Impulses

by Brock, V. L.

  I lean in closer to the mirror, my fingers clenched into my palm. Failure, he whispers, caressing each symbol leisurely. His smirk widens with mocking satisfaction. Fury and resentment inundates me as my hindrance gawks scornfully from the safety of my mirror…from my mind––toying with my insecurities, like a cat with a mouse, taking its time before going in for the kill.

  “Argh,” I growl, and my fist collides with the glass, shattering the mirror and the deep, wicked stare of the voice that has haunted me and ridiculed me for so long. Within that moment, I feel enlightened and momentarily at ease with myself.

  I need a drink. With the towel around my hips, I leave the stifling room, and I pad through my bedroom, down the corridor to the open space of my living room. I approach the media center and press the little triangle button. The throaty voice of a woman resonates through the apartment, warbling about it being a man’s world. How apt. Turning over one of the tumblers, I pour myself a generous volume of amber liquid, and take pleasure in the burning of my throat, shadowed by the tingling that radiates through my extremities.

  A knock on the door disturbs my carefree trice.

  I glance at the clock, 11:15 p.m. The knock echoes again, more forcefully this time, and I wonder idly what the likelihood is that it is the neighbor wanting to know what the commotion was about.

  Stepping down from the elevation of my window, I walk the length of the room to the door. Grasping the doorknob, I twist and pull it open hastily.

  “Sorry for the––” I begin my apology, but my words cease as the being in the hallway lifts her head, her hair soaking wet from the rain and clumped together as it falls around her leather jacket.

  Vulnerable, rueful, blue eyes gaze back at me from over my threshold. In a daze, my mouth falls open. How?

  “Please…be patient with me. I’m not perfect. I will make mistakes. This is all so new for me. But if you have patience…” she trails off, her voice breaking. She sinks her teeth into the plump flesh of her lip.

  “Oh, Samantha––” Extending my arms out to her, I seize her by her upper arms, and without hesitation, pull her inside. I press my lips against hers immediately, kissing her passionately and desperately. I snare her against the surface of the door after I kick it closed.

  I kiss her with such intensity, such untamed determination. I never believed this chance, to have my lips meld with hers, to have my hands wander her body freely, would be bestowed upon me again. So I make the most of it and revel in the wrapping of my present. My hands roam over her body, clutching urgently and frantically at the sodden material that shields her.

  “You’re wet,” I mumble against her lips.

  “You have no idea––”

  Seizing the collar of her jacket, I peel her out of the sodden material, pushing it over her shoulders, down her arms and let it drop heavily to the floor. I push myself against the length of her, feeling her heat and the tiny tremors she surrenders to. I’m moulded against her, my hips holding her firmly in place, as she opens her mouth, and allows my tongue to invade, curl and massage her tongue once more.

  Matching my frenzied bearing, she fists her hands in my hair, wrenching me down to deepen our wild, vigorous kiss. I taste the tanginess of the chardonnay combined with the sweetness of the coconut from dinner, which still lingers on her breath, on her tongue. The overwhelming desperation to claim her is uncontainable as animalistic intentions burns like a furnace at my libido.

  Eager hands leave no area unexplored. Skating down my torso, her nails scrape my flesh, I tense as it tickles, but also drives me. I can hardly control myself with her hands on me, feeling me, exploring me.

  “Samantha, you’re killing me.” I pull away and study her profile, her eyes glinting, her mouth swollen and flamed from my stubble.

  She traces the flesh where my towel clings to my hips. “There are worse ways to go,” she smiles up at me. All the heat, all the desire and yearning is in that one twitch of her mouth. It knocks the breath out of my body, and puts what fragments of self-control I had on its ass.

  Taking hold of her hands, I remove them from the waist band of my towel. A low whimper travels on her breath as I clasp both of her narrow wrists together in one hand and detain them above her head. For once in my life, I feel truly in control. That is until she peeks up at me, inciting me with that seductive, come to bed look. Exhaling loudly, my breath wavers, and my body stiffens and shakes as I compress every nuance of strength I have into a weighted sphere just to compose myself. I feel like an over-excited teen. It’s frustrating.

