Dare Me: Red Hot Weekend Page 8

  “Your pussy is so wet, Emily.” He plunged a finger into her slit, wriggled it about and withdrew it. “So wet and so tight.”

  Before she could respond, he was bunching her skirt up around her waist, his palms smoothing her butt cheeks again, inching them apart until the crevice between them spread wide enough for the room’s cool air to play over her anus.

  The deliciously unfamiliar sensation sent a wanton shiver through Emily, her nipples puckering into painful points. Oh Lord was he…

  Rob pumped three fingers into her cream-slicked pussy, once, twice, three times, before stroking those fingers over her perineum, painting the clenching hole of her anus with her own juices.

  He paused. Long enough for Emily’s body to ache with frustrated pleasure. “If you tell me to stop, I will.” He placed one fingertip on her hole. “But I have to tell you, I don’t want to.”

  “Then don’t.”

  The words passed her lips on a breath.

  He didn’t hesitate, his finger entering her virgin arse with steady pressure.

  She’d read all about the abundance of nerve endings in the anal region; she knew all about the sphincter muscle and its highly sensitive membrane. She’d studied it all in med school, and yet knowing hadn’t prepared her for the concentrated, sheer pleasure detonating in her anus.

  “Oh God!” She bucked her hips, unable to stop herself. “Oh my God, Rob…”

  He slid his finger deeper into her hole, his first knuckle and then his second pushing past the tight ring of muscle. She bucked again, the intensity of his penetration not only making her gasp, but flooding her pussy with new cream.

  “Christ, babe, you are so, so tight.” Rob’s warm breath fanned her neck as he pressed his body to her bent back. The head of his cock nudged at her folds, and her sex constricted with eager want. Oh, what would it feel like to have him sink his rigid length into her pussy as his fingers delved into her arse?

  Her head swam at the delirious thought and she moaned, lifting her backside closer to his hand and groin.

  “I want to fuck your sweet, sweet cunt and your tight, hot arse, Emily,” he groaned in her ear, his cockhead parting her pussy lips. “I want to pump into you with my dick and my fingers until you scream. Will you let me do that, babe? Will you let me fuck you with—”

  “Yes,” she cried over his panted question, “yes!”

  He drove his cock into her sex, a single thrust that stretched her to the limit.

  “Jesus, I…” He didn’t finish whatever he was going to say. Instead, he slid his cock out of her vagina, almost to the distended head, and then plunged back in, his finger squirming in her arse as he did so.

  Emily whimpered, a mewling sound of raw pleasure. She could feel Rob’s finger stroking against his cock inside her. She could feel the friction of his shaft stimulating her clit. With every stroke of his cock and wriggle of his finger, she could feel the filaments of her clitoris stretching back to her anus sizzle with liquid electricity.

  Rob raked his free hand over her shoulder, down her arm. He cupped her breast, capturing her nipple between his fingers, massaging it in perfect rhythm with his pumping cock. She bowed her back, grinding back into his penetrations, wanting more. Wanting it harder. Oh Lord, she’d never felt so consumed by pleasure. So possessed by raw physical rapture. It was as if she was a creature born from desire, a being created for Rob’s worship. And she reveled in that erotic, carnal worship. She reveled in the sensual fire engulfing her. She reveled in it and willingly surrendered to it. “Rob…” she panted, “Rob, that feels…that feels… Oh Lord, I’m going to…”

  “I love you, Emily,” Rob moaned in her ear, his lips on her flesh as he thrust harder, faster into her body. “I love you so fucking much I can’t live without you.”

  Emily’s chest ached at the declaration—an excruciating vice of absolute joy—at the very second her orgasm claimed her. She threw back her head, wild convulsions of pulsing tension undoing her. Her pussy gripped Rob’s pumping cock, her arse squeezing his finger. She cried out, nonsensical sounds that rebounded off the walls, their feverish note as wild as Rob’s rhythm.

  And then he too, was coming. His ejaculate spurting from him in hot wads she felt flood her sex. He let out a roar, pumping into her, his finger pulling free of her arse, his hands gripping her hips as he anchored himself to her body. Yanking her back into his erratic thrusts, his balls slamming against the curve of her pussy, his nails digging into her hips.

