The Arrangement Read online

  Fucking Sasha was so . . . blissful. Often they started gently, but it didn’t take long for them to fall into a rough, breathtaking pace that took out everything from them. It was also . . . nourishing. He was a romantic fool describing it that way, but that’s how it was. There was something about fucking her that made him feel alive. He still worried about overwhelming her and possibly scaring her. Sometimes a look of uncertainty would pass on her face but vanish quickly. The nightmares appeared to have ceased; he was almost sure. He remained awake for an hour after she’d fallen asleep, watching her and determined to slay the demons that might still plague her.

  Eric put the box of éclairs on the counter. He checked out the fridge for something to cook or heat. There was still lasagna from last night, so it went into the microwave. In the crisper was a head of lettuce and some carrots. He would make a salad with them.

  The microwave had just pinged when he heard the front door opening. He finished drizzling the olive oil and balsamic vinegar dressing over the salad, keeping an eye on the door as he did. When it began to open and Sasha’s blond head appeared followed by the rest of her body, a grin split across his face.

  She shrugged off her short, tan coat, revealing the white shirt and denim mini - skirt she was wearing underneath. Black boots ending just below her knees showcased her amazingly long legs. Her hair was tousled from the commute, but her eyes were bright, her cheeks pink. She placed her cello case next to the sofa, dropping her backpack right next to it.

  “Love,” Eric greeted her as she turned to face him.

  She looked rumpled, her clothes bearing traces of travel, but he couldn’t take his eyes away from her. His cock stirred at the extra shine in her eyes when shaking her head at his endearment. Then she went to him, a small smile on her lips.

  Never did he think that her heavily-freckled, homely face with the awesome eyes could be so dear and sweet to him.

  “How was school?” He asked just before kissing her.

  Her lips were slightly chapped but soft, very soft. They were cool as was the rest of her body. Emanating from her skin was the scent of fall, crimson leaves, and golden sunlight. It pleased him when her arms went around his shoulders. He hugged her tightly to him, rubbing her back to warm her.

  “Composition is kicking my ass,” she answered huskily. He kissed her consolingly on the cheek, and it pulled another smile from her. So what if her teeth were big and crooked? It was endearing. Sighing, she put her hand on his chest. “And I have a Music Theory test in a couple of weeks.”

  “Fuck professors,” he retorted affectionately, squeezing the side of her waist. She chuckled and sighed.

  “Indeed. Fuck ‘em,” she agreed just before his mouth swooped on hers again.

  Her hand slipped under his shirt, her fingers brushing his abs in a way that made his cock hard. As her casual, innocent touches aroused him, he caressed her boldly: the smooth skin of her back under her blouse and tank top, his thumb dipping in her navel, the back of her thighs. Her quickening breath hit his tongue as he started freeing the snaps and zipper of her denim skirt.

  Sasha groaned and gasped, pulling away from him long enough to reveal the incredulous look in her beautiful eyes. Eric couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Still?” He teased, undoing her skirt completely and letting it fall to the floor. Fuck, but she was magnificent.

  Messy hair, blue eyes nearly black with lust, swollen lips. His fingers fluttered to the line of her panties, brushing the pubic hairs slipping from the sides. Then he cupped her fully, his other arm wrapping around the back of her waist before kissing her. It was amazing feeling her go from warm to damp, her moisture coating his palm. His hands were shaking as they climbed to her face. Hunger for Sasha prevented him from seeing clearly. Their lips fused, making him sway on his feet. He urged her towards the sofa until the back of her knees hit its edge.

  Sasha sat down, looking up at him. Eric caressed her pink cheeks before she turned and began to unzip his jeans. He put his hands on hers, and she looked at him curiously.

  “Later,” he promised, removing her hands with great reluctance. He got down on his knees before her. Nudging her legs open so he could put himself between them, he added, “I missed you.”

  Sasha bit her lip and took his face in her hands. She lowered her head, and he quickly covered the distance between them with a kiss. “Oh, Eric,” she whispered hotly.

  He looked at her again. God damn it, but she looked more desirable, sexier with every slide of his eyes to her. Then he kissed her.

