69

by Alison Tyler

  He grinned, and she tentatively smiled back. “You remember that movie on SyFy?”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “Maybe you fell asleep while I was watching it.”

  She usually did. “More aliens invading?”

  “The last couple on Earth.”

  She’d forgotten his circuitous conversational paths. “Go on.”

  “See, we can be that couple. No jobs or elections or people wanting things from us. Maybe we can forget about…everything.” He smiled, this time tentatively. “Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Theresa switched off the lights, the phones, even the DVD’s clock. She unplugged the refrigerator as well. The silence was shocking. Evan lit a candle on their bedroom windowsill. He and the candle were the only warmth in her world.

  A breeze from the leaky window sliced through her nylons. She shuddered, and something in the room changed—her sense of Evan’s warmth and scent.

  She looked into his face, as if she’d never seen his familiar features before, but he looked away, uncharacteristically nervous. “Theresa…” His eyes seemed larger and darker than in their normal, brightly lit, lives. “I didn’t want to die. Not without holding you again. Or having you hold me.”

  Theresa eased into his space. She hoped for answering relaxation from him, but it wasn’t happening. She wasn’t sure he was breathing.

  There was an easy way to find out. Theresa nuzzled his mouth until his lips opened. Their breath mingled. She swiped her tongue inside his lower lip; her thoughts fuzzed over when he kissed her back, alternating brushes of his tongue with featherlight friction of his lips. She threaded her fingers into his hair and kissed his temple, getting a mouthful of hair.

  Their laughter had a hysterical edge. She stifled it with another kiss. She felt calm now, in control.

  “We still have water, after the…the disaster,” Theresa said. “Not hot water, just water.”

  “Oh, great. A cold shower.”

  Theresa said, “I wouldn’t mind washing off.”

  Evan leaned forward and mouthed her breast through her blouse. “You taste fine already.”

  Theresa gasped as he drew hard on her nipple; her fingers dug into his shoulders. “I meant first. I want us to be clean.” And of course getting naked would be much easier.

  “Wait,” Evan said, and vanished into the bathroom.

  She tugged off her shoes and stockings, then her clothes, shedding the trappings of the everyday. The tile floor was icy; she shivered as she entered the bathroom, lit by another candle.

  Evan said, “Is this okay?”

  “You first.”

  “No. Sit there,” he said, indicating the closed toilet seat.

  Theresa sat. In the golden light, everything seemed softer-edged, and warmer.

  Evan drew out her hairpins, and her eyes drifted closed. He massaged her scalp and drew his fingers luxuriously through her hair.

  “Keep your eyes closed,” he said, in a husky voice. The pressure of his palm bent her forward, over the sink. He poured cold water onto her head—an exquisite shock. She murmured in pleasure as Evan’s fingers massaged in shampoo.

  After he dabbed away the last drips, she bundled up her hair in a towel and pointed for him to take her place. She curved her hand around the back of his neck, holding on for a moment before pouring water.

  His sucked in a breath as the water hit his scalp. Theresa lingered over scrubbing him, massaging his face and temples. She followed the rinse water with her fingers, marveling at the startling heat of his scalp. His breathing deepened as she worked. Finally, she said, “Still awake?”

  “Yeah.” Evan’s eyes traveled over her body. Then he stood and poured soap onto one cloth, soaking another with water. “Turn around,” he said.

  Theresa arched her back as the cloth scrubbed her skin in tantalizing circles, lifted her arms on command, let her head droop as his square, competent hand stroked her buttocks and the backs of her thighs and caressed the taut muscles of her calves. She lifted her feet, one at a time. She closed her eyes, listening to water trickle as he wrung the rinse cloth out. “Around again.”

  He progressed more slowly on the way up. Theresa held her breath as he cleaned the fronts of her thighs. Slowly, he leaned forward and kissed her pussy, then cleaned gently. Theresa bit her lip, trying not to move. Despite the cold water, the skin of her abdomen seemed on fire, her breasts heavy and aching long before he anointed them with soap. Her neck next. Then the delicate skin behind her ears. Then her face. Evan wiped soap carefully from around her nose, leaned forward and kissed her, catching her lower lip briefly between his.

