by Amber Burns
“Ryker! Please, just do it,” she begs.
Fuck me, is the silent command, and God knows I’d love to hear her say it, to force her to unbutton her little counsellor persona until she’s cussing her way to sexual nirvana. But I don’t push my luck.
She wails when I find and rub the elusive bundle of nerves before her perineum, the famous – infamous? – G-spot.
I’m sweating and trembling almost as much as she is. Weakly separating my hands from her nether lips, I clean my fingers of her tangy juices and slip in close behind her, gathering her to my chest.
Astra has another plan. She swivels around, turning in my embrace and now facing each other she grabs my cock. I tense, closing my eyes and riding out the sensation of her thumb rousing my member.
Her other hand is sliding up and down my shaft, going as far as massaging my balls before the full rub down, rinse and repeat.
“Oh, fuck,” I groan, grasping onto her waist for support at her two-handed lovin’. “Oh, babe, you’re so fucking amazing.”
“Stop swearing.” Her warning is delivering all husky, having the opposite effect. I cuss even more when my balls throb with imminent release.
Her hands are pumping faster now, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the peaceful air in her room. “Astra, ahh,” I grab the back of her head and tilt my lips over her, venting into the warm cavern of her mouth. Her moaning vibrates through me, adding to the pleasure bubbling to the top of my dick.
“I’m going to cum,” I rip my mouth off to forewarn. If she doesn’t move I’ll be blasting all over her belly, so as long as she’s cool with it. I sure as hell wouldn’t mind watching my semen dribble over her smooth flesh.
Astra isn’t on my wavelength. She moves her hands away and I’m groaning my protest. Then she pushes me onto my side and I fall back on the bed, my girl climbing over me, gripping my erection with a deft hand and taking me inside in a carefully aimed plunge.
I throw my head back and clench the bed spread and blankets under me. “Astra, fuck. Fuck me.”
“Ryker, Ryker, Ryker,” she says my name with each downward plunge. I’m too weak to be of much use other than holding onto dear life and letting her ride me.
We come within seconds of each other. I’m first, unloading my seed into her, letting her pussy comfort me through the tense moment. Astra’s shallow breaths fall over my chest as she slides against me, my shoulder supporting her head, her cum drenched lips pressed to my outer thigh.
“That was hands-down awesome.” I say once I have control of my breathing and I’m coherent. Astra hums in agreement, deservingly more tired than me after working hard to get us both here in a boneless heap.
“I don’t want to have sex again because I can’t imagine anything topping it.”
Astra giggles lightly. Her hand is smoothing the short, dark hair over my chest, palm brushing my nipples in her massage.
“I could get used to this,” I mumble as I’m closing my eyes.
I find myself opening them the next morning. I stretch and realize Astra’s gone. Sitting up I confirm she’s not in the room.
I draw up on stiff limbs, stretching the knots bundled around my shoulders when light footfalls give way to Astra filling the doorway, and pausing at the sight of me, she grins.
“Good morning.”
“Right back at you. A little sore, but I’m feeling all better now.” I drag my heated gaze over, ignoring the towel wrapped around all the good bits. “Come here, sweetheart.”
She bypasses me and my crooked finger beckoning her sweet ass this way. I can’t complain though, that ass is on display when she drops the towel and stands in all her naked glory for me to drool over.
Tired of craning my neck, I throw my legs up and fluff a pillow to the headboard, my hand circling my half-erect, but quickly growing, cock. “Yeah, baby.” I stroke myself to her.
At realizing what I’m doing, Astra turns to give me a glorious shot of her round breasts and her bare cooch.
“You shaved?” I smile, cocking my head at the revelation. “Not on my account, I hope. I liked those springy curls.”
“I wanted to try something different.” She rubs her mound, her fingers going further south and her breath hitching just that much to fill in the gaps of my imagination.
My own fingers prickle at the memory of her wet heat and of the strong muscles straining against me straight from entrance. I tug at myself, massaging my palm over my crown and then stroking the rest of my engorged dick.
“I want to be inside of you again.”
“We can’t. I have to go to work, remember?” She’s still rubbing herself languidly, only now she’s moved on to her breasts. Pinching her nipples, she tugs at the pert flesh and groans.
“Astra.” I stretch the two syllables out on orgasm. I milk stringing cum shots, wishing I’d filled her instead of the air. I let my hand fall away to the side and sink into the afterglow.
Since she’d only been teasing me to my climax, Astra stops toying with her pretty, pink tits and turns to finish dressing. Meanwhile I blink through the beautiful haze until she’s fully changed into one of her blouse-skirt combos and sliding in beside me, letting me draw her into a kiss.
“Let yourself out with the spare key.” She says, pausing when I grab her wrist and lock our mouths together. Astra’s hand wedges between us and she pushes me off, her darkened gaze saying one thing while she tells me, “I really have to go, or I’ll be late.”
