Oysters & Chocolate published “His Good Girl”! I’m so thrilled. Find the story here.
I’m also working on the second part of “His Good Girl: They Meet”, as well as another Quickie which should be out later today or tomorrow.
Thank you so much to those who read my things and who have given me fabulous and constructive criticism. I look forward to hearing more of your thoughts in the future!
xoxo,
Scarlett
I’m extremely excited to say that Oysters & Chocolate have chosen one of my short stories for publication on their site!
I’m not sure yet when the story will go live — but you can rest assured that I’ll be letting you know!
xoxo,
Scarlett
I count myself lucky to have met Jake. I hear horror stories about people starting out in the BDSM scene and, as a submissive, fall victim to someone who only thinks they know what they’re doing — or worse, is just an abusive asshole looking for some easy targets to beat on.
My friend Cecily and her partner were having a dinner party at their house for “kink-minded folk” and invited me to come along. It would be a “safe, controlled environment,” she’d said, perfect for me to “get my feet wet.” Yes. Perfect. Right?
Wrong. I was petrified.
Who knew what really went on at these things? I mean, Cecily and Trisha were very normal-seeming people to the outside world; Cecily was a lawyer and Trisha worked at social services. They needed to preserve their appearances. This should have soothed me — but instead, my neurotic ass was all sorts of worried that they used these gatherings to ‘let loose’ in ways that the Real World disallowed them.
I imagined a ton of likelihoods: shiny, vinyl black pants, torn mesh tops, 10” thigh-high Fuck Me boots, heavy make-up, naked girls on leashes — and a ridiculous amount of staring at the new Would Be, who clearly didn’t belong. Really, what was she thinking? What was I thinking?
“Here, let me get that for you.”
I don’t even remember which of the above I actually had been thinking about in that moment. An arm covered in a brown hounds tooth jacket reached around mine and its owner rang Cecily and Trisha’s doorbell. I’d blinked.
“Oh — sorry,” I said, turning. I could already feel my cheeks flushing red — and I wasn’t even in the door yet! But the sight that met my eyes was interesting: just a regular guy in blue jeans, a white T-shirt, and a brown hounds tooth jacket. Did he know what he was getting into? Suddenly I began to worry that this was a friend or colleague of Trisha’s from work and that this definitely couldn’t end well. Before I could say anything else, the door behind me opened and I saw Trisha’s petite frame and voluptuous-when-brushed-out dark hair. I caught her gaze with alarm, telepathically trying to tell her that some normal guy friend of hers or Cecily’s was about to get an eyeful of something he wasn’t prepared for.
“Hey Jake,” she said, smiling. Trisha let him in, accepting a one-armed hug, and he offered me a small smile as he walked past. Then she looked at me, grinning. “So are you actually coming inside?”
“Um. Yes.” I offered her the plate in my hand. “I brought cookies. I know Cecily said not to bring anything, but you know I can’t do that.”
“I know,” Trisha said, and I could tell she was laughing at me. “She’s just pulling the pasta off the stove, I think.”
“Great, I’ll go —”
“Sit,” Trisha said. “You’ll go sit.”
“What — ?”
Her arm came halfway around my shoulders and helped to steer me into their living room, done in soft café-au-lait and various coffee shades and filled with a small group of people I had never met. Unless, of course, you counted Jake; I didn’t count my standing around looking like an idiot as us ‘meeting’, and I hoped that he didn’t, either.
“Guys, this is Lylah,” Trisha said, squeezing my shoulder a bit. One woman with Molly Ringwald hair (a la Breakfast Club) wiggled her fingers at me with a friendly smile. “Be nice now, okay? No scaring her off.” And then she walked away from me.
So as to appear casual I took the nearest seat, which happened to be on the end of the chaise lounge of their suede sectional. I tried to smile, I think; I at the very least attempted to look unafraid. There wasn’t a single person sitting there on a leash — or naked for that matter. One of the women appeared to be wearing a pretty distinct collar, and Molly Ringwald had some concoction of a chain maille necklace on, but other than that any regular person off the street wouldn’t know that there was a lick of anything different about the people sitting in the living room. For some reason, this made me more nervous.
“Nice to meet you all,” I finally managed.
“Nice to meet you, sweetie,” said Molly Ringwald. “I’m Carla.” She indicated the dark-haired man sitting next to her, “And this is Keith, my Dom.”
I nodded to them both and the others sitting around the living room followed suit with their names. The woman wearing the collar was named was Diane and her Dominant preferred to be called Trix; a petite, middle-aged blonde woman with long red fingernails introduced herself as Raine. Raine introduced the scrawny guy next to her as Gavin, which only left —
“Hi, I’m Jake.”
Jake was close enough to me that he could lean forward to shake my hand; I took this as my opportunity to erase all prior idiocy and offered up what I hoped was one of my best handshakes. Up-close-and-personal, Jake had short brown hair and cloudy turquoise-blue eyes; they reminded me of the surface of a frozen lake on a cloudless day. He had a firm grip and seemed to have a ridiculously intriguing balance of I-can-change-my-own-oil and I’ve-read-Tolstoy going for him. “Lylah,” I said, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.” I looked up, remembering my manners, “Nice to meet you all.” I rubbed my palms up and down the thighs of my pants, as though that would diffuse the nervousness.
“So, Lylah, honey,” Carla began, “how do you know Cecily? She’s such a doll, isn’t she?”
I smiled, trying not to laugh. If there was one person in the world more neurotic than myself, it was Cecily; we got along well because of it, certainly. “We went to undergrad together.”
“Oh, well that’s very nice. And what is it that you do?”
I paused and felt my eyes widen a bit. I had spent so long worrying about naked girls on leashes that I’d forgotten the basics — what was my name again?
“You heard what Trisha said,” Jake spoke up with a leisurely smile, “let’s be nice and try not to scare her too much.” And he winked at me. Winked. Did people even do that in real life? I was thankful he looked away after that, because I knew I’d blushed again.
“Sorry for the wait, everyone!” came Cecily’s songbird voice from the dining room. “Dinner’s ready!”
What I did or did not do was forgotten for the moment and I thoroughly enjoyed dinner; I think I even forgot to be so shy after the second glass of wine. Cecily had been right, it’d been a perfect way for me to get my feet wet.
Trisha couldn’t keep me out of the kitchen after the meal was over, and I helped Cecily clean up a bit while Trisha handed out cups of coffee.
“So what do you think?” she’d asked.
“About what?” I replied. I shrugged. “Everyone? They’re all very nice.”
“Anyone in particular?” Cecily asked, and I sensed rather than saw her cocked eyebrow.
“Please, God, Cecily, tell me this isn’t a dating service,” I replied. But my cheeks were red. “I don’t need to be fixed up, and you know that —”
“You need someone to ‘show you around’,” she replied. “And a good spanking, clearly.”
“Cecily!” I caught her gaze and held it a moment before we burst into laughter. “Oh my God, I’m so telling Trisha. Not cool, Ces!”
Cecily giggled. “Go ahead and tell ‘er. I could use a good spanking, too.”
“Did I just hear the magic word?”
Cecily and I jumped and looked up, guilty, like two little kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Jake headed to the Keurig, nonchalant as can be.
“Nope, no magic word,” Cecily replied, grinning as she handed me a wet pasta bowl to dry. I had a sudden desire to stomp on her foot.
“Pity,” he said, watching his mug fill and grabbing the sugar bowl. Then he looked up, right at me, and asked, “Did you enjoy yourself tonight, Lylah?”
Surprising even myself, I replied, “The night’s not over yet.”
