Hermes Online (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Rose Anderson

  “That might not be a good—” He stopped short as my teeth grazed him again.

  “Let me,” I replied by tightening the hold on his shaft and making the flesh glide over the steel.

  He fucked my hand. If there was such a thing as an orgasm building in one’s palm, this sensual act would be the catalyst for it. My other hand cupped his full and heavy balls gently, hefting their weight and rolling them in their velvet sack.

  “I want to feel you on my tongue.” I slipped down the front of his body to my knees and kissed the twin orbs I held in my hand. I looked up wordlessly, daring him to deny me, my gray eyes meeting green behind our disguises. He nodded slowly. Our silent conversation made his excitement dribble over my fingers.

  When I brought said fingers glistening to my mouth, he groaned. “God, love, you’ll burn me alive if you don’t stop.”

  Pressing my face to his soft fleecy sack, I told him hotly, “I’ve only begun.” I nuzzled the velvet before I trailed my kisses from balls to tip then back down his legs. The heady scent of him brought a throb in my clit that corresponded to the ache in my swollen nipples. Kissing the inside of his thighs, I slowly made my way upward again. When I licked his balls the second time, his cock instinctively pressed forward seeking more. I pressed there, a hard flat-tongued lick that followed the wrinkled velvet up from base to tip. His subsequent groan made me want to devour him. I worked this firebrand of his, adding sensual tinder and stoking the blaze I knew would come when I ultimately swallowed him fully…as fully as I could manage. He was a well-endowed man.

  I was amazed by two things—the pure heat against my lips and the color of his ardor. So swollen was he that his cock head was a deep crimson purple, the same plum color his words painted on me several days before. Determined to paint him like a canvas, I flicked my tongue under the thick rim, circled it then dipped into the small slit.

  He responded like a volcano testing its vent. “Mmm…” The sound came from both of us when I drew him into the moist heat of my mouth. His hands wound into my hair as he glided past my lips and over my tongue. I let him fuck my mouth slowly with several short-measured thrusts.

  But I wanted more. That he was enjoying this wasn’t enough for me now. I wanted him to writhe under me. I gently pushed him down on the rose petals and gave life to the words I’d used to describe this very act. His impulse was to guide me, but I didn’t let him. I was enjoying myself far too much to rush him to the end.

  After several minutes of sensual torment, he told me breathlessly, “Turn for me, little flower, let me see you, let me taste you again, let my bury my face in your hot pussy.”

  Those words brought another rush of heat to my core. As expertly as he’d treated me in the chair, I didn’t hesitate. Straddling his head, I lowered myself until we were belly to belly, drawing him once more into my mouth. At the same time his fingers spread me wide.

  “Ahh…” I moaned at the welcome intrusion. He was so fucking hot to spread me like this, this ultimate sexual act of another having access to the inside of your body. His fingers slid in and out of me like mini pistons, and I nearly came when he also decided to suck me like I had a little cock. The only thing I could do was treat the big cock the same way as the trembling surrender seized me again. I held it back as best I could, but good god, I wanted this man.

  Within minutes we had our rhythm, then without warning, he flipped over and, pinning me beneath him, turned to face me. “Are you ready for me, love? I can’t wait. I need you now.”

  I was more than ready. I pulled my knees wide in answer, and he settled between them. Together we sheathed him like a saber sliding into its scabbard. And the blade was glorious. My ankles locked at his lower back, and my hands ran wild over his back from shoulders to ass. There were many large cocks in the world, but the man who knew how to wield his such as this was rare. I knew then, as he plied his bow over my taut strings and made my body sing, that this man was a virtuoso.

  His increasing tempo arched his body over every sensitive inch of mine. Slanting his mouth over my lips, our tongues danced. My sex, so aroused and wet, stretched to accommodate his full length and girth. It was a tight fit, mmm, yes, it was, but he buried balls-deep with every thrust and rubbed my insides with glorious pulses. His murmuring words ground out against my kiss-swollen lips, and in the back of my mind, I wondered briefly if he spoke to me in another language or had made me completely insensible.