  Using my unoccupied hand, I trace the arch of her cheekbone, before sweeping down the curve of her neck. Her nipple strains and peaks against the material as my thumb glide across it as I knead her breast. Through the saturated material, I continue skimming and caressing what lies waiting to be appreciated underneath.

  Gripping her hip, she lifts her left leg and encircles my thigh, slowly grazing it up and down my leg, pulling my towel up with it. My blood and body ignites as I feel the sharpness of her heel tearing up the back of my calf and knee.

  God, she’s making this so fucking hard…and not just my cock either.

  The towel barely remains bound around my hips. She groans as my erection presses into her abdomen. All I want to do is let the material fall and sink inside her, to feel her around me again, right against this door. But I find the will to stow my urges, and curl my hand around my back to meet and caress the supple ankle that imprisons me, instead. Forcefully trailing my hand up behind her knee and thigh, her dress hitches higher, her pelvis grinds against me as her head tips back, knocking it against the surface of the door.

  “What the fuck are you doing to me, Hayden?”

  “Kissing you…” I kiss and nip at her chin, jaw and neck while simultaneously sinking my fingers into the pliable flesh of her ass. “…and familiarizing myself with your body.” I bend and grind my heavy, aching cock between her thighs as evidence of what she does to me, to my body, how excited she makes me when she’s touching me.

  Dammit, I get the same reaction just hearing her voice.

  Although I release my grip of her wrists, her arms remain above her head, her back arching against the solid barrier of the door, pushing her breast out farther to entice me even fucking more. I hear the whistle and catch of her breath as I skate down the inside of her arm and neck. Her lower lip trembles and her jaw strains. I fist her hair, pulling her head back further to give me easier access to her throat. She smells like candy and marshmallows and tastes just as sweet. I dip my tongue into the hollow beneath her throat, barely able to contain my need of wanting to dip it between her legs.

  During the course of indulging my ravenous hands and lips on her flawless, smooth body, Samantha lets her hands fall free of the door and travels down my half-naked body. She sinks her nails into my pectorals and the surge of the bite beneath her indentations radiates through my chest and tightens southern muscles.

  Like a caveman, sheer, unrestrained savagery spawns a growl from deep within my throat as her hands continue their voyage down every muscle and valley of my torso, to settle at the edge of the towel once again. But she drifts over the material, and her fingers clutch around the prominence of my girth. I thrust into her touch…aching to thrust inside her.

  “Pleased to see me?”

  I lift my head and pin her with my stare. “I’m always pleased to fucking see you,” and soon my lips are sealed over hers again.

  In an impatient, passionate haze I remove her dress, and discard of it to meet her jacket in a crumpled heap. I glance down at her naked breasts in approval, and she rewards me with an innocent grin of satisfaction before biting her lower lip. How did I not notice she has been braless the entire night?

  “Yes”––I lick my lips––“definitely pleased to see you, Samantha.”

  I press myself against her…flesh on flesh, feeling her warmth and the peaking of her nipples against my body. It’s heavenly. And it means so much more beca
use I never contemplated any chance of this ever happening again. Against the coolness of the door, I lift Samantha up and she binds her legs around my waist; our breathing heavy and frantic.

  Touching, kissing and caressing our way through my apartment, her legs still wrapped securely around my waist, we stumble our way to the bedroom, stopping to devour each other against nearly every surface, wall and archway that we encounter along the way.

  I lower her down in to the center of the bed, before straighten myself and releasing the corner of the towel. It falls heavily from my hips onto the floor behind my ankles, my rigid cock bouncing freely. I feel a unexpected wash of insecurities anchoring me, holding me against my will as I stand before this siren in all of my virility, offering all that I am to her, and apprehensive of what will follow afterwards. I’m already wound tighter than a fucking jack rabbit, what if i can’t contain myself and…

  Staring down into her big, beautiful, clear blue eyes, she gapes up at me from the middle of the bed and all of my worries fade away. Resting herself back into the mattress, she props herself up on her elbows and rouses me with those prominent, come-and-fuck-me-now eyes. She rolls her tongue over her lips and arches her brow.