Jake’s eyebrows raised slightly as he considered this, as though impressed. “Good point of view,” he said, smiling, and left the kitchen. As soon as he was (hopefully) out of earshot Cecily sputtered into her glass of red wine.
“‘The night’s not over yet’,” she mimicked, leaning against the counter to hold herself up while she laughed. “Oooh, little miss Lylah … I know what you want for dessert!”
“You are so cut off,” I replied, whacking her thigh with my towel. “And shut up, okay?”
Cecily laughed.
* * *
As it turned out, Cecily had given Jake my number and he called me a couple of days later. I was leaving my office and was just about to the level of the parking garage where my car was when my cell phone vibrated in my hand.
I hesitated to answer a phone call from an unknown number, but swiped the ‘Answer’ button on the touch screen anyway. “Hello?”
“Hello, is this Lylah?” came the strange, male voice.
“May I ask who’s calling please?”
“Good girl,” he replied, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “This is Jake. It’s nice to see a woman with some common sense.”
“Um,” I began, “thank you?” A horn honked behind me and I realized that I had stopped walking in the middle of the parking garage. Grinning sheepishly, I hurried across to the opposite line of cars, pulling my keys out of my purse and holding my cell phone up to my ear with my shoulder.
Jake laughed. “You’re welcome, it was definitely a compliment.”
I was never good at these sorts of things, my mind fished fruitlessly for something interesting to say — I had as much luck coming up with something as I did putting my key into my door. “Shit,” I muttered after missing the keyhole for the fourth time.
“Is this a bad time?” I heard. There was actually a note of hesitation in Jake’s voice.
“What?” Success! I opened my car door and slid inside, placing my purse on the passenger seat. “Oh — no! I’m sorry … I’m just trying to get into my car and …” Finally, I burst out with, “how did you get my number anyway?”
“Cecily,” he replied, as though it were obvious. “I take it she didn’t actually ask your permission like she said she had.” There was a tone of wry amusement coating his voice.
“That she did not,” I muttered, beginning to think of a myriad of ways to make Cecily’s upcoming death look like an accident.
“Well, I’m sorry to have invaded your privacy … but since I have you on the phone, I was hoping that you would let me take you to dinner sometime this week.”
“Me?” I asked, then cursed myself.
“You,” he replied, clearly attempting to hold the laughter from his voice.
Get it together, Lylah … I thought. Taking a deep breath, I glanced at myself in the rear-view mirror, then sat up straighter. Swallowing, I said, “That sounds very nice, thank you.”
“Great, how’s Wednesday?”
“Um, hold on, let me check …” I pulled my phone from my ear, sifting through my calendar that I already knew was empty of evening appointments this week. “Wednesday works fine for me, any time in particular?”
“Six o’clock works for me if it works for you.”
“Yeah, sure. Fine,” I replied, trying not to look and see how red my cheeks were turning. “Where should I meet you?”
Jake paused. “I can pick you up if you’d like.”
“I’d rather meet you,” I replied.
I sensed rather than saw Jake smile; I was reminded of his prior “good girl” compliment. “I’ll text you then on Wednesday — it’ll be somewhat of a surprise.”
“Okay.”
“Great. See you then.”
“See you then,” I repeated.
“Good-bye,” Jake said.
“’Bye.”
Click.
I quickly dialed Cecily’s number, put her on speaker phone in my passenger seat, and backed out of my parking space. I exited the parking garage to the sound of a phone ringing.
“Hello?” Cecily answered.
“I’m going to kill you.”
i feel the heat from your skin,
your silky touch down my spine.
my throat relaxes
from your hungry kiss;
and I lay my head down
on your chest
and sleep
to the galloping sound
of your beating heart.
His lips tasted like the hot chocolate we had just shared: sweet, creamy, and comforting. I slid my hands over his shoulders, pushing off the light sports jacket he’d been wearing. We were a tangled mass of limbs and clothes as we struggled to get one another down to bare skin, warm and soft, vulnerable to whispered kisses and the passion of mutual desires.
I found the bed. His lips never left mine as I slid onto it until his chest pressed against me and we lay flat on the mattress. The skin of his back was so soft and hot I couldn’t not touch it; I reveled in trailing my fingertips and nails up and down in varied patterns. His body alternately arched into and away from my touch. His tongue trailed up the side of my neck, tracing the line of kisses that he’d drawn there back to my mouth. I opened to him completely, wanting to swallow him forever and never let go. His knees nudged my legs apart and it was only a matter of a few moments before I felt him pressing ever-so-sweetly into me. I let out a breathy moan; it was so good to be full of him.
He lifted my arms above my head, lacing his fingers with my own even as he held them with a soft and tender firmness into the plush give of the comforter beneath us. The desperation in his kisses was at odds with the slow and deliberate way in which he moved his hips. But there it was: that delicious spiral upward, the fist of coiling tension. Our skin dampened with sweat and our breaths came more quickly, each inhale a gasp of surprise.
He let my arms go and I curled them around his neck, burying a hand into the silky softness of his hair. My hips rose to meet his as our rhythm grew faster. Our bodies knew each other; they fit together in all of the right ways and in one small adjustment of hips and legs we were reaching our horizon. I recognized the pattern of his breathing, the way his lips and tongue met my own, and then felt him stretch and harden until I knew without a doubt that he was about to come. I let go and allowed my focus to turn inward where there was nothing but him inside of me and a delicately gasping breath until the wave of pleasure broke. I arched up into him, breaking his kiss for barely a moment to release something that was too good to be kept to myself. In three more strokes he was there, too, brushing my hair out of my face to claim my lips again as his own.
And then there was stillness.
He buried his face in my neck, as he always did. I felt the delicate, feathery caress of his breath sliding around the back of my neck. He off and on left light, barely-there kisses on my shoulder as we just lay there, an “us” in this great big world of many. I could feel my heart galloping in my chest, saw nothing but the blackness of the inside of my eyelids. To open them meant to wake up from the dream of his flesh against mine. I felt him stir and inwardly frowned: those moments never lasted long enough. I felt his nose touch mine and he lightly kissed my lips. I opened my eyes to gaze up at him.
The look in his eyes was surely reflected in my own. Something tender and bittersweet. I swallowed hard and triggered the release of hot and silent tears; they streamed in thin trails to my earlobes. I opened my mouth and leaned upward, searching for a kiss. The moment froze. I looked back up to his eyes and rested my head back down. His warm lips found my forehead and in the few moments he held me there I squeezed my eyes shut, savoring his presence, the smell of his skin, and the feel of his barely-there beard against my nose. He brushed the kiss away with his thumb and trailed his hand down my cheek; he leaned in for an unbearably light and tender kiss. I held my breath, afraid that I would chase its memory from my lips. My eyes found his again; there was strength behind the bittersweet.
“Good-bye.”
She was always beautiful. Lovely didn’t cover it, gorgeous was too flamboyant. But beautiful described her perfectly. We met when we were 8. I had just moved for the fourth time in my life (Mother was a Marine), and had begun to lose any hope of finding any sort of permanent social structure — aside from Favorite, my little white teddy bear I’d had since I was born. Favorite was named so because, well, he was my favorite.
Dad was unloading a box marked ‘Miscellaneous’ from the moving truck as I stood on our front lawn, clutching Favorite, and watching our lives go by, box by box, into a new house that I was supposed to call home. It happened very suddenly. I remember using my index finger to push the purple plastic frames of my glasses back up my nose — and then I was on the ground.
“Omigoshomigoshomigosh!” came a girl’s voice. I could hear her sneakers coming closer to me. “Are you okay? Omigosh.” She crouched down and handed me my glasses as I sat up. “I am, like, sooo sorry.”