“If I have to then,” I kiss her one more time for good measure. It’s hopeless though, as I’m thirsting for more as soon as we part. “See you for dinner later?”
“Aren’t you practicing tonight?”
“A bit, yeah.” I lounge back against her headboard, tucking my hands behind my head.
“The party’s pretty close, isn’t it?” she’s standing in front of her mirror dresser, working on her gold earrings and a necklace to match her orange blouse. “Holly’s been out of commission since Mrs. Lopez hired her.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me? TzaTza isn’t working her to the bone, is she?”
Astra shifts in her seat, worrying pleating her eyebrows. “You think that’s it?”
I think I surprise us both when I lift from my half-reclined position and cross to corner her in front of the dresser. Bracketing her in her seat, I lean to get us as close to eye level as possible. “I’ll check on her, no worries.”
Astra kisses me as part of the gratitude; I grope her through her shirt as part of my promise.
“Ryker,” she gasps when I drag my hand down to the hem of her knee-length black, flowy skirt. “Not now.”
She gives a firm shake in the face of both our desires and when that isn’t enough, she locks her knees together, putting an effective stop to my searching palm. “No.”
“No fun.” I say, taking her kiss and hint to back off and let her ready for work. “I’ve never wished to go back to school.”
“I still can’t believe you used to go to St. Bernard and Justice.” Astra’s disbelief is as fresh when I told her a couple nights back; the same night I told her about my family. After sex we’d continued chatting into the pre-dawn.
“Yeah, back when the kiddies called in St. BJ,” I smirk, lifting my head her way during the search for my boxers. We had, as usual, got into bed in a frenzy of rushed limbs last night.
“That’s a distressing nickname.” But she’s smiling. Her gloss applied over her nude-colored lipstick, she does her lashes with that girly mascara, nothing flashy and finishes up primping.
I’m wearing my jeans when I smack her rear. Astra gasps and gives me a mock glare. “Go get ‘em,” I chuckle.
A little belatedly, and with a shirt on, I chase after her and catch her strapping into her boots in the front entrance. “About that favor,” I fidget with my cell. “How does tomorrow at 7 p.m. sound?”
“Were talking the dinner with Mr. Lopez and his business friend, and that friend’s daughter, the one you
’re supposed to be marrying?” Astra asks, grabbing onto my proffered hand when she struggles to zip up her boots.
It was a night of catharsis I came clean about Custodio and my mother’s affair, and the blackmail marriage trap for me and the eldest Campo daughter, and Astra’s hopped on board to help.
In return I understand from Holly that Astra’s been pushing for some changes from the PTA council. Most of the teachers are obsequious to the parents padding their wealth with their private school salaries, and those parents are lead by none other than TzaTza.
I haven’t told Astra, but I’ve been working Lola’s mother, bringing to light some of Astra’s plans including increasing student volunteer hours and introducing a buddy system to help combat the same age-old bullying happening on school grounds.
“I’ll be there, Ryker. Just let me know what’s happening and I’ll be ready to help you out.” My heart is full when she bestows one last – really the last – kiss and disappears for the day.
The next eight or so hours are going to be brutal.
I do find a way to pass them, and pass they do. From practicing with the guys, to checking on Holly who’s, according to her, been spending more time at the Lopezes more than she’d ever wanted, and meeting with Custodio to re-confirm our dinner plans.
Seeing Astra at the end of the surprisingly busy day offers the rejuvenation I need, short of going to sleep.
“Hey, sexy,” I meet her in the kitchen, unstrap my guitar and lean it against the arching doorway.
I’m catching her drawing out lasagna from the oven. “Is that from scratch?” I goggle at the juicy cheese and sauce and remember I hadn’t touched much other than takeout burgers for lunch with Dan and Jesse.
The glamorous life of a rock star.
“I do occasionally make my own meals. It saves on money,” she pulls off her oven mitts and turns to the fridge. “Beer?” she holds open the door so I can see the six-pack.
Closing the distance doesn’t take long. I hug her and Astra’s laughter washes over me, a balm over my sore muscles and the fatigue I’d felt up to turning the lock with her spare key. “Gods, I love you,” I murmur against her hair, catching myself too late.
Astra finds my eyes and for a moment we’re stuck on those three words minus my profusion of deities. I should be panicking, and I kind of am, but there’s this misplaced relief.
She tucks a piece of her voluminous hair behind her ear and half-turns towards the cool air rushing out of the open fridge door. “I hope you’re okay with Lager. I didn’t know what brand you liked.”
I seize onto the topic change. “That’s fine. A beer man through and through, and my taste buds are pretty shot as long as it isn’t wine.” I release her slowly, ignoring the vast emptiness I’m confronting every time she’s too far from me.
Our fingers brush as she hands over the cold can. I blink past the tingling rush from the brief contact. The can’s loud pop and crackling open breaks the staring we’re locked in.