  The rough washcloth had brought blood to her skin. Theresa was sure she must be pink all over, and her body craved satisfaction. She unfastened the front of his shirt, and stepped back, studying him; otherwise, she might have seized him violently in a kind of blind lust she couldn’t remember feeling before, even when they’d been in love for the first time.

  She saw wet hair glistening with droplets of water, darker shadows of chest hair visible through his gaping shirt, lean hips and an erection beginning to manifest, defenseless naked feet.

  Theresa stripped off his shirt. He wore thermal underwear beneath, the ivory color complementing his skin. She pulled the shirt off, and then helped him peel down his jeans and his shorts.

  Evan hissed when she touched him.

  “Hold still,” Theresa said.

  She liked the texture of his leg hair against her palms. She learned that he responded as much or more to her gentle manipulation of his testicles than he did to a similar touch down the length of his cock. She discovered that the hair on his chest was going gray.

  At his throat, she kissed her way up a tendon to his jawline, and then nipped his ear before washing his face. “Done,” she said.

  Their bedroom was now frigid, but beneath a tent of blankets, deliciously warm. Theresa clutched a blanket to her breasts. Evan’s chest was warm against her back as he tugged a comb through her hair. Theresa resisted the urge to moan in animal pleasure, but only barely. Then his thumbs massaged the nape of her neck for a few moments, and she did moan.

  Evan bent close; his free hand lifted the heavy mass of her hair. He nibbled her nape. He nipped her again, not quite in the same place. The hair on her arms stood up.

  Theresa gripped the muscles of his thighs, one with each hand, and rubbed, delighted by the silkiness of the hair beneath her palms. Evan’s arms abruptly encircled her waist, a grip like a safety belt. He whispered, “I love you, Tessie.”

  Theresa leaned back, nestling into warmth. He caressed her breasts, brushing her nipples, pulling on them gently.

  Theresa felt his hot breath against her throat. She turned in his arms, dislodging the blanket. She bore Evan down against the mattress.

  “My turn,” she said, softly.

  His fingers burrowed into her hair while she kissed him. She closed her eyes, losing herself in the hot slickness of his mouth and the satin heat of his skin shifting against hers.

  His hands squeezed her ass. Theresa didn’t want to lose contact by trying to mount him from above. His cock strained against her belly; she reached between their bodies, pulling gently.

  Evan flipped them over. His hand joined hers to guide himself into her.

  Theresa let him in, inch by inch.

  They might have been out in space, their only heat from each other’s bodies, their only oxygen sucked from each other’s lungs. Gradually, her awareness narrowed to the slippery thrusting inside her, and narrowed again when his hand shifted between them, circling her clit.

  “Faster,” she said. Her grip tightened on his hips. Not enough. Not enough. She opened her legs wider, angling her pussy at a sharper angle and pushing, pushing, crushing his hand against her cli
t. Evan’s breath sobbed in her ears as he hammered into her with harder, shorter strokes.

  Theresa crested. For a few moments she was lost in her own trembling sensation, then she gasped, “I love you, I love you, only you....”

  Warm gushing inside her in suspended time. Evan’s abrupt hot weight as his arms gave out. Her scalding tears dribbling into her nose and mouth.

  Evan nuzzled her face, his weight shifting off of her. “Did I hurt you?”

  Theresa sniffled. “No. I just…”

  “It’s okay.” He held her, chin snugged against her hair. “I love you.”

  They lay entwined, their breath frosting the air. Theresa could not remember ever being happier.

  “Ev, can we do it again? This time, with the heat on?”

  Listen

  By Emma Hillman

  Her lashes fluttered against the satin blindfold. Her limbs were starting to ache, bound as they were to the four corner posts. She didn’t complain, however; she was too busy listening to his gravelly voice.

  “Look at you all tied up. I could do anything to you. Kiss you. Touch you. Fuck you. Spank you.”