Looking around, I’d seen a big purple ball that had come to rest at the edge of our new front bushes, perfectly innocent-looking.
The girl’s hand was on my shoulder, but she was looking over hers. “Matt, you idiot, you could’ve killed her!”
“Whatever,” came a boy’s voice. Then I saw his shaggy brown head pop over the fence in between our front yard and our neighbors’. I took him to be about 12 or 13, careless and full of eye-rolls. “I’m done playing this stupid game anyway.”
“You okay?” the girl asked, now looking at me. I turned to see her for the first time. She was the type of girl that would normally trip me as I walked down the hallway, or pelted me with pencil eraser tips from her desk behind me. “I’m April,” she said with a smile. April had sea green eyes and a lightly freckled nose. Her blonde hair was in two high pigtails at the top of her head and she had neat, perfectly white teeth. I realized I was staring.
“Oh. Um. Yeah,” I replied. “I’m Jessica.”
“Sorry about Matt,” she rolled her eyes, “he’s just my stupid brother.” April laughed, like we had just shared a big joke. It was contagious; I smiled and laughed, too.
“Come on, my mom’s making cookies.” April stood and gave me her hand to help pull me up. She picked up Favorite off the ground and pulled me towards the huge white house next door, where her mom gave us a huge plate of cookies and two tall glasses of milk.
We’d been inseparable ever since.
As we grew up, I came into myself, and April continued to keep her good looks and charming personality. We waded through the oft-crowded hallways of middle and high school, tried out first cigarettes together (which we promptly put out), drank our first beers out of the back of a Senior’s SUV during homecoming weekend of our Junior year. It was no surprise that we attended the same university.
Now it was time for real life, and it was hitting us hard — at least, it was hitting April hard.
“God,” she said, raking her hand through her hair still damp from her shower. “I’m burning up. Is the a/c on the highest it can go? How many more weeks of this crap?!”
I’d checked the air conditioner about five times already, but got up to do so again. “It’s all the way up.” I turned to look at her, sprawled out practically spread-eagle on her bed, completely naked. Her blonde hair was splayed above her head across her pillows and she rocking slightly from side to side trying to get comfortable. She placed a hand on her stomach, big and swollen and round with child, and moaned. “Thirty-seven weeks,” I reminded her with a wry smile. “Only three more to go.” I crawled back onto the bed next to her — not too close though, lest I fry her with my body heat. “The very same amount as when you asked me about ten minutes ago, actually. Imagine that.” She made a face at me and sighed. April’s sea green eyes stared off at the ceiling, at nothing in particular, and I watched her swallow.
“It’s going to be all right, right?” she asked quietly.
I wrapped my hand around the one she had placed on her belly. “Yeah. It’ll be all right.”
She turned her head toward me. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, you know that, right?”
I smiled, “Yes, I know that.” I flopped backwards. “Which is why I fully expect that child to be named Jessica.”
April smiled. “And what if it’s a boy?”
“Oh, I think Jesse would suffice.” She laughed, which turned into a controlled sob. “God. I’m going to have to be a mother and a father. I don’t know if I can do this.”
Putting my hand on her forehead, I leaned in close, sure to look her directly in the eyes. “You can. You know you can. It’s not what you expected, but you’ve got a lot of people who care about you and are going to help. Takes a village, remember?”
A small smile curved itself on her lips. “Right.” She sighed. I went to pick a ball of fuzz out of her hair. “Hey, Jessica?” I looked back at her face, and before I could even respond her nose was touching mine and I felt her lips, soft and smooth and sweet, touch my own. I froze. April pulled back to look at me, bringing her hand up to tuck some of my hair behind my ears. She leaned in again, and this time I met her halfway, hand finding the soft skin of her cheek.
April’s tongue touched my lips and I opened my mouth, feeling it glide over my teeth til it caressed my own. I leaned into the kiss, twining tendrils of her hair into little knots balled up around my fingers. My heartbeat sped up; I could hear her heavy breathing which echoed my own. Her fingers came to trace the bottom of my sports bra and when she ran her hand down my stomach I broke the kiss with a moan. “April …” I whispered.
“Shh,” she said. “Touch me.”
And I did. God help me, I released her hair and found my hand, shaking, sliding down her shoulder, her upper arm, her forearm, to her hand that was trailing up and down my side. I moved closer to her, knees touching her thighs and I slowly caressed the top of her swollen belly and up the side of her breasts, which were so full and swollen from pregnancy I hesitated to touch them. April moaned into my mouth as I cupped one gently in my hand. I ran my thumb and index finger around her hard nipple, lightly at first and then a little harder as I gave it a tug. “Ohgodyes,” she moaned.
Still holding her with one hand, I slid down the side of her body and ran my tongue over her nipple. She smelled fresh, a mixture of Dove soap and powder-scented deodorant. I could feel my pussy clenching and getting wet every time her breath caught in her throat or when she squirmed or she moaned. I sucked her into my mouth, gently working my lips around her and relishing in the stark difference between the fullness of a woman and the hardness of a man. I switched to her other breast as my hands traced her body: the soft curves of her hips, the hard bump of her baby belly, right down to the not-so-neatly trimmed hair that covered her pussy. I can’t even fucking reach anymore, she had said in a relatively tame hormonal rage, and then justified it with, Who’s going to want me now anyway? April’s fiancé — ex-fiance — had decided that having a baby was too much for him. He ran off to some obscure town in California with an 18 year-old art student he met at the university’s library while ‘studying’ for his bar exam. Asshole.
When I traced her outer labia with my fingers, April froze. Her breath caught in her throat and her sea green eyes latched onto mine. We hung there in the moment, suspended in time like we were the only two people in the universe.
I dipped my finger into the folds of her pussy, rubbing right over her clit. April arched her back with a moan. There was no stopping after that. I was completely entranced by the wetness and the way my fingers glided over her clit and labia. Completely taken with the way her head had fallen back when she gasped. Hypnotized at the sight of her teeth gnawing at her bottom lip as she alternately sighed, squeaked, and moaned.
Leaning back down, I sucked one of her nipples into my mouth again and slid one finger into her pussy. She was so gloriously wet and swollen as I moved that one finger in and out of her. “Fuck, Jessica,” she breathed. I slid another finger in and April’s hips lifted off the mattress to meet my hand.
I had never felt another woman before. Yeah, I’d kissed a few after a round or two of beer pong at the frat house, but I’d never traced my fingers over the soft skin beneath the t-shirt or felt the beauty of a woman’s core melting all over my hands.
I twisted my fingers slightly as I moved them in and out of her. April’s eyes were a tell-tale sign that she was somewhere else, floating near the ceiling perhaps. I moved down between her legs, tracing my tongue down the linea negra that stretched from her belly button to her pussy. Sliding my fingers out of her, I began to rub her clit again, a little bit faster than before. April’s hands grabbed at the sheets. I continued to rub her clit and slid two fingers in her; it always felt so good to feel full.
“Jessica,” she moaned. I watched her swallow hard. “Jessica … taste me …”
I was already sliding down on my belly. Her legs fell over my shoulders making me feel more connected to her. Removing my fingers from her clit — April whined — I stuck them, one by one, into my mouth and sucked off her juices. April tasted good, dangerously so, and I leaned in for more.
I could feel her juices sliding over my chin, covering my cheeks on either side of my mouth. When I licked my lips I could taste her, rubbing my tongue over the hardened nub of her clit. April tasted sweet, like fresh rain water, and something so completely feminine that there are no words to describe it.
