by E A Price
“You do?” she asked in surprise. The wine almost came out of her nose.
He chuckled roughly “Yeah, tell me about yourself.”
She held her chin high. “Actually, I’m an actress.”
His face lit up and for a moment she thought he was going to laugh at her, but he didn’t, he beamed. “Yeah? That’s incredible. I’ll bet you’re amazing.”
To her surprise, she found herself blushing and it was on the tip of her tongue to argue with him on that point. But her flamingo shook her head disapprovingly, and Francine held back. If anyone else had told her she was amazing, she’d be the first to agree. But with Stone, she felt humble, mostly because he actually seemed like he meant it.
“I’m mostly on the stage, but I’ve had a few bit parts as corpses in CSU, and I have a long-running background character in that comedy I Married a Werewolf. I had a couple of lines in season two.”
“That’s awesome!”
She waited to see if he was kidding, but all she saw was enthusiastic sincerity. So she agreed that it was awesome. She told him about some of the stage roles she’d done over the years, and he seemed fascinated.
He was a preener; there was no mistaking that. But it was somehow different for him. He was saying ‘hey, look at my muscles’. Then the muscles were saying, ‘look at how big and strong we are’. That was as far as it went. He didn’t want to bore her with his workout routine. He didn’t want to inundate her about how much he could bench press, how fast he could run, yada, yada… He wanted her to take notice of his impressive muscles – noticed and then some - and then he actually wanted to talk to her.
No, he didn’t want only to talk about himself. And whenever she told him anything, he didn’t automatically find a way to turn the conversation back to him. Everyone knew that type of person. If you said you broke your leg, then they would tell you theirs was falling off.
Some more drinks came, and Francine found herself becoming very merry. She had also somehow managed to find herself pressed right up against Stone, and his arm had made its way around her shoulders. Their faces were inches from one another’s.
“Recently I was in a musical stage show of Beauty and the Beast.”
“Yeah,” he smiled and tugged on her hair. “You play Beauty?”
“No,” she murmured as her insides were melting. “Mrs. Potts, the teapot.”
“I’ll bet you were incredible. I wish I’d seen it.”
“I was pretty good,” she giggled. “But I doubt you would have found me sexy in my teapot costume.”
“Feathers, I’d have to be dead before I didn’t find you sexy.”
Her flamingo whimpered as he cupped her cheeks and pressed his lips against hers. She clutched at his shirt as he took her in a surprisingly tender yet passionate kiss. She moaned at the taste of him. She expected to taste his beer, but no, he tasted absolutely delicious. He tasted of fresh strawberries, so sweet, so luscious. She and her bird shuddered. She could never get enough of that taste. She wanted more, no, she needed more. She needed him more than she needed to breathe.
Stone pulled back from the heady kiss, panting and his eyes searching her face, almost in confusion. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Yes,” she breathed. Before she did something that had them arrested for indecent exposure. “God, yes.”
Chapter Fourteen
Stone pressed her against the hallway of his apartment. His rhino was pacing furiously. Lord, he couldn’t wait another minute. Every second without feeling this glorious woman’s body against his was pure torture.
Francine panted as he kissed his way down her body, indiscriminately kissing her over her clothes. He got to her feet and pulled off her shoes before roughly dragging her jeans and panties off.
He cupped her mound, and she groaned as one of his thick fingers slid inside her heat. He grinned. Yes, she was more than ready for him. Her arousal had been mounting since, well, since the moment she first saw him gawking at her at the gym. Now, she felt like she might explode from pent up desire if he didn’t do something about it quickly.
He stood up and kissed her as his fingers, first one, then two and then three, swirled inside her. She mewled into his mouth as he brushed against her sweet spot over and over. He feathered kisses over her cheek and neck. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed into her skin. “Need to be inside you.”
“Yes, yes, please,” she murmured as her fingers scrabbled at his pants.
The next few moments were a mixture of kisses, groans, giggles and grasping fingers as they tried to undress while never losing contact. Finally naked, his eyes glittered to the darkness of his beast as he cupped her breasts. “Fucking gorgeous, feathers,” he crooned.