Get a grip on yourself, McBride, or you’ll propose to her the next time.
“About that lasagna,” I take my beer to the table, pretending to fascinated by the pasta. Astra is moving about quietly, settling two plates, forks and knives onto the small, circular table.
We eat the table, hands off each other, and finally talking when both of our forks have scrapped the plates clean.
“So how do you want to go about our game plan? For dinner?” I tag on the end when Astra looks to me for clarification. It’s the first time she has since I messed up by declaring love I’m not willing to feel for her, or any woman.
If you had to love anyone, it’d be her though.
It’s true. Studying her side profile as she rinses our dinner dishes of soap suds, I’m lanced in the gut at the remainder this beautiful, smart, generous woman is all mine. And I’ve given her nothing of worth so far when she’s opened her home and her life to me.
Then there’s this business with Custodio and his business friend/partner. Astra shouldn’t want to help an ass like me.
I loosen my grip on my beer. I don’t want to crush the can and divert unwanted attention to the turmoil rocking me inside.
She’s grabbing an apple from her fruit bowl on the table, glancing back to ask, “Want to sit in the den?”
I let her lead us. It’s a good sign she isn’t kicking me out. I’m not sure what I’m going to say, but I do know I don’t want to leave her.
“How did practice go?” she makes light talk for us both. We’re sitting on the settee, within hand’s reach of each other, but she’s in her corner and I’m resolutely, if not painfully, keeping on my side.
“Swell. We’ve compiled a song list for the party, got it approved by TzaTza and Lola, and practiced as much as we could.” Which wasn’t nearly as much as usual since I spent more time here, fucking Astra like a sex-starved maniac, but I leave that out.
“All the students are excited for the party. Lolinda, um, Lola is quite popular. That and Tense Finger seems to have lured quite a following for the birthday.”
“I'm not sure if that should make me nervous or not.” My lips twist up and I take a final sip of the beer, clearing my throat to add, “What is scarier: An empty room or one filled by loud, party-hungering teens?”
“Depends on what type of person you are, but the way I see it fear is fear no matter the shape or size or situation,” Astra is ready with her reply. It’s such a counsellor thing to say. But from her mouth it’s comforting.
“Lola still seeing you.” I raise a brow at her slow nod and worrying over her lip. “What did she say?”
“It’s nothing.” Astra says, looking ready to let it go. Too bad I’m not.
“What does she say to you, Astra?” I ask. She flicks her gaze down to my hand resting over her smooth calf. Her baggy knee-length camis don’t exactly show much of her stunning legs, but I’m glad for the bit of skin I can touch...caress.
Astra blinks from my stroking to answering me, and I cover the smile at the disorientation I’m causing. At least she’s as caught up in me as I am her.
“Yes and no.” She says.
“I’m listening,” I sit up, tension and intrigue colliding together.
“Lolinda mentioned...us,” Astra winces. “I was told to leave you alone in no uncertain terms, and then she threatened me with a trade.”
“Go on.” My urging comes when she grows quiet and picks at the drooping sleeves of her Columbia alma mater sweatshirt.
“She’d keep us a secret so as long as she doesn’t have to come meet me anymore, but that the longer I wait to stop seeing you, the likelihood her parents would catch whiff of her prematurely finished sessions.”
I crash the beer can now and Astra jolts. I smile, but it feels tight...and slimy. It takes two to tango, yet Astra’s suffering all the repercussions of our relationship.
I apologize first, gathering a fortifying breath and continue, “I’ll talk to Lola.”
“No, don’t.” Astra leans forward and touches my arm with the tips of her fingers. Even over my jacket and the long-sleeved shirt under, it’s as if she’s brushing my arm hairs and electrifying my skin cells.
In my boxers I’m growing stiff and achy.
“It’s fine, Ryker. I can handle it.” Her smile is wobbly though, not at all reassuring given her strong words.
God.
How did I end up with her? Why is she so selfless and kind to the worst of the worst – and no, I'm not really thinking about Lola and her teenage antics. I’m thinking about the asshole sitting beside her, the same asshole who should be comforting her and instead letting himself be comforted.
Asshole, do something.
It’s the prompt I need.
Circling the wrist of the hand touching my arm, I tug her forward and meet her the rest of the way. I kiss her like I’m taking the last breath. Bringing my hand to rest at the back of her head, I hold her to me as my tongue flits past her entrance and tangles with hers in
a slippery duel.
Opening up to each other, I suck on her sweet breath before sinking back into all that is Astra.
I’m not exactly clear on how she ends up in my lap, or who initiates the move from the den to her room, but I’m carrying her bridal style and trying to focus on not missing a step to the top floor.
Then we’re all over each other and I stumble blindly, grasping at the door handle and swinging open into...her guest room. Our mouths detach and Astra looks around like she’s taking it in for the first time too.