Icarus Rising

by Rob Manary

  “I’m so wet. Fuck, I need you so bad, Icarus,” she moans, moving to the bed at my command. I’m moving on top of her even as she is throwing her bra to the floor. “My panties,” she breathes. “Let me get my panties off.”

  “Leave them on,” my whisper harsh. She spreads her legs as I crawl on top of her. The feel of her lace panties against my cock is exquisitely painful. She gasps as my thickness brushes against her through the thin fabric. Her hand goes between us. She slips her panties to the side and takes me in her hand, guiding me towards the entrance to her hot hole.

  I move my hips slightly to avoid allowing her to place me inside. “I want to taste you,” I rasp into her ear. “I bet you’ve got the sweetest pussy.”

  She tenses and I look to her eyes. “I want you inside me, Icarus. Fuck me, just fuck me.”

  I ignore her plea and move down to kiss her neck. I’ve wanted to taste her since I met her. Tonight I’m going to lick that incredibly sweet pussy of hers. I kiss my way down her neck towards her full breasts. My hardness slips from her grasp as I move downward.

  I stop to worship her breasts for a moment or two. I flick my tongue across one hard nipple, then the other. She moans low in her throat as I pay homage to her hard little buds. I run my tongue around one of her nipples, biting her gently, before I do the same to the other. She gasps softly. Taking my head in her hand she stops me as I kiss my way down her stomach. “Please, Icarus, I want you inside me,” she pleads again.

  “I’ve been dreaming about licking your pussy since we met,” I confess.

  “I love it when you talk like that,” she says with a sigh.

  I move the hand that holds my head with one of my bandaged hands. Freed from her grasp I bend my head once more to kiss my way down her belly. I reach her belly button and dart my tongue inside. She giggles but then stops me again as I lick my way down her midsection arriving at the edge of her panties. “Wolf didn’t like to…. Wolf didn’t… I mean I don’t like…” she says, panicked. “Fuck, please just fuck me.”

  I realize now why there was little foreplay when we made love. “Wolf didn’t like to eat your pussy?” I ask. “Or you don’t like to have your pussy eaten?”

  “I don’t know. He never really did it.” I know she is reddening. “Fuck, I love it when you talk dirty,” she sighs, surrendering.

  “I’m going to eat your pussy, St. Claire. I’m going to lick your sweet little pussy and suck that little clit of yours until you come all over my face. Now pull your panties to the side so I can get at you.” It is a demand not a question. Without reluctance she complies, pulling her panties to the side once more to expose her swollen lips.

  It is the first time I really get a good look at her womanhood. Her lips glisten with her juices; they are swollen with her lust, puffy and engorged. She has a compact little pussy, her lips protrude only slightly, barely covering her vagina and her clit. I kiss the skin beside her outer lips, and lick millimeters from her labia, not touching her core. Teasing. I am rewarded with a tiny cry. I do the same on the other side of her need. I move to kiss her inner thigh. Slowly, I lick from her inner thigh to that spot so close to her pussy.

  Finally, I gently run my tongue along the outside of her lips. St. Claire tenses and starts to moan as I run the tip of my tongue up and down her labia. I knew she would taste sweet, but her musky sweet taste is even better than I imagined. I can tease no longer. I want to taste more of her. I run my tongue between her lips and St. Claire squeals as I spread her open with my tongue.

  Fuck, she tastes good. I again and again slide my tongue up her slit, then back down. St. Claire puts a hand on my head to hold me in place, it would seem. She need not have done it. I am intoxicated by her juices. She moves her hips away from me as the sensation begins to overwhelm her. I follow her when she does, licking her as her breath comes quicker.

  Now she is grinding into me, her hips no longer retreat. “Fuck, Icarus. Fuck me. Please, fuck me.” Her voice breaks. I force my tongue inside her and she cries out again. “Fuck, oh fuck.” I lick the inside of her tight channel and her back arches.

  I know she is close. I move up and take her clit between my lips. I run the tip of my tongue in a slow circle around her most sensitive spot. She lets out another tiny cry. I circle her clit with my tongue several times before I gently start sucking on it. It is enough to send her screaming over the edge. She clamps her legs close around my head and lets out a long scream. “I’m coming! I’m coming!” she shrieks. I can feel her squirt and her juices run down my chin.

