Blue-Collar Boys - Repairs & Maintenance (Book 2: Steamy Erotic Romance Stories)
Page 6
She stared down at him. His heart-shaped face and purple bandana were masked by shadows. But she caught the glint in his eye. It was that same glint that encouraged her to take a risk, encouraged her to move beyond her comfort-zone—from the safety of predictability into the chaos of the unknown.
“I want you to kiss me,” she petitioned with a hush, as if she only pronounced the words in her mind without forcing them from her lips. Her heart fluttered as she heard the request fall like a coin through the silence.
“I want you to kiss me—” she said again. This time, she was certain—and he believed her.
She looked down at him, trying to make out the features of his face amongst the shadows, but instead, his form merged with the vertigo of darkness. He suddenly disappeared, as if he was abandoning her. Lydia felt her heart leap with helplessness as she twisted in her swing with a gust of wind.
“Where? Here?” he suddenly asked.
Lydia felt Bruno kiss her ankle—gently, submissively, like she was a goddess. What Lydia could no longer see, she could feel. She felt herself nod.
“How about here?” He pushed her sweat pants past her knees and kissed her kneecap. She felt the pressure of his fingers encircling her calf, nestling themselves into the soft nook behind her knee—a signal for her to relax. Scanning her bare leg in the moonlight, he admired how her creamy skin glowed against a canvas of darkness. Then, she heard him, rising up higher through the tree branches before moving behind her.
“What about here—” his confident forearm suddenly encircled her. He brushed aside Lydia’s long hair and kissed her ear lobe, drifting his lips down the nape of her neck. The weight of his chest pressed against her back and his hands fastened around her harnessed hips.
“And here?” he twisted her in her swing to face him and brushed his thumb across her lips. His hands were raw and rough, but when he touched her, it was as if she was made of priceless porcelain. And his eyes peered at her with tenderness.
“Yes...”
Lydia closed her eyes, allowing him to overtake her with the same spontaneous, adventurous spirit that made her believe she could be spontaneous and adventurous, too. His tongue rushed through her mouth—lush, penetrating strokes of foreplay that made her blush even behind the curtain of midnight. Bruno had clearly kissed more women than Lydia had kissed men, but now, he was kissing her as if she was the only woman in the world who could satisfy him. Lydia caved into the sensation. She was strapped into the harness and tangled up in his arms, completely at his mercy. He unzipped her velour sweatshirt and his heart-shaped chin dropped down her neck, sucking it deep with desire. A groan escaped from Lydia’s lips—reassurance for him to suck her harder. Lydia peered up into the tree’s canopy; the white moonlight glinted off the waxy surface of the black leaves. She felt like a butterfly, caught up in a spider’s web as Bruno feasted on her desire, stimulating a wave of pleasure that tingled down her neck to a singular point in her crotch.
His fingers crept up her thigh and stopped, just before her safety harness cut across her groin—taunt straps protecting Lydia from his advances. But the bondage of the harness heightened her senses, making her yearn for more. She closed her eyes and imagined Bruno slipping his fingers under the harness and outlining the crease of her panty line. A pang of moist desire accelerated between her legs. She shifted in her swing to release the pulsing tension building there. But Bruno was holding her steady, waiting for her to give him permission. But he didn’t need permission. Lydia felt like a new woman; she had already granted it.
There was a hush in the tree top, an eerie moment of stillness before everything changed. Lydia heard the sound of jangling metal. Bruno was loosening a buckle from around Lydia’s waist. It was clear this buckle wasn’t for safety. This buckle protected Lydia in a different way: it sat squarely above her belly button, constricting the strap above her hips like a chastity belt. With one flick of his thumb, Bruno loosened the strap, releasing Lydia from all her self-imposed limitations. There was nothing stopping him now. There was no stopping and revising her mind a thousand times; no obsessive-compulsive review of every detail to the point of paralysis; no overwhelming sensation of embarrassment. Lydia wanted this. Her desire was now.
It was a timid touch, at first—just enough to arouse her senses—as his fingers slipped down the backside of her sweat pants and swept around to the front of her cotton panties. Lydia encouraged him with an exhale of pleasure to explore the moist center between her legs.
“Hang on to me—” he whispered, encouraging Lydia to drape her arms around his neck and wrap her legs around his hips.
