Stroked long, p.22
STROKED LONG, p.22Meghan Quinn
“I’m well aware. What I’m asking is if you can carry a note or not.”
“Who’s to judge if someone can carry a note?” His demeanor is casual, teasing, instigating. This is playful Bodi. I haven’t seen much of him in person, only in text. He’s annoying, but I still adore him.
“Everyone,” I practically shout. “Everyone with ears is allowed to judge.”
“And those without ears? Can’t exclude them, Rubes.”
Sitting back, tired and exhausted from this conversation, I say, “Wow, you really don’t want to get any tonight do you?”
“I’m not worried about that.”
Cocky bastard. Who is this Bodi, and what has he done with the shy, awkward man I used to know?
“You should be.” Stretching and yawning, I say, “You should actually get going, it’s getting late.”
A questioning brow is raised at me as he studies my serious expression. At least I hope it’s serious, as the boy needs to learn a lesson: don’t poke the bear.
“Get going, huh?” He studies me and then nods his head. “All right.” Tucking his carton closed, he meticulously cleans up his food around him, makes quick to my kitchen where he stuffs his leftovers in the fridge, and then washes his hands . . . three times. Does he know I notice those little tells of his? While he dries them, he turns to me and says, “I’ll call you tomorrow, Rubes.”
Neatly he puts my dish towel back on the oven handle, strides toward me, his muscles flexing under his tight shirt, and leans down to peck me on the forehead.
Peck me . . .
On the FOREHEAD.
Pulling away, he says, “Have a good night,” and moves toward the door.
Is he kidding right now? He’s just going to leave? I sat next to him the entire dinner, my boobs on full display. Does that not count for anything?
Furious for my boobs who worked their little nipples off all night, I stand and place my hands on my hips. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
Turning around, a full smirk on his arrogant face he says, “I thought you wanted me to go home.”
“You know I really didn’t want you to go home.”
“Kind of seemed like it.”
“Yeah, and kind of seems like you’ve broken out of your shell a little and are now pressing your sarcastic luck.”
Moving forward with purpose in each of his steps, his eyes are focused on mine as his body eats up the space between us. “Well, I wouldn’t want to press my luck when I have more important things to press.” His hand travels to the small of my back and pulls me into his body.
Not going to lie, a percentage of the time I’m around him, he smells faintly of chlorine. I’m convinced it’s engrained in his veins. I’ve actually grown fond of the smell, but the cologne he’s wearing tonight? Holy hell, it makes me want to lick him and whip my clothes right off.
“What more important things do you have to press?”
Lowering his head, he presses kisses along my neck, sending chills scattering all over my body. The hand not gripping my lower back travels up the back of my thigh to the curve of my ass where his fingers slip inside my panties, gripping my ass with great force. Sweet Jesus, my clit is already pulsing.
His lips suck on my neck, right in the crevice of my shoulder and collarbone, his breath hot and heavy, and in that moment, I don’t care if he leaves his mark. I almost hope he does so I can claim him as mine. So he can claim me as his.
Repeating my question, needing to know the answer, I ask, “What things do you need to press?”
His lips trail up my neck to my jaw and then back to my ear where he nibbles on my lobe and says, “I need to press my tongue against that sweet little clit of yours.”
With those simple words I’m a pile of mush in his arms, liquid heat being held up by this strong man whispering dirty things in my ear.
“Do you want that, Rubes? My tongue slowly flicking your clit?”
Who the hell wouldn’t?
“Yes,” I answer breathlessly, like those women in soap operas about to be thrown onto the silk sheets of their lovers’ beds.
The hand inside my panties slowly cups my ass and reaches under until it hits my wet center, his fingers easily sliding in. A groan rolls deep from within him just as his teeth start to nip at my neck.
“Fuck, Ruby. You’re so damn wet. Just for me.”
