Margo's Night (Interracial Erotica)

by Williams, Violet

  "Nice to meet you." He leaned onto the iron rail. "You come here alone?"

  She snorted. "It would appear that way, huh?" She blew out a plume of smoke, watching the wisps dance in the night breeze. "I came with a couple of friends, but per usual, as soon as a guy showed interest, it's every woman for herself." She shook her head, the remnants of fear still simmering in her gut. "Really, I just wanna get out of here."

  "I can flag down your friends-"

  "No," Margo said quickly. She'd never hear the end of it. "I'll just chill out here."

  He gave her a curious look. "If you really want a change of scenery, I live a couple of blocks over."

  Margo paused. She'd taken a risk with the last guy and that didn't end up so well. But there was something about Scott. She didn't know if it was the way his eyes glittered, bright as stars or the way he talked to her--actually talking and not checking her out. She could just stand outside the bar, moping while her friends had a good time, wondering why she couldn't land a cute, sane guy, or she could go home with the one that was standing right in front of her. After all, she had pepper spray, just in case things went south, but when she cast another look at him, she knew hurting her was the last thing on his mind.

  She stubbed out her cigarette and gave him a smile. "I'm down."

  ***

  Margo tried to focus on the situation at hand as Scott fumbled with his keys, but she couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed as she thought about how her friends completely dissed her. She’d texted Liz to tell her that she was gonna head home a little early, and she’d only received a one word text in response: “K”.

  But as she pushed into Scott’s flat, her friends faded into the background. His walls were a crimson rose, colored with pulp posters. She padded toward the first, hanging just behind a chocolate suede couch. It was a blow up of Sam Jackson and John Travolta, a freeze frame of the titular scene where they pumped some poor schmuck full of bullets, but it was painted in neon pastels, giving it a Warhol feel. She did a semi-circle, taking in the fifties noir detective pin ups and vintage ads that lined the other three walls.

  Margo smiled at Scott, his cool points racking up. “These prints are awesome!”

  Scott’s cheeks turned as he gave her a sheepish look. “I’m a graphic designer from nine to five.” He sunk onto the couch. “I don’t get to express my pulp fetish there, so I kind of-” He cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed. “It’s probably a bit much.”

  Margo shook her head, dropping onto the cushion beside him. “You should see my place. My love of Tarantino is probably unhealthy. And don’t get me started on hard boiled fiction—Jim Thompson, Gordon Young. Oh and pinups,” Margo added, talking a mile a minute. “And just the other day I found this etsy shop that does pulp noir light switch covers. My roommates would lose their shit if I put them up all over the place, but you best believe my bedroom and bathroom switch are getting a makeover.”

  She cleared her throat, taking a breath. Jesus, she thought to herself. She probably looked like a freak, fangirling all over him.

  But she couldn’t help it. It was so refreshing to finally meet someone that could appreciate the campy, glorious pull of pulp art and fiction. She’d always had to stick it out alone at the multiplex. Romantic comedies and Michael Bay-esque productions left a bad taste in her mouth.

  Still, she gave him a peevish look. “Sorry.”

  He leaned toward her, his fingertips grazing her thigh. “Don’t apologize.” The sides of his mouth tugged upward. “Beautiful and you have good taste in books and movies? I really hit the jackpot.”

  Margo rubbed her thighs, taking care to cover the area where he touched her. She wanted to dull the excitement, the sensation that gripped her from his touch. She didn’t want to believe him, didn’t want to believe it was true. The last time she’d trusted a guy that told her she was beautiful, he’d ripped her heart from her chest.

  He reached out, steeling her hands before raising his own and gently turning her head in his direction. Without another word, he drew her lips to his.

  For a moment, the world stood still. Margo fell into the velvet of his kiss. She drank him in, her heart beating so fast she thought it would pound right out of her chest. He tasted like peppermint and sex: virile, strong, and passionate. But when his hands trailed up to her cheek and his fingertips ran through her ebony locks as he pulled her closer, Margo froze, turning to stone. What was she doing?