  She was shaking too; he discovered while licking the pulse at the base of her throat, his hands tugging at the neckline of her tank to cup her small breasts. She was gripping him tightly now, her hard arms bound to leave his back and shoulders bruised, the leather of her boots digging at his sides despite his t-shirt. His jeans felt like a furnace, his cock so hard and painful he couldn’t see straight. But he kept lavishing kisses on her throat, her nipples, tugging at the pink tips with his lips, lashing them with his tongue to draw one sexy moan after another.

  He took more kisses from her mouth, loving how she panted and held him. He pulled at her panties, fingers skimming the front and finding it soaked now. Oh, but her thighs were wet too. She hissed, grunted at the light touch. He was reluctant to end their kiss as he guided the little garment down her legs.

  He stared at her pussy as if seeing it for the first time. Sasha was very hairy, and her mound was a thick tangle of dirty-blond and pale curls. They were rough and springy, scratching at his palm. But under them was the softest, sweetest slice of flesh, warm and dripping just for him.

  Again he pulled her legs until her hips reached the edge of the sofa. Sasha was wide-eyed, looking at him with a mix of disbelief and anticipation. She was also looking at him with love. He hoped so. Why had she not repeated the words? But he could wait. But to taste her again and flood his mouth with her essence, he wasn’t going to let another a second pass.

  He nudged her pussy lips open and lowered his head. He licked the inner lips, where she was pink and soft. He kissed her pussy as he would her mouth, with longing and hunger, wanting to convey that she deserved to be loved and desired. He unleashed a storm of searing, greedy kisses on her, encouraged by her cries of his name and the uninhibited thrusts and rolls of her hips. If only he could paint her like this. But then he wouldn’t be able to taste her.

  He suckled her clit, drawing a scream from her throat. She thrashed under him, mewls of protest falling from her lips. He knew it was too much for her but she could take it. He flattened his tongue against the hard button while his fingers began to work inside her. Another scream. Hands fell on his hair, yanked at the strands. He smirked, kissing and sucking her harder, fucking her pussy with relentless thrusts of his digits until they sank fully. As her passage squeezed around his fingers, he straightened up but remained on his knees.

  Sasha’s head was flung back. Sweat darkened some strands of her hair, droplets decorated her upper lip, around her neck. Her eyes were closed. Her shirt was halfway down her shoulders. The neckline of her tank remained under her breasts. Her nipples gleamed like wet raw rubies. She was a goddess.

  And she loved him.

  He kept his fingers inside her tight heat, curling them and making her moan. When he slanted his lips over hers, she grunted his name. Her eyes opened briefly before they closed again, and she gave in to the kiss.

  Her thick lips and wide mouth called to be devoured. Her hands fluttered to his face, fingers buried in his hair. He loved kissing her while fucking her as he was doing now. He wanted her to forget all the hurt she endured because of her looks, her body. If he had to teach her every day like this for a long time, he would.

  He was.

  “Sasha.” He didn’t hide the pleading note in his voice. He nipped at her swollen lip. “God, pretty. I want you.”

  She gazed at him, her eyes now smoldering cobalt blue. It took his breath away.

  She swiped her tong
ue around his lips, pulling back to show him how vividly she was blushing. Then her hands were on him, skimming his stomach, dancing over the zipper of his jeans. He gripped her by the shoulders, then her face, kissing her deeply on the mouth as she freed his cock. When air caressed the naked length of his hardness, he breathed her name and pulled her in his arms. He laid her on the floor and climbed on top of her.

  He didn’t give her time to adjust; he rubbed the head of his cock up and down her dripping pussy, mixing his own trickling fluids with hers. It made her growl, hips lurching sharply toward him. Then he took himself in hand and entered her in one swift thrust. God.

  “Oh, Eric. Eric. I -” she started to mutter, but he couldn’t resist kissing her.

  The pace of their fucking was furious as if this was the last. He didn’t want to slow down, and from the way she was bruising him with her embrace, neither did she. He marveled at how her pussy squeezed him harder with each thrust, sucking him inside her like the sweetest, tightest vise. If only he could be inside her forever. He looked in her eyes and was lost.