Her hips arched off of the bed again. I moved my fingers in and out of her, slowly at first, as I found a rhythm of rubbing my tongue softly over her clit. The inside of her felt amazing, like some combination of velvet and silk, and oh-so-very wet. Her juices had coated my hand, and I could feel them dripping down her pussy and covering her ass cheeks. It made me moan just thinking about it.
“Faster, Jess … please …”
I leaned into her, nose pressing against the top of her pussy, tongue lapping over her clit in rhythm with the joyous noises coming from her mouth. My fingers continued to fuck her, twisting and rubbing the inside of her pussy; I turned them up to massage my fingertips in a small circle around and over her g-spot. “Oh fuck,” she gasped. “Oh fuck I’m gonna’ cum.”
My toes curled. I started moving my head up and down a little, placing more pressure on her clit with my tongue. I managed to suck her into my mouth a few times before her bucking hips made it impossible. Tongue running over her clit, fingers fucking her deeper and faster, April pushed her hips up off of the bed one last time and froze. The breath that had caught in her throat burst forth in a scream and I felt the walls of her pussy tighten and then pulse as she came. I didn’t stop touching her — couldn’t stop touching her. April’s pussy clamped onto my fingers and held tight, her clit was hard in response to the softness of my tongue. I knew how it felt to need and want something to fill me when I came. Something to hold on to.
I slowly worked April down. Her pussy was still pulsing as I slowed my strokes and even more slowly pulled them out. My tongue had stopped moving. I lay still, feeling the weight of her knees on my shoulders and watching her body rise and fall with her breathing. I sucked the fingers that had been inside of her clean before carefully extricating myself from her legs.
April’s eyes were closed, her lips parted as she inhaled and exhaled. I crawled back up to lay at her side and she opened her eyes to look up at me. Her gaze was still clouded but I could see the years of love and friendship in her eyes. Gently, she placed her hand at the back of my head and drew me in for a slow, soft kiss.
I laid down on my back and April rolled to her side to rest her head on my chest. She curled her legs up so her knees were touching my thighs and the weight of her belly pressed into my side. I placed a kiss to her forehead and softly stroked my fingers through her hair.
She was always beautiful. Lovely didn’t cover it, gorgeous was too flamboyant. But beautiful described her perfectly.
This is the second “chapter” to a story that I feel may be ongoing. To read the original, please click here.
xoxo,
Scarlett
__________________________________________________________
I could see the heat wafting up from the blacktop in waves, skewing the sight of the gridlocked cars in front of me. I’d had to sweep my hair up off the back of my neck with a claw clip — I thought ahead for once and stuck one in my purse before leaving the house — and yet I still could feel the sweat forming on the skin there. I glanced back down toward the clock in my dash: 6:53.
Jake was expecting me at 7 PM sharp. He did not like to wait. I did not like to disappoint. The static of AM radio was broken by a bored male spokesperson talking about the latest construction being worked right before the merge to the bridge.
“Uuugghhh,” I growled, stomping my left foot on the floorboard. I wasn’t going to make it in time, I knew I wasn’t. I frowned, checking my reflection in the rear-view mirror. Not only was I going to be late, but my hair was frizzing up and I felt like the shower I’d taken an hour earlier was for nothing. “Damn air conditioning,” I muttered.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I was able to merge into the single-flowing lane and once I passed the obnoxious orange cones of the construction site I was flying across the bridge, not even bothering to catch the sight of the city bathed in twilight. I took the first exit and meandered my way through the back streets to Jake’s house. When I placed my car in park I took a deep breath and looked at the clock: 7:37.
“Fuck.”
Swallowing, I removed the claw clip from my hair, shaking it out as I stood up from my car. I grabbed my purse and started up the walkway to Jake’s front door. There I was met with an index card taped to the glass:
Good evening, beautiful. Come inside.
I pushed open the door, searching the living room as I shut it behind me. “Jake?” I called. The only sound I heard was muted piano sonatas floating through the air from up the stairs. “Jake?” I called again, stepping toward the landing. Another index card was taped to the banister.
I’m sure you’ve had a long day. Head to the kitchen and grab a glass of wine.
I couldn’t help but smile a bit as I took the index card from the polished wood. I raked a hand through my hair as I headed to the kitchen, body finally beginning to cool down from being stuck outside in the heat for what felt like hours. My stomach flipped and my heartbeat began to speed up in anticipation. Either Jake didn’t notice that I was late or he wasn’t as upset as I thought he would be.
Grabbing the handle of the fridge I pulled it open and bent to grab the bottle of white wine. It had an index card taped to it, too:
On second thought, perhaps you should lay down and relax first. Go to the bedroom.
I bit my lip, inhaling a deep breath and closed the refrigerator door. I wasn’t one for surprises, but Jake intrigued me. I had been anticipating the evening all day, wanting to see the way his eyes looked at me, with approval and affection. I craved to feel his hands work their way down my arms, my sides, his fingers sliding through my hair and tipping my chin up so that I could meet his mouth for a kiss.
Rounding the banister, I hopped up the steps. “Jake?” I called when I reached the top, starting for the bedroom. He wasn’t in there. Frowning, I saw another index card on the pillow, illuminated by the flickering candle light from votive holders lined up on his dresser. I reached for it —
“Don’t you make a sound,” came a low steel-covered whisper in my ear. Jake’s arm was wrapped firmly across my stomach and his large hand came to cover my mouth. He jerked me against him tighter. “You’re late,” he murmured, warm breath on my ear causing the hairs on my neck to prickle.
“I’m sorry, there was traffic and — ”
“I said,” he began, grabbing a quick fistful of my hair and pulling my head back so hard I gasped. It came to rest on his shoulder and I saw the barest glimpse of his stubble-laden cheek. “Don’t. Talk.” I swallowed hard and bit my lip. He was disappointed in me, I knew it. I wanted to apologize, I hated to disappoint him. But I didn’t want to upset him any further, either, by disobeying his orders.
His lips hovered above the curve of my neck, teasing, as though he were going to kiss me. I whimpered, craving his touch. “Shh,” he murmured in my ear. “Bend over.”
Jake let me go and I leaned to bend over the edge of the bed. My arms started shaking as I placed my hands down on the softness of the comforter. I turned my head to see what he was doing but before I could he poked my cheek with his finger. “Look straight ahead. Now.”
I nodded and turned my head back straight. I stared at the creamy eggshell color of the wall, trying to find a point of focus. After a minute, however, I didn’t need one. The soft silky texture of a Pashmina scarf graced my face, covering my eyes. I felt Jake tie it at the back of my head, pulling it firm and taut so that it wouldn’t fall off. Before I knew what else was happening he was undoing the button on my pants and sliding them and my panties to the floor. Jake’s hand, slightly calloused from work, trailed its way up my leg, stopping slightly to tease the sensitive spot behind my knee, before he brought it all the way up to my hip. His touch left me. My back tensed with an invisible need to be touched and an anticipation of not knowing what was going on behind me.
Jake’s palm landed a solid smack to my ass and I almost fell forward onto the bed. I cried out. “Jake!” I said. He spanked me again, palm hitting the same spot that was now tingling with heat.
“I said not to talk, Lylah.” I felt his fingers trace the mark that his hand had left. “Do you understand me?” I swallowed, nodding. I felt the sting of his hand on my other ass cheek. “Now,” he murmured, voice like a loving caress of silk over broken shards of glass, “do you know why I’m doing this to you?” THWACK! I bit my lip to keep from crying out. I could feel tears stinging my eyes. His palm connected with my ass again.
