by Jack Wilder
“I love how your hands feel on me. You touching me like that…it makes me crazy. Like I’m drunk on how amazing you make me feel.” Stone’s voice was pitched low, a rumble in the space between gasps.
Wren didn’t know what to say to that. All she knew to do was kiss him and keep touching him, rub her thumb over his tip and spread the moisture that leaked all over him, twist her hand around him as she plunged her fist down. He groaned, and she did it again, this time tasting his moan, devouring the sound of his pleasure with her mouth over his.
He touched her too, gave her pleasure even as he seemed out of his mind with his own ecstasy. Two thick fingers scissored inside her wet warmth, finding her perfect spot and rubbing there, then ascending to circle her clit.
“Kiss me there,” she breathed. “I want that again.”
Stone slid down her body, hands trailing fire on her skin. He lay on his stomach, his head between her thighs, weight on his elbows, and she felt his lips kiss her inner thigh, then inward. She let her thighs fall apart and gasped as his tongue speared into her. She curled her legs around his shoulders, and he shifted so her knees hung over his shoulders.
“You taste so good,” Stone murmured. “Your pussy is so sweet.”
She felt herself blush. “Stone…God.” She forgot her embarrassment as he did something with his lips, tongue and fingers all at once that had her moaning.
He laughed. “What? It’s true.” He lifted his head to meet her bliss-heavy eyes. His mouth was slick, glistening with her essence. He licked his lips, grinning as she writhed in embarrassment.
“Really?” She gasped again as he slid his fingers inside her and moved them, rubbing that spot high inside so she couldn’t breathe for the ache of building ecstasy. “You really think my…my pussy tastes good?” She’d never called it that before. It didn’t sound the same as when he said it. His deep, growling voice gave the word a dirty edge.
Stone took a breath to answer, then just grinned and bent his head to lick up her opening, used the tip of his tongue to circle her clit, slowly at first, then with increasing speed. He matched the speed of his tongue with his fingers, and then, just when she felt the edge approaching, he slowed, and she bucked her hips against him, hearing a tiny, feminine growl of frustration escape her.
Stone laughed at her growl and gave her what she wanted, the speed and intensity that brought her to the cusp of orgasm. When she wavered on the edge but couldn’t fall over, she tugged with her legs, pushed his head harder against her. He suckled her clit into his mouth and flattened it with suction, reached up with one hand to pinch her nipple, his other hand working inside her.
She felt it break over her, then, a blinding wave shaking her entire body, clenching her insides in a vise. She twisted her head to bite the pillow, muffling her scream of release. He didn’t relent when she came, but continued his frenzied assault on her until she was writhing, unable to take anymore but unable to not take it. Wave after wave hit her, stealing her breath, making her already erect nipples go diamond-hard. Her pussy clenched and clamped and pulsed, and still he devoured her, licked her, fingered her.
Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. “No more…” She pulled him up, taking his erection in her hand. “Your turn, now.”
She slid out from beneath him, pushed him to his back and pressed her cheek to his belly, sliding toward his cock. She wrapped her lips around his tip, flicked him with her tongue. “Your cock tastes good,” she said. “Maybe I’ll just make you come like this.”
“I thought we were—”
“We’re doing whatever we want. And right now, I want to make you feel as good as you just made me feel.” She circled his thickness with her fingers, twisting his base as she sucked the springy, broad head of his cock into her mouth. “Does this feel good?”
Stone laughed, a disbelieving bark. “Good? It feels fucking amazing. But you don’t have to—”
“I want to.”
“Would you let me finish a sentence, woman?” He said it with a laugh.
“I don’t need to let you finish a sentence, because I know what you’re going to say. And it’s stupid. You really think I’d do this if I didn’t want to?” She kissed the very tip, then focused on the rhythm of her hand around him, slow, pulsing strokes, shallow at the base, squeezing gently.
“I just want you to know it doesn’t have to be equal. Besides, if you make me come like this, we’ll have to wait for me to be inside you.”
