbling water.

Cait finally stood up, but a combination of orgasms and prolonged soaking in hot water made her wobble. Mace leaped up to steady her. “Watch out. Take it easy.”

“I’m wrecked, she said. “In a good way.”

“I was so focused on sex, I forgot all about food,” Mace said. “Let’s go check out today’s menu offerings.”

The menu offerings looked great. They went with grilled flatiron steak marinated in Mediterranean herbs and sliced into melting pink strips, oven roasted potatoes, salad greens with grilled wild mushrooms, fettuccine with black truffles and cream, and a bottle of Salice Salentino. For dessert, chocolate profiterole and lemon cream pastries.

Mace wrapped them up in big, fluffy terrycloth robes, and they sprawled lazily on the bed to wait for dinner to arrive, wrapped around each other’s bodies.

A knock on the door made Mace jerk up into guard. “Yes?” he called.

“Your dinner is here,” Clint called. “Mine, too, evidently. Looks good.”

Mace got up to answer the door. “Dinner looks awesome,” he called out to her. “Come and check it out.”

They feasted, sipping wine by candlelight, taking their time. The glitter of the city lights around them was surreal. Like being in a magical tower, the real world far away.

The day had been perfect. It still was. Mace was intensely interested in everything about her. Her thoughts, her life, her childhood. Her ambitions and hopes, her dreams and nightmares. The high points, the heartbreaks. It seemed to genuinely fascinate him, as much as his strange story fascinated her.

Of course, all that sharing and rampant sensuality led straight back to sex. She lost track of how many times he made her come. In between bouts of pleasure, they drifted in slumber, twined in the rumpled sheets. Wondering how this could really be happening.

At some point, deep in the night, she was finally able to articulate it.

“It’s too good to be true,” she told him. “That’s what’s bugging me. I just don’t buy it. This, out of the blue.”

Mace considered that. “What if it is? Go with it. Consider the alternative.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Admitting defeat before we even go to war is no solution. Not for me, and I’m betting not for you, either. You’re a fighter. It’s why you’re here. You didn’t have to take up this cross, to find answers for your dad. You could have just stayed where you were and lived your life. But that’s not who you are. You had to know. You had to fight.”

She blinked back a rush of startled tears. “I guess so.”

“I love that about you,” he said. “I admire it.”

She smiled, tears still prickling. “I admire it right back,” she said.

“So? Let’s just go with this,” he urged. “Let’s let this thing between us be exactly as good as it is, without second guessing ourselves.”

“Yes.” She pulled him close once again.

* * *

“Eggs Benedict,”Mace said into the phone. “The fruit buffet, with Chantilly cream. Scones with blackberry jam, sage and thyme sausage links, lemon blueberry muffins, and a piece of that honeycomb. Coffee, too. With cream.”

Once he’d finished putting in their breakfast order, Mace heard Cait’s phone chirping, where she left it on the table. He thought about checking the app that gave him access, but it felt wrong, after a night of naked, soul-fused communion. Those security measures he’d taken were from another time and world. They were no longer relevant.

He strolled over to the bedroom door, and gazed at her, stretched out in bed.

He loved her luscious curves, swathed in the white sheets. As if his gaze had awakened her, her eyes opened. She gave him that sweet smile.

“I ordered breakfast,” he said.

“Uh oh. Those are fighting words,” she said. “At some point, I have to get back to yogurt with granola, or plain old corn flakes, you know?”

“That day is not today,” he told her. “These are strange times. We need to fuel up.”

They stared at each other. The air started to buzz with energy. Thick and hot. Like his cock, rising in response to the sultry interest in her eyes.

“You look great,” he said.

“Thanks,” she said softly. “You’re very—”

“Sweet, yeah. I know. So’s the honeycomb I ordered with our breakfast. I want to paint it onto your pussy and then lick it off. It’s very sticky, so it requires some very focused, prolonged tongue-lashing to get the job done. But I’m up to the task.” He saluted her. “Mace Trask, reporting for duty.”

She giggled. “But wait. Don’t we need to get back to Shaw’s Crossing? There’s the wedding prep, and you have a meeting to discuss the virus recovery.”

“Sure, but certain things require attention on a regular basis. Like your clit.”

