by Michelle Amy
When we pulled apart his fingers gently lifted the straps of my bra from my shoulders. I watched his eyes as he let the bra fall down my arms. It landed across his thigh of the leg that still rested between mine. His eyes never left my breasts. He cupped them in both hands and ran his thumbs lightly over my nipples. It was tantalizing. I shivered and he lowered his hands down. Down to the waist of my jeans. He was pushing me. He was asking for more. I was incapable of telling him to slow down.
I let him shimmy my jeans down my thighs. He had to move his leg and my bra fell to the floor between us. Soon I stood before him in nothing but my pink lace thong. He soaked in the sight of me, his eyes following the length of my legs and covering my stomach and breasts. Soon his eyes stared into mine and I stared back. I was helpless against him.
“I didn’t expect this,” he whispered. His voice was low and it made my knees feel like pudding.
“Expect what?”
The corner of his mouth curled up. This time it was a genuine smile that compelled me to smile back at him. He rubbed the back of his neck and I realized he was being bashful. It surprised me. Then I found that I loved it.
“Expect what?” I asked again, my voice coloured with my own smile.
He shrugged his shoulders in a boyish way and gestured at me. “You. Look at you.”He came to me again and traced his fingertips all over me. He started at my shoulders and wandered down my chest where he played with my breasts again, before tracing down my stomach and finding the straps of my thong on my hips. He hooked his thumbs in them and held me against him. I was forced to look up at him. “You have no idea how beautiful you are,” he said. Then he kissed me again. It was firm and it was rough and I was forced to hold on to him to balance myself.
He liked the control I gave him. I was going to be true to my word: he could do whatever he wanted. He spun me around so that my back was facing the stairs. Then he wrapped one arm behind my back and lowered me down with impressive ease. He placed me on the fifth step up. He put one knee on the third step. I sat looking down at him as he pulled my underwear down my legs. He left them hooked around one of my ankles as he began to kiss the inside of my thigh.
He worked his way upwards, taking his time. I was amazed by his restraint as he passed between my legs and rained kisses on the other thigh. I watched him all the while. I couldn’t look away from him. Every move he made only made me want him more. Every kiss, every nibble, every glance he cast my way, made me feel like I was going to melt into a puddle of sheer pleasure on the stairs.
Finally he settled between my legs and his tongue began to taste me. This was all new territory for me. Jason had never done this- had he tried, I probably would have stopped him. I didn’t trust him. Yet, somehow, I was comfortable with letting McCoy do what he wanted. He worked with a confident ease as his tongue licked me slowly, up and down, up and down, until I couldn’t stand it anymore and my head fell back and my eyes closed and a breathless moan escaped my lips. This only encouraged him to work harder. He slipped a finger in me and his tongue never stopped it’s now particularly exquisite routine.
I came within seconds.
I remained where I was, breathlessly staring up at my ceiling on the second story above, as he crawled on top of me, bracing himself with his hands on either side of the stair my head rested upon. He lowered himself down so that he was practically in a mid push up above me. He kissed me. I had never thought I would let a man kiss me after he… you know. But I kissed him back and found that I was even more turned on. I needed him. I wouldn’t be able to wait much longer. So I told him.
“How long are you going to do this to me for? I can’t… I can’t-”
“Yes you can,” he purred.
I closed my eyes and tried to catch my breath beneath him. The night hadn’t even started and my body felt like jello. He knew what he was doing to me. The smirk on his perfect lips told me he loved how he was making me feel.
I propped myself up on my elbows. He stayed where he was, his face just an inch away from mine. I stretched myself up and kissed his neck. Two could play this game. At least, I could try to play this game. I kissed the part of his collarbone that peaked through the open buttons of his shirt. I slipped my hands up his shirt and he pulled it off over his head and cast it down to the floor below us.
