"Squeeze both of your nipples with your thumbs and pointer fingers."
She complies and moans a little in the process.
"That's it, baby."
I watch as her breathing becomes a bit shallow. Her eyes fighting to stay open as she gives herself over to me. I bend down on my knees behind her, as my hands continue to travel down her hips until they've landed on her thighs. Deliberately skimming her ass and just lightly brushing by her pussy.
"Legs apart."
She spreads her legs farther apart, but I can tell that it's killing her. She wants to squeeze them together to help dull the ache between them.
"Now let me tell you what's going to happen, Duchess."
Just the words make her shut her eyes again.
"Open. Those. Eyes."
She slowly opens them again.
"So this is what's going to happen. You're going to spread your legs apart a little bit farther apart for me."
I move my hand back and forth in between her thighs to give her some guidance as to how far apart I want them.
"Good girl. Now this is what's going to happen next. You're going to gently rub back and forth over your clit with your fingers. Can you do that for me?"
"Yes," she whimpers. It's the sexiest sound I've heard in a long time.
I allow her to do that for about a minute until I notice her hips are thrusting slightly to meet her strokes. She's going to come soon if I let this continue.
"Stop."
She does.
"Don't turn your head. Keep your eyes straight ahead on me in the mirror. I want you to look at yourself right now, Duchess. So fucking beautiful. Pussy so wet and so very damn greedy for me."
My words are sending her just a little closer to the edge.
"Do you know how beautiful you are, baby?"
She's silent. Her eyes pleading for me to shut up and just give her a much needed release. Just how I want her. Needy and only for me.
"That wasn't a rhetorical question, Elizabeth. I asked you if you know how beautiful you are?"
"I think so."
"You think so? Look again."
I catch her eyes as she stares at herself further in the mirror. She's focusing on her stomach and her hip area.
"This little pouch right here," I spread one of my palms completely across her stomach. "This pouch is going to grow all of my babies inside of it one day."
She tries to hide a small grin as she shakes her head silently no. A private joke between us. We've laughed several times over how she's scared shitless of kids, but how I plan for the two of us to have a whole damn football team or cheerleading squad.
"And these hips," I bend down again and run both of my hands along her pear shaped, hourglass figure. "Sweet Jesus. These hips. I kiss one side of her hips and then the other. There's not a man in this city that doesn't watch these hips sway from left to right when you walk by. Perfection."
She tries to hide another smile from me as I work my way up the side of her body. Kissing the curve of her waist. Raising her arm and kissing the side of her breast. Then continuing my way along the length of her arm and ending with a kiss on the inside of her wrist. Her eyes closed in rapture.
"What do you want right now?" I ask her softly.
"You inside of me."
"Well I want a whole lot of shit too, but I don't always get what I want and neither will you."
Her eyes pop open and immediately find mine in the mirror. Her irises are swarming with a mixture of question and need.
So insatiable.
"This is what's going to happen next, greedy girl. You're going to rub out your clit again, then I'm going to jam two of my fingers inside of you exactly at the moment that you need me to, and then you're going to scream my fucking name as loudly as you can. You got me?"
"Yes," she whimpers as if she's already exhausted by our exchange. I might just come in my own hand if I don't watch it.
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, Masterson."
"Do it."
It doesn't take long. Her clit is so sensitive that as soon as she starts touching herself again, her eyes roll in the back of her head. She's going to literally blow in like T minus ten seconds.
That's when I firmly slide two of my fingers inside of her pussy, bend them inside to reach her special spot, and use the other hand to smack her ass simultaneously.
"Fuck!" The moment she screams the curse word I almost come all over myself. She never uses that word. That's how good it is between us. It gets better every time.
"Who do you belong to?" I demand to know.
"Masterson." My name drifts from her lips with echoes of desperation and gratitude. "You."
She falls forward and braces her release by placing her palms flat on the mirror. This gives me easier access to her slit from the back, and I clean between her legs from front to back with several laps of my tongue. The taste is the sweet and salty flavor I've grown to crave, and it's all for me. It's all mine.
My thorough clean up job with my tongue brings my girl to an orgasm again, and now I'm so fucking horny that I sit back on my knees and heels and guide her down swiftly on my cock. I can get deep inside of her from this position, and I have to squeeze my eyes shut in blissful agony as she goes right to work and begins to slide up and down on my rigid length.
Riding me like a pro.
"Open your eyes," she orders as she watches our movements in the mirror.
Fuck if that doesn't turn me on even more. Her throwing back my command on me. Me quickly losing control and me stiffly thrusting up inside of her with a frenzied purpose.
"Aren't we beautiful?" she pants and then throws her head back to lean on me as she continues to slide home to her third orgasm of the night.
"Yes, Duchess."
So fucking pretty.
And then I come harder than I ever have in my entire life.
9
Elizabeth
Ethan Anderson
To: Elizabeth Hill
Re: Hey
* * *
Call me: 215-555-8532
We need to meet about something.