  Taking a deep breath, I curl my thumbs under the thin straps of her black lace thong and peel them down her legs. Placing my knee on the edge of the bed, I crawl up the length of her sensational body.

  “Wait––”

  She spares the weight from her elbows and pushes herself up. Swinging her legs around, she tucks them under her so we are kneeling before each other, and it feels so…intimate. Her thighs are parted, supporting her weight. Her long, dark wet tresses hang down her breasts, ingeniously and enticingly concealing her nipples. Everything is drowned in the darkness, only the glow from the moonlight streaming through my window, and the light from the bathroom shining through the doorway distinguishes our silhouettes. But I can discern her eyes widening, and are hooded with an aching hunger.

  Twisting my fingers in her sodden mane, I draw her to me, our lips melding in a deep and meaningful kiss. She bites down on my tongue lightly then sucks on it––drawing it further into the possession of her mouth, as though she is sucking on a different, southern part of my anatomy. Damn, it feels good, and I cannot help but wonder how her mouth would feel around me. I wouldn’t last two minutes with her sucking on me with that skill.

  I shudder and press myself into her body when her fingers trace their way over my shoulders, down my shoulder blades, my back. I feel the tiny dimples on the small of her back as my right hand lays splayed on her warm, smooth flesh.

  She pulls away from me and I gaze into her eyes feeling bereft and an inkling of rejection.

  Not again, please…

  Shaking her head coquettishly, her lip finds its way into the grasp of her teeth. She bends and leans forward so her mouth is an inch away from my cock. Looking up seductively from under her thick mascaraed lashes, my keenness swells and my breath hitches as she makes her motives crystal clear.

  Air hisses between my teeth. I close my eyes briefly and toss my head back. I strain as I feel the flick of her tongue over my tip, followed by the warmth and the smoothness of inside her mouth, the hollowing of her cheeks. The sensation of her tongue massaging my length, has my hips thrusting instinctively as I groan and quiver in blatant pleasure.

  “That’s it, Samantha…” I hold her head as I roll my hips repeatedly, feeling the back of her throat as she glides down my length with purpose, slowly making contact with the base of my cock. God, she is fucking amazing.

  I feel myself building, my balls tightening and drawing upward.

  “Enough,” I order, nudging her off me so she resumes kneeling in the middle of the mattress. “I don’t want to come yet.” For a short-lived moment she looks contrite, her eyes hooded with apologetic assertions. It’s like she’s sorry she’s displeased me. How could she think she has displeased me? My heart weighs and sinks heavily to my stomach.

  Using my thumb and index finger, I coax her head back. I bore my gaze into her. “There’s no need rush.”

  Her hands tighten on my upper arms, as I reach between her legs. Her skin is so smooth and indulgent, so slick. Grinding her hips into my palm, I sink first one and then two of my fingers inside her effortlessly, the smooth, moistness of her pulsing walls wrapping around my fingers as I circle her deeply, leaving no wall untouched as she lowers herself, eager to be filled.

  “You greedy girl,” I whisper into her ear, while pulling out of her and massaging the silkiness of her juices over her folds. She tips her head back as I make contact with her heated, swelling clit, her hips gyrating regularly with my motions.

  “Open your mouth.”

  She complies immediately, and I place my fingers onto her tongue. She sucks gently, and licks in between them, tasting the sweet smoothness of her arousal. Watching the keenness in her eyes as she tastes herself inflames my flesh and drives me wild.

  After withdrawing my fingers, I direct her to lie back on the bed. Her eyes wide, expressing her nervousness.

  “It’s okay. Lay back,” I whisper.

  Her hesitancy is tangible, yet she follows my instruction.

