by Penny Wylder
“Sometimes…” My voice catches, and he pauses for a moment to watch me. I swallow hard. “Sometimes I use a vibrator too. When I think about you.”
He leans back in to lick me again, hard and fast, just once, his tongue lapping across me like an ice cream cone in a flavor he adores. “Tell me more,” he commands, his breath hot against my sensitive pussy, and it’s not the kind of command I can ignore.
I swallow around a lump in my throat. “I… I pictured us fucking right here in this room,” I murmur, my breath catching as his tongue reaches my clit, grazes over it in a way that makes my hips buck.
I tighten my grip on his hair, and he tightens his grip on my ass in return, his fingers leaving little marks dug into the soft skin of my ass. I want that. I want him to mark me. I want everyone to know I’m his.
“I pictured the way you’d know exactly how to pleasure me, even before I did. How you’d teach me about my body.”
“Like this, you mean, Maggie?” Russ presses his tongue inside me, then, and I cry out faintly at the feeling. His tongue parts my folds, presses deep into my pussy, easily. I’m soaked, and his tongue is so hot and wet. Fuck it feels incredible.
“I… yeah…” is all I can manage in response. He chuckles softly, and the vibration of him laughing makes my toes curl as I slowly raise my legs to drape them over his shoulders, hooking my ankles one around the other for balance. Something tells me I’ll need the extra help balancing for the next few minutes.
I’m right.
Russ eats my pussy like no one I’ve ever been with before. His tongue knows every spot, every trick and maneuver. He finds my G-spot easily with the tip, works at it while his hands knead my ass in a firm massage. Before I can even adjust to that, he moves again, pulling his tongue out to lap along me, and the way he licks and sucks at my clit, hard enough to build the excitement inside me, but never hard enough to let me reach a peak, at least not yet… well, it drives me wild.
Before long, I’ve forgotten all about staying silent, all about trying to behave. I’m just straight up begging. “Please, Russ. Please let me come.”
“You’ll come when I tell you to,” he breathes against me. “Not before.”
It’s torture. Beautiful, amazing, agonizing torture. His tongue licks me right up to the edge and then moves to a new spot, before I can finish. Finally, I’m panting for breath.
“Please, please,” I’m gasping, only vaguely aware that my mouth is even moving. All I want, all I need, with every fiber of my being, is to come. To come with this man’s tongue in my pussy.
“Okay, Maggie.” His eyes find mine again, and the sight of him looking up at me like that, kneeling between my legs, filled with desire, drives me wild. “Come for me.” Then his tongue presses into me again, hard and fast, and he’s licking me without any sense of control.
It only takes a few seconds. The orgasm has been building in me for almost an hour, practically since the moment he first hauled me onto his shoulders to play chicken in the pool. I let out a weak, strained cry as the peak sweeps through me, and my vision swims in and out, colors dancing on the edges of my vision.
“Again,” he orders, almost before the convulsing in my pussy and the racing adrenaline in my veins has even faded. But then his mouth is on me again, and this time his tongue laps over my clit, gently but firmly, making the already sensitive spot throb and ache.
My breath hitches, my hands fist in his hair, so tightly I’m sure it’s hurting him, but he doesn’t protest, which is good, because I doubt I could make myself stop. I come with a faint, distant cry, even weaker than the first one, which is probably a good thing, because again, I’d forgotten all about being silent.
My body shakes, twitches with the aftershocks of the orgasm. Russ draws away from me, and my pussy feels suddenly cold without his mouth clamped over it. But he’s already moving, thank god, leaning down along me, sliding back up my body until we’re nose to nose.
“You are a fucking wonder,” he breathes. He kisses me again, and I can taste myself on his lips, the salty sweet scent mingled with Russ’s own smell, a musky, masculine one that drives me wild.
His cock rests along my inner thigh, rock hard, thick and veined. When I shift my hips against his, his cock jumps against me, twitching with the force of his desire.
I reach down and slowly, gently, grasp the base of his cock in my fist. I draw him toward my entrance, my legs already spread, though I spread them even farther now, wrapping them around his waist.