His body was tanned and firm. His arms were thick and the veins and muscles were prominent as he held himself above me. He was lean and I was delighted to see the cut of his hips, which created a perfect arrow that disappeared below the waist of his jeans. A trail of dark hair lead from above his belt and up, around his belly button, and up further to his chest. I ran my hand over his chest, feeling the taut muscle beneath my palm.
I played with his belt buckle. He made my task harder by gliding his fingers down my stomach. When he touched me I was shocked by how sensitive I was. He liked it and teased me as I desperately worked to undo his belt. When it finally came undone I was breathless again. I moved on to undo his jeans, struggling with shaking fingers. When I succeeded he pulled my hands away and pinned me down on the stairs.
“What do you want me to do next?” He asked.
I didn’t care. Anything. Everything.
He raised his chin as I went to kiss him again. “Answer me,” he said. I knew this wasn’t a game. I needed to answer.
“I want you to relax,” I said, “and let me take care of you.”
I tried to kiss him again but he denied me. He held me in place with a calm stare that I couldn’t read. I didn’t know if I had said something wrong. I hooked a leg around his and tried to urge him to come closer. “Please?” I asked. “Just a little bit. Then I’m yours. Whatever you want- need. You can have it. Please?”
He released his grip on me but his eyes told me not to move. His jeans came off. It all came off. He lowered himself back down over me and I could feel the tip of him resting between my legs.
“Stop,” I said, putting a hand on his chest.
He looked concerned when he lifted off of me. “Are you alright?”
I nodded. “Yes, but, you can’t do that. I want to return the favor but I won’t- I can’t-” I couldn’t find the right words to tell him that if he rested his manhood on me like that I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from raising my hips to his and begging him to put it inside me. I tried to shimmy out from under him.
“Veronica,” his hand rested on my stomach as if to hold me in place, but he was gentle. “Are you afraid of me?”
“No.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
I searched his eyes. They were dark and they were staring at me so intently. I couldn’t look away. I thought of Carly. She didn’t trust him. She thought he was bad news. But I saw the part of him that was sad. I saw the part that was aching for my touch the same way I ached for him. “I’m sure,” I answered.
His mouth closed over mine. His hand cupped the back of my neck and his tongue explored the inside of my mouth. The remnants of his beer were still there, and he tasted like smoke and mint. His other hand slid under my back and forced me to arch it so that my hips were off the ground.
Then he pressed himself into me. He was slow. He was gentle. It still took my breath away. I moaned into our kiss and I felt him let go of a tension he had held in his muscles. He moved within me in such a way that I wanted to drag my nails down his back. I wanted to bite his lip. I wanted to whisper his name.
So I did.
A sound escaped him. It was soft and primal and echoed the sheer pleasure we were both feeling. I pulled him as close to me as I could get. His chest pressed against my breasts as he pushed himself deeper into me.
As he began to work up to a faster rhythm I began to lose myself. I was nothing but the sex. I had no name, no job, no goals, no insecurities, no reservations. I was just sex. It took over me and compelled me to move my hips in unison with his. I could feel the release building within me. I grew closer and
closer to letting it go as he pushed for more.
When it broke free of me I was no longer able to hold my hips up. He did it for me, holding me to him with one arm beneath my back. The other hand held my hip. His grip was firm and he squeezed the soft flesh of my hip and my ass. My eyes were fixed on him as he moved above me, his hips grinding in an effortless wave of fluid motion. I could see the moment for him was coming.
I knew he wasn’t the kind of guy who would pull out. I had no expectations of him to do it. I knew how this would end, and I was grateful that I never stopped taking my birth control after Jason and I broke up. I encouraged McCoy by drawing him closer by wrapping my legs around his hips. I knew that I could bring him to the edge just by saying the right things to him. I wanted to know what that kind of power would feel like.
So I lifted myself up so that my mouth was beside his ear. I kissed it and nibbled his neck. He kissed me back. He was breathless and as we kissed he moaned lightly into my mouth. When he pulled away I held his stare. I wrapped my fingers around his wrists and held myself steady beneath him. “Cum inside me,” I whispered. He shuddered above me. I became wetter. He felt it. I tightened my grip on his wrists. “Fuck me as hard as you can and cum inside me. Please.”
