Never Sweeter (Dark Obsession #1)

“I think the answer might be very. God, I had no idea.”


“No idea about what, baby?”

“That taking off my clothes could feel this good. That it could turn me on. It’s always been something I did in the dark, under sheets. Most of the time I don’t think I undressed at all. But man, just hearing you do that and talk like this…I can’t even describe it.”

“Try for me. Tell me everything, tell me all of it.”

“It’s like falling from a tall building only to discover you can suddenly fly.”

The words came in too much of a rush to stop—though she wished she had managed as soon as they were out. They just sounded so ridiculous. This was supposed to be sex, not sudden deep poetry feelings time.

Yet there they were, and he had heard them, and strangely, she wanted to stand by them. She even lifted her chin, defiant.

And got this, as her reward.

“You have no idea how good that is to hear.”

“I do know. I can hear it, too. I can hear it, and I know it’s true.”

“What makes you so sure? What makes things different now?”

“The fact that I’m not afraid to do more.”

She turned on the last word, hands already grasping the hem of her T-shirt. One swift motion and it was off, bra and all. Now she was utterly naked before him, without the comfort of that dim light in the barn or her own arms across her body. She let them hang at her sides, only moving them when it seemed like the most exciting thing to do. The sexy stripper thing to do—fingers threading through her own hair, back slightly arched, everything tilted at just the right angle.

And it was the right angle, too.

She could tell by the expression on his face, suddenly so much heavier. His eyes narrowed to slits and that tongue came out to wet his lips—only this time she recognized it for what it was. He was echoing the thing he wanted to do to her clit. Or at least, he was pushing her to think of that. To get her to imagine the soft, slow glide of it, until she could hardly stand it any longer.

She had to slide a hand between her legs.

It was pretty much a given, and yet the response…

“Ohhhhh fuck yeah, touch yourself.”

It was like she’d never done it for him before. Like he’d never seen anyone do it. His head went back and his fist tightened on his cock, only the tightening didn’t seem to help. It just made him buck and groan and writhe on the bed, and when he finally wrestled back control of himself, it was purely to demand more.

“Slide a finger into your pussy,” he said.

So she did. No qualms, no worries.

Just one foot up on the bed, so he could really see.

And then a torrent of words, each filthier than the last.

“Are you wet?”

“Soooooo wet.”

“And tight?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Use another finger. Yeah, like that. Work them in and out.”

“Like this? Is this what you want?”

“Almost. Just…just…spread them as you ease out.”

“So I can take that big cock? Huh?”

“So it feels good, baby. Go on. It’s gonna feel so good.”

He was right about that much. It did feel good.

But it was even better when he took over. He suddenly lurched forward just as she was getting to the second long, slow push and pull, hands immediately going to her hips. That soft mouth not on her breasts or her pussy but on the soft swell of her belly, kissing and kissing until she couldn’t do anything but fold down over him. She wrapped her arms around his head, briefly burying her face in his hair. All focus on her still aching sex completely lost.

Until she felt him stroking there. First softly, cautiously, as if just testing the waters.

Then he slid two fingers in, and god.

She could have drowned in the sensation it produced. It was some kind of unholy cross between a tingle and a pulse, and it only got more intense as time passed. He kept spreading his fingers as he eased back out again, and whenever he did it was like getting an electric shock straight to the clit. Once or twice she was sure she felt it in her teeth and her toes and the tender place behind her knees.

And when he added a third finger, she definitely did. Her legs immediately decided to not hold her up anymore. He had to sort of catch her and help her back onto the bed.

But that worked out pretty well. Now he was between her legs, most of his body in the right position for sex. Basically all he had to do was find a condom and they were good to go. More than good to go, in fact. She was so wet she could hear what he was doing to her—and she got wetter yet when he started in on her clit. He found it with his thumb as he twisted and parted those three maddening fingers, rubbing until she was nearly beside herself. She tried to breathe but no air seemed to want to go in. Her back had arched so hard she felt sure she could have kissed her own ass.

Charlotte Stein's books