“The more time I spend talking to you, the less time I spend doing this.” She took him deeper into her mouth, working him with her tongue and sucking hard.
“Oh God…then don’t talk.”
She didn’t. She squeezed and twisted with her hands, sucked with her mouth, and Stone gasped, groaned, and swore. He began to move his hips into the rhythm of her mouth on him. Slow bobs of her head, taking him into her mouth, then backing away, never taking him very deep, but sucking so hard he groaned. She moved her hands with increasing speed, but kept going slow with her mouth, and Stone’s groans grew frantic, needy, breathless, and his hips moved faster and faster.
“Wren…” Stone growled. “Fuck, I’m so close—” He tangled his fingers in her hair, and then with a muttered curse, hooked his hands under her arms and pulled her up, twisted her onto her back and was kneeling over her before she could respond. His cock left her mouth with a pop, and she squealed in protest as he manhandled her into place.
He was there, at her entrance, huge and thick and leaking moisture. “I need this.” He spoke with clenched teeth, and her palms on his back touched iron-hard muscles.
“I wasn’t done with you,” Wren muttered. “I wanted to feel you come like that.”
“I need this. You need this.” He pushed with his hips, and the tip of his cock probed into her damp core.
“Yes…” she gasped. “Please. I do need that.” She curled her legs around his hips, lifting her ass off the bed, her arms on his back, her hands clawed against his shoulders.
In, then. Deeper. Wren moaned in bliss as he rocked into her, filling her. Stone growled in his throat, a primal noise of pleasure. She moved with him, rolled her hips so he sunk deeper. Her lips touched his shoulder, and she sucked his skin, tasting his salt, then kissed his throat, his chin, his mouth. The kiss went from zero to sixty in an instant, immediately desperate, frantic, needful. He thrust deep, and matched the thrust with his tongue.
Rhythm together became panting, tangled moans, her arms around his neck, his fist beside her face, one hand caressing her breasts.
Already on the edge from having just come, Wren felt an orgasm stealing over her, creeping up with insatiable speed. She welcomed it, arched her back and ground her pussy against him, searching for the right angle. He seemed to sense her need without having to be told, and adjusted the angle of his hips, moving shallowly, thrusting quickly.
When he did that, she whimpered and felt herself burst apart. “You…now.”
She pushed at his shoulder, rolling to one side, keeping him seated deep inside her. He moved with her, and she straddled him, found her balance, her palms on his chest and her weight on her shins and knees. Her hair cascaded around their faces like a black waterfall. Wren held still, letting him fall away from the edge so she could take him there once more. Their eyes met in a moment of stillness and silence.
“I love you, Wren.” Stone whispered the words into the dawn glow.
Wren blinked twice, surprised, and then the weight of what he’d just said hit her. She gave a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob of joy. She lifted up and plunged him deep, letting the love she felt for him seep into her gaze. Once more she lifted up so he slipped almost out, and then sank down, her mouth wide and trembling, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears of need and ecstasy and joy and love.
“I love you.” She breathed it on a down-thrust. “I love you,” she whispered it as she drew him out. “I love you, oh God I love you.” She spoke it out loud as she sank down on him and li
fted up, setting a rhythm, slow and deep. She felt his stomach muscles tense, and she quickened her rhythm, made her strokes more forceful, deeper. “No. Don’t hold it back. Give it to me. God, Stone…I love you so much. Give it to me, give me it all, right now. Come, Stone. Come now, and come hard.”
Stone lifted up and took her nipple in her mouth, thrusting in time with her, meeting her down-stroke with lifted hips, rolling inside her and suckling her breasts and moaning as she rode him. He fell back against the bed, took her hips in his hands, his thumbs in the indents, pulling her down onto him and groaning her name. “Wren…Wren…shit, Wren…God, I love you…oh God, I’m—I’m coming…”
Wren leaned back and moved with her hips alone, balanced so he was deep, buried skin to skin, rolling and rolling with aching and tender ferocity, unrelenting desperation. She was there too, a third detonation erupting within her, brought on by the throbbing of his cock inside her, the press of his hands on her hips, the knowledge of love and safety making each breath she took erotic, each thrust pulsing with fervor and the coiling blasting heat of impending release for both of them.