Her flamingo trembled with anticipation. “Not so bad yourself, big guy,” she cooed as she felt her eyes filter to yellow. Her hands roamed over the expanse of hard, taut flesh of his chest. Shallow maybe, but why on earth did she think that a body like this didn’t matter?
Reluctantly his hands left their sensual massage of her ample orbs, and he gripped her thighs. He pushed her up the wall. He considered moving this to the bedroom, but no he couldn’t wait. His rhino couldn’t wait. He wanted her now, this very second. He wanted her warm, soft body wrapped around his, and he wanted her crying out in the pleasure he wrought.
He aligned himself with her honey-drenched entrance. He almost roared to find her so wet for him. It gave him and his beast a sense of satisfaction and pride. She wanted him almost as much as he wanted her. Almost.
Francine tightened her thighs around his waist, and her arms clung to his granite-like shoulders. She wiggled her hips against him, eliciting a lusty groan. “Hurry,” she whispered before nipping his neck.
Stone rumbled and pushed inside her. She cooed as his thick, hard length filled her inexorably full. She panted and squirmed as she was pleasurably impaled. “So big…” she whimpered.
He groaned, and Francine rested her head against the wall and relaxed, delighting in the feel of Stone thrusting in and out of her. He filled her over and over, rubbing every sensitive spot. Yes, this is what she needed. She could feel her arousal simmering, threatening to boil over any moment.
She almost cursed out loud as Stone growled and sped up his movements. His hands gripped her hips, and he buried his face in her neck, kissing and laving at her skin.
“Oh, feathers,” he panted.
Francine felt her usual instincts kick in and ignored the protestations of her bird. She started writhing in his arms and taking short, hurried breaths. “Oh, honey, yeah. Oh, that feels good. Yeah, baby, hurry up, I’m coming…”
She stilled as she realized Stone had stopped moving. He pulled back from her and braced one hand on either side of her head; she remained pinned to the wall by his hips and impaled on his throbbing manhood.
Stone cocked his head. “What are you doing?”
“What do you mean?” she asked, bewildered. “Why did you stop?”
Francine patted his shoulders and tried to wiggle her hips. To her chagrin, he started to chuckle.
She felt her cheeks blazing in embarrassment. “What are you laughing at?”
“You! What was all that panting and ‘oh, yeah, baby, give it to me,’ about.”
“I don’t think I told you to give it to me,” she muttered in irritation. “And do we really have to have this conversation now? You’re almost there.”
All the mirth on Stone’s face disappeared. Was she humoring him by letting him have sex with her? Oh, his ego or his beast didn’t like that at all… “Am I keeping you from something?”
“No, I just, you know, I thought you wanted…”
Stone grunted and eased himself out of her, settling her down on wobbly legs. The sexual tension had cooled and now there was a tangible awkwardness, and not just because Stone’s sex, in spite of the interruption, was bobbing vivaciously.
Francine had a flashback to the first guy who ever saw her naked. Oh, I never thought yo
ur thighs would be so fat. She chewed on her lip as a feeling of vulnerability assailed her.
“Don’t you want me?” she whispered.
Stone scrubbed a hand over his face. This was not how he envisioned his night. By this point, he usually had a woman screaming and begging for more. “Fuck, feathers, you’ve no idea how much I want you, but what was that all about? You’re not that good of an actress.”
She felt her doubts flutter away to be replaced with indignant annoyance. She was a damn fine actress! No one else came close to topping her rendition of Audrey II in the Little Shop of Horrors. She played the plant, and it was damn hard work making the puppet move and doing the voice.
“Look, it’s not a big deal. Okay, it takes a lot for me to, you know, come.” She shrugged as her cheeks turned bright red – bright enough to be seen in the dark. “I enjoy sex, it’s nice, but I rarely get there through regular, umm, coitus.” Usually, she just faked it. It wasn’t a big deal, but it avoided the recriminatory conversation afterwards where she was told in no uncertain terms that there was clearly something wrong with her.