  It was all he wanted.

  Dinner was a picnic on the floor, by the fireplace. They ate the lasagna straight from the pan.

  Sasha scowled as Eric held out an éclair to her.

  Crowned with thick cream, strawberry slices, and swirls of dark chocolate, it was a rich complement to the hearty dinner they had. He laughed at her expression but continued to dangle the dessert before her eyes. When she finally leaned forward with her mouth open, he pulled his hand back and took a big bite.

  She rolled her eyes and suddenly grabbed his hand to smash the dessert on his face. Chocolate, strawberries, and pastry covered him from nose to jaw. As Eric burst out laughing, she climbed on his lap. Her face was red, but the resolve in her eyes told she wouldn’t be stopped from her agenda.

  She licked his face.

  It was the naughtiest thing she had ever done. But she couldn’t help herself.

  Licking quickly turned to kissing and tussling playfully on the floor. Sasha fell on her back. Eric quickly settled on top of her. Grinning through her embarrassed blush, she wiped the cuff of her shirt on his face, removing the last bits of the éclair.

  “You didn’t share,” she accused him as she caressed his cheek.

  Eric winked at her and shrugged. “I like to eat.”

  It took a moment for his meaning to sink in. As a fiery blush exploded on her cheeks, he laughed again.

  Then he was pulling open her shirt and helping himself to her nipples. Her arms flung out to her sides as if she were on a cross and helpless. Warm, sticky lips tugged on the swollen pink nubs. When his tongue circled her left nipple, she held her breath, squeezing her eyes shut. It was more sensitive now, and the soft, wet lash he was giving her was making her tensed, her heart race. When he dragged it deep in his mouth, she sighed his name. Tomorrow her nipples would chafe against her clothes, no matter how soft the fabric, reminding her of his eager kisses. She would count the hours until school was over.

  Sasha felt herself floating to the clouds with every kiss Eric pressed on her skin. She was still not used to it despite the months they spent together.

  Through half-closed eyes, she watched his blond head move from her breasts down to her stomach, nuzzling the smooth, taut flesh. This was how it felt to be desired, she thought, legs parting open. How many times did she vow to remember? She didn’t forget. But it was still quite difficult to grasp it applied to her.

  His lips rubbed the seam between her pussy and thigh, followed by the wet flick of the tongue. She felt herself getting hot again. His fingers coaxed her open, and she bit her lip, feeling the slow, wet slide of his semen down to her rosette. He licked her, tongue tracing slow, infinite circles that made her clench and hiss.

  He was going to destroy her again.

  And as always, she would let him.

  As Eric suckled at her clit and his fingers pumped inside her with maddening care, she struggled to speak, torn between wanting to know and just letting him devastate her again. She had to know why he liked to fuck her. She needed to know why he often kissed her like this, with a reverence fit more for deities than her. He had saved her, protected her, dragged her from the darkness, and fought at her side. How could she not love him for that? But, the kisses Eric tirelessly gives her, she must know. Why? He had done more than enough. This was too much.

  But she didn’t resist the lure of the white chasm. She flung herself to it with eyes and arms wide open. When she resurfaced, she looked up into green eyes that warmed and darkened, staring at her as if they refused to miss a single flicker of expression on her face.

  Eric’s cock easing into her ever so gently made her gasp and, once again, fall apart.

  After the second time, Sasha felt heavy and tired.

  They still lay by the fireplace, with the carpet serving as their bed and a blanket covering them. She reached up to touch the golden locks of his hair. His breath hitched, and his eyes closed. She stilled, realizing for the first time since they started fucking that he liked for her to touch him. Her hand was rough, calloused, and bigger than his.

  His response was unexpected and encouraging. Her fingers traced the firm line of his jaw, down his shoulder, his chest. She thumbed at a golden nipple and looked at him. He was breathing harshly, his elegant nostrils flaring.

  “Is it okay?” She asked, dropping her eyes momentarily to where she was touching him, now ruffling the golden curls of his chest.