  I don’t give her time to recover. She is trying to catch her breath as I am sliding up her body. I use the wreckage of my right hand to guide my throbbing cock inside her well lubricated pussy. She is still unbelievably tight around me but I slide in easily. Her breath catches as I stop, buried in her as deeply as I can go. “I want to taste,” she says nervously as she looks in my eyes. I move my mouth to hers.

  It is too much. I’m the first guy to really go down on her, and now she is sucking her sweet juice from my tongue. Her walls are still contracting from her orgasm. It is too much. I pull my hardness from her until only my head is trapped inside then I sink fully in her once more, and I’m coming. I’m filling her with my hot seed. It feels so incredible. I’m coming inside the woman I love. I cry out, “I’m coming! Oh fuck, I’m coming!”

  She lets out a small cry with me and her hands go to my ass to pull me deeper. She smiles as I shoot wave after wave of hot cum inside her, closing her eyes she bites her lip each time another jet of my hot semen hits her uterus.”I love the way this feels,” she moans as I fill her womb with my ejaculate. “I love it when you come in me.”

  We lay locked together for a long time. I soften inside her and finally move from on top of her. She snuggles into my arms. I stroke her hair as she lays her head on my chest.

  “What does it feel like?” I ask.

  “When you come?” She smiles.

  “Yeah,” I bite my lip, my turn to be nervous.

  “First, I feel you get huge. Like, fucking huge. Then, I feel your cock throb and I know you're about to come. Then it throbs again and again as you shoot inside me. I can feel this warmth spreading through me and I can feel it as you squirt. I can feel it hit deep inside me. It feels fucking incredible.” She smiles, sighing in contentment.

  Sunday, Day 21

  We arrived back at our condo late last night. In London, we did a little sightseeing, visiting Big Ben and London Bridge. We held hands and laughed like lovers as we played tourists.

  St. Claire has scheduled half a day of rehearsal for tomorrow. Our pseudo-honeymoon is almost over. The news that I had trashed the Wellington Suite at the Ritz Carlton has, of course, made the news. There is much speculation about my hands and St. Claire bailing me out of jail. It must be a slow day for news. The picture of St. Claire drawing me close for a kiss using the golden scarf makes the front page of the Toronto Sun. Several entertainment news shows pick up the story.

  We spend the day in bed. I go down on St. Claire repeatedly and we make love slowly again and again. Sometime in the afternoon the Colonel calls. I hear him asking St. Claire, “What the fuck is going on?” She laughs and explains everything is fine. “You two have a good thing going. You love each other. Don’t fuck it up, Ducky,” I hear the Colonel warn.

  The phone is then handed to me and the Colonel gives me the same message.

  St. Claire calls my new cell phone a dozen times, giggling each time she does it. I stop answering after the third or fourth time, telling her I don’t want to be disturbed, as I move to go down on her again.

  We happily spend the day in bed.

  Monday, Day 22

  It is a work day. My old nemesis, time, sped the clock up yesterday, and now, cruel prankster, steals the night. The alarm wakes us at 5 a.m., I wake with morning hardness, and St. Claire reaches for me. Her hand moves up and down my shaft, lovingly stroking me.

  “We have to be fast,” she whisper
s in my ear and then straddles me.

  She guides my cock inside her. It’s an incredibly snug fit. I can feel her growing wet around me. The feeling is indescribable, the way her walls clutch at my hardness, squeezing and releasing me. I can’t find adequate words.

  Slowly, St. Claire starts to ride me, then lifting herself all the way up off my dick she rubs my cock against her clit, she rubs me against her lips, then she is slowly sliding down me once more.

  Soon she is riding me hard. She moves all the way up my pole and then slams down on me. Each time she does it elicits a gasp from both our lips. Faster and faster she moves up and down, and then she buries my cock in her to the hilt and is motionless. Throwing her head back she lets out a quick cry. I move my hands to her hips to steady her. I have a little more use of my hands today.