  As she opened her mouth to explain her pause, she half expected his handsome features to fall with disappointment. Instead, he backed up, giving her space. When she looked into his aquamarine eyes, she saw only concern. That confused her more than anything. Why wasn’t he pissed? She came back to his place after all. Why wasn’t he making snide comments about mixed signals?

  He finally spoke. “If we’re moving too fast, we could just watch a movie.” He ran a hand through his shaggy hair. “Or talk. Or none of the above. I could even take you home.”

  She couldn’t help but bristle a little at the last bit. “You want to take me home?”

  “God no.”

  She smiled at his quick reply. Something told her that he was just as nervous, but hopeful too. She bit her lip, trying to mull over what she needed to say before they went any further. She didn’t know if he saw this as a one-time thing. As bad as she wanted, yearned for him, she didn’t want another tick on her bedpost—she wanted the beginning of something more.

  She leaned in and kissed him, planting a soft, lingering peck on his lips. She wanted to tattoo his taste deep inside, just in case it was the last one. Just in case he was too good to be true.

  “I’m not just looking for…” She let her voice trail off, hoping he could fill in the blanks.

  He gave her a confused look. “Looking for-?”

  She wiggled her brow. “You know.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not following.”

  She let out a groan. He couldn’t be that thick. But then again, he seemed to be perfect in every other way—handsome, didn’t live with his mom, had a good job, and they had loads of thing in common. Maybe this was the catch.

  But when she saw his pale eyes sparkled with mischief and he was clearly struggling to maintain his composure, she pinched his arm. “Not funny!”

  He winked. “It’s a little funny.”

  She rolled her eyes to the ceiling but chuckled, the snickers snowballing into full out laughter. Once she wiped her eyes and turned her attention back to him, she went right back to being dumbfounded. He was just staring at her. Caressing her with his gaze. “What?”

  “When I saw you at the bar,” he began. “I knew you were special. I knew I had to talk to you.”

  Margo sat up taller, listening intently.

  “I saw you smile at that-” he paused, his eyes flashing his animosity toward the douche guy she’d danced with. The guy who’d attacked her. His protective stance endeared him to her even more.

  “But that smile,” he continued after a moment. He made a sound in the back of his throat. It was the kind of sound one made when thinking about something magical; eyes closed, savoring it. “I knew if I could make you smile like that, I’d be a happy man.”

  Margo swallowed his words. The guys she’d been with generally only broached the romantic territory on anniversaries or when they were in the dog house. But Scott made her feel beautiful. Needed. Desired. Just because. Just because she was Margo.

  He slid closer and her center moistened, waiting with bated breath for what he’d say next.

  “Now, I could quote some Tarantino. Or Shakespeare if that’s more your scene,” he said, his eyes scanning her own. “I could strip you down and give you a fuck like you’ve never had before—one that’ll keep you up at night, your body wet and yearning for me. A romp that leaves you blowing up my phone, my inbox, only getting radio silence because I got what I wanted.” He took his pointer finger and traced her jawline, barely touching yet still making her body quiver. “A
nd I want to fuck you, Margo. Bad. But I want to wake up beside you in the morning even more. I want to make you Eggos and find out everything there is to know about you.”

  Margo was still stuck on him wanting to screw her. Still trying to digest the possibility of his firm body and hers crashing into one another. When she regained the ability to speak, she decided to give him a hard time. She had to joke, keep it light so she didn’t do something ridiculous like ask him where he’d been all her life. “One doesn’t really make Eggos.”

  He smirked. “Well, we’ll go to IHOP and I’ll hold your hand and hold the door. And while we eat, I’ll trace my fingers up and down your thigh-” Margo gulped back a moan as he reached forward and showed her what he had in mind. As his fingers drifted closer to her crotch, dancing beneath the soft fabric of her tunic, she found herself wanting him to keep going, to see how wet his words were making her. But he pulled away, almost delighting in the fact that she was definitely breathing heavy and squirming for him.