  She felt her mouth open but no sound escaped.

  He kept on talking. “You can’t see anything, can you, sweetheart?”

  She shook her head, making him chuckle darkly.

  “I know it’s bothering you. I know you hate not knowing what I’m going to do or…you know what? I think I’m going to invite some friends over tonight. Let them have at you. What do you say?”

  She licked her lips but refused to answer.

  “Is that a yes, darling? Does it mean you’d like them to get you off? You’re getting wetter, so I guess you like that idea. Mmm, interesting.”

  Fingers spread her lower lips wide open.

  “Look at this. Your clit is already throbbing, and I haven’t even touched you yet. You’re such a good little slut, aren’t you?”

  Sweet pressure on her clit. Oh yes. No! It’d stopped only after a few seconds.

  “No, I think you need something more.”

  Oh, God. He forced her mouth open before making sure it closed around his makeshift gag. It was some kind of smooth material, probably one of his ties. It also meant she was now tied, blindfolded and gagged. She couldn’t do anything but listen.

  “Perfect! You look so damn tempting like this. Now, let’s see if my friends have arrived.”

  She bucked against the restraints, her hips lifting off the bed.

  “Now, baby, you know the rules. When you’re in my bedroom, I’m the master. Remember?”

  Footsteps echoed in the distance, and she realized he’d left the room. Why had she told him her fantasies? Why?

  “Here we are, darling. Let me see how much you’re enjoying yourself so far. Oh yes, you’re even wetter than before. I do so love the taste of your juices.”

  He was licking his fingers, the ones that had traced her folds gathering the moisture there.

  “That’s too good not to share. Here, have a go at her, gentlemen. She’s worth it.”

  She tensed, wondering who was there. She could feel eyes on her, excitement and shame warring inside her. Did they like what they saw? Were they really going to touch her?

  “Suck on her clit. She likes that.”

  And someone did just that. A long, slow lick, followed by a nibble. Teeth clamped around the taut nub. They tightened until she couldn’t help but moan around her gag.

  “Don’t be afraid to hurt her a little, gentlemen. She likes it rough.”

  She shook her head once again, but something made her pause. A long finger had just slid inside her.

  “Play with her G-spot. That’ll get her even wetter, and then you’ll be able to fuck her, no problem.”

  The finger curled inside her. Tap, tap, tap, it went until she felt that amazingly odd rush of sensations. Her legs cramped, but she was too focused on that one spot to care. The finger started rubbing along her front wall, right where it felt good.

  “While they’re taking care of you, I think it’s time you took care of me.”

  The gag was suddenly whipped out of her mouth. He didn’t give her time to get accustomed to it. He forced his cock between her lips, the taste of him surprising even though she’d been his lover for months now.

  “That’s it, darling. Suck me. I want you to suck me while they fuck you. You’re gonna be filled everywhere, and you’re going to enjoy it.”

  Minutes later, she realized that she should’ve listened to his ramblings. He had said everywhere, and apparently he meant it. A finger, slippery with lube, probed at her rose and pushed inward. She tensed, but they knew what they were doing.

  “Keep going, gentlemen. She can take it.”

  Another finger joined the first. It pinched, even if they had lubed her well. When a third digit was added, she began bucking against her restraints.

  “Now, darling, don’t tell me you want to quit so soon. What about they eat you at the same time? Wouldn’t that help?”

  A tongue passed over her folds, awakening her clit once more. She knew the other man was scissoring his fingers inside her, widening her rose further and further. The different sensations were threatening to overwhelm her. She sucked on her lover’s cock. Rocked her hips in time with the tongue caressing her and making her feel so good. Ignored the fingers now thrusting in and out of her ass.

  Her eyes were closed beneath the blindfold. She tightened her fingers around the bedposts and held on as warmth spread through her.

  Her lover pulled back, his cock slipping out of her mouth with a wet sound. “Ah, there it is. She’s nearly there, gentlemen. Keep going.”