“You may speak, Lylah.”
“Because I was late,” I whispered, voice wavering. It wasn’t so much the pain — though that was certainly there: a stinging, tingling heat and the sharpness of each impact — it was the utter sadness at having disappointed him. “But there was traffic, sir, I couldn’t —” THWACK! That time I choked on a sob. “I’m sorry, sir,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
When I felt his hand trace lightly over my ass I jumped. Jake gently massaged where he had spanked me, the skin tender and warm. His hands traveled up my back to my shoulders, and he rubbed a little bit of the tension away from there, placing a kiss to the small of my back. The bed dipped down a bit as he crawled on top of it and soon he was cradling my head in his arms, kissing my temple.
“I know that you don’t like to disappoint me,” he said, voice low and soothing. “And you know that I don’t like to be kept waiting.”
Feeling his arms around me was an automatic release. I could feel a few tears slide down my cheeks from beneath the scarf. Jake wiped them away with his thumb and brought my face to his for a kiss. He kissed my lips so tenderly that it hurt. “But I know you’re a good girl, Lylah. You like to make me happy, don’t you?”
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. Holding my face in his hands, Jake brought his mouth to mine, but not in a kiss: “Don’t you?” he said, more of a command and less of a question.
“Yes,” I whispered against his lips.
“Good girl,” he said, kissing my forehead. “Next time we’ll have to plan better so that you get here on time.”
I nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Stand up,” he said. I pushed myself upright, moving to untie the scarf from the back of my head. “No,” Jake ordered. “I did not tell you to remove the blindfold. Undress the rest of the way.”
“Jake …” I said. I hated to be watched while I undressed. Jake, however, seemed to think it was one of the most intriguing things in the world.
“Do it, Lylah, or I’ll grab the brush next.”
Sighing, I nodded, sliding my arms through the sleeves of my blouse and tugging it over my head, careful to keep the scarf in place. I reached behind and unclasped my bra, sliding it down over my forearms and letting it drop to the floor. Jake ran his hands up my waist and over my stomach. “Such a beautiful girl,” he said. His mouth hovered over my nipple and he sucked it in sharply. I gasped.
Jake switched to my other nipple, sucking hard and scraping it with his teeth. I sucked in a sharp breath and bit my lip. I reached for his shoulders and dug my fingers into him as though that would transfer the pain.
He let my nipple go and I exhaled. “You are not allowed to touch me,” he said, voice very matter-of-fact.
“Jake —”
“You are also not allowed to talk.” He pulled me closer to him by my waist and kissed the top of my stomach. “The only things I want to hear from you are those pretty little noises you make. Like when I do this,” he trailed his hand down my stomach and used the tip of his finger to trace my labia. I let out a breathy moan. “And this,” Jake slid two fingers between my labia, gently rubbing my clit back and forth. Then he suddenly shoved those fingers into my wet pussy. I jumped, gasping. “Jake!” I cried.
He pinched my thigh. “No talking.” His fingers began to slowly move in and out of me. I could gear the slippery sound of my juices coating his hand. “Mm,” he murmured, “so wet. Good girl.” My pussy clenched and my head rolled back, mind savoring those words. Jake drew his fingers out of me and began to rub my clit again. I was biting my lip so hard I was sure I should be tasting blood. I whimpered, feeling the tightening of the muscles of my lower abdomen, anticipating release of the coiled tension of desire pooling in my sex.
“You like that, don’t you, Lylah?” Jake asked. I loved the way he spoke to me, voice low and soothing but with an undertone of complete wickedness. He knew what he was doing to me. I nodded, still biting my lip and whimpering again. Jake once again shoved two fingers into my pussy. I cried out and my hands, as though they had a mind of their own, found his shoulders again and squeezed. Jakes fingers left me.
He got up from the bed, pressing on the small of my back to get me to bend over. “I told you not to touch me.” I heard the brief clinking of metal and then the sound of fabric sliding against fabric — his belt. He was taking off his belt. I cursed myself inwardly.
I hung my head, my whole body tensing in anticipation, awaiting that first harsh, stinging lash of leather to skin. I whimpered quietly even though he hadn’t even touched me yet.
No such lash came. Jake grabbed one of my hands and pulled it behind my back. I felt the coolness of the leather being wrapped around my wrist. He grabbed my other hand and looped the belt around that one as well, pulling it tight enough to keep me from moving them. He slid the end through the buckle, pulling the slack taut before securing it in place.
“Now, don’t move.”
I became a statue.
I heard the zipper of his jeans and the quiet sound of them hitting the carpet. Jake moved around my body and sat on the bed in front of me. He gently grabbed a fistful of my hair and guided my head downward until I felt the head of his hard cock hit my lips. My tongue flickered out of my mouth, tasting the precum that was already beading out of his slit. I swirled my tongue around the head and heard him suck in a breath.
“Good girl,” he murmured.
I dove downward, moistening his shaft with my mouth. I loved the contrast of the soft, smooth skin and the hard tension of arousal. My head moved up and down, tongue caressing his cock as I gently sucked on him. “Mm,” he said, gathering my hair up with one hand — no doubt to watch the way he disappeared into my mouth. “God, that’s good, Lylah.” My lips tensed around his cock as I tried not to smile: I loved the way he said my name. It made me feel all the more his.
Jake’s fist started moving my head up and down faster and he pushed me down so that his cock hit the back of my throat. “Open up for me,” he said. It took me a moment but my throat finally relaxed and he slid into it with a groan. My chest squeezed, needing air, and Jake held me down for just a moment longer before pulling me back up by my hair. I gasped, taking a deep breath. My eyes watered beneath the scarf.
“Such a pretty little mouth,” Jake said. He pushed me back up so I could stand straight and I heard him moving on the bed. “Come here,” he said, reaching his hand out to grab my elbow, helping to guide me as I knelt onto the soft, downy mattress. “Move right here …” I knee-walked my way down to where he indicated and I felt the curve of his hip touching my thigh. “Good girl, now bring your leg over.” Jake helped me guide my leg over his stomach and as I hovered there he rubbed the tip of his cock over my slit. I moaned. He positioned the head at the entrance of my pussy. “Go ahead,” he said, “take me inside of you.”
His voice held an intimate tone that made my insides melt. I adjusted my knees and my feet so that I could lower myself down onto him. I did so with deliberate slowness. I took him about halfway in before I stopped and moved back up, and then did it again. Jake groaned. “Lylah …” I might not have been able to touch him with my hands or talk, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t tease him. Jake grasped my hips. I could feel his thumbs sliding over my ass as I moved up and down, finally dropping down hard on top of his cock and taking him completely inside of me. I let out a small cry that echoed is own.
My own need overcame my desire for payback and I set up a rhythm, shifting up and down, rolling my hips, feeling every inch of him stroke my pussy walls and bring me back up to being close to a tingling climax. Jake had me facing his feet, and he brought his hand to my ass in a THWACK! that brought more pleasure than pain. He grasped my wrists, still bound by his belt, and brought his hips up to meet me as I started to fuck him faster. The feeling of him thrusting inside of me nearly sent me over the edge.
“That’s it, Lylah,” he said, voice strained. He was practically growling, fucking me hard to feed his carnivorous need for release. “Good girl … ride my cock.”
The sound of my own ragged breathing filled my ears. His words were like counter strokes to the feeling of his cock filling my pussy. I forgot all about any orders not to speak. “Oh God, Jake … I’m gonna come. I need to come — please!” Jake tugged my wrists harder and I could feel the leather biting deliciously into my skin. Too lost in his own pleasure, there was no spanking or punishment.