Soul-to-soul, they moved together, loving each other.
She felt Stone come apart beneath her, felt the hot flood of his release inside her. He juddered, pushing into her desperately, eyes open and locked on hers, and she came with him. Time slowed, stopped, froze mid-stream as Wren felt her body shake and tremor and spasm, heat and pressure unfolding inside her and making her brain go blank, ripping tears from her eyes and whimpers from her throat.
Stone seemed possessed, wordless, fraught with emotions of such potency he had no way of expressing them. “Wren. Tell me…again…say it again,” he gasped.
Wren saw him, saw into him, felt the same intensity inside herself, and how impossible it was to express such love, such wild and heart-pounding, stomach-lurching emotion.
She rode him, leaning forward now, collapsed on his chest, her mouth against his throat, sliding down against him, milking him with each pulsation of her hips. “I love you, Stone. I love you, George Alexander Pressfield.”
“The third,” he muttered. “Don’t forget that part.”
“The third,” she agreed, smiling into his mouth as she kissed him.
* * *
Stone watched Wren sleep. Black hair wafted across her face, blown by the oscillating fan in the corner of her dorm room. The sheet had slipped down while she slumbered, and was now bunched around her naked hips, leaving her upper torso bare in the near-black of midnight. Moonlight shone through the window, a sliver crescent shedding silver across her tan skin. Her mouth pursed, her eyes scrunched tighter, her fists clenched beside her cheek, and she shook her head, moaning, whimpering, emitting tiny, fearful noises.
“No, no…don’t, please!” The terror in her voice ripped a hole in Stone’s heart. “No more…please no more…”
He reached over and touched her shoulder, skating his fingertips over her warm skin. He nuzzled her cheek with his lips. “Wren. Wake up, baby. It’s a dream. It’s not real.” Wren shook her head violently, then her eyes flickered open, locking on his. At first, all he saw in her eyes was disorientation and fear. He brushed her cheekbone with his thumb, smiling at her. “You’re fine, babe. Just a bad dream.”
She closed her eyes and shuddered. “It wasn’t…wasn’t a dream. It was a memory. I saw…the naked girls, locked in tiny rooms. Never getting out. Never getting away. Never being free. I saw him, saw him in the darkness, coming for me, with the drugs. The needle, it erased me. Made me forget who I was.”
Stone gathered her in his arms. “I know.” His heart broke for the agony in her voice.
“We have to do something. I can’t—I have to help them. I have to do something to stop it. At least try. Raise money, or awareness. Something.” She pressed her face to his bare chest, and he felt the warmth of her skin and the wetness of tears. “Stone, we have to do something.”
“We will. I promise. We’ll do something. We’ll get everyone we know in on it.”
She nodded, and began to drift once more. Stone held her and watched her sleep, his own nightmares keeping him awake, his mind whirling with ideas.
20
~Six months later~
Stone tugged on the cuff of his sleeve and took a deep breath. He’d never been comfortable in the full dress uniform, with all the ribbons and medals and all the other official bullshit. It was hot and stuffy and uncomfortable. He preferred BDUs, or shorts and T-shirt. Anything, really, other than the full dress uniform. He’d even take a suit and tie, which he didn’t own. But here he was, in full dress, hair freshly cut to regulation length, about to step into a ballroom packed with hundreds of people. It was worth it, though.
Wren had campaigned tirelessly over the last six months, organizing a fundraising dinner to benefit the victims of sexual slavery and human trafficking. She’d pulled in organizations from all over the world, non-profits, charities, political groups from both sides of the aisle. Stone had used his few connections into the political world to get more people involved. Senator Johnson had been the first person to donate money, and he’d also used his enormous amount of political clout to bring attention to Wren’s efforts. His daughter Lisa—whom Stone and his men had rescued from Cervantes’ operation—was a keynote speaker, along with Wren and several others. There were senators and congressmen, ambassadors from all over the world, lobbyists, mayors, governors, movie stars, sports stars, and a host of ordinary citizens.