“I want to feel you inside me,” I breathe, my heart still pounding from the double orgasm, my body feeling both loose and liquid, and filled with fire all at once.
“As if I could resist you for another second, little one.” He bends to kiss me once more, and at the same time, gently presses his hips forward, the tip of his cock parting my pussy lips. He reaches down and peels my hand from his cock, guides himself inside me instead. When the tip presses into me, I gasp, but his mouth swallows the sound, hot and hard.
So I let myself go. I moan into his lips, feel a sharp sting as he gently nips my lower lip. The slight pain contrasted with the pleasure as his cock drives farther and farther into me, an inch at a time, spreading my pussy wide, making me ache to contain him… It’s enough to have me starving all over again, hungry for his release this time, as well as mine.
I remember how good it felt when he came in me last time. I want to feel that again.
Finally, he’s pressed all the way inside me, and for a moment, he pulls away from my lips to regard me, both of us studying the other, our naked bodies pressed together for the first time, every muscle of his digging into every soft curve of mine. “I love this tight, wet pussy of yours,” he breathes, the dirty words only making my belly curl with pleasure.
He pulls out, just a little, and thrusts right back in again, filling me once more, making me feel deliciously stuffed.
“I love every inch of your gorgeous body.” His hands trace up my sides to my hips, waist, chest. Finally, one hand comes to rest along my cheek, and he tilts my face to his, kisses me again, softer this time, slower.
“I love feeling you inside me,” I murmur against his mouth when we break apart once more. “I feel so fucking full.”
The corner of his mouth quirks in a faint smile. He draws out of me again, a little farther this time, and thrusts back in. “I fucking love it too. How tight you feel around me…”
In response, I tighten my pussy, squeeze around him. He lets out a faint groan of appreciation and draws out once more. Thrusts in again. He’s starting to move faster, to build up a rhythm. My hands slide up and around his shoulders of their own accord, my fingers wrapped around his taut muscles. I dig in, hold on, as he starts to thrust faster, harder.
“God you are fucking perfect, Maggie,” he groans.
I can’t even respond, because I’m too lost in the feel of him. The thick push of his cock deep inside me. The way he smells in this moment, all heat and sex. The heat that’s building within me in response, even in spite of the two orgasms he gave me. It makes me wonder how many of those I could possibly have in one night. It makes me eager to find out. The longer I can stay with him, feeling this, the better.
Russ reaches down to grasp my ass, pulling me up and against him more firmly. I gasp, because at this angle, the tip of his cock, curved ever so slightly upward, drags along my inner wall, brushing over my G-spot with every thrust.
“That’s it, little one,” Russ murmurs, his eyes never leaving mine, tracing down over my body and back up again, like he can’t get enough of the sight of me either, spread out beneath him, at his mercy like this.
Not going to lie, I can sympathize. I can’t stop looking him over, either. This firm strong body that I spent so many nights dreaming about fucking me, just like this.
“I want to feel you come on my cock,” he says softly, but firmly, like it’s another of his commands. Even just the way he says them, like someone who’s accustomed to being obe
yed, makes me feel hotter, wetter with want.
Who knew I’d like being bossed around in bed? But I do. “Yes, sir,” I breathe, and his eyes flash in response, desire and heat obvious within them.
He arches back to drive into me, then, fucking me harder, faster. It makes me lose control just as fast. My clit was already sensitive from coming earlier. It doesn’t take long to get me back near the peak once more, especially the way Russ moves, his cock knowing just the way to fuck an orgasm out of me.
“Come for me,” he orders again, and I can’t disobey.
I cry out, as my toes curl, and arch up against him with pleasure. He moves, a split second too late, to clamp a hand over my mouth and muffle the sound. I shudder, too late realizing how loud that was. But I’m lost in the orgasm now, the pleasure that sweeps through me. I can feel my pussy tighten and convulse around his cock, squeezing him like a fist.
A moment later, with strong, firm hands, he flips me around underneath him, until my face is buried in my own pillow. He drives into me, hard and fast, then, and with a guttural growl, he comes deep inside me, making me gasp with pleasure as white hot cum spills from him, pumps inside me.