  It only took his hands on her breasts for her orgasm to hit. One pull of his fingers, one pinch, and she went flying. She came all over the tongue of the second man. He didn’t stop licking her and nearly brought her to a second climax. As she shuddered with aftershocks, they untied her.

  First the leg restraints, then the ones cuffed around her wrists. She was moved by a large number of hands, too many for her to count. They all had different textures, from smooth, manicured ones to rough-hewn, hardworking palms. She wondered who they were, these men. Did she know any of them?

  “On your hands and knees, sweetheart. Perfect.”

  Someone patted her butt, and she knew it was her lover. Someone else grabbed her then, someone who was lying on the bed. Fingers dug into her hips as the man forced her to straddle him. His cock brushed her folds right before he thrust into her. He was thick, thicker than anything she’d ever had inside her. Her walls stretched around his invasion, but it was nothing compared to when the second man entered her.

  She groaned, trying in vain to escape the unrelenting pressure. They were holding her too tight, the cock already inside her twitching as the other brushed against it. Only a thin membrane divided the two, and it was so damn weird. She groaned again.

  “Slowly, darling, take it slowly. You know you can do it. You’ve always wanted to be doubly penetrated, haven’t you?”

  But it hurts! She would have said those words out loud if he hadn’t just pushed his own cock past her lips again.

  “Ah yes, I do so love your mouth. Suck me hard now, sugar. Fuck them so we can all come on your pretty body.”

  And that’s when she truly believed he was right and she could indeed take it. Because it did hurt. It did. But she was still wet. Still aroused. She had two unknown cocks inside her, rubbing her from the inside out. It was strange and exhilarating at the same time.

  Her lover’s come trickled down her throat. She became greedy, sucking on his head the way she knew he liked. He gasped and pinched her nipple. Her walls tightened in reaction, and she heard groans from the men surrounding her.

  One cock slid out of her as
the other thrust back in. They did it again and again, until she could barely feel her lower half. It was a mass of raw nerves, a taut string that was begging to be snapped in two. When it became too much and she let herself go, she came so hard she nearly blacked out.

  The men swore and hurried to slip their cocks out of her. They jerked themselves off, their grunts echoing in the stark room. She couldn’t see them, but she definitely felt the first spurt of come that landed on her chest.

  The blindfold came off minutes later as she lay on her back, her thoughts spinning, her mind in disarray. She was covered with come, but she barely noticed. She caught her lover’s gaze and asked, “Who were they?”

  He smiled, a gentle smile that illuminated his face. Bending down, he pressed a soft kiss on her lips and said, “That, my dear, you’ll never know.”

  Come at Nine

  By Portia Da Costa

  There’s not much time. He said come at nine, and I’m still miles from anywhere. I scan the road, and suddenly I’m in luck. There’s a turn off onto what looks like a quiet, deserted lane.

  I bump the car along the track to a secluded spot, hidden by bushes, my eyes ever flicking to the digital read out on the dashboard.

  8:45

  I’ll have to hurry. When Nick says nine, he means nine.

  I turn off the engine and fish in my bag for my cell phone. He’ll expect verification and a photo or a video with a timestamp will have to do.

  I’ll see him later tonight, but I summon him in my mind now, blond as an angel, with a demon’s wicked eyes, slim, perfect body and the hands of a master, of a god. His hands can make me scream both with pleasure and with pain, and sometimes both at the same time. In fact, often I can barely tell the difference.

  For now though, my own hands will have to suffice. The dashboard exudes a soft glow, but otherwise, I’m in darkness. And that’s a good thing when I hitch up my skirt to my waist and tug down my panties to my ankles. I don’t remove them altogether. Nick likes to see me with my clothes half on, half off, all at sixes and sevens of desire for him. If he were sitting beside me now, he might smile in approval to see me displayed all sleazy-slutty like this. Or then again, his cool gray eyes might narrow as silently he notes some infraction. Some deviation from his idea of perfection, a slip-up that might cause him to slap my naked thigh, sharp and hard.