* * *
-Ethan
10
Elizabeth
I love the Philadelphia skyline at sunset. It's an awesome sight to behold if you're perched in the right location. I love to observe the tranquil swirls of pink, purple and blue all intertwining with each other as the end of another day approaches. Especially against the backdrop of oak and maple trees that are over one hundred years old as well as buildings, which are even older than that.
Unfortunately Roman likes to watch this beautiful sight when he goes for a run, and he's brought me along today. He keeps assuring me that he loves my voluptuous hips, thighs and butt, but I feel like he's purposely making me run off every calorie I consume any chance he gets. Whether we're running, walking Mr. Tibbs, or having amazing sex, I feel like I'm always breaking a sweat whenever he's involved.
The exercise has been good for me though. It's been helping me think; because the email I received from Ethan the other day has been weighing heavily on my mind. I'm not sure what to do about it, so I've erred on the side of caution and have done absolutely nothing. Not until I'm sure what the best course of action is.
Roman, Mr. Tibbs, and I have finished our run and have collectively made it back to the Rover where I have a picnic dinner packed for us in the trunk. His idea, because he's the best boyfriend, not to mention that I'm always talking about picnics. I brought along a cold pesto pasta salad and wine for us, and a pack of half-frozen, raw chicken gizzards for Mr. Tibbs.
Roman drives us a little farther down the path of the drive where there's a nice area for us to spread a blanket. We have our pick of locations, because there's no one here due to the fact that it's the middle of October. Even though it's a record breaking warm day, no one has a picnic in October in Philly ... except for us.
I feel a little rushed to eat, because the sun sets pretty fast at this tim
e of year, and I don't want to have to munch on my penne in the dark. We were actually supposed to be back here before the sun set so that we could set up the picnic, but I had to stop too many times to catch my breath during the run. Running is definitely not my exercise of choice, but Roman swears by it, so I promised him I'd try. I can't even lie, once it's over, it feels really good, and I'm glad that I did it. It's just the entire time during the run that sucks.
"You did good today, baby. Your time was better than the last."
I don't believe a word he's saying.
"If you say so."
"I swear that if you give it thirty days that you'll love it. It will help you write better code. The whole mind, body connection thing is real, Duchess."
"Thank you, Dr. Masterson," I say facetiously.
He playfully swats me on my butt, and after we finish our last few bites of pasta, Roman lies down on his back and I lie next to him with my head on his bare chest. I find it utterly amazing and rude as hell how women walking by us on the trail are gawking specifically at Roman, as if I'm not laying all over him. Like I'm invisible.
I try not to think about it much, but I've never been with a guy that garners this much attention from women. I mean Ethan could pull in the sorority girls for sure, but Roman is on a whole other level. Women of all ages, all ethnicities, all sizes take notice of him.
There are a million reasons why. He towers over most women. He has beautiful ink across his back. He looks formidable, and delicious, and sexy, and when he walks into a room he owns it. It's a good thing I'm confident about our relationship, or else I'd be one of those crazy stalker girlfriends who checks everything from email to Instagram everyday. Although now that I'm thinking about all the women who drool all over him, I can't help but start a conversation most women eventually have with their men. Today it's our turn to have it.
"When did you first have sex?"
"Oh so we're having that conversation," he says as the low vibration of his words tickles my eardrums.
"Yep."
He chuckles.
"I was thirteen."
"Wow." I lift my head to look at him in slight shock.
"Put your head back down and keep me warm. I don't have on a shirt, remember."
"Put one on then."
"I don't need a shirt when I have you. Now lay back down while I tell you my story."
I lay my head back down on his powerful chest and wrap one of my arms around his middle. I could stay like this all day. Listening to the steady beat of his heart makes me feel so connected and so safe.
"Mmm, that's better," he says while playing in my hair. "Okay, so you have to understand, I was a mature thirteen-year-old. I'd been practically taking care of myself for years."
"Were you scared to have sex for the first time?"
"Shit yeah, but only because I was afraid of getting caught by her daddy."
"What do you mean?"
"I was on a business run with Joseph. Puberty had given me a shot in my ass overnight, and I had grown practically three feet over a weekend. He decided it was time I start learning the family business, mostly because I looked the part. Not necessarily because I was ready.
"Sometimes he'd go by someone's house for a game of cards and drinks to loosen some tongues, get some information, and it was my job to entertain whoever else was in the house and keep them out of the way. At my age, that meant help in the kitchen or play with the other kids that were already there. But at this one house in particular, where Joseph played poker every blue moon, the owner of the house had a seventeen-year-old daughter who was hot in the pants. She'd been fucking for years, according to her anyway, and she felt the need to pass her vast wealth of knowledge onto me. Needless to say, my thirteen year old horny ass was deeply grateful." He grins.
I smack his chest.
"She was gross," I say. "It was practically statutory rape her sleeping with you."
"She was just a kid too."
"Give me a break. She knew better."
I know I shouldn't ask the question, but I do.
"How many women do you think you've had sex with?"