“Jake … please …”
“Come for me, Lylah,” he said, voice strained. I bounced up and down few more times, I reveled in each stroke the head of his cock made against my G-spot. His touch trickled over my every nerve, his voice pooling into a hard knot of pleasure behind my clit. I finally couldn’t take it anymore. I came so hard I screamed. I could feel the ache of my pussy clench tighter and tighter until it just exploded and ripples of perfect pleasure flared up through my belly and down my thighs to my toes.
Jake thrust into me hard and he came with a groan. I felt thick, hot ropes of cum coating the inside of my pussy and I moaned at the sensation. We were still for a moment, both trying to catch our breath, both riding that incredible high of sweet release and intimacy. Jake moved first. He slid the end of his belt through the buckle and slowly unwound the leather from my wrists. He rubbed the marks where the belt had bit into my skin.
“Come here, baby,” he whispered, tapping the side of my ass to get me to slide off of him. Unsteady on my knees I landed on my ass next to him. Jake chuckled, shifting and reaching for the scarf. “Beautiful girl,” he said as he drew the material from my face. He leaned forward and placed his lips on mine, his kiss tender and sweet as I knew he could be.
touch:
a craving too deep-seated to joust —
lustful bearings of teeth to flesh.
fingertips to heart,
trails of whispers left upon my cheek,
don’t wake me from the dream of
your softly scented skin or
your voice filling my mind with
its warm caress.
feathery lightness down my chest
across my palm
til i feel you slide into place
and lock your touch with my own.
“Hot and Cold”
by Wynn Scarlett Frost
The taste of strawberries lingered on her tongue, a slightly tart taste with a smooth, sweet finish. Alex lay there on their bed, arms stretched over her head with her wrists restrained by thick leather cuffs that attached to their headboard. A thin and silk pashmina-like scarf covered her eyes, tied expertly at the back in a tight knot. She waited with silence for the next thing that Jacob would do.
Freezing cold droplets of water dripped slowly down her chest between her breasts. Alex gasped and let out a squeak. Jacob pressed the ice cube to her hot skin and trailed it around her nipples. The skin hardened almost painfully and the feeling of the ice was just beginning to burn before he took it away. The lingering cold left on her nipples was quickly replaced by the warm wetness of his mouth. Alex arced up to meet him, moaning as the contrast of heat and warmth sent a shooting sensation of butterflies straight down to her lower abdomen.
“Jacob, are you ever going to fuck me?” Alex asked.
Jacob didn’t respond verbally, though Alex could swear she heard him utter a soft chuckle. She had been told not to talk, and here she was, breaking the rules again.
Alex gasped and cried out as she felt the sharp sting of their mini-flogger smack across the nipple he had so lovingly kissed — and then the other one just for good measure. Another squeak escaped her lips and she arched her back as he lightly drew his fingertips up the inside of her thigh, leaving a tickling trail of tingles in their wake. Alex hated to be tickled.
The side of the bed sank, the sound of cloth rubbing against cloth, sharp and accentuated hearing telling her that he was coming closer.
“Don’t. Speak.” His voice was quiet, but there was a hardness to it — always a firm tone when he gave an initial order or, in this case, a stern reminder of what he had said.
Alex had opened her mouth to reply when his words echoed once more inside her head. Closing it, she simply nodded.
The feeling of cold returned as Jacob grabbed another cube of ice and trailed it, dripping down the smooth plane of her stomach. He traced her labia, circled her clit. Then, with a swiftness that even Alex hadn’t anticipated, he slipped the cube into the entrance of her pussy. She gasped and cried out at the frozen cold that numbed and burned.
He moved on the bed again, positioning himself between her thighs. Jacob’s hot tongue circled her hole which was dripping with both water and her own arousal. He placed a large, swirling kiss to her clit before dipping his tongue into her whole and sucking out the cube of ice.
Alex squeaked again, feeling her breathless heart pounding in her chest and the burning heat of the absence of cold between her legs.
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Written for Ruby Kiddell’s #wankwednesday. This week’s prompt was #squeak. I hope you enjoyed the ride this week! Please comment and review — and don’t forget to read and review the other submissions as well. You can find them all here. ;)
xoxo,
Scarlett
Andreo inhaled the strong scent of the coffee sitting on the table in front of him, resisting the urge to blow away the curls of steam that were rising from the black liquid in his cup. He didn’t want to take a moment away from the woman sitting in front of him. Elizabeth — or Elisabetta as he had taken to calling her — was an American exchange student, studying art at a local university in Rome. She was also doing an internship at the Galleria Borghese, which was the main reason he was sitting across from her at a table in Café Americano. The two were language partners — they met at least twice a week to practice one another’s language. Truthfully, Andreo spoke English perfectly well, but when he had seen Elizabeth hang the flyer looking for a partner on the bulletin board in the square outside of the university, he couldn’t stay away.
Elizabeth had fine strawberry blonde hair that ordinarily fell with a slight curl down to her shoulders. That day she had it pulled back into some sort of a twist, a few wavy whisps free to frame her soft, heart-shaped face. Her misty green eyes were accented with sooty, mascara-clad eyelashes and they looked at him through dark-red rimmed eyeglasses. Elizabeth was dressed rather conservatively in a black pencil skirt that hugged the soft curves of her hips. Her pearl necklace was draped elegantly over the defined lines of her clavicle. He tried not to look downwards where he had seen the barest outline of her breasts through the white blouse she was wearing. One thing that intrigued him about Elizabethwas that she was beautiful and sexy without needing to dress like a slut. He could also very much appreciate the fact that she seemed comfortable in her own skin — not one of those American girls obsessed with being a toothpick with little more than mosquito bites for breasts.
“Andreo.” He saw her mouth move. Plush, rose-colored lips formed his name. “Andreo?”
He snapped out of his reverie to find Elizabeth staring expectantly at him.
“Mi dispiace, carina,” he said. “My mind was somewhere else.”
“È vero,” she replied with a smile. Andreo had to commend her dedication to learning the Italian language, but she certainly had a bit of a way to go.
“I’m going to get some more tea,” she said, “would you like anything else?”
“In Italiano, carina,” he chided with a smile.
She made a face as though she were about to stick her tongue out at him. “In English, Andreo.”
“Touché.”
“Oh don’t start speaking French now!” He laughed and Elizabeth got up, grabbing her oversized mug and bringing it to the counter. She stopped at the bar on the way back to the table to add a little sugar and some milk.
“How is your internship going?” he asked as she sat back down.
Elizabeth shrugged. “È va bene, che penso.”
“Just ‘okay’?” he asked.
“Honestly, Andreo, it’s been a long day,” she paused for a sip of her tea. “I’m really not feeling like much more Italian today.”
“Va bene, Elisabetta,” he said. “Is everything okay?”
“I don’t think the dossier at the galleria likes me very much.”
He gave her an indulgent smile. “I can’t imagine anyone not liking you.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re my friend, you’re biased.”
Now was his chance, Andreo thought. “We can just relax, carina. Maybe take a break.” He paused, looking down at his untouched coffee. “How about you come to mia casa tonight and I will cook for you.”
“Yeah?” she said, the corners of her mouth lifting in a small smile.
“Si,” he replied.
“Va bene,”Elizabeth said. “Okay.” She sipped her tea again. “Should I bring anything?”
“Just your appetite.” He laughed. “Mia madre would be ashamed if I didn’t feed you well.”
“My hips thank you in advance,” she joked.
Before he could think, Andreo replied, “Your hips are fine the way they are.” Elizabeth blushed. Her cell phone began to vibrate on the table before her.
