Stitches

by Sam Mariano

  Then again, if she came four times between the two of us last night, I’m probably still underestimating her sexual appetite just because I keep pigeon-holing her into this sweet category. Moira’s gotta have a little bit of kinkiness in her to enjoy what she enjoys—maybe even to be with Seb in the first place.

  “Now we’re all alone in the bathroom,” she continues. “Me, I’m a little drunk, a little vulnerable. I don’t immediately understand why you locked the door. I don’t really care.”

  Fuck, fuck, fuck. It’s already depraved, and my cock is already rising at her enjoyment of her own story.

  “Then you walk me back up against the wall, pin my arms above me at the wrist while you slide your hand down the front of my jeans.” She covers her mouth with one hand, feigning shock. “I’m not wearing any panties.”

  Where is the fucking duck? I’m ready to cancel the rest of the damn order and just haul her ass out of here. At this rate, she might attack me in the car, and the whole point of this night was to do this right. I want to get her home first.

  “You sure are happy now. You cover me with your hand and slide a finger inside me.” She lets out a little noise, half sigh, half moan. “I’m already wet for you, Griff.”

  “Fuck me,” I mutter. I finally catch sight of the water, so I wave him over.

  Moira grins. “I didn’t get to finish my story. What are you doing?”

  “I’m very interested in this story, but we need to get you that dessert.”

  The waiter approaches, appearing confused. “Did you need something, sir?”

  “Yes, I need you to box up the chicken and the duck. Can you just bring out the dessert? We’re sort of... in a hurry.”

  He fails to bite back a smile. “I bet you are. I’ll see what I can do.”

  I sigh, raking a hand through my hair as he walks away.

  Moira looks quite pleased with herself. She tilts her glass back and drains the last drops of liquid, then she sets it down and tells me, “I can’t wait to have your cock inside me, Griff.”

  “You are the devil,” I inform her.

  She grins at me across the table. “There’s a reason Sebastian calls me his little minx.”

  “How do you go from housewife to sex kitten on a dime like that?” I ask, shaking my head.

  Moira smirks. “Lots of practice. Little bit of alcohol doesn’t hurt.”

  Through sheer force of will, we finish dessert. We make it back to the house and stumble through the front door. Moira already has her arms looped around my neck, her lips attached to mine.

  I taste the faintest trace of dessert on her lips. Her kisses are like crème brûlée—molten sweetness that I want more of as soon as it’s gone.

  Now her lips are gone, and I feel bereft. She only broke away to shove her coat off though, then she’s back, pulling herself even closer, her sweet lips brushing mine. I can’t shake the idea that this can’t be real. I can’t shake the feeling of being an imposter here, of stealing a spot in a life that doesn’t belong to me with a woman who isn’t mine to kiss.

  It’s only night one, I remind myself.

  Well, night two if last night counts. I guess it has to.

  Moira breaks away with a little smile and takes my hand so she can lead me up the stairs. It reminds me of that night a few weeks ago when she picked me up and brought me back here.

  I remember she’s wearing a black lacy thong and nothing else beneath that dress. I can’t wait to see that.

  Turns out, I don’t have to wait long. As soon as we’re in the bedroom, Moira turns her back to me. “Unzip me, please.”

  I’ve always liked this part. It’s so intimate, being in the bedroom with a woman, helping her undress. Moira’s bare shoulders are too tempting to pass up; I bend to kiss my way across them, running my fingers lightly down her arms. Her soft sigh of pleasure is like a salve to my battered ego. Moira’s used to Seb, and here she is reveling in my touch.

  Once I’m done kissing her, I grab the zipper and pull it down, revealing inch after inch of exposed skin. Moira tugs the dress down past her hips and shimmies right out of it. She tosses me a saucy smile over her shoulder, then bends at the waist to grab the dress. She lingers, giving me a painfully good view of her ass in that black lacy thong she told me about.

  I grab her hips and yank her back against me, making her feel how hard I am. Her blue eyes look darker as she turns back to face me, lust written all across her pretty features.

  “You want me, Griff?” she teases.