“Only for you,” I answer honestly. There is no one else. No previous boyfriend has turned me on like Bodi does. And not just because his body is cut and contoured in all the right places, but because his heart is pure. He’s gentle, cautious, slightly broken, yet so real I can’t help but be turned on when I’m around him.
“I need to taste you,” he says, pushing me against the edge of the sofa. He turns me around quickly and lifts up the skirt of my dress, while bending me over the cushioned arm so my head is on the seat of the sofa. He doesn’t take his time working my panties off and spreading my legs. Playful Bodi is gone. Hello, Mr. Sexy Bodi.
I’m exposed, everything out in the open, sticking up in the air and I couldn’t care less. All I can focus on is the pounding sensation driving from the center of my body to the tips of my toes. Right now, with Bodi so close to me, a light breeze could probably get me off. That’s how turned on I am.
From the corner of my eye, I watch Bodi kneel on the floor. His hands move from the backs of my knees, up my thighs, lightly grazing my skin, causing an electric current of lust to jolt my entire body.
As his hands get to the top of my ass, he shifts my stance so I’m wider and more open. With his hands splayed across my ass, his thumbs part my lips and his head dives forward. Within seconds, his mouth is on me, licking my clit with long leisurely strokes. Holy shit.
Heat boils inside me with each lick. His tongue works from long flat strokes to short quick ones with the occasional kiss, lighting me up all over. Soft cries come out of my mouth, turning to loud moans whenever his teeth nibble on me. My neighbors must think there is some kind of porn flick being filmed in my apartment from the hideous sounds coming out of my mouth, but I can’t help it. Bodi does this to me. He makes me lose all my inhibitions.
With his thumbs still spreading me open to his tongue, one of his fingers expertly eases inside me, moving in and out with each flick of his tongue, and that’s all I need.
My stomach bottoms outs, my toes curl into my rug, my entire body goes numb, almost limp, as every nerve ending in my system focuses on one thing and one thing alone: the roaring orgasm that consumes me. I cry out Bodi’s name as he continues to pump forward, licking me up and down until I can’t take the pleasure anymore and collapse backward on him, sending us both to the floor. My bare ass on his chest.
Chuckling, he rolls me to the ground and languishingly kisses my lips. I can taste myself on him and I don’t mind it. His strong body rests on top of my small one and his erection presses into my leg. From the strain in his neck, I can tell he’s holding back. I don’t want that.
“Hmm?” he asks, trailing kisses across my jaw, one of his hands working its way under my dress.
“Why?” His lips now trail down to my chest.
“Because . . .” Oh God, why did I become shy all of a sudden? It’s just Bodi. Say what’s on your mind. “Because I want to suck your cock.”
Like a spring, his head pops up and his eyes study me, questions running through them, wondering if I’m serious.
Not needing to say it, I decide to show him. I push on his shoulders until he rolls over willingly. Loving everything about his chest, I remove his shirt because I want to torture him just as much as he tortured me.
Being the newly confident man that he is—at least around me—he laces his fingers behind his head, his biceps flexing, and stares up at me with heady eyes. His chest ripples, his pecs dancing with his movement, and even in a laid-out state I can see the clear definition of his six-pack. I know I make fun of him for h
“You’re so hot,” I say, running my hands up his chest.
“You think so?” He gives me a knowing smirk and my heart takes flight in my chest.
Leaning forward, my hair cascading a curtain around us, I kiss his lips lightly—barely touching them—and then start kissing down the column of his neck to his collarbone where I spend a little time nibbling on his skin.
Slightly breathless, he says, “Careful, Rubes. My job entails me being shirtless one hundred percent of the time.”
“All the reason for me to mark you then, so people know you’re mine.”
I glance up to see his eyes burning through me with lust. Mmm, just what I wanted.
Nibbling some more, he throws out a warning, “Rubes . . .”
“Don’t worry.” Oh, he should worry. I work my lips down to his chest where I run my tongue over his flat nipple. A sharp hiss escapes him so I do it again, this time adding my teeth.