“First of all, don’t talk dirty like that because it turns me on and I’m already fit to blow.”
Francine couldn’t help the snicker of laughter that escaped. “You find the word coitus a turn on?”
“Just about anything that comes out of your mouth is a turn on.” His eyes glittered as lewd images passed before him.
“Hmmm, coitus.” She rolled the word over her tongue, and he gave her a frustrated look.
“Second of all, are you telling me that you always fake your orgasms?”
“Well, not always.” Just mostly, and always in recent years. “It’s not a big deal.” She was an actress; this is what she did. It really wasn’t a big deal. It just did take a lot for her to get there, and she rarely had a partner who wanted to spend the time and energy taking her there.
He viewed her with a curious expression, as a botanist might a new and unusual breed of plant. “So what do you do to get yourself off?”
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation,” she complained, fearing where this was going. Look at Francine, the amazing freak! Men don’t give her orgasms! Her flamingo huffed at her flippancy, but really!
“Haven’t you had it before? Surely the guys you dated before you met me…”
“No, most men are just happy with the fake orgasms,” she said, accusingly. At least the selfish douches she dated were. Wait a moment, were they now dating?
“I’m not normal,” he said, proudly.
“You said it. Fine, usually after sex I finish myself off with my fingers or a vibrator. Or sometimes my showerhead.”
He nodded deadly serious. “What about oral or anal? Do either of those work?”
This was so surreal. “Oral yes - sometimes, anal no.”
“How about your clit? Does rubbing that help? What about your breasts? Do you like having them massaged?”
“Are you kidding?” She’d never had such a frank conversation about sex, and he wasn’t making fun of her! He was actually interested in what got her motor running!
He tapped his foot, waiting for her answer. She felt like an errant school child.
Francine sighed in exasperation. “Fine, yes, I like both those things. But I’ve rarely been with a guy who really had the patience to get me there before he came. So I just, you know, encourage them.”
“C’mon.”
“W…what? Where?” Her stomach clenched as her flamingo held her breath. He wasn’t kicking her out, was he?
“Feathers, I am determined to give you as much pleasure as you are going to give me. I don’t want you faking anything; if I’m not getting the job done, I want to know.”
Francine sighed. “You’re making too big of a deal out of this.”
“I wasn’t kidding, feathers. I want you to have a good time; I don’t want you to pretend. If you’re not happy I want to know, so that I can try harder. If you’re not drowning in pleasure, then I want to know so that I can… can…
“Throw me overboard?” she supplied, dryly.
“Try harder.”
“I don’t think you can get much harder,” she muttered as he grabbed her hand and pulled her along.
Screw it! She thought. If he wants to exhaust himself giving her pleasure, why on earth was she standing in his way? Hell, she was just going to go with the flow.
They fell rather than climbed onto the bed. He pressed her down into the mattress. His big hands ran along her body, hungrily exploring every inch, igniting nerve endings and sending a sizzling heated path of pleasure wherever he touched.
She pushed herself against him, but he wouldn’t be hurried. He simply smiled and continued his determined yet gentle ministrations. His fingertips and lips traced her thighs, her hips, and over the slight swell of her belly before cupping, kneading and suckling her breasts one at a time. She mewled and bit her lip; electric shock waves shot straight to her sex. Between his kisses, he murmured at her beauty, stammering words, not poetic, honeyed words, but base words about how sexy and gorgeous she was. Fuck poetry, who needed it when you had a god of a man to make love to you?
Francine let out a choked gasp as he licked her drenched sex. She clutched at the covers as he suckled her clit into his mouth. His fingers dug into his thighs as he sent heavenly sensations running through her body. He didn’t rush; he wasn’t impatient, and he seemed to be testing her, teasing her in different ways to see which one made her coo the most. If she was silent, he tried something else, if she squeaked in delight, he grinned and did it again. He seemed to be trying to learn her body. Although this involved a lot of joy on her part, it also involved a lot of frustration. She would actually find herself coiling and reaching for release, she would move her hips against him, murmuring the word please over and over and then… he would stop. He would chuckle every time she called him a bastard. Through his slow and testing movements, he had her teetering on the edge repeatedly, but each time he stopped before she reached it. Francine wondered for a moment if this was some kind of way to exert power over her, getting her close over and over – in a way few men had been able to. But it didn’t feel that way. And her flamingo sensed no danger. The frisky bird was wallowing in the feelings he elicited.