  He repeated, “Come, lover, come with me now. I can’t hold back any longer.”

  The last time he commanded my release the gathering storm had taken me. And it did again. We rode each other hard, matching thrust for thrust until he took one last orgiastic plunge and spilled into me in great heaving spasms. I cried out, the heat of his release sending me over the edge. Brilliant pinpoints of light exploded behind my closed eyes as my body arched upward and convulsed around him. Wresting every bit of his climax from him, the contractions within me milked him dry.

  When our breathing returned to some semblance of normal, he kissed me softly. “Thank you. I’ve been dreaming of this moment since you described yourself to me.”

  “It was more than I dreamed.” I smiled up at him.

  “For both of us,” he whispered, kissing my eyes closed. I stroked his back and unlocked my legs. The ache in my thighs even felt marvelous. He didn’t withdraw, and that semi-flaccid fullness felt very nice. So nice in fact, I lifted my hips to get more.

  He groaned, helpless to do otherwise, and soft-fucked me. All it took was a little movement to feel him harden inside me. “Using your devil’s powers on me again?”

  “Yesss,” I purred.

  His stroke increased in length, and he moaned in the back of his throat. How we managed it, I didn’t know, but a few minutes later, we lay side by side drenched in sweat and sticky with cum and completely and utterly sated. At least for the time being.

  He rose, and I turned to watch him. He was splendidly made and that semi-swollen softness made me want him all over again. I heard the bath running and smiled. When he returned he asked, “I imagine you’re as sticky as I am. Would you join me?”

  The tub had the faucet on the side so we sat facing each other for the better part of the hour, just soaking in bubbles and talking about nothing and everything at once as couples do when they first meet.

  After washing ourselves, he said, “You were marvelous, V. I’d have you again if you’d have me.”

  I maneuvered the span of the tub to straddle his hips.

  He laughed, his masked eyes twinkling in the bright lights reflected in the mirror over the sink. “Though I wasn’t thinking it would be in here…”

  That made me giggle. Pressing down on his lap to trap his cock between us, I told him, “I’d have you again but, no, not in here.”

  “Whew.”

  I laughed. The semi-soft length hardened like a flagpole between my thighs.

  I ground down on him. “What’s the matter? Too much cock and not enough clearance?”

  I felt him rise. He chuckled, and the hands that brushed the bubbles away from my breasts lingered on my nipples. Lifting them, he dipped his head and kissed me there.

  “You’re so beautiful, V.”

  As large and accommodating as it was, it didn’t take long to discover the limitations of the tub. But we made do, sloshing water over the sides. When we had washed for a second time, we mopped up, wrapped ourselves in the remaining large bath towels and went to find out dessert.

  When we had dried each other sufficiently, we ate our forgotten cheesecake and drank wine amid the tangle of pillows and sheets. How cheesecake segued into another round of mutual sucking and licking and more fucking, I’ll never know, but it was near two in the morning when I rolled breathlessly from his flagging cock and snuggled in the crook of his arm.

  “I’m completely drained,” I told him, my fingers caressing the flat plain of his belly. “Wonderfully so.”

  “You?” He laughed. It’s been year
s since my body’s responded like this.” His cock twitched in illustration.

  I laughed. “That hardly looks spent.” In fact his cock was still somewhat hard. Good grief, I had it bad. I could climb back on, and I told him so.

  He tested the firmness in disbelief. “Look what you do to me. My cock has a mind of its own where you’re concerned.”

  I smiled happily. We hugged each other tight. A silence fell over us. After four incredible couplings, the wild desire was temporarily sated for now. I sensed each of us wanted to say something but didn’t know how to begin.

  As if he read my mind, he asked, “So besides casting your siren’s net over helpless men like me…”

  Loving their looseness in my hand, I toyed with the heavy, spent cock and balls. “Helpless? Ha!”