  Eric grinned. “Are you really asking that?”

  She blushed as he pulled her hand back to his cheek. “This is still new to me.”

  “For me too.”

  “Everything is new to me.”

  She continued touching him without a word passing between them. Then her hand lowered to his shoulder, skimming his chest. Blue and green eyes watched her freckled hand acquaint itself with the tickling texture of the hairs there, the taut muscles, warm skin.

  She shifted to get more comfortable, her legs moving. The lingering wetness between her thighs made her blush. Eric, who had turned his attention to her face, saw the red flare in her cheeks.

  “A dollar for your thoughts, pretty girl,” he said, pulling her hand to drape it over his shoulder. He sighed as he rolled to his back, putting her half on top of him, her long leg between his. The flush of her cheeks deepened as her pussy pressed on his hard thigh. How she wanted to rub against him to soothe the soft flames kindling again.

  “They’re not worth knowing,” she said, brushing his hair from his forehead.

  “I don’t know,” he teased. “Anyone who blushes like that has a secret that begs to be revealed.”

  Because they were skin to skin, he felt her heart skip a beat. She looked away, and his eyes brimmed with concern.

  “What is it?” A gentle nudge at her chin had her turning back to him. “Sweetheart?”

  God, how did she get herself in situations like this, she wondered in mortification. With surprising boldness, she kissed Eric on the mouth, probably for courage. He didn’t let her slip back to her side of the carpet.

  Instead, he kept her on top of him. Hands roamed her body, mapping her back, her hips, fingers fluttering in the crevice between her buttocks. She stilled for a second, wondering. He had fucked her there for the first time during their honeymoon. It was a strange experience at best, not very comfortable but something that intrigued her such that she asked him to take her there again a few weeks later. She could see herself asking for it a third time.

  But Eric just cupped the firm flesh in his hands, squeezing her. She let out a sigh, her warm breath brushing his face. She sat up, and he was reluctant to release her. As she looked away, he sat up too.

  “What’s going on?” He sounded genuinely worried.

  “It’s nothing bad,” she said quickly, clutching the blanket to her breasts. “I’m not complaining.”

  Eric frowned at her.

  Now that she was cornered, there was nowhe
re to go.

  “I’ve noticed that . . . you like doing something . . . often.” She began. Holy hell, she could feel her entire body burning in embarrassment.

  “You mean my painting?”

  “No. It’s . . . oh, fuck.” She hung her head. Staring at the puddle fabric on her lap, she spoke rapidly, “You kiss me a lot. Down there.”

  She raised her head, looking at him in the eye. Sweat gathered under her arms.

  Eric looked confused, then he looked surprised. “Yeah. I do.”

  “You do it a lot.”

  “Yes. Why, am I too rough?” At that, he reached for the blanket, trying to look at her pussy. Sasha squawked and jerked away.

  “No! You’re not! It’s just that . . . you do it a lot.” Not to mention that she often woke up with his hand on her pussy. She squirmed, but she remembered how she liked that.

  Again the confusion. “Is that a problem?” He whispered.

  “Of course not!” Sasha declared. “It’s just that . . . Eric, I don’t . . . I mean, is it normal? That you do it so often?”

  He blinked at her several times.

  Then he laughed. Loudly.

  Annoyed, she growled, “I don’t like to be laughed at!”

  “I’m not, pretty. I’m really not!” Eric gasped as he pulled her, so she was straddling his lap. He wrenched the blanket from her body. She continued to scowl at him, her spine stiff as his laugh softened to chuckles. He took her face in his hands and kissed her hard on the mouth. When he set her away, his expression was serious.

  “I love your pussy, Sasha. I love how easily it gets wet and it tastes sweeter each time,” he told her. A hotter blush crept up her cheeks, and she looked away.

  Never had anyone discussed her body so frankly the way Eric had. It was horrible how very personal details about her body were in court records now. If she wasn’t ridiculed or insulted, she was studied like an object. To hear Eric describing a part of her that she wouldn’t even look at in a tone laced with admiration and desire was disconcerting at the very least.