“Ruby,” he warns again, only spurring me on. I move over to the next nipple and do the same thing, loving the way he’s letting me control his body despite his numerous warnings.
I continue to work my way down, passing over his corded muscles, the deep contours of his abs, the yummy divots in his waistline, where I unbuckle his belt and undo his jeans. His erection is pressing up against the zipper and even though I want to torture him, I need to see just how long and hard he is.
He lifts off the ground so I can work his jeans down and since he doesn’t wear underwear, his cock springs free, and I’m greeted with the most delicious sight.
Shaking my head, I look up at him and see a very satisfied grin on his face. “Where do you stuff it all?”
This question stuns him. “What?” His brow furrows.
“Your penis, Bodi. Where do you put it all? It’s huge and somehow it’s not flopping around in your Speedo, aiding you in your strokes like a third arm in the pool. You know, like a rudder?”
A burst of laughter comes out of him, and it’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard. His chest vibrates with his chuckle and his abs flex with his movements. Sex oozes out of him with each laugh. He’s. So. Incredibly. Breathtaking. And he’s mine. Mine.
When he gains control, he shakes his head at me, as if he can’t believe my question. “Rubes, I’m not hard in the pool.”
“Wait.” I hold up my hand. And I can see the irony. I have this very hard, very lickable penis in front of me, and I am asking him questions about getting hard elsewhere. “You’re telling me you don’t get erect for the Olympics?”
“Nope.” He chuckles a little more.
“I wish that were the case. Could you imagine NBC’s ratings if they showed a bunch of men in tight swimsuits swimming around in the pool, their boners scraping the bottom? You know what?” I press my finger to my chin, really getting into my thoughts now, ignoring the giant cock bouncing in front of me. “That should be an Olympic sport: sausage stuffing.” I paint him a picture. “It starts with a line of flaccid penises, the gun goes off and it’s a race to see who can not only get erect first, but who can stuff their sausage in a pair of Spandex and then do twenty jumping jacks without their penis flying out. I would one hundred percent watch that. Would you?”
Bodi has a very perturbed look on his face and I’m pretty sure, just from the way his lip is tipped to the side, I know he wouldn’t want to watch that Olympic sport.
“Why would you want to see other men’s dicks?”
Of course that’s what he would ask.
“I don’t want to really see their dicks. I’m not about to sit in front of the TV and stare down their danglers, I just want to see the theatrics of it all.”
“Still seems like you want to see other dicks.”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, you caught me. I enjoy a good sausage fest. I just want dicks piled on top of each other so I can stare at all of them, because you know, the penis is the most beautiful thing in the world. Yes, I love staring at the male genitalia,” I deadpan.
“Well, if that’s the case.” He starts to get up, but I pin him down by his chest, feeling his chuckle under my palm.
“If you want my tongue on your cock, I would suggest you don’t move.”
And just like that, the heat between us evaporates our jovial mood. Settling back down, Bodi touches my cheek, his thumb grazing my skin as his hand works to the back of my neck and pulls me down for a scorching kiss. He parts my lips with his tongue and gingerly tastes me, taking his time, letting our tongues mingle. It’s an erotic feeling, having someone else so needy for you, for just a small taste.
And there is something different about Bodi’s touch. He can be aggressive, but when he’s actually kissing me, or sucking on my nipples, of even licking my clit, he’s tentative at first but then sinks into what he’s doing. It’s as if he’s unsure at first but then he takes control. It’s hot having a man wonder if I like something he’s doing instead of being on autopilot, pressing all the right buttons, until it’s time to direct his dick into my vagina.
His kiss grows hungrier, and what I had planned quickly vanishes as I get lost in his touch, in his mouth, in the way we feel connected. His hands run up my side, and he mumbles, “Dress, gone.”