  He covered my hand with his own but didn’t remove it. “Seriously, love, tell me more about you before I ravish you again. He has a mind of his own, remember? We only have so much time to talk.” I could still hear the smile. I also felt his cock’s pulse in my palm.

  I laughed. “Well, if we’re short on time…” I gave him a squeeze. “What would you like to know?”

  “I’ve been curious since you first mentioned these have meaning that’s precious to you.” His finger traced the crescent moon and stars over my heart. “I’d like to know what you find precious. Let’s start there.”

  I find you precious, I told him silently. Accessing the bittersweet memory, I was surprised to discover that my happiness in this moment had lessened the ache. Determining that speaking of it wouldn’t alter this special place and time, I explained. “I was an exchange student studying architecture in Greece several years ago and met someone there. He was special to me. The time with him was singular and defining and worth remembering.”

  He was quiet a moment then asked, “How so? That is if you don’t mind me asking.”

  “He and I…well, we had a connection. A whirlwind romance of the sort romance novels are written about. It lasted less than two weeks.”

  “What happened?”

  “He was engaged to someone. As I understood it, they were high school sweethearts, and after so many years together, it made sense for them to marry.”

  “And despite that he had this affair with you?”

  “I wouldn’t classify it as an affair exactly. It just happened.” I was feeling a tad defensive for my precious memory, and I didn’t know why. Sensing a better explanation would help him understand, I told him, “He was a good man. I loved him, and he loved me, and despite this fact, he honored a commitment he had with another. It broke my heart to lose him, but I understood.”

  “He must have been a good man for you to love him that much to defend him,” he commented softly.

  “He was.”

  “So tell me about the tattoo.”

  “The last night we were together, we stood on the balcony and looked up at the stars. There was a thin crescent moon similar to that one”—I motioned to the window—“like a Cheshire cat smile, and the sky was filled with stars, more stars that we see around here. As we said our goodbyes, a very bright shooting star appeared. The Orionid meteor shower was happening then. There weren’t many meteors visible that night, so that bright one was noticeable. I marked the moment over my heart to remember it by.” She didn’t tell him of the wish she made on that star.

  Untangling from me, he rose from the bed and went to refill the wine glasses. He stood for a time looking out the window with his back to me. I asked him about his own star tattoo. It was nicely done, delicate and artistic as though a Renaissance painter had done it.

  “I was away for half a year, and when I returned home, I discovered the relationship I thought I had actually belonged to another.”

  “How’s that?” I asked, confused.

  “She had eloped with an associate in her office while I was away. Apparently they had a prior connection I was unaware of. She and I grew up together. We’d been friends a long time and she didn’t know how to tell me.”

  I winced. Having been dumped by Dan, I naturally assumed it must have been painful. “I’m sorry, that must have been rough to go through.”

  “No, not really. I suppose the lack of emotional response meant that’s how things were meant to be. Like I said, we’d been friends a long time. Neither of us knew how to say it had been over for awhile. We’ve managed to still stay friendly.”

  “You’re lucky. My last relationship ended badly.” He asked me to elaborate and so I did, leaving nothing out.

  His voice had an edge. I found it interesting that he was angry on my behalf. “They were both fools. The first for letting you go and the last because there is simply no way a woman able to extract such a response from me the way you have since we first met could be categorized as dull. You do realize this Dan said those things to take the spotlight off himself because you literally caught him in the act of cheating on you? I find it infuriating that he hurt you like that.”

  “I came to the realization late, but yes, I do know now.” To lighten the mood, I tried humor. “My girlfriend’s husband burned the mattress in his brush pile. That made me feel better. There’s nothing like a fire purge.”

  He didn’t laugh. I came up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist. He really was annoyed with the last two men in my life. I could feel a slight tremor running through him. I told him softly, “Thank you. Because of you I’ve put all that heartbreak behind me.”

  He brought my hands to his lips, my breasts flattened against his back as he did. “I’m so sorry you were left broken-hearted.”