  “And just before we order,” he blazed on. “I’ll lean over and whisper all the things I want to do to you. It would stay in the front of your mind, minute by painful minute passing far too slowly before I make good on my promises.” He licked his lips and leaned in, planting a soft kiss on the nape of her neck before trailing back up to her ear, his breath a tickle of ecstasy. “And if we make it back to my place because, hell, with a body like yours, waiting may be impossible.” He let out a deep chuckle that made Margo press her knees together, fighting to keep the urge to throw down right now at bay. “I may have to have you in the car. And then when we get home, take you again.”

  He pulled back a few inches, his mouth hovering devastatingly close. “That is, if you want to. ‘Cuz I promise you Margo, there’s no way I could have you, be with you, and walk away. I want more. I need more.”

  Margo’s mouth hung open, the tension so tight that even the smallest motion would set them both on fire. She gulped. “Y-you talk a big game.”

  “And I can back it up,” he said smoothly. “If you’ll have me.”

  If she’d have him? Was he serious? With his golden skin, firm body, and sexy confidence, he was the kind of guy that girls dreamed they’d go home with. She wanted him, in the worst way.

  She took a hand, stretching out her fingers. She traced the contours of his lips. Her journey continued to his perfect jawline, the kind seen in glossy magazine. She ended by running her fingers through his shaggy blonde hair.

  “You’re gonna get me in trouble,” she whispered hoarsely, already deciding. A resounding yes. Yes, yes, yes.

  His eyes gleamed. “The good kind.”

  She brought her lips slamming back to his, inhaling the desire that radiated off of him. He kissed her back ferociously, as hot for her as she was for him.

  They only separated long enough for him to pull off his button down shirt and unbuckle his pants, followed by her shirt. She leaned back onto the plush sofa, chest heaving up and down as she lifted her hips and his thick fingers pulled down her leggings. She expected him to discard her panties and get to the nitty gritty, but instead, he slid between her thighs, leaving them on.

  He created a roadmap of kisses along the inside of her thigh, each one closer to Margo’s capital of pleasure. Finally, he reached the crotch of her panties and let out a moan that reverberated over Margo’s body.

  “Can I taste you?” he whispered.

  Hot and he asked for permission. Margo couldn’t believe her luck. “Yes…god yes.”

  She sighed as he slid her panties down and off one of her legs. She was naked and exposed, spread out before him. Instinctively, she reached for the lamp on the side table.

  “Don’t,” he said gently.

  She frowned. “But the light-” What about her rolls? Her imperfections?

  He rose, his muscles flexing as he reached for her hand, still out, hovering like a scarecrow, near the pull string for the light.

  He slowly eased her hand down. “A body so beautiful shouldn’t be hidden in the dark.”

  She still felt pangs of self-consciousness as he lowered back down, inching toward the root of her. But once she closed her eyes and felt his tongue trailing up and down her slit, nerves were replaced by ecstasy. His tongue was warm and alive, darting in and out, suckling her juices like honey.

  Everything blurred except his mouth and Margo faded into his motions, becoming the in-charge, sexual being she hid inside. She was usually dead silent during sex, letting the guy have free reign. She found herself coaching him, directing him to go faster, slower, harder, softer, caressing his hair as he ate her out.

  She was so close to climax and he hadn’t even broached the nucleus of her. He knew just how to work her into a frenzy until she found herself spreading her lips, vocalizing her needs.

  “Taste me,” she begged, surprising herself. “Suck my clit.”

  He dove deeper, moaning now as his tongue made long lashes inside her pink. His tongue rolled up and down, circling her knob of desire, flicking it back and forth. Her bundle of nerves was swollen. Hard as a rock.

  Her moans took on a higher octave as he went to the heart of her, swirling round and round like a hurricane before he took her clit between his lips and sucked. He used varying degrees of pressure—slow, teasing squeezes with more aggressive pumps that left Margo gasping, wanting him to stop and keep going at the same time.

  Just as her fingers dug into his hair, tugging his locks, and she felt the tingle of her coming orgasm, he upped the ante. Still licking her clit, he added a finger, pushing inside her, pumping in and out as he built a rhythm that hypnotized her.