  He drove faster, faster. Deeper. And just when Emily thought she couldn’t take anymore, when she thought she would be incinerated in the inferno of pleasure he ignited in her body, she came again, again. Each climax pushing her higher, higher, until there was nothing she could do but scream Rob’s name, a writhing, whimpering ghost of her former self. Her control, her life lost forever to the man whose life she’d defied the odds to save.

  “I love you,” Rob whispered, voice hoarse as he returned his body to hers, his sweat-slicked skin hot against her back.

  He withdrew his spent shaft from her, a small sound of protest vibrating in the back of Emily’s throat at the sudden absence of his flesh in hers. She lay slumped over the sofa, too exhausted, too sated to even think about commanding her muscles to move.

  She heard Rob move through his apartment, heard a tap running and then he was behind her once more, one gentle hand smoothing up her spine as he wiped something soft and warm and damp over her sex and anus.

  Closing her eyes, Emily smiled at the intimate act. Her chest welled with a sigh. Once, she would have been mortified to be in such a position, her most private of body parts cleaned by someone else, but now…

  She’d been right to fall in love with this man, this stubborn, sardonic Australian. She’d been right to lose her heart to him, even if it meant losing it forever.

  The gentle caress of his hands on her back made her open her eyes and she lifted her head, smiling at him where he now crouched naked in front of her and the sofa.

  He gave her a lopsided grin, the dimple creasing his right cheek. “Any chance you’d like to join me in the bedroom?”

  She raised her eyebrows, the fading pulses of her orgasm growing stronger at his question. “Really?” Her gaze dropped to his still long, semi-hard shaft hanging between his thighs. She had little doubt he would be ready to make love to her again in but a matter of moments and for the first time since seeing him dancing with Joseph Hudson’s bride, the doctor she was bore no sway on her reaction.

  Lord, I want him to bury its length to the hilt in my sex. Right now.

  He nodded, his grin stretching wider. As if he knew exactly the entirely female thought whispering through her mind. “Really really.”

  He rose to his feet and, before she knew what he was going to do, he rounded the sofa, scooped his arms under her belly and hauled her up onto his shoulder.

  Four orgasms later—give or take a few—Rob lay stretched on his back, completely and utterly spent. Fucked would have been the term he’d have used months ago if he’d been bragging about it to Joe. Well and truly fucked. He didn’t think there was a muscle in his body not aching from the physical workout he’d given it, nor a drop of cum left in his sac. But fucked and all the base lust it implied wasn’t even remotely close to the appropriate word to describe what he and Emily had just done. Fucked was what one did with a sexual partner when the heart wasn’t in control. What he and Emily had done, what they’d just spent the last three and a half glorious hours doing, was love-making. As corny and clichéd as it was, he could think of no other word. Lovemaking.

  Making love—love—to the woman sharing his bed.

  Rolling to his side, he bent his elbow and propped his head on his hand, gazing down at her.

  Love.

  A slow smile curled the sides of his mouth.

  “What are you smiling about, Robert Thorton?”

  He smiled wider. “I know the answer to all the questions now,” he said. “The ones fucking w
ith my mind. I know what Hudo has been trying to make me see, what you’ve been trying to make me see.”

  She studied him, her body still, her gaze unwavering. “And what’s that?”

  He lifted his hand and traced the line of her lips with a gentle stroke. “The man I am now isn’t just a daredevil fighter who survived cancer. He’s a man who loves you with all his heart. You the woman and you the doctor.”

  He did. There was no doubt. No trepidation. No fear. None at all.

  A small frown pulled at Emily’s eyebrows. “You say that now, but what happens when I notice you have a headache and suggest you take a painkiller? What happens then?”

  He chuckled. “I give you permission to hit me if I’m behaving like a moron.”

  She cocked her eyebrow. “And if you’re behaving like a wanker?”

  He grinned, an indescribable warmth settling in his soul. “You get to hit me twice as hard.”