  My hungry gaze rakes across her perfect breasts, down her flat abdomen and settles on the black triangle of fabric between her legs. “You have no idea.”

  She leans in and kisses me, murmuring against my lips, “Then take me.”

  I don’t have to be told twice.

  I grab her ass and lift her. She wraps her legs around my waist and I carry her over to the bed. I love the way she smiles at me, the way her blue eyes sparkle, the way she rests her hands on my shoulders.

  I can’t believe I get to do this.

  I can’t shake it. I try, I tell myself I’m allowed to be here, but it keeps washing over me. I put her down on the bed and she scoots back, making room for me. I crawl over her, trapping her beneath me and gathering her arms at the wrist, pinning them over her head, just like in the fragment of story she told me.

  Moira’s eyes close and she sighs with pleasure. “Oh, yes.”

  “Yeah?” I murmur, leaning down to kiss along her jawline. I keep her arms pinned with one hand, but I drop down to kiss her breasts, taking a nipple into my mouth and licking the already-pebbled tip until she’s moaning and writhing beneath me. I turn my attention to the other one. My free hand drifts down her abdomen and I rub her through the lacy fabric.

  “Griff,” she says, on a moan. Her legs spread for me, welcoming me—and only me—to touch her. My finger moves beneath the fabric and I feel how slick she is already. It goes straight to my cock. That’s for me. She wants me.

  I release her wrists and pull my hand from her panties before I even get to play with her. I’m wearing far too many items of clothing. I shrug my jacket off and toss it, then start to unhook my belt, but Moira puts her hands on mine and stops me.

  For a second, my heart stalls. Is she having second thoughts? I’ll die of blue balls here and now if she changes her mind.

  Her smile turns sly, like she knows she just gave me half a heart attack, then she begins unbuckling my belt herself. “I want to open my present,” she tells me, winking at me as she feeds the leather through the buckle.

  I can’t help smiling, even as she torments me, unbuckling my belt and dragging it off as slowly as she fucking can. “Your present, huh?”

  She nods her head. “I want to taste it. It’s been almost a whole day since I had your cock in my mouth, Griff. That’s far too long.”

  Fuck me. “You’re something else, you know that?” I ask her.

  With exaggerated innocence, she runs her hand over my cock through the fabric of my slacks. “That’s a good thing, right?”

  “A great thing,” I verify.

  She smiles and unbuttons my pants, unzipping them and tugging them down. I ease back off the bed so I can shove them down, then I make quick work of my shirt and join her back on the bed.

  “Lie down,” she tells me, climbing up on her knees. “I want to taste you before you fuck me.”

  I damn sure don’t argue. I watch Moira’s breasts until she sits on top of me, her back to me. I groan as she leans down, giving me a perfect view of that thong-covered ass. She grips the base of my cock and gives it a couple gentle strokes. This is a view to fucking die for. She knows it, too. She wiggles her ass as she bends her head and guides my cock into the hot paradise of her mouth.

  It’s basically an out of body experience, Moira sitting on top of me, laboring over my cock. I can’t keep my hands off her. I run a hand over that beautiful ass of hers, then slide my hand beneath her so I can play with her pussy wh
ile she blows me. Her moan reverberates around my cock and I thrust my head back against the bedding. Her mouth doesn’t let up. She’s like a fucking Hoover. Holy shit. Now that I’m fingering her and toying with her clit, she keeps moaning around my cock.

  This is the pinnacle of fucking pleasure, but I need to be inside her and she’s doing good work. I pull her off my dick and toss her on her back, climbing on top of her.

  “That is a beautiful fucking mouth you’ve got there,” I tell her.

  “Glad you like it,” she says, smiling as I yank the lacy fabric down her legs and toss it behind me.

  I want to be inside her, but I want her to come on my face first so I pin down her hips—she likes to try to squirm away—and bend down, latching onto her pussy. She lets out a moan and reaches down to tangle her fingers in my hair. I savor her little whimpers and moans as I lick along her pussy, drawing her clit into my mouth and sucking.

  “Oh, God, Griff,” she cries, her fingers curling in my hair and tugging.