  Her thighs fall open, granting me a full-on view of her stark-naked body, her nipples erect, and her bare sex waiting and writhing for me. I lower myself between the pale fleshes of her thighs and glide my tongue smoothly down from the top of her slit. Her clit swells under my tongue, her creaminess, her scent…the way she’s groaning and snaking her hips around under my mouth. God, it’s such a fucking turn on. Her back bows off the bed when my hands smooth over her hips, her stomach, and breasts. Tweaking her nipples as I continue circling her clit with my tongue, I seal my mouth over the lips of her pussy, and kiss her sensuously.

  “Oh, God,” she cries, her moaning and whimpering getting louder and louder, her writhing becoming faster and faster as the tip of my tongue rounds her opening, then penetrates with shallow thrusts. Her legs fall further apart. I feel her body stiffen and tremor beneath me. She holds me in place as I flick and twist around the ball of sensitive flesh, which has her exploding over my tongue.

  “Fuck!” she screams through the convulsion of her climax.

  I allow her to ride out the waves of her orgasm, before whispering, “Turn around; lay on your front.”

  Parting her legs, I crawl up her back, running my hand from the nape of her neck down her spine, her skin soft and damp with sweat. I grab her hip with my left hand, my right running between her legs, over her sex. Gathering her juices, I spread it over my cock and in one swift move I impale her. I feel her stretching around me, and the wet heat of her walls intensifies the deeper I sink inside her.

  Locking our fingers together, our hands rest on either side of Samantha’s head. Pressing her further into the mattress, my clutch tightens with white-knuckle force as I pull my hips back and grind into her again, and again. The sound of the rhythmic slapping as I collide against her ass along with our laborious breaths and soft pleasurable moans has my toes curling and my body trembling as I strive to halt my release.

  “You have no idea how long I have wanted you like this,” I whisper darkly against the side of her face as I pin her with my weight. “How many times I have dreamed of this moment––feeling you around me, hearing the noises you make as I push my body into yours––burying myself in you. Hearing and watching you come over me, knowing I’m the one responsible for your release.”

  Samantha’s grip on my hands tightens with brutal force. She pushes herself against me, meeting me thrust-for-thrust. I feel her tense and tighten as she slowly builds again.

  “I have…I still do…Hayden please…harder…Fuck––” she calls, pleading as she continues to push back onto me, taking everything I have to give, and swallowing me to my very base. Her body bows, her ass raises, her hips press back against me as her sensational body vibrates and quakes around me once again.

  Her orgasm is my undoing.

 
; One final thrust and I come hard, her lips enclosed around me, milking me until I am empty.

  NINE

  ---------------------

  SAMANTHA

  Hayden stills. Our hands still locked together as one on either side of my head. Our breathing matches each other as we gasp and pant, franticly endeavoring to retrieve a meaningful lungful of air. I feel the dampness of his front pressing deliciously against my back and the rough graze of his stubble on my flesh as his places a kiss on my left shoulder.

  That felt…different somehow. How can sex feel different? Sex is sex, yet that felt more significant. Is it my revelation about needing to have self-acceptance in the past choices that I have made? Or is it because we aren’t two strangers wanting a meaningless feat for sexual gratification, which made it so?

  I shudder as Hayden pulls out of me. Freeing me of his weight and runs his tongue down my spine, and softly blows against the wet trail. I feel the cold against my heated, sensitized skin. It feels nice––cold, but nice.

  He repositions himself and lays to the left of my clammy, naked body and uncovers my face of the veil of locks as it pastes to the dampness that coats me. I cringe inwardly at the affection behind his touch, but unlike our time in the office, I don’t attempt to pull away, or shift from his tender strokes. I absorb the contact, wanting to maintain this mellow, sated feeling. I don’t need to flee and hastily wash away the grime and disgust along with the loathing and demoralized feelings that swamp me––I don’t feel that combination of emotions with him. Right now, I feel appreciated, cared for…respected.

  It’s new.

  “You are amazing, Samantha. Don’t let anybody convince you of anything different,” Hayden whispers with a form of attachment. His fingertips make feather-light strokes up and down the length of my back. He smiles contented, serene, and even in the muted light I can see his eyes shining with some incomprehensible emotion.