"Too many to count, Duchess. I lived a wild life for a long time, but just know that I never understood what sex could be like with someone you love until I met you. I've had good sex, and I've had great sex, but sex with you is fucking amazing. Every single time, all the time, and that's because you are made for me. We fit perfectly."
I hate how he's been with so many other women, although I know that I'm not being fair, because on the other hand I love that he knows exactly how to give me what I need. And that only comes with experience right?
"Why are you so quiet?" he asks.
I hesitate to give a response.
"You can tell me anything, Elizabeth, you know that right? There's nothing you can say that will seem stupid to me."
"Well ... sometimes I wish you hadn't been with so many women. I can't help but compare myself to them."
"There is no comparison."
I'm still quiet.
"I wish you never laid down with your ex," he says matter of factly. Filling the silence. "I should have been the first, because I'm sure as shit going to be the last."
"That barely counts. I just laid there and then minutes later I was knocked out cold by a drug dealer. Trust me. I don't consider that my first sexual experience at all."
His body tenses a bit from me mentioning that day. He hates talking about it, because he wasn't there to stop it. To save me. Of course we didn't know each other then, but that's just Roman. Always wanting to protect me in the past as well as in the present.
My guardian.
My champion.
Talking about all of this, and listening to him say how we fit each other so perfectly, is starting to wear on my conscious. I'm keeping something from him, and I'm finding ways to justify why I'm doing it to myself. I don't want him to overreact. I don't want him to put me on lock down. I don't want him to get hurt. The email probably means nothing. He who will not be named is no longer a factor in my life. So why bring it up.
I grab Roman's jaw roughly with my hand and pull him in for a kiss. I'm not usually this aggressive, and I can see a fire quickly build in his eyes by this uncharacteristic action on my part.
"I love you, Masterson," I say, but the words are dripping in guilt.
"You better," he growls.
His hand reaches around me and he pulls half of the blanket over us so that no one can see as his hand snakes under my sweatshirt and wraps around one of my breasts. My eyes immediately close from the exquisite pressure of his fingers rolling my nipple through the cup of my bra.
"Look at me," he orders. "You're under the blanket, baby. No one can see you. So I want you to slide your hand inside your panties, and let's do a quick check."
I know what that means. I've done Roman's checks plenty of times before. I do as I'm told as he continues to roll and pinch my nipples with varied pressure. I pull out my fingers and slide them into his mouth.
"Mmm," he says. "Tastes just like heaven. You've passed your inspection, Miss Hill. I think you're ready for a test drive. Let's get you home and fuck you properly."
I'm aching for him now.
My core dripping.
My breathing heavy.
Roman's a big tease, but then again he always delivers on everything he says. I just have to wait a little longer for it than I would like.
"Yes, sir," I respond. "Let's go home, so you can fuck me properly."
He raises his eyebrow at my use of the F word in mock appreciation.
"Good girl." He grins from ear to ear. "You're definitely learning. Come on, Mr. Tibbs. Let's take our girl home. There's something I need to shove inside of her dirty mouth as soon as we get there."
11
Elizabeth
I've taken refuge behind a tall, cinder block pillar at the Penn-Washington train station in an effort to avoid the high winds picking up outside. The meteorologist predicted
an incoming storm when I checked the weather during the morning news, but I ignored her warnings. It was more important for me to wear this outfit. Blush tank top, black jeggings, over the knee black suede boots, and my favorite cinched waist, blush colored, jacket.
This certainly is not the most sensible fall outfit for a cold, blustery day like today, and I definitely don't have on the warmest coat I own, but I'd definitely rank the entire outfit high on the that outfit looks damn good on you scale. And right now, that's all that's important as I eagerly wait for the four thirty train to take me from my hometown, back to my place in downtown Philly.
I'm cold, but I look damn cute. So cute that I'm not even bothered that my train is running twenty minutes late. So cute that I don't even care that there is a homeless man, periodically talking to himself, to me, and also to a third person who definitely isn't visible to the human eye.
After two weeks of torture (I mean visiting) my parents, I'm finally going back home to my amazing apartment, my life in the city, and most of all to my boyfriend Roman. I missed him terribly.
My visit home was only supposed to last one week, but due to circumstances beyond my control, it turned out to be a little over two weeks, and let's just say that Roman was not very happy about it. Luckily for the both of us, I have a thick skin, and I let a lot of his acidic comments slide right off of my back. Let's face it, if I were the super sensitive type, we'd have broken up a long time ago.
I decided after the uncomfortable phone call between my father and I the last time I was at Java, that I would make my parents happy by paying them a visit. Especially since I decided that I wasn't going to be able to make it back during the holidays. If Roman wasn't invited for Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner, then neither was I.
While Roman wasn't exactly jumping for joy about my last minute visit home, he wasn't mad either. He knows that I am my parents' only child, and that I want to make things right between us, even if they're acting like stubborn jackasses right now. So even though we both knew that we were going to miss each other like crazy (this is the first time we've been apart since becoming a couple), he made sure that it wasn't half as bad as it could have been by making sure that we shared a few racy, video phone chats.
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