  I keep stimulating her clit, but I slide a finger inside her tight entrance while I do and she gasps. I work my finger in and out of her, but all I can think about is how fucking tight her cunt is going to feel around my cock.

  She cries out my name again and bucks her hips. I push a second finger inside her, pumping my fingers fast, zeroing in on her clit until she gets there.

  “Griff!” She screams my name and my cock jumps as she groans. Fuck, I already love to make her come. I barely let her recover from her orgasm. Her body is limp as I move to my knees, lifting her legs and hooking them over my shoulders. She’s trying to come back around, but I don’t wait—I grasp my cock and push it up against her tight little hole. Fuck, it feels good as I push inside her. She moans as I fill her, then moans more as I pull out and shove back inside her.

  “Your pussy feels like heaven, you know that?”

  “Having you inside me is heaven,” she tells me. “Fuck me harder, Griff. Take everything you want from me.”

  It’s hard to let loose with Moira—she’s petite and delicate-looking, while I’m nearly 240 lbs of muscle. I don’t feel like she can handle me at full capacity. She’s used to Seb’s roughness, but he isn’t as bulky as I am. I saw he wasn’t afraid to fuck her full-force last night, but I’m a little worried I’ll hurt her.

  She must be able to see it. “I can take it,” she assures me. “Give me all you’ve got, Griff. Fuck me like this is the only time you’ll get to, and you never want me to forget.”

  Her words send a specific wave of fear lancing through me. Like this is the only time? I only just got her. I need more than once. Nonetheless, her words fill me with a sense of urgency. I give it to her a little harder. When she takes it in stride, I pull out, turn her over so she’s face-down in the pillow, and drive my cock inside her from behind.

  “Oh, God, yes,” she murmurs, reaching above her for something to hold onto.

  I grab a fistful of her hair and pull her back like a bow as I piston my hips inside her even harder. “Like that?” I ask, roughly.

  Her body moves with the violence of my thrusts, but she manages an enthusiastic, “Yes.”

  I shake my head, taken off guard. This isn’t what I imagined Moira like in bed. I like it. I like it a lot.

  She pushes against the bed so she can meet my hips thrust for thrust. She really gets into it, moaning, crying out, telling me, “Fuck me, Griff. Give it to me. Oh, God, yes.”

  She’s magnificent. When she’s close again, I want her to come more than I can remember wanting anything. I want her pussy squeezing my cock, her beautiful sounds emanating from her throat as pleasure I provided courses through her sweet little body.

  Satisfaction surges through me when she does. I summon the willpower to last through her clenching—I want to make sure she gets every second of pleasure, so I fuck her like a ragdoll even as she cries out, pleasure erupting inside her.

  When her body sags, I turn her over on her back and bury myself inside her so I can watch her face. It only takes a couple thrusts until I join her, emptying myself, pouring the last of my strength for the moment into her pussy. I come down on top of her and Moira wraps her arms around me, holding me close, pressing her lips against my shoulder.

  Moira sighs contentedly and the sound goes straight to my heart. Contentment rolls over me too, like it’s contagious. I don’t want to crush her, so I pull out of her body and roll over beside her. I’m closer to Seb’s side than the side I slept on last night, but I don’t intend on staying here, I just want to get my weight off her.

  Moira snuggles up close and drapes her arm across my waist. I must not be close enough, because next she hooks her legs over mine and uses it to drag herself even closer.

  I laugh lightly, snaking an arm beneath her and pulling her on top of me.

  “Great, now I’m gonna crush you,” she tells me.

  “Yes, all ten pounds of you,” I shoot back.

  She runs her fingers through my hair and waits for me to catch my breath, then she scoots off me and heads to the bathroom. A moment later she returns and climbs in bed beside me. She rests her face on my chest and looks up at me. “Thanks for taking me out tonight.”

  “Of course,” I reply, running my finger along her arm. “Thanks for letting me.”

  She smiles and pecks me on the mouth before settling back into my embrace and closing her eyes. Her head gets heavier after a few minutes, her breathing even. She fell asleep in my arms.

