Falling for Rex by Shayne Ford

10

LUNA RAE

“Let’s not talk about him,”he murmurs against my lips, breathing fire into me.

I feel warm against his touch, although the breeze blows cold this time of night.

His palms slide down, following the smooth line of my shoulders inside my dress.

“I want to see you,” he says, tipping his gaze down, unbuttoning my dress.

Propped against my car and basking in the heat of his body, I let him undress me and study me.

He needs to see what he’d done to me.

His fingertips map my neck and collarbones before sweeping my chest and dipping to my waist.

He grabs my hemline and works the bottom buttons open.

Eventually, he unbuttons it at my waist and touches the dark marks he left on me.

“We’re in a public space,” I say, a car zooming by behind us.

“Yes, we are,” he mutters, a soft smile seizing his lips. “And you like it,” he adds, his words falling on my lips, his hand cupping a bare breast, tenderly holding it, not kneading it.

A shudder goes through me, telling him that it works.

Smoothly, he takes my hand and presses it against his hard-on.

He’s hot inside his pants.

He leaves my hand there, giving me the liberty to retreat, but I don’t do it. I don’t want to.

Looking down, I slowly stroke his bulge–– it turns me on.

I like it.

I like the way he feels against my hand.

I like his hands on my chest.

I like his breaths blazing across my lips and his body towering over me.

There is something magnetic about him.

Something I felt that very first day. Something that made me curious about him and drew me to him.

He’s different than Kian.

If Kian is a storm, Rex is a lake.

If Kian blasts like the crazy wind, Rex is the soothing breeze.

If Kian is death and darkness, Rex is unending life.

I like Rex. But he must be sharing a few traits with his brother––the volcanic man with lightning bolts instead of eyes.

I cup his erection before sliding my touch up and down, pressing the heel of my hand against his pulsing flesh.

“Let’s continue where we left off...” he says, sweeping my hair to my back before kissing my neck and running his hands down my flanks.

Having one hand propped back against my car, I keep stroking his hard-on through his pants, squeezing his hard length, and massaging his crown.

“You like it?” he murmurs against my lips.

“Yes,” I say quietly.

He widens his stance and snakes an arm around me, softly breathing into my hair while dragging his free hand down from my chest to my stomach and the smooth edge of my panties.

I stroke him while he slinks his fingers inside my underwear.

His touch goes down, sweeping my folds and reaching my entrance and the space between my thighs.

Small explosions trail his touch, my sex dripping wet.

“How is it?” he asks, holding me and stroking me.

My hand draws to a sudden stop.

I part my legs in response.

No matter how gentle his touch is–– or precisely because of that–– the effect is mind-blowing.

“I’m tingling and pulsing.”

This should’ve been a private thought.

“I know,” he murmurs, smiling. “Open my fly,” he demands, running his fingers down my slit.

I slide his zipper down.

“Touch me,” he mutters, parting my folds gently, and pressing his fingers against my pulsing clit.

“Uh...” I gasp, his fingers dipping into my wetness, my hand reaching inside his boxers.

I want his touch.

I want to touch him.

I close my hand around his hard-on, enticed by the tension in my center. Slowly, I begin to move my hips.

“Oh...” I moan.

His touch remains tender while exploring my most intimate spot, the thought alone making my brain orgasmic.

“Nobody has touched you there before?”

“Yes,” I mutter, rolling my hips gently.

“Why?”

His question requires a serious answer that I’m not able to offer.

“I don’t know. I was scared...?”

He laughs quietly.

“Afraid of this?”

“How good it would feel...?” I suggest.

“Mmm... I like that.”

He presses his lips against my neck, rewarding me with a kiss.

Another car zooms by, but I no longer care.

We’re far enough from the road and not easily visible.

Still...

Anyone can tell that we’re here, embraced, making out.

But I can’t make myself care right now. I don’t know what would happen if someone spotted us.

All I know is that the thought that we’re here, doing what we’re doing, turns me on.

He leans toward me while I tilt back, my backside propped against the car, his hand between my legs, inside my panties, straight on my smooth flesh, stroking my clit, while wetness trickles down between my thighs.

“Do you want to know how you taste?”