When he finally draws out of me once more, a thin dribble traces down my inner thigh. He lets go of my hips, and I flop onto my side on the bed, my limbs glistening with sweat, spent. He’s about to lie down beside me, when he hesitates.
A second later, I realize why. His head jerks toward the hallway, and we both tense.
“Maggie?” It’s Dad. The knob of my door jiggles as he tests it. But it’s locked. Thank god we remembered to lock it. “Is everything all right? I heard a scream.”
My whole body blushes, all the way from my toes to the top of my head. “Uh… fine. I just tripped,” I lie quickly, shooting panicked glances at Russ.
For his part, the bastard just looks smugly amused with himself. Like he doesn’t mind that I just almost blew our cover and got us both murdered by my father.
“I’ll be back down in a second,” I yell again, when Dad’s footsteps don’t retreat. “I’m just getting changed.”
“All right,” he responds. Still, there’s another long pause, before he finally walks back down the hall once more. Neither of us move until the stairs creak, the telltale third step groaning beneath Dad’s weight, telling us he’s back downstairs once more.
“Fuck,” I groan, collapsing against Russ.
He bursts into laughter, then, and wraps his arms around me. With one gentle finger, he tilts my face back until I’m forced to look up at him, my eyes narrowed.
“It’s not funny,” I protest. “He would have killed us.”
“It’s a little funny,” he replies. “And I’m pretty sure I could give him a run for his money.”
I groan and roll my eyes, but I let him lean in and kiss me softly.
“If you’re having regrets about this, Maggie, you can tell me,” Russ murmurs, when he draws back from the kiss, his worried eyes fixed on mine.
A guilty, unpleasant sensation tugs at my chest. “It’s not that. I don’t regret doing this.” I really don’t. “Just… I don’t want to make anything harder. For either of us. And I really don’t want to fuck up your entire life.” I search his eyes. He opens his mouth, but I hold up a hand to stave him off. “I know you said you don’t mind if you get fired. That you have other options. But I would hate to be the reason you had to implement them against your wishes. Even if you were alright with it in the end… I can’t help but worry that at some point down the road, you’d start to resent me for it.”
His eyes search mine right back. “Would you resent me if you lost your job at the hospital?” he asks, one eyebrow lifted. He’s quick to add, “It’s all right if you think you would be. I’d rather us be honest and open with one another.”
My cheeks flare red again, though less intensely than when my father almost walked in on me post-fuck a minute ago. “It’s not that. I mean, I don’t even like my job right now. Though…” I hesitate and chew on my lower lip. “Thank you for talking to Dad about it. For trying to convince him he should let me have a normal patient roster again.”
“Of course. Any time.” Russ’s forehead creases. He’s clearly trying to figure out what I’m not saying. What really makes me so nervous about pissing off my father.
I groan and sink back against my bed. After a moment’s hesitation, he lies down alongside me, and loops one arm around my waist. I snuggle into him, grateful for his warmth, not to mention his strong, comforting presence. It makes it easier to say what’s on my mind. “I want to make a difference in the world,” I say softly. “And I’m afraid that I can’t do that from here… but Dad could ruin my chances to do it from anywhere. You know how much clout he has. He could…” get me blackballed from Doctors Without Borders, a part of me finishes. But it’s hard to admit even that much out loud. Russ has never traveled or worked anywhere except right at Dad’s side. Somehow, admitting my deepest desire proves harder than I expected. “He could ruin my future chances anywhere else, too,” I finally settle on saying.
Russ’s chest rises and falls in a deep sigh. “I can understand that. You have ambition, Maggie. Not to mention a huge heart.” He lifts a strand of my hair and twirls it around one of his fingers. “It’s why I don’t want to let you go, Mags. Because I love that about you.”
My heart twists in my chest, a little too painfully aware of how close that is to another three little words. Words that might break me, at this point. But he doesn’t say them. He just sits in silence, watching me. Waiting to see what I want to do.