  I couldn’t tell of which heartbreak he spoke, but I knew with a certainty that Dan didn’t matter anymore. “That’s okay. I wouldn’t have met you and I wouldn’t be here right now.” I laid my cheek against his back and caressed his lightly furred belly. I could hear his heart beating hard. I was about to suggest we go back to bed when I remembered he hadn’t finished the story. “So where did you get your tattoo?” I asked, my fingers tracing the artistic lines.

  “Corsica. I knew a man who’d settled there, an exceptionally talented tattoo artist. I wanted the star to reflect the memory I cherished.”

  “Oh?”

  He covered my caressing hand with his own, and held it tight. “I made a wish on this shooting star and never wanted to forget.”

  “Well, it’s expertly done. Mine is plain by comparison.” I retraced the design on his shoulder with my fingertip.

  “Yours suits you perfectly.”

  I smiled against him.

  “V?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Do you trust me now?”

  The way he asked sounded odd, like he was afraid of the answer I might give. “Do I trust you?”

  “Do you trust me enough to tell me your name?”

  I’d had this crazy, intimate relationship with a relative stranger for weeks, and it just occurred to me we didn’t even know each other’s names. But choosing now, I realized I wanted to see this man again. I wanted him in my life. Without a second thought, I tossed my anonymity out the window. “My name is Vivienne, Vivienne Bennet.”

  Apparently he’d been holding his breath, for he let it out in a relieved sigh. “A beautiful name for an extraordinary woman.” He kissed my hand again then let it go. “May I see you now?”

  “Oh, the masks.” I laughed lightly. “You know, I’d forgotten we were wearing them. I suppose we should take them off considering what we’ve been up to for the last six hours.”

  “Turn your back to me, V, Vivienne. We’ll take them off together and turn on three.”

  My heart was pounding. This was another act of intimacy we were about to share. It wasn’t sexual by any stretch but an intimate act nonetheless, one that would seal our relationship. I turned my back as he directed and removed the mask that had kept me safe in my own mind.

  “One…two….”

  A thought hit me. I only knew him as S. “But wait, you didn’t tell me your name.”
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  “Three.”

  I turned to face him and blinked.

  “My name is Stephan.”

  The room spun and swallowed me in blackness.

  * * * *

  “Vivienne, Viv. Come on, honey, wake up.” The words and the hand lightly tapping my cheek pulled me out of the stygian mist. “Vivienne, honey, are you all right?”

  “How…?”

  “You fainted, sweetheart.”

  “No.” I touched his face in disbelief. “I mean it’s…it’s you…how…?”

  “I made a wish on a star.” His beautiful green eyes smiled down on me. “And it came true.”

  I’d made that same wish. I wished to the stars and to Greece’s pantheon of ancient gods, whose presence permeated everything around us. I wished to heaven and anyone else listening that night. I wished for this love. I started to sob. Six years spilled forth as he held me in his arms and rocked me there on the floor. Stephan, my Stephan, my whirlwind lover from so long ago, found amid the ancient ruins and impossible blue waters of the Mediterranean. Through the vastness of the internet, our mutual wish came true as though divine hands had delivered our electronic missives personally.

  He smoothed the hair back from my face and gently kissed away my tears. He told me how he’d gone home to end his long-time relationship because he’d fallen in love with me. “I had to tell her in person. After so many years I owed our friendship that.” He went on to explain that he found her content and happy, and with a clear conscience, he sought his own happiness. He headed back to Greece. “I took the next flight out. I was sure I’d find you there because you’d signed up for all four study tours. But you were gone.” I could hear the question he didn’t ask. Why?

  I pictured us passing in the air and the image filled me with sadness. “I was too sad to stay any longer. I canceled my tour and left the next day.”

  Pressing a kiss to my temple, he explained how he tried to find me. Unfortunately, privacy clauses and the fact that I’d completely ended contact with the student tours prevented it. After exhausting all avenues by phone, he even tried to get the hotel’s concierge to take a bribe. “All he’d say was your flight from Greece flew to Chicago’s O’Hare Airport. Frustrated, I stopped in Corsica to see an old friend.”