I could barely feel the stairs digging into my shoulder blades as he lifted my hips higher. He was able to push himself deeper into me this way. He slowed for only a moment, easing his way further into me. As his rhythm fastened he watched me. I wanted to watch him, but the pleasure was too much. My eyes closed and my back arched further. His hand that gripped my hip released me and glided over my stomach. He pressed his finger down on my clit as he moved in me and I let out a cry of ecstasy. This, apparently, was what he was after, because as soon as the sound escaped me I felt the warmth and wetness of him inside me as he finished.
CHAPTER FIVE
I had been shocked and delighted to find that McCoy’s desire couldn’t be quenched by a passionate session on my stairs. He needed more. So he ended up bringing me up to my bedroom, where he proceeded to have his way with me three more times.
By the time he finished the fourth round, I had to beg him to stop. He looked over at me with that charming devilish grin and ran a hand up my thigh. I was lying on my side facing him with one arm under my pillow. I was sure that my mascara was all over my face. All my lipstick was most definitely gone. I probably looked like a mess. But he smiled at me anyways.
“Can’t handle it?” He asked as he propped his head up with one hand, his elbow disappearing in the pillow.
“No,” I said, “I can’t.” I was so tired. My body ached for rest. It was nearly three in the morning. I had been up for over twenty one hours. The buzz I had from the wine had long since left me, and the many orgasms he had bestowed upon me were making my brain feel like soup. As well as my legs. “I’m sorry.” I fought valiantly as my eyes dipped closed for longer than a reasonable blink.
“Don’t be sorry.” He rested his head back down on his pillow. Half of his face vanished within it. He reached out and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. Then he seemed to realize what he was doing and withdrew his hand, letting it rest on his hip.
“I’m so tired. But, I don’t want you to go.”
“You think I’m the kind of guy to love and leave?”
“Aren’t you?”
The one eye that stared at me looked away and up at the ceiling. He rolled on to his back. I watched his chest rise and fall and he refused to answer me. His eyes finally closed. I stayed where I was, fearful of moving and disturbing him. I wanted him to stay. I wanted him to sleep with me in my bed. I wanted to wake with him beside me. I knew that the chances of him staying the night were slim to none. It would be no surprise to roll over in the morning and find myself alone. He wouldn’t leave a note. He wouldn’t be downstairs making coffee. He would simply be gone.
As I watched him sleep I told myself that I would be okay with that. I could take it for what it was: a wild night with a man who showed me what it felt like to feel real, raw pleasure. It took everything I had to resist cuddling up beside him. I wanted to tuck myself against his side and rest my cheek on his chest so I could listen to his heartbeat. I could listen to every slow and steady breath he took. I didn’t have much time left with him, I was sure of that.
The other thing I was sure of was that McCoy McCoy had ruined all other men for me in my future.
When I woke my bedroom was illuminated with full daylight. I glanced up at my alarm clock and rolled my eyes at my own laziness when I saw that it was nearly ten in the morning. I stretched and felt the tightness in my body. I could feel bruises on my back and there was an ache between my legs that I had never felt before. I felt a strange tickle of pride as I chose to look at them as war wounds.
I was afraid to roll over. I knew what I would be turning to find: nothing. I took a deep breath and finally rolled myself over, pulling my blankets up to my chin as I did so.
He was still there.
I fell perfectly still as I stared at him. In the daylight, and in sleep, he seemed a completely different man. He was still lying on his back. His face was calm and almost serene- all the broody scowling was gone and left him looking somewhat angelic. There was no permanent frown in his forehead. His mouth wasn’t firm, his jaw was relaxed. It was a sight to behold.