“Oh shoot, I almost forgot. I’m supposed to meet Vanessa — we’re going to attempt to study for our art history exam.”
Andreo hastily scribbled something down on a napkin. “Here — my address. A piu tardi, carina.”
“Bye, Andreo. Thank you.” She grabbed her bag and stood up, grabbing one last sip of her tea. She bent down to kiss him on the cheek. “See you later,” Elizabeth said before making her way out the door, the tinkling of its bell and the lingering feeling of her lips on his cheek left in her wake.
* * *
Elizabeth’s stomach was full of butterflies as she ascended the steps to Andreo’s flat. He lived in a more low-key part of Rome— a welcome break from the hustle and bustle of people and motor scooters that populated the city’s main squares. She could not keep her mind off of the way he had been looking at her this afternoon when they had met for coffee. It almost seemed as though he was devouring her with his eyes; Elizabeth could feel her knees getting weak at the thought.
Andreo was essentially the epitome of every woman’s European wet dream. He was, truthfully, tall, dark, and handsome. He had naturally tanned skin and deep, chocolate brown eyes. His dark hair was on the longer side, thick as it arced over the tips of his ears. Then there was his smile — Andreo had a magnificent smile. Honestly, Elizabeth felt she’d hit the jackpot when it came to her language partner. Her roommate, Vanessa, had not been so lucky; the person she’d been practicing with was a 50 year-old restaurant owner with no humor, just a desire to be able to effectively communicate with his lofty American grandchildren.
Taking a moment to smooth the front of her blouse — she’d changed into something a little more casual: a dark teal silk blouse, more form-fitting with a slightly lower-cut neckline; Elizabeth had kept the pencil skirt, black stockings, and stilettos — she knocked on the door. She took a deep breath and only then noticed the scent of garlic in the air. Elizabeth was a miserable cook. This might very well be the best meal she’d be able to eat in Rome without having to pay for it.
Elizabeth heard muted footsteps before the door opened to Andreo’s smile.
“Ciao, carina,” he said, taking a few steps back to allow her inside.
“Thank you,” she murmured, walking through the doorway to a large living room. The walls were a light café-au-lait brown with accents in the form of a dark brown leather sofa and chair, as well as picture frames depicting various paintings of the Italian countryside. Off to the left was a large, open kitchen, a breakfast bar separating it from the living room. Andreo had already made his way back into the kitchen, flicking the oven light on to check on whatever was inside.
“Nice place,” Elizabeth said with a smile. “And whatever that is smells amazing.”
“I’m glad you think so, carina.” He opened a dark cherrywood cabinet and grabbed two wine glasses, filling them about halfway. Andreo looked expectantly at her as he handed her the glass.
She offered him a sardonic smile. “Vino rosso, si?”
He grinned. “Si. Molto bene.” Elizabeth laughed softly, glancing toward the oven. “Mi dispiace, carina. It’s going to be a little while longer.”
She shrugged. “That’s all right.”
Andreo made his way around the breakfast bar and indicated the couch. “Sit with me?” he asked.
“Certo,” she replied, taking a seat at the edge of the leather sofa and taking a sip of the wine. “Sure.” Elizabeth tilted her head and she swallowed; wine had become an acquired taste for her. She was slowly learning to appreciate it. Andreo took a seat next to her — not too close, yet not too far away. She studied her glass for a moment, busying herself with placing it on the coffee table. The butterflies returned to her stomach. Elizabeth took a deep breath. Don’t blush, don’t blush, don’t blush, she thought.
It was easy to maintain a calm and nonchalant sort of composure when at a café — but this was Andreo’s home. It just felt so much more … intimate. She looked up. Her stomach flipped; he was looking at her as he had in the café, with a veiled sort of hunger. His chocolate brown eyes were smoldering — the term, though she thought it only existed in trashy romance novels, definitely seemed to fit.
Andreo reached over and tucked a whisp of strawberry blonde hair behind her ear. “You look beautiful tonight, carina,” he murmured. At that she did blush.
“Grazie.” It had taken her a moment to clear the cobwebs from her throat to speak the word. His fingers lingered there at her ear, tracing slowly down the curve and the lobe to stop right at the sensitive spot behind it, trailing in an arc down her neck ‘til it reached her clavicle. Andreo leaned forward and cupped her cheek, lips meeting hers softly at first. Elizabeth scooted forward on the couch, tilting her head slightly to deepen the kiss. Her stomach flipped upside down and a heat immediately traveled to her lower abdomen. Andreo moved his other hand to her waist, applying a gentle pressure to urge her closer. Elizabeth’s arms circled around him, hands working up the lean hardness of muscle that made up his arms. Her hand cupped the back of his head, fingers brushing through the thick, soft strands of his hair there.
At that touch Andreo leaned forward, catching her mouth with a more fierce hunger. His tongue traced her bottom lip and she opened her mouth to him. Their tongues glided against one another. Elizabeth could feel herself becoming breathless — she could not get close enough to this man. Andreo’s arm had encircled her waist to draw her closer, fingers eagerly digging into the flesh of her back. The hand that had been cupping her cheek slid downward and over her breast where he paused a moment to flick his thumb over her clothed nipple. Elizabeth inhaled a soft gasp and she felt him smile against her lips.
Andreo worked at the buttons of her shirt. Soon Elizabeth felt the warmth of his hands brushing the silk fabric slowly back over her skin, causing a shiver to wrack her body. She broke the kiss, head falling back to draw a shaky breath. He leaned forward to savor the curve of her neck, nipping slightly at the flesh. A moan escaped Elizabeth’s lips. Andreo pushed her back on the couch, working his mouth downward to kiss the tops of her breasts exposed by her black lace bra.
“So beautiful, carina,” he whispered over her skin, hot breath causing another ripple of pleasure down her abdomen. She knew she was wet, she felt the hot moisture of her desire pooling between her thighs. His hands cupped her breasts, squeezing them slightly and massaging his thumbs over her nipples until she could feel them pressing hard against the material of her bra. Elizabeth grabbed at the back of his shirt, drawing it slowly up. Andreo sat up on his knees and helped her draw it over his head. Her hands explored the soft skin of his chest and stomach, his body hot to the touch. He leaned down back over her, hand caressing up her stocking-clad leg until he reached the soft skin of her thigh beneath her skirt. She looked up to him, hovering above her.
“Kiss me, Andreo,” she murmured.
He devoured her. Elizabeth moaned into his mouth, hands trailing up his back, his arms, his sides. She could feel his hard cock pressing against her upper thigh through the material of his jeans. “Oh God, Andreo. I want you so badly, please — fuck me, please.” It was as though she couldn’t contain herself any longer. Her pussy ached, she could feel the wetness soaking her panties. She needed him. She needed him inside of her now or else she was going to explode, she was sure of it.
Elizabeth hadn’t noticed when he’d unzipped her skirt and had started sliding it down her thighs. He pushed himself up and pulled the skirt off completely, leaving her lying there, practically panting, in nothing more than her bra, panties, stockings, and stilettos. Andreo leaned down to kiss her, applying pressure to her back to get her to sit up. He stood up from the couch and took her with him, encouraging Elizabethto wrap her legs around his waist. Holding her tightly, kissing her hard, Andreo made his way down the hallway and pushed open a door. Before she knew it, Andreo laid her down on the soft comforter of a bed — his bed, she realized. The room smelled musky and dark, masculine and so much like him.
He tore off his jeans, leaving him in nothing more than a pair of black boxer-briefs. In less than a second he slid her panties off and threw her legs over his shoulders, lying down on his stomach and looking up at her as his mouth hovered above her pussy. Their eyes met, Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat. And then he dove downward.