Even though she was the one who was secured in the harness and hanging in the tree from the safety lines, it was Lydia who was clinging onto Bruno now. He reached above her head and tugged on the rope like he was fine-tuning the string of a violin. Together, they dropped with a jolt before slowly spiraling lower and lower as Bruno fed their rigging line through the cinch. They were two tangled souls, descending from heaven, entwined in the darkness. As they slid down through the air, their mouths melded into one breath, and their bodies burned like meteors plunging to the earth. Bruno broke their fall, hitting the soft ground with his climbing boots and tumbling Lydia into the soft patch of mulch surrounding the base of tree’s trunk. She felt his hands tearing over her body, unhooking buckles and binders, stripping the harness and her sweat pants down past her bare legs, exposing her soft white panties reflecting off the moonlight.
Bruno looked down at her. Lydia’s flowing golden hair rippled out across the grass, waves of shiny ribbons across the dark earth. Her emerald sweat shirt nudged up past her waist, and her milky belly invited a kiss. Bruno’s warm lips consumed her stomach. His stubble tickled her tender skin. His sharp chin drifted lower and lower, grazing her pelvic bone until she felt his hot breath exhale between her legs. The titillating sensation vibrated through her body and made her wet with excitement. His mouth whispered across the inner softness of her thighs; he nipped her soft bulge with gentle love bites. Lydia pulled off his red bandana and ran her fingernails through his thick curly hair, pushing him down, lower and lower, with every kiss.
“I want you inside me,” she heard herself say.
It was a request that she had not made of a man in years. She had been shut up for so long that she had forgotten what it was like to feel the touch of a man’s desire. It seemed easier to do without the complications of sex, and the painful emotion side effects that always followed. But not now.
Now, Lydia burned for it. She didn’t think about Bruno, or her fears, or the consequences of her request. She only thought about how much she wanted to feel him—deep inside.
Bruno didn’t wait for Lydia to repeat her request. His fingers ensnared her waistband and stripped them down to her ankles, then stripped off her baggy hooded sweatshirt, revealing her ballerina breasts. She never wore a bra. She didn’t need to. And now she looked like an ivory fairy, lying in the grass—captured, vulnerable, and completely naked before him.
Lydia gazed up at his dark silhouette, looming over her. She heard the loosening of buckles and the jangling of clips, falling away from his body. Then, his shadow slowly stripped off his off clothes, the starlight bouncing off his bare chest. When his naked body made contact against her own, she gasped—not because he was warm or cold, but because she had been without the intimacy of human touch for so long that she had forgotten how much she need it. She scratched his forearms and bit his neck, exhaling a moan as he pushed inside her, releasing years and years of humiliation and isolation. Why had she been so reluctant to connect with strangers? Why had she been so determined to avoid connecting with anyone? What had she been so afraid of? Whatever it was, she didn’t care about any of it now. She had been living as a cardboard version of herself which Bruno was finally setting aflame, disintegrating it like a curling, withering ember.
Now, in this moment, on this night, Lydia granted herself permission to let everything go. Bruno was build
ing her up, drawing out an erogenous hum that started at her tailbone and reverberated throughout pelvis. Lydia hugged Bruno’s chest and exhaled with every vibration. She felt herself changing, throbbing and escalating with the acceleration of her heartbeat, granting herself permission to indulge in the adventurous moment of improvised bliss. With a final rush of stimulation, her mouth expanded with an involuntarily, primal scream that echoed throughout the neighborhood and dwindled into the empty night—an affirmation that she had truly been liberated from her own self-imposed isolation.
Lydia clung to Bruno. He embraced her. They both exhaled with exhaustion, heaving, laughing, and smothering each other with the orgasmic aftermath of warmth and amusement. Peering over at the neighbor’s dark kitchen, Bruno covered Lydia’s mouth and shooed her into silence, shrinking them deeper into the shadows, waiting to see if the neighbors would turn on the light and search out the source of the climactic heaves amid the darkness. But there was only a distant jingle, followed by the obnoxious growl of Betsy—their bony, bitchy little mut—yipping at them through the glass of the kitchen’s screen door, howling at the fact that Lydia had just had sex in her neighbor’s yard, just beneath her favorite oak tree.
END OF REPAIRS & MAINTENANCE
Note from Author:
Thank you for reading my work. If you enjoyed this collection, please be sure to check out Book #1 – Blue-Collar Boys - Services Calls. However, please note: the short stories in Book #1 are intentionally more domination/submission fantasy erotica rather than sensual erotic romance.
Very best, Aria Hawthorne
Website: frenchkisspress.com
Twitter: @frenchkisspress
Be sure to check out Book 1 in the series:
Blue-Collar Boys – Service Calls
Website: frenchkisspress.com
Twitter: @frenchkisspress