I nod.

He opens my folds and sweeps my smooth flesh harder before sliding his fingers lower and dipping them slightly inside my center.

“Have you put something inside it?” he asks, bringing his fingers to my lips.

I shake my head.

“Good,” he says, sliding his fingers into my mouth.

I close my mouth and suck on them, a frightening sensation of pleasure breaking through me.

“Again?”

“Yes,” I say.

He dips them again, his middle finger sliding a little deeper.

“The wetter you get, the more arousing your scent and taste will become,” he says.

I listen to him as if the world has stopped so he could teach me a lesson.

He sucks his finger clean this time and brings his mouth to mine, my nipples hardening without his touch.

“Do you feel the smell?” he breathes into me before pressing his lips on my lips, sweeping my tongue with his and invading my mouth with my taste.

My fist hardens on his cock.

“That’s how I feel,” he says in response, breaking our kiss and dipping his gaze down to make it clear to me.

“Now it’s my turn,” he says. “Do you want to know how I taste?”

“Yes.”

He wraps his free hand around my fist and starts guiding my touch up and down, insisting on the tip of his erection.

His face gets drenched in pleasure as if he’s getting drunk on an aphrodisiac.

His tip gets wet beneath my touch.

I sweep it with my fingers before putting two of them into my mouth. Holding his gaze, I close my lips around them, swirl my tongue, and swallow the drop of fluid before licking my lips.

He could explode against my touch.

His eyes are drunk and heavy, his eyelids sliding down, a lopsided smile curving his lips.

“You fucking love it,” he says, beaming with revelation. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

He brings his hand to my hair, curls his fingers around my neck, and tips my head back while holding me against his body.

I’d fall if he didn’t offer me support.

“I’d be hot and throbbing,” he breathes against my lips before tracing the seam of my mouth with the tip of his tongue.

“I’d be rock hard and burning, and I would crave your mouth on me. Nothing would feel like your hot mouth on my hard flesh, your tongue moving across my length... Do you understand?”

Completely in his power, I tip my chin down in response.

“And then I’d part your lips and slowly push myself in,” he says before doing the very same thing, sliding his tongue into my mouth.

I get warm beneath his lips, swirling my tongue with his as we start to kiss until he leaves me breathless.

“Yes, baby... That’s how it’s done,” he says, breaking away from my lips. “You burn my flesh with your hungry mouth, giving me wetness, pressure, pleasure. You make me lose my mind,” he adds before locking my mouth again, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.

Breathing with him, I close my eyes and move my tongue with his, sucking on his wet flesh, experiencing the story he had put in my head.

His erection gets hotter, twitching against my touch. The more I suck on his tongue, the harder my strokes on him.

“Have no mercy,” he says when I remember he likes it hard like me.

I rub him, twisting my fist, my thumb sweeping his crown, my instinct telling me what to do.

He moves his tongue harder, making me mirror his pace. Soon, I moan in his mouth, stroking him fast, chasing a peak and the relief that comes with it.

“Hold onto me,” he says so he can free one of his hands.

I loop my arm around his neck, still rubbing his hard-on while he props his palm against my car, preventing us from falling.

His free hand goes back to my panties. He yanks them lower impatiently before touching my sex again.

I voice my pleasure, moaning again.

“You’ve waited for too long...” he mutters. “But I’m happy that you did,” he adds, breathing faster.

He’s so wet, I wonder if he can hold himself back a little longer. His middle finger goes down again, following the trail that sweeps my clit before curling and sliding into me.

He does it slowly, anticipating a reaction, maybe pain.

It goes deeper than I thought when a wave breaks through me, and I feel the pleasure shooting up without the slightest warning.

“What the...”

Panicked, I grab his neck and start rocking my hips, chasing that moment.

He slides his finger in and out while I start to shake against his body, shockwaves falling through me at an alarming speed.

My surroundings vanish, the sound of the ocean becoming muted as I hold onto him, stroking him fast, following the rhythm of my orgasm, giving him the pleasure that I feel when his release shoots all over my hand.

“I’ll be damn,” he says quietly, watching me with hooded eyes, swept away like me as I quietly revel in the feel of hot release all over my hand.