  I try to fall asleep with her, but I can’t. I keep running over the events of the night, the memories she stirred, thoughts of last night. I sure didn’t expect to fall asleep with another woman this soon after leaving Ashley. That it’s Moira naked and sated in my arms is un-fucking-believable.

  I don’t really think about the fact that I’m on the wrong side of the bed until I hear Seb’s car pull into the driveway. It’s late and I still haven’t slept, I’ve just been enjoying holding Moira, but Seb wastes little time coming upstairs. The bedroom door swings open and he steps inside. His gaze sweeps across Moira in my arms, then me, then his spot.

  “Remember how I said you could fuck my wife, just stay out of my spot?” he asks, idly. “Was that not generous enough for you?”

  I crack a smile. “I’m not in your spot. If anything, I’m in Moira’s spot.”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, Griff, but you’re not the one I want to cuddle with.”

  “The feeling is mutual,” I assure him.

  He lifts his eyebrows, his blue eyes twinkling with devious intent. “We could wake her up.”

  “She’s tired.”

  Now he rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure you wore her out. She could still go another round.”

  “You just fucked her last night. Seems like tonight should be mine.”

  This seems to amuse him. He smirks at me as he sheds his jacket and starts to unbutton his dress shirt. “Is that a joke? We fuck every night. We’re not 80. I’m willing to share; I’m not willing to go to bed every other night without my wife.”

  “So, is that how this goes? I’m the guest? I don’t get her to myself any nights?”

  “Maybe once in a while. Not every other night. Is your masculinity threatened by sharing a bed with me and the woman we both fuck now?”

  I roll my eyes. “No, my masculinity is just fucking fine. I don’t live here, though. If I’m going to spend the night from time to time, I need to leave a couple outfits here. This morning after run-around is going to get old fast.”

  Seb steps out of his slacks and drapes them over the chair on his side of the bed. “That’s fine. You can fill the closet in the guest room, the bathroom—put whatever you want in there. Make it yours. I like having you here. It’s like old times.”

  I smile faintly. “A little more spacious.”

  “Plus we have someone to keep us fed now,” he points out.

  “And our balls empty.”

  Seb laughs shortly. “Yeah, Moira’s a pr
etty good deal all the way around.”

  I’m taken off guard by the peaceful little minx snuggled up against me suddenly whacking me in the stomach.

  Sebastian’s gaze jumps across the bed. He’s faintly amused instead of alarmed that she overheard us being assholes. “Evening, sweetheart.”

  She narrows her eyes at him, then me. “You’re both terrible. I’m not just a chef or a warm body to stick your dicks into. I thought you were gentlemen. I hope you both enjoy blue balls, because these legs are closed for the next few nights.”

  I go conciliatory, rubbing her arm. “We were just joking around. You know we don’t really think of you as—” I can’t even repeat what we just said, so I probably shouldn’t have said it in the first place. “I’m sorry.”

  She appears slightly mollified, but her expectant gaze drifts to Seb.

  “I’m not.” He shakes his head, his expression dry as hell. “Nice try, sweetheart.”

  “Blue balls forever,” she tells him.

  “Never make a threat you can’t follow through with. Then people won’t take you seriously,” he advises her.

  “Then I guess I can never have sex with you or cook for you again,” she states, primly.

  He climbs on the bed and heads in my direction aggressively enough that I almost move, but I feel absurdly like I should keep myself between him and Moira.

  He grabs her and drags her over my body, back into her spot. I scoot back over where I belong, and Seb cradles the back of Moira’s neck in his hand, drawing her in for a tender kiss. Her hand drifts to his side and she leans closer, despite her announcement that he was in for a week’s worth of blue balls. He kisses her a little longer and she sinks against him, sighing softly in defeat.

  Then, because he has a point to prove, he pushes her down to suck his dick. She goes without complaint. I can’t really complain either; I get a damn good view of her ass as she labors over his cock the way she labored over mine earlier. My arousal stirs watching her go down on him, listening to her faint moans of pleasure. They’re not as frequent or as desperate as when we both fucked her, but every last one of her moans turn me on.