The blankets were half way up his stomach, leaving the top of his abs and all of his chest exposed. The arm furthest from me hung slightly off the edge of the bed. His other arm was bent so that one hand rested on his chest, which was rising and falling in a slow steady rhythm. He was exquisite. I fought the impulse to pinch myself to check if I was dreaming. It seemed so unlikely to have a god of a man like him sleeping in my bed.
I watched him rest for as long as my bladder would allow. Eventually I had to slowly roll off the bed and pad around it. I didn’t use my ensuite. Instead I closed my bedroom door behind me and used the bathroom out in the hall. I plucked the robe that hung from the back of the door off its hook and tied it around my waist. Then I went to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee.
As I poured my cup there was a knock on the front door. I padded out of the kitchen and down the hall. When I opened the door Carly’s big eyes were staring at me.
“I called you a hundred fucking times last night,” she barked. She planted her hands on her hips and scowled at me.
“I’m sorry, I never even checked my phone. It must have been on silent.”
She brushed by me into the house and made for the kitchen. She poured herself the rest of the coffee that I had intended to pour into a cup for McCoy. She added milk and a copious amount of sugar before turning back to me. “Okay. For future reference, let’s make sure to let each other know that we are safe if we split up like that. For all I know Mr. Badboy could have wheeled you out of there and done terrible things to you. I was worried, Veronica. Seriously.”
I felt guilty. It was one of my least favorite feelings- especially when Carly was involved. “Car, I really am sorry. I didn’t want to make you worry. I would never do that to you on purpose.
The night kind of just got away from me.”
“Oh? And what do you mean by that?” Her eyebrow inched upwards and she gave me a playful smile that told me she had forgiven me, and now she was curious.
“Well,” I started, unsure what to tell her and what to keep to myself, “I ran into Jason shortly after you left.”
“Oh, fuck.”
I nodded knowingly. “Yep. I was sitting with him- with McCoy, and Jason and his new girlfriend showed up and sat down with us. We didn’t ask them to, he just pulled up a chair and sat down.”
“Such a jackass,” Carly muttered, missing my displeasure with what ensued the previous night.
“It gets worse. He started asking me questions and interrupting me, like he always used to do. Then… then, he asked if you and I still hang out.”
“He always hated my guts,” Carly acknowledged, sipping her coffee thoughtf
ully.
“When I told him we did, because we are best friends, he went off. Started saying senseless things. Was kind of mean. Then…” I paused for dramatic effect and leaned on the counter. “Then, McCoy told him off. It was amazing.”
“McCoy did what?”
Damn it. “It was a rough night.” I slowly continued with the story in hopes she would let it slide. “And before I knew it, Jason tried to go after him. Nearly punched me trying to get at him. And McCoy laid him out on the patio in front of everybody. In seconds. It was crazy.”
Carly looked impressed. “Okay, he gets brownie points for that. I mean, it’s also probably just his violent nature coming out. Or some Tarzan chest thumping macho bullshit. But, whatever, he hit Jason. And that is awesome.”
“He’s actually a lot different than you might think.”
Carly looked up at me over the rim of her coffee cup. Then she put it down on the counter and sighed. “So you slept with him?”
“No,” I lied. But the word came out of me too quickly and she saw right through it.
“Oh yes you did.” She pointed a finger at me. “Look at you! Your hair is a bird nest; you’re still wearing your makeup from last night. Oh man, he did a number on you.”
I groaned and leaned against my counter, burying my face in one hand. “Okay. Yes. I slept with him. But, he’s… my God Carly. I don’t even know where to start.”
“The beginning is usually the best spot.”
I didn’t look up at her through my fingers that still concealed my face. I wasn’t willing to go into details. Not yet. Everything was too fresh, and still didn’t feel totally real in my mind. I had to give her something though. She would pry until she had some tid bit or another to cling to. “After he knocked Jason on his ass, he took me out of the bar. Correction,” I said, holding up one finger. “He lifted me over the railing and placed me on the sidewalk, and then we left.”