Elizabeth inhaled a sharp gasp which was followed by a moan. Her body arched upward and her head fell back as she reveled in the feel of his lips delivering a searing kiss to her clit. Every ounce of anticipation and desire that had been building since they had first met made her thighs tremble and every caress of his tongue to her pussy felt magnified. Her hands dug into the surface of the bed, grasping fistfuls of the comforter’s fabric.
Andreo knew what he was doing. His tongue explored the gentle folds of her labia, slow at first, then with more eagerness, then slowly again. He would kiss her clit, gently sucking in the skin and running his tongue over the powerful cluster of nerves. Andreo’s hands caressed her thighs, his tongue dipped into her hole, massaging the spongy and sensitive flesh at the opening.
One of his hands disappeared from her thigh and shortly after she felt him insert two fingers into her pussy. “Oh God,” Elizabeth breathed. “Oh God, Andreo, don’t stop … please don’t stop …” She buried her fingers in the thick, silky strands of his hair. Elizabeth felt him working her toward the brink of orgasm. The tips of his fingers teasingly massaged her G-spot, his tongue running circles around her clit — she almost couldn’t stand it anymore. She felt the muscles of her pussy walls contract and with a cry she came, arching her body off of the bed. Andreo’s mouth and fingers worked her slowly down, providing a soft, pleasant sensation as Elizabeth gasped her way down from the high of orgasm. Slowly, he withdrew his fingers from her pussy, thoroughly licking them off as he slid up the bed to lie on his side next to her.
Andreo kissed her full force and she tasted herself on his lips. “Sei una donna belissima, carina,” he whispered into her ear, lips trailing down the side of her neck once more. “A beautiful woman.” Elizabeth was slowly resurfacing through the fog, reveling in his touch. She traced a hand up his thigh, finding the soft cotton of his boxer-briefs and the bulge of his erection. Her fingers lightly trailed up and down his cloth-covered cock. Andreo sucked in a breath.
“Slide these off,” Elizabeth murmured, tugging at the waistband. Andreo sat up on his knees to remove them and they fell with a soft whisper onto the carpet. Andreo stayed on his knees and Elizabeth rolled to her side to take him into her mouth. She set up a rhythm of stroking and sucking his cock that had Andreo moaning. He removed the claw clip holding Elizabeth’s hair and threw it on the floor, reaching back to grab a fistful of her strawberry blonde waves. He worked her head forward and back, setting up a rhythm between her head and his hips. Andreo moaned each time he hit the back of her throat. “Open up to me, carina,” he said, right before pushing her head down on his cock. Her throat resisted at first, but then he felt her relax. Andreo’s grip on Elizabeth’s hair tightened as he felt the head of his cock slide slightly into her throat. “Mmm, si, carina, si …” he breathed.
Andreo felt her throat tighten around him as she gagged. He pulled her head back reveling in the sound of her gasping for air. Elizabeth sucked him into her mouth again, attempting to match the thrusting of Andreo’s hips. He slid a hand down her stomach and into the folds of her pussy. He slid two fingers in, finding her G-spot and wiggling his fingertips against it. Elizabeth gasped at the feeling of his fingers massaging her sensitive flesh, and moaned as she felt his thumb rub over her clit.
“Oh God, Andreo,” Elizabeth breathed, breath hitching as he worked her once again closer to orgasm. “You’re gonna’ make me cum again … You’re gonna’ — I’m gonna’ —” Elizabeth gasped and threw her head back, feeling her orgasm work its way up from her toes to her pussy. “Fuck!” she cried. Andreo watched the glow of total ecstasy on her face, continuing to massage her G-spot and clit. He rubbed harder and faster, feeling her pussy still pulsating from her last orgasm. Elizabeth looked up at him through hazy eyes, lips parted as she reminded herself to breathe. Words escaped her at the moment, she was sure she ought to say something but nothing of substance would come to mind. “Oh God,” she breathed, “Andreo — ”
She screamed. Elizabeth dug her fingers into the comforter, needing to grab anything to keep her body from floating away. Another wave of intense pleasure absolutely crashed into her. Her skin was flushed, dampened by a thin layer of sweat, every inch of her body on fire from Andreo’s touch. Elizabeth felt his fingers slow down and Andreo slowly withdrew them from her pussy. This time he placed his fingers to her mouth and watched hungrily as she sucked her juices from them.
Andreo straddled her hips, sliding down the slender length of Elizabeth’s body, his hard cock throbbing as it rubbed against her plush skin. He brushed Elizabeth’s hair back, placing soft, barely-there kisses to her lips. “Such a good girl, carina,” he murmured. “Che buona ragazza.” She whimpered as he touched her, as she felt his cock slide over the wet folds of her pussy. She ached, absolutely ached, and wanted nothing more than for him to be inside of her.
“Andreo,” Elizabeth whispered, “Andreo, please …”
“Yes, carina?” he said, almost conversationally.
Her eyes flew to his. They hung there, suspended, for a moment before Elizabeth’s swollen lips murmured the words he had wanted to hear again.
“Fuck me.”
He was already positioning himself at the entrance to her pussy. Andreo could feel the wetness from three orgasms practically gushing out of her. He moaned as he slowly pushed the head in. Inch by inch his cock disappeared inside of her. Elizabeth gasped, digging her fingertips into his shoulders as she felt him stretching the walls of her pussy.
“Mmm,” he murmured. “So wet.” He drew himself out of her. “So tight.” He pushed himself back in. “So good.” Andreo nipped at Elizabeth’s earlobe, hot breath trailing down her neck as he kissed and sucked in a bit of flesh to run his teeth over. Elizabeth moaned and Andreo started moving in and out of her. Her hands roamed up and down his back, breath coming in short gasps between whimpers and moans. Every stroke set her on fire again, feeling like she was having a dozen mini-orgasms at once every time he brushed her G-spot. The tension of climax was building within her once more.
“Oh God, Andreo, please …”
Elizabeth’s body arched up into him. Andreo pushed himself up to his knees, resting his hands on her thighs and drawing them further apart. He watched himself disappearing into her pussy over and over again, enjoying the wet sound made with each thrust. Andreo drew circles around her clit with his thumb again. Elizabeth moaned, whimpering and muttering incoherently. He watched her face, head resting back, lips parted as she gasped for air, eyes closed as she lost herself with every stroke of his cock against her pussy walls. Elizabeth’s breathing picked up. Andreo could feel her body start to tense as it edge its way toward climax again.
“Harder, Andreo,” she cried. “Fuck me! Please!”
Andreo pounded her harder, rubbing her clit faster. He could feel his own body tensing, tightening, wanting nothing more than release.
“Give yourself to me, carina,” he whispered. With one more thrust Elizabeth screamed again. Her pussy contracted hard around him and after just a few more thrusts he pulled out, quickly stroking his cock to continue the feeling of her pussy rippling around him. Andreo moaned as he came, shooting cum up over her belly and her breasts. He rubbed himself slowly down from his high, exhaling lightly as he reveled in the glowing feeling of after-orgasm.
Andreo moved to lie next to Elizabeth, using a finger to catch a lingering drop of cum from the head of his cock. He put his finger to her lips and she gladly licked it off. Opening his arms for her, Elizabeth slid up to place her head on his shoulder. She sighed, eyes closing in the sweetest form of exhaustion.
Andreo kissed the top of her hair and then her forehead. Elizabeth tilted her head up to catch a kiss to her lips before resting it back down.
“Such a beautiful girl,” he whispered, “mia cara bella.”