  Keeping me completely engulfed in her hotness she starts to move her hips in a slow circle. The feeling around my rod is intense as she grinds. Her breath is shallow, she is getting close to coming, but I am closer. She is drawing the cum from me with every rotation of her hips. “Fuck, St. Claire, I’m coming.” I unload deep inside her.

  She squeals as she feels me throb inside her. She bites her lip and looks down at me as again and again I throb inside her. “I’m sorry,” I say as I finish pumping the last of my hot load inside her.

  She collapses on top of me. “For what?”

  “You didn’t come…. I’m sorry.” I’m embarrassed that I’ve come so quickly.

  “Icarus,” she laughs kindly. “We're not going to come at the same time every time. This isn’t some bad romance novel. I never had an orgasm before we met. I never knew it could be this good. I just love having you inside me. You stretch me and fill and make me feel… complete.” She takes my lips and kisses me tenderly. The kiss becomes more urgent and I am hardening inside her. She can feel it. “No. No. No. I have to get to work.” And she climbs from me with a smile.

  The art supplies I bought days ago arrive around noon. By noon, St. Claire has called my cell phone three times to squeal in my ear and exclaim how happy she is I have a cell phone. We laugh and talk for a couple minutes before she has to go.

  I call Wayne and tell him he is required. He arrives directly and helps me set up my studio. We throw white sheets on the hardwood floor to protect it from paint splatter and set up my easel and a canvas. He helps me with the paint. I learn more about Guy than, maybe, I want to know. My day passes.

  At around three I receive a call from the concierge about another delivery. Darwin has sent the second painting in the Icarus series, “Icarus Ascendant” to St. Claire as a gift. I decide to call Darwin and make peace. But I’ll let her wait a day or two.

  St. Claire calls my cell phone for the third or fourth time this afternoon. I laugh each time she does, and I remember to say ‘hello’ each time. I think she is training me. I tell her about Darwin’s gift and am rewarded with another delighted squeal. She’s only doing a half day so she’ll be home early evening, she tells me.

  The owner of Studio 1098 calls. The custom piece I had commissioned the day after we bought our commitment rings is ready. I’m impressed. I grab a cab and collect the piece. I take another cab to Queen Street to the little patio bar I had found. I have another glass of the passable chardonnay they offer. St. Claire calls to tell me Guy wants to take us out to show off his new boyfriend. My day passes.

  I arrive home and Wolf is waiting for me in the lobby of my building. It is a surprise. It is an unwelcome surprise. I recognize him from his unflattering press. Wolf is one of those men who is fighting the years with everything he has and the years are winning. His face is pulled taut from a facelift I might sue the surgeon for and he wears a pair of jeans and a tight t-shirt. The jeans, like the t-shirt, are too tight. The t-shirt emphasizes the roll around his middle. Around his neck he wears half a dozen gold chains. And someone needs to tell him he is balding. The few long strands that remain on the top of his head are plastered back, meeting the hair at the back of his head in a ponytail. This is what Mr. T might look like if he was white, short, fat, and balding. I can only imagine he was much better looking as a younger man.

  Wolf is substantially smaller than I am. I like that, it pleases me. I have several inches on him. His face is a touch too shiny from perspiration on a day that warrants no sweat. There is something entirely unhealthy about him. I feel it as I draw close. Towering over him I see he holds a manila envelope as I close the gap between us.

  “What is it you want, Wolf?” I try not at all to keep the disdain from my voice.

  “I’ve come to see Rachel,” he says.

  “Rachel doesn’t want to see you, Wolf.” I state simply.

  “You don’t know what Rachel wants.” He points a finger at me as if we are in some B-movie.

  I have no desire to get into it with him. There is nothing he could say that I want to hear. It’s ridiculous that he is here at all. They haven’t been together in over a year and now he presents himself as an eager suitor? If this is my competition I have nothing to worry about. I shake my head and laugh at him. He presses the manila envelope into my hand.

  “You don’t know how to satisfy a woman like Rachel. I know what she likes, Brandon. Back off. ” I don’t know exactly what his tone is meant to convey, menace perhaps. “Tell Rachel I’m staying at the King Edward.”

