A

by Anne Leigh

  “I wonder if you –“ My voice shook but I kept my fingers busy, my fingers touched the side zipper and whoosh, I felt the soft texture of my dress touch my legs then my feet. “Would like what I’m wearing underneath it.”

  An harsh expletive came out of his sexy mouth and it gave me fuel.

  I touched the silk of my black strapless bra, feeling the fabric rough against my skin. Even my own fingertips felt cold to the lava that was branding my pores.

  “Athena…” he whispered, the fire in his eyes could stoke a fire in the Arctic.

  His hands started to move closer, only mere inches separating my center from his mouth and I said, “No. You can watch but you can’t touch.”

  My bra fell along with my dress and my breasts fell free from their cage.

  I lifted my breasts with my hands feeling my nipples become extra sensitive. If they could leak fluid, it would come out boiling.

  I’d never done this for anyone.

  Never showed myself like this for any man.

  But the man in front of me wasn’t just anyone.

  He wasn’t just any man.

  He was the man who treated me like porcelain, but made love to me as his equal.

  He was the man who was immovable by outside forces, but pleaded for my safety.

  He