  She laughed, a soft happy sound he could spend the rest of his life—no matter how long it was—listening to. He touched her lips again, loving the way they felt under his fingertips. Velvety-soft and giving. “I feared little in life until I met you,” he murmured, watching her face. “Now I realize, what I fear the most is a life without you.”

  Emily’s eyelids fluttered closed. He lowered his head and brushed a soft kiss on her lips. “As I said before, I’m a bit of a wanker at times.”

  She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “You could say that.”

  He chuckled, stroking the back of his fingers along her jaw. “Yeah yeah. Point taken. But here’s the thing, Dr. Knox. The answer to the ultimate question of who I am? Yours. I’m yours, and with you I want discover myself all over again. And if you’ll have me, I want to explore my new life with you by my side to support me.”

  Emily caught her bottom lip with her teeth, a wholly adorable affectation he completely loved. “If I’ll have you?”

  He nodded. “You don’t just make me healthy, Dr. Knox, you make me whole. And if you need to check my vitals every day, it’s only because you love me as much as I love you.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “I get that now. And I’m pretty bloody certain I can live with it. As long as you’re living with me.” He skimmed his other hand over her belly, up to her beautiful breasts and back down to the subtle curve of her hip. “Don’t go back to Barcelona,” he said, his throat tight, his voice—he was embarrassed to notice—a touch shaky. “Stay here. We’ll buy a dog and spend our days walking it together.”

  Emily looked up at him, the soft light of dawn streaming through the window into his bedroom catching in her clear grey eyes, hiding whatever emotion lay in their depths. She caught her bottom lip with her teeth, a stillness stealing over her body only moments ago languid with the aftermath of their lovemaking.

  “Stay in Australia with me, Dr. Knox,” Rob murmured, smoothing his palm up her body to cup her face with gentle fingers. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while. I’ll even let you play doctor and patient with me if you want.”

  “Oh, well in that case,” Emily answered, snaking her arms around his neck and tugging him closer to her, “how can I possibly say no? Duty of care, and all?”

  He chuckled. A heartbeat before Emily’s lips claimed his. And before he knew it, he somehow ended up splayed out before her, his legs askew, the tops of his thighs glistening with the tiny beads of pre-come leaking from his rigid shaft and the wet strokes of Emily’s tongue. Of course.

  Damn, life was good.

  Bloody good.

  Epilogue

  Nineteen months later.

  The puppy stuck its black-and-white patched butt up in the air and wagged its tail, the ridiculously expensive, designer-label running shoe trapped between its drool-dripping jaws looking like a ridiculously expensive, designer-label chew-toy.

  Rob glared at the mutt, wondering not for the first time what he and Emily had been thinking when they’d adopted the Great Dane puppy from the local dog rescue centre three months ago. After almost half a year travelling around Australia, sometimes camping out doors, sometimes checking into five star resorts, falling asleep almost every night naked and entwined in each other’s arms no matter where they were, they’d deluded themselves into the belief they were up to any challenge. A new adventure, he’d called it. Hell, what better way to spend his days while Emily worked at the Royal North Shore Hospital’s oncology department than running on the beach with a playful dog? A dog wouldn’t interfere with his new career—professional blogger of all things adventurous—either. It was a perfect choice. Even Rob’s new follow-up cancer care specialist—a dour man with thinning hair and no sense of humour to speak of—thought the idea highly recommendable. “Animals have always made good therapy companions,” he commented during a particularly time-dragging session.

  The playful dog, however, had turned into a playful behemoth that loved nothing more than to sleep in their bed, drink from the toilet and destroy Emily’s shoes. Rob highly doubted whether those three items made it to the good therapy companions checklist.

  He studied the slobber-glistening shoe poking out at him from between the dog’s equally slobber-glistening teeth. “You are so going to get it when the doc gets home, Roofus.”

  Roofus wagged his tail again, knocking a framed photo of Rob and Emily standing atop the Sydney Harbour Bridge from its place on the bedside table.

  “Don’t think I’m going to defend you,” Rob went on, pointing a finger at the quivering Great Dane. “Unlike you, I know I’m not silly enough to bite the hand that feeds me. Or should that be, bites the shoe of the foot belonging to the same body as the hand that feeds me?”