  She’d never felt every motion, lived for every heartbeat of delight like this. He wasn’t just doing this to do it—he liked eating her out. He loved giving her pleasure.

  “More,” she groaned, bucking upward. “More!”

  He answered the call, lapping at her pleasure knot, exploring her inner walls as his fingers moved inside her core. When she exploded with a howl of release, he didn’t stop—his pumps became slow rocks, the spasms of her climax suckling his digit. His tongue didn’t eject, instead, drinking up the liquid desire that seeped from her gates. He’d turned her out, leaving her completely spent.

  “I-” Her words became a squeal of surprise as he rose to his feet. He leaned down, his muscled arms wrapping around her bare waist.

  Her eyes went wide. There was no way he was lifting her. But before she could protest, he’d picked her up as easy as 1, 2, fuck.

  She kissed his neck with glee as she locked her ankles behind his back. He carried her toward his darkened bedroom, holding her close. He eased her onto the bed, standing at the foot as he gazed at her, devouring her with those blue eyes.

  His body was naked and glorious, like some gladiator, Spartan, Hercules. A man from her dreams.

  As she slid back onto the covers, she let out a moan of anticipation as he followed her. If his tongue felt so divine, she couldn’t even wrap her mind around what his cock would feel like inside her.

  She let out a haggard breath as she drew up her legs and he moved between them. He teased her for a moment, drinking up her moans as the tip of him probed her entrance, never fully diving in. Once he finally plunged his length inside, she knew it was worth the wait. Her muscles strained around his girth, stretching to fit his bulge as he paved a way. He rocked into her slowly at first, taking his time, taking in the sounds she made, using them to power him on as he built up speed.

  She looked up at him and he down at her. The glow from the living room lit up his handsome face. She saw every contour, every inflection, every line, every moment—it was all there, written in the euphoric gloss as he moved inside her. She moaned as he winced, picking up the speed. She knew he was close. She wanted him to come. She wanted him to experience the absolution he’d given her.

  When he found his release, she dug her nails into his back, delighting in the way his muscles tightened as his strokes waned. And when he sa
id her name, calling it out over and over, like a pledge, his allegiance to her, it was just the push she needed to careen toward her second climax. She clutched him to her, her body squeezing every last ounce of him.

  He collapsed beside her with a roar of pleasure and a string of obscenities that included a resounding, “God damn!”

  Margo laughed. God damn was right. The echoes of their lovemaking made her thighs tremble, only compounded when he turned on his side and began tracing his fingers up and down the curve of her buxom hips.

  She pulled herself up without another word, pressing him back into the mattress before straddling him. She’d only been on top a handful of times; always too busy worrying about how she looked to really enjoy it. But with Scott smiling up at her, clearly getting off on her aggressiveness, her confidence, she felt more in tune than she’d been with any lover before.

  It was Margo’s night…and it was far from over.

  ###

  About the Author

  Violet Williams is an erotica writer living in Greater Sacramento, saving the world via erotic tales…one e-reader at a time.

  Connect with her online: http://violetwilliamserotica.wordpress.com

  Available Works by Violet Williams for the Kindle

  Taboo Erotica

  Backdoor With Daddy

  Be Mine, Daddy

  Daddy and Me (A Taboo Collection)

  Daddy Does ‘Em Both

  Demonic Possession

  Pastor’s Lil’ Slut

  Rub-a-dub With Daddy

  Sugar and Spice

  Snapped (Erotic Nightmares)

  Un-Silent Night

  A Taboo Tale Trilogy

  A Forbidden Tryst (A Taboo Tale, #1)

  A Family Affair (A Taboo Tale, #2)

  A Family Fornication (A Taboo Tale, #3)

  Brother Sister Sex Series

  My Stepsister Loves Anal

  Stepbrother’s Slut

  Lesbian Themed Erotica

  First Taste (The Beautiful Blood Saga, #1)

  Katie and Juliet