  I laugh at him. “A cheap hotel.” I laugh again. “Was the Holiday Inn booked? I’ll let Rachel know but don’t expect a knock on your door. She’s traded up.” I walk away, the envelope he handed me in my hands. I think about just tossing it in the trash. I should have.

  Entering the condo I throw the envelope to the coffee table as I throw myself to the couch. That devil curiosity causes my eyes to go to the envelope. I grab it and tear it open. I wish I hadn’t. I told Darwin that every man wants to think his woman is a virgin when they met. That’s true of me, too. I don’t know what I thought might be in the envelope. Nothing could prepare me.

  These are the pictures St. Claire’s father, the Colonel, spoke of. Hardcore shit, he had said. That doesn’t begin to describe it. St. Claire is young, so incredibly young.

  I can’t imagine what a father might feel seeing these pictures of his baby girl, but I know how I feel. I’m sickened. I’m repulsed. There are a dozen or more of the pictures in the envelope. I grow more and more angry as I flip through the photographs. Why I don’t stop flipping through them, I couldn’t say. I grow enraged.

  I can’t describe the photos. I can, but I won’t. The tamest showed St. Claire on her knees, blindfolded, gagged, her hands bound and there is a dog collar around her neck. Wolf holds a leash; he’s choking her as he urinates on her breasts. From the Colonel I know St. Claire is only sixteen. Probably the reason that sick fuck Wolf hadn’t tried to use these photographs against St. Claire. This was child pornography and he was at least smart enough to know these would put him in jail.

  St. Claire chooses that moment to walk through the door.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I lash out at her. I’m mad, Wolf isn’t here, she is a target of convenience. I throw the pictures to the coffee table. She sees them. She knows exactly what they are.

  “Fuck, Icarus…” If I had stood up and struck her she could not have looked more surprised or hurt. She doesn’t know what to say.

  I don’t let her find words. “Is that what you like, St. Claire? You want me to tie you to the bed and piss on you?! ” My voice is rising, I’m almost screaming at her. I grab the top picture and hold it up. “How about this, St. Claire? You want me to do this to you?”

  “Icarus, please, calm down. I was sixteen. Wolf got me drunk. I didn’t know what I was doing. Fuck, just fuck, I never let it happen again. Please, calm down.”

  “I think this one is my favorite!” I hold up another random picture. “How about we try this one, St. Claire, what do you think?!” I am yelling at her now.

  “Who are you mad at, Icarus? I was sixteen. I was drunk.” She
’s crying. “Wolf took advantage of me. He used me, he used me for ten fucking years. But I never let this shit happen again. Please, Icarus, calm down.”

  I can’t stand to see her cry. I’m making her cry, again. I’m not mad at her. I should be consoling her. She’s the victim of my friendly fire. But I am livid. I walk past her and am out the door. I can hear her calling after me. “Icarus, please, don’t do anything stupid.”

  I’m in a cab to the King Edward hotel.

  I stop at the front desk. “Where’s Wolf?” I ask. There must be murder in my eyes because the front desk clerk doesn’t hesitate to tell me Wolf is at the bar.

  I’m on autopilot. I see Wolf at the bar. I grab him by his too tight t-shirt. My hands scream in protest. I shove him against a pillar and I’m hitting him. I hold him against the marble with one hand, I’m striking him with the other. My bandaged hand wails on his face. I only stop hitting him when my hand can take absolutely no more punishment. There is blood on the gauze bandage when I look down. It’s not my blood. Wolf’s lips are a bloody mess and so is his nose. My hands are on fire.

  “You even think of calling the police, Wolf, and I hand over your little pictures.” My voice is calm, detached. I hear the words before I realize I’ve said them. As I leave the bar there is a smattering of applause from the few patrons within. Wolf’s reputation is not unknown. I feel as if I’ve gained accomplices and I don’t worry this incident will hit the press.

  I’m in a cab back to the condo.

  St. Claire has slumped to the floor just inside the door where she stood when I verbally assaulted her. She is crying openly, her breath coming in huge pained gasps. Her eyes meet mine, “Fuck, Icarus, I was sixteen,” she says between breaths as I enter.

  “I’m sorry, St. Claire.” I kneel down next to her on the floor.