  Roofus lifted his head and let out a raucous woof, and unable to help himself, Rob burst out laughing. “Okay, okay,” he shook his head, scratching at the dog’s ears as he—gingerly—removed Emily’s runner from Roofus’s mouth. “I’ll just buy her a new pair.”

  Roofus pricked up his ears, head swinging in the direction of the bedroom door a fraction of a second before Rob heard a set of keys drop onto the glass table in the living room.

  “Buy me a new pair of what?” Emily asked, walking into the bedroom, her English accent still as subtle (and as arousing, in Rob’s humble opinion) as ever.

  He held up her runner, pulling a face as a long finger of drool stretched from the ruptured toe and dripped onto the floor. “Errr…”

  Emily studied the shoe for a silent moment and then turned her stare to Roofus. “Why is it always my shoes?”

  The dog barked again, tail thumping on the floor like a sledgehammer.

  She nodded. “You’re right. Mine do smell better.”

  “Hey!” Rob chuckled, tossing her runner over his shoulder and snaring her hands in his. He tugged her to his body, sliding his arms around her waist and dropping a kiss on her smiling lips. “My feet don’t smell.” He kissed her again. “That much.”

  Emily raised her eyebrows. Wriggling her hips closer to his, she smoothed her hands up his chest, threading her fingers together behind his neck. “Yes they do. But that’s not going to stop me marrying you.”

  She tugged his head down to hers and kissed him—much more deeply than he’d kissed her—and Rob’s pulse leapt into very eager flight. Breaking the kiss, he ran his hands up her arms, the feel of the diamond ring—a most impressive chunk of rock, he had to admit—circling her finger not only making him grin like a lunatic, but filling his balls with hungry need.

  Damn it, who would have known the thought of getting married would turn him on so bloody much?

  “There’s a parcel for you on the table,” Emily said. “The delivery man was dropping it off when I came home.”

  The words who gives a flying fuck dangled on the edge of Rob’s tongue. He had other things on his mind right now than opening parcels. Wicked, dirty things. Things involving lots of oil, plenty of silk rope and maybe a cube or two of ice. But before he could voice his thoughts on the situation, Emily disengaged herself from his embr
ace.

  “Go and take a look,” she said, crouching down to give Roofus a long, gentle scruff under both his floppy ears. “It’s from Joseph.”

  Rob cocked an eyebrow. What the hell was Joe sending him the bloke couldn’t deliver in person? They only lived thirty-five minutes drive apart.

  Curious despite the growing hard-on poking at his trousers, he retrieved the parcel from the living room. Tearing at the packaging, he walked back into the bedroom. Just what in the hell could Hudo be up—

  The question faded from Rob’s head, the sight of something pale blue tucked inside the parcel making him stumble to a halt.

  You’ve got to be kidding me?

  Shaking his head, he withdrew the item from the packaging, unfolding two sheets of tissue paper to reveal a tuxedo jacket. A decidedly powder-blue tuxedo jacket.

  He held it up by its shoulders, a low chuckle building deep in his chest as he read the three words written in Joseph’s relaxed hand on the small square of white paper pinned to the jacket’s ruffled lapel. Three words. Eight letters.

  I dare you.

  From the bed, Emily burst out laughing. “I so can’t wait to see you in that.”

  He grinned…a second before throwing the jacket on top of Roofus and leaping on top of her, his lips silencing her squealed giggle, his hard-on getting harder and harder. And harder.

  Yeah, getting married turned him on. Big time. Even if he was going to wear a bloody powder-blue tuxedo.

  About the Author

  Lexxie’s not a deviant. She just has a deviant’s imagination and a desire to entertain readers with her words. Add the two together and you get wickedly fun erotic romances with a twist of comedy, sci-fi or the paranormal.

  When she’s not submerged in the worlds she creates, Lexxie’s life revolves around her family, a husband who thinks she’s insane, a cat determined to rule the house, two yabbies hell-bent on destroying their tank and her daughters, who both utterly captured her heart and changed her life forever.