Thankfully it’s a sundress, so I pull it over my head and toss it to the side. Bodi took care of my bottoms earlier; I don’t have anything else to shed since I wasn’t wearing a bra. Bodi’s eyes widen when he sees my hard nipples in the cool night air. Sitting up, he cups my breasts and runs his thumbs over my nipples in slow leisurely strokes, completely focused on what he’s doing. My head falls back from the pleasure, and from how my heated center is being teased by Bodi’s erection.
His fingers work their magic as they pluck my nipples, pulling on them until I’m about to cry out, only to have him gently rub them, a cycle he repeats over and over again. If I have to say, I’m pretty sure Bodi is a boob man because the amount of time he spends on my tits is damn near lethal.
Instinctively, my hand goes to his head and pushes it down. I want his mouth on my boobs, not just his fingers. Picking up on my cues, he lowers his hot mouth and licks my right nipple a few times before completely pulling it into his mouth and sucking hard. His teeth gently bite down and I cry out, a wave of pleasure shooting straight to my pussy.
My hips start to rock against him, bumping into his erection but never hitting where I need so I lift up on my knees and tilt his cock up against his stomach, just in the right spot where I can rub my slick clit against it.
“Yesss,” I moan, my head falling back again and my hips doing all the work as I hump Bodi’s cock, coating him with my arousal.
“Fuck, Ruby.” His grip on my nipples pulls tighter, igniting a flame inside me.
“Oh God, I’m going to come.”
“Not . . . yet,” Bodi says in a strangled voice. He then flips me around so I’m on all fours. Is he going to fuck me on all fours?
Nope. He pulls me so my back is against his chest and grips his cock, so big, so ready, and poises it against my entrance. His hands move to my stomach where he slowly enters me and runs his hands up to my breasts at the same time, causing a wave of erotic sensation to stream up my body.
“You feel so good inside me, Bodi. So full.”
He grunts out his pleasure and continues to rock his hips against mine, hitting a spot deep inside me, causing my legs to quiver and shake.
“Yes, more,” I tell him, now holding on to the back of his neck while he trails kisses along mine, one of his hands squeezing my nipple and the other skimming down my stomach until he reaches my pussy. With skillful fingers, he starts massaging my clit and that’s my undoing.
I cry out his name. I can feel myself tighten around him as he continues to pump. Soft groans escape him, the rumble of his chest against my back, and then I feel him spurt his seed inside me, his hips never letting up until he’s completely done.
“I’m going to miss you when I have to leave for training camp.”
“Is that soon?” I ask, completely forgetting about his Olympic duties.
“Yeah,” he sighs.
“We can talk every day,” I reassure him.
“It’s not the same, Rubes. Talking on the phone doesn’t allow me to feel your soft skin, or smell your sweet scent, or be buried balls deep inside you.” He sighs again. “But the phone will have to do.”
He kisses my shoulder and I melt into him. “We can always do FaceTime,” I suggest.
“We will be doing FaceTime, Rubes. I can’t deprive myself of your gorgeous face.”
How did I ever get so lucky?
I open the passenger door to my truck to help Ruby down. I’m greeted with a bright smile and a view of her polka-dot dress riding high on her thigh. What I wouldn’t give to take her back to her apartment or my place instead of going on with real life. I have to leave for training camp soon and then the games, and the thought of leaving Ruby behind puts a huge ball of dread in the pit of my stomach.
I never thought I would rely on the smile of another person, but with Ruby, it’s like a daily medication I need to take. I hadn’t thought I could fit another element into my task-oriented, structured days. Ruby has become a necessity, something welcomed but also confusing.
“You don’t have to help me out of the truck, you know.” She grabs her purse and attempts to hop down, but I grab her by the waist and assist her before she can do it by herself.
“I like to,” I answer honestly. Setting her on the ground, I push a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear. “You look really pretty today.”
A pink blush caresses her cheeks. “Thank you.”
“No need to thank me, Rubes. I’m just speaking the truth.”
STROKED LONG by Meghan Quinn / History & Fiction have rating 4 out of 5 / Based on32 votes