She threw a pillow at him, which he caught one-handed and tossed back. “By the way, your phone was buzzing in there. Were you expecting a message?”

Cait slid out of the bed. “I’ll take a look. Maybe Wanda’s checking up on me. I told her about you.”

“Yeah? And what did you tell Wanda about me?”

“What do you think?” she teased, as she disappeared into the bathroom.

She was out a few minutes later, warm and damp and fragrant, wrapped in the hotel bathrobe. She grabbed her phone and clicked through her messages.

“It’s not Wanda,” she said in a surprised tone. “It’s from Federica.”

“What does she have to say? Is it about your dresses?”

“Nope, she’s sending a gift. It says, ‘Good morning, Ms. LaMott. We at Federica Atelier wish to offer you a special gift to show how we value your clientele.’” Cait snorted. “I just bet she values it, considering how much you spent there yesterday.”

“So what’s the gift?”

“The link below will take you to catalog page that shows our lingerie offerings,” Cait read on. “Pick out two sets, and we will have them delivered to the hotel along with the dresses. Excuse the early hour, but I hoped to catch you before you left. Wear them in good health. I’ll be checking for your choices. Have a marvelous day. Best, Federica.”

“Wow,” he said. “Free stuff. Can’t beat that. Can I see the page?”

She clicked on the link and came over to show him the catalog pages. “Mmmm,” she murmured. “Take a look. You should approve.”

Mace studied hollow-eyed girls modeling the lingerie. “They’ll look better on you. I vote for that one…” He pointed at the crimson silk balcony bra and thong, “…and this one.” His second choice was a black lace, square cut, with French cut panties and a garter belt and gartered hose. “You’ll have to try them on for me before we leave.”

Her lips curved in that sexy way he loved, and she plugged her size into the boxes, and sent the order. “Let me get back to her,” she murmured, texting. “Thank you, Federica. How lovely. I will enjoy them very much. Until next time. Have a great day.”

There was a knock on the door. “Mace,” Clint called. “Breakfast.”

Breakfast was as good as yesterday’s dinner and lunch had been, and their appetites did it justice. And there was the plate with the disc of gold paper on it and a glowing chunk of honeycomb, like a golden liquid gem. Which made breakfast’s aftermath even more fabulous, and involved her sprawled in the wingback chair, her legs draped over his shoulders, having honey lavishly, tirelessly licked off her most sensitive flesh by his clever, knowing tongue until she lost herself in a shattering climax.

Then came the knock on the suite door. An impatient boom-boom-boom.

“…guys even alive in there? Dude! Answer me.”

“We’re good,” Mace called back. “What’s up?”

“Two things. One, you got packages. Fancy shit from the dress store. Two, look at the damn clock. We need to be on the move, so wrap it up, Romeo.”

Mace tied on his robe as Cait slipped back into the bathroom. Outside, as Clint had said, fancy white embossed boxes were piled up. Three larger ones, one smaller one.

Clint sprawled in his chair, sucking down coffee. “Tick-tock, tick-tock,” he said. “You told them you’d be back for the supply run in Granger Valley. Let’s move, man.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mace said impatiently. “We’ll wrap it up.”

“Wrap it tight.” Clint raked him with an observant eye and a knowing grin. “Because it really looks like it wants to bust out all over.”

“Fuck off, Clint.”

He closed the door to the sound of Clint’s chuckling.

Mace couldn’t resist peeking at the lingerie while Cait got ready. The stuff was high-end, whispery soft. He couldn’t wait to see how that black lace thing looked. It was going to play a starring role in their next erotic encounter.

He walked out of the hotel suite, already fantasizing about that happy day, post-Kimball’s demise, when they could run off on a lovers’ ramble and spend entire weeks lazing on the beach, fucking each other’s brains out. He finally understood his brothers’ conflict. It was different when the stakes were jacked up so impossibly high.

He didn’t want to just survive. He wanted all the good things. The fun, the joy, the plenty. It was too soon, but too fucking bad. He couldn’t stop it, and he didn’t want to.

He should have looked at rings at the jewelry store. But it might have scared her.

One thing at a time. Duty called loud and clear. First, he kept her alive. Then, he solved her problem.

After that, they could look at the path ahead.