Stone had worked alongside her to get this event off the ground, and to make it as visible as possible, but Wren had been the driving force. She’d continued her classes at the university, but her life had become focused on this event, on raising awareness and gathering funds to benefit those who had survived experiences like hers and Lisa’s.
It was astonishing what she had accomplished, really. Even before the fundraising dinner, she’d raised tens of thousands of dollars. She was planning on using the money this event raised to establish her own non-profit organization, which would work hand in hand with governments all over the world to crack down on human trafficking and sexual slavery, as well as providing aftercare to survivors.
Now, it was all coming to fruition. Wren was in another room, having her hair and makeup attended to by a team of professionals, a service contributed by a high profile film actress. In just a few minutes, she would enter the ballroom and make her presentation, beginning the dinner event and sharing her story.
Stone was nervous for her, although she claimed to be more excited than nervous.
A knock sounded at the door and Stone spun on his heel. Wren stood in the doorway, clothed in a custom-made gown contributed by some designer Stone had never heard of. When the event was over, the gown would be auctioned. She was also wearing earrings which would be auctioned as well.
Stone couldn’t breathe as he stared at her. The gown was sapphirine, made of some kind of silky, slinky material that hugged her every curve. The neckline was high, circling the base of her throat, but the back was open to just above her waist, and the hemline brushed the floor. She held a clutch purse in both hands and her ears sparkled with tear-drop sapphire earrings.
Wren ducked her head. “Say something. Do I look okay?”
Stone took three long steps to cross the room. “I—I’m speechless. You’re so beautiful I don’t even know what to say.”
She grinned, tilting her head up to meet his eyes. “I feel…silly. I don’t know. I’ve never worn anything like this.”
Stone took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles. “I know what you’re saying. I hate wearing this uniform too. But you honestly look stunning. That’s not even a good enough word.” He pulled her flush against him. “You’re beyond beautiful. Just…breathtaking.”
“Really?” She took a deep breath, and Stone couldn’t keep his eyes from the swell of her breasts stretching the material of her dress.
“Really.” He grinned. “If we weren’t supposed to be out
there in a few minutes, I’d lock this door and show you how beautiful you are.”
Wren grinned wickedly. “We have time, don’t we?”
Stone was instantly hard. “Don’t tempt me. There’s no way I can do what I want to you without effing up your hair and makeup.”
Wren’s mouth twisted into a dissatisfied moue. “I hate that you’re right. You look delicious in that uniform. Keeping my hands to myself tonight will be difficult.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” Stone lifting her face to his, touched his lips to hers. “Now, let’s go raise some money.”
Wren nodded and took his hand, threading their fingers together. They strode through a pair of double doors and out into the ballroom. As they entered, the gathered crowd took notice and parted, clapping as Wren and Stone made their way to the dais at one end of the ballroom.
Wren took her place behind a podium, adjusted the microphone, and smiled at the crowd. Stone stood behind her and to the left, automatically assuming the “at ease” stance.
“Hi everybody,” Wren began. “I’m Wren Morgan. Six months ago, I was kidnapped by a sex slaver. His name was Cervantes. He wore green flip flops. He had rotten teeth and a scar on his face. He clapped his hand over my mouth and dragged me into the back of van, shoved a needle full of heroin into my arm, and drove away with me. It was broad daylight, half a block from my hotel. He—Cervantes—locked me in a hole in the ground that was pitch black. Bugs and rats crawled all over me. Bit me. He fed me food with worms in it. He brought men down into the hole and showed me off like I was a cow at market. They touched me, ripped my clothes off…
“Cervantes wouldn’t let them rape me, though. He wanted me…intact, I think. So he could get a better price. He beat me. Hit me. Kicked me. Shot me full of heroin several times a day so I wouldn’t try to escape. When I was high, I couldn’t remember who I was, or where I was, or why I was alone. All I knew was that I was alone in the darkness, with insects crawling on me.”