Stone thrust his tongue in and out of her opening and pressed his thumb against her clit. She moaned, throatily. Her body started tensing, her toes curled, and she jerked against him. She waited for the inevitable moment when he would draw away, but it never came. He stroked in and out of her sex and began almost roughly pinching her nub.
This wasn’t about him. It was about her. He wanted to make her feel good, and the more he delayed her climax, the better it would be. The heat inside her spiraled until she thought she was going to explode, until finally, a violent orgasm raced through her, making every inch of her shudder and her back arch off the bed. She and her animal gasped in unbelievable ecstasy. She didn’t scream or cry out; she gasped. The greatest orgasm she had ever received, and she gasped? It felt inadequate somehow. There should have been fireworks – well, there were, but they were all inside her.
She lay back and accepted Stone with open arms as he crawled over her body. He nudged between her thighs and slowly pushed inside her. She wrapped her arms around him as he rocked in and out of her. She couldn’t get close enough to him. She hooked her ankles around his back and started kissing his cheek, his mouth, his neck – kissing everything she could reach.
They made love, slowly and surprisingly tenderly. She never thought it could be so satisfying or intimate. As he quickened his motions, she felt bliss spreading through her body and an expected second release hit her, washing over her like a tidal wave. Again, she didn’t scream or cry out, but when her release hit she gasped in delighted surprise. Shudders of pleasure crashed through every inch of her. Her toes curled, her fingers clawed at him, and her inner muscles practically strangled his manhood. Moments later, Stone roared in satisf
action and found his own release.
She ran a hand down his cheek, with her last ounce of strength and smiled beatifically. She pressed her forehead against his. “That was wonderful,” she murmured. Words did not do it justice she thought, and her bird agreed with every feather.
She looked at him through hooded eyes to see him pouting, slightly. “What’s wrong? Was that not good for you?” It wasn’t a needy, worried question – she felt far too serene for any of that nonsense.
“Damn, feathers, it was unbelievable, but I, uhh, kind of thought you’d scream.”
“Seriously, I only scream when I’m faking it, what you got was the real deal.”
“Yeah, you kind of squeaked.”
“Oh?”
“Like a squeaky kind of gasp.”
“Oh.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Fucking adorable.”
Dazed and almost half-drunk, Francine was vaguely aware that he retreated from her and arranged her on the bed so that she was cuddling with her back against his chest. One meaty arm curled round her body and proprietorially cupped her breasts.
He kissed her shoulders. She could feel his prideful grin beating down on her, hotter than the sun. But, he didn’t say a word about what happened. He didn’t say ‘I told you so’, or boast like he had just done something marvelous. Well, in her opinion he had but the reast of the world probably wouldn’t agree. All he said was, “Good night, feathers.”
Her flamingo sighed as she drifted away. “Mmm, night.”
Chapter Fifteen
Francine smiled before she woke up. She was sure she had been grinning inanely in her sleep. Her flamingo sighed and didn’t even bother to hold back her smugness.
There was a dull ache between her legs, and if she had been of a dirty mind, she would have wondered whether she was going to walk bowlegged for the next few days. But she wasn’t, so she didn’t.
The previous night had been fabulous. She knew she had only intended it as a one-night deal, but she wondered if Stone would go for a repeat. Hell, she could go for a repeat right that second. She wondered what it would be like to date him. Her flamingo was practically bouncing up and down, thrilled at the idea. She wondered whether the fact that she was planning on trying to get out of her gym contract would be a deal breaker. Oh, plus the whole attempted murder thing – yes, that was important, too.