Finally, I lean up and kiss him, soft and sweet this time. And I settle on the truth. “I don’t want to let you go, either…” I admit in a low whisper.
As bad as this idea is, as crazy as us trying to be together seems…right now, he is exactly who I want.
7
A week passes. A week of sly glances in the hallways, of whispered promises between rounds. Dad doesn’t give me back a full roster of patients yet, but he lets me have three more than before, after I apparently treated the handful of rich patients to his satisfaction. So now I’m up to six patients instead of three. Better than before. But still not the two dozen I should be handling.
Still not enough to stave off the annoyed or angry glares of my fellow nurses in the hallways.
But I have Russ to distract me from those, at least. We start to fall into a regular pattern. He’ll text me something innocuous—a winking face or a grin. Then I’ll text him the time of my next break. By the time the break rolls around, I’ll find Russ waiting for me in the handicap stall on our floor, down an out of the way passage, or maybe in the break room near the OR wing.
We’ll lock the door, and for twenty minutes, we can lose ourselves and forget about our problems in one another’s arms.
It’s not enough to make me feel satisfied with my whole life—I still wish I were doing so much more, helping more people than I am right now. But it’s enough to distract me, for the time being. Enough to make my current life survivable, at least, and maybe even lined with a little silver.
I have no idea how long it can last. I can’t see it ever working out. But for some reason the desperation that induces, the knowledge that this can only ever be a temporary wild fling, just makes it feel all the hotter whenever we are able to sneak away together. I lose myself in the heat of his arms, the intensity of his kisses, and it soothes me into forgetting, for a little while, that one day I’ll have to let him go.
At the start of our second week of… whatever it is we’re doing—whether you can just call it hooking up or it’s starting to transition into more, I’m not sure—I finally have a day off work at the same time that Russ does. Our schedules normally don’t align, and for once, I think, we can take advantage of this. Be together without having to sneak, or without risk of my parents stumbling across us.
But when I text to ask him what he’s doing that day, his reply says he has an appointment that he can
’t miss. My stomach sinks. So much for my grand plans of going on a semi-normal date, somewhere downtown and far from my family’s prying eyes.
Then my phone dings a second time. If you’re free, why don’t you come with me?
What are you doing? I ask a moment later.
You’ll see.
Confused, but ready for any excuse to see Russ outside of work or my parents’ pool parties, I agree to meet him up in the Bronx in a couple of hours. I spend most of those two hours dressing, because what the hell do you wear to a date—is this a date? —where you don’t know what you’ll be doing? Finally, I settle on jeans and a cute sweater, since it’s still freezing outside, all layered under my heavy overcoat. Then I catch the train, just in time to make it to meet him on time.
When I get to the address he sent me, though, all I see is a rundown looking building with a line of people outside. Everyone there has shabby-looking coats. A few are carrying sacks of what look like odds and ends.
Slowly, it dawns on me. This is a soup kitchen.
Sure enough, a moment later, a side door pops open and Russ waves me inside. I jog into the warm building, my breath still fogging from the cold air, and I freeze as I step over the threshold. Because damn, I’d forgotten how good he looked out of his work scrubs. Not that he looks bad in those, but his flannel and jeans today have me wishing we didn’t always have to wear the same clothes over and over at work.
He wraps me in a tight hug the moment I get to his side, and I fold into him, breathing in his familiar scent, grateful for his warm, strong presence. When we break apart, I grin up at him, my head tilted with curiosity. “So this is the big secret, huh? Volunteer work?”
“Come on, I’ll introduce you. I got the manager to agree to put you on serving duty with me.” He checks a clock over my head, near the doorway. “Which starts in five minutes, so we don’t have much time.”
I trail after him as he introduces me to a few of the other volunteers, and the coordinator who puts everything here together. Everyone seems nice, and they all know Russ well. They joke with him, smile and laugh at his jokes in return. I keep side-eying him, wondering how he has this entire other side to his life that I never knew about. I’m pretty sure Mom and Dad have never mentioned that Russ does volunteer work. How did this never come up, in all their years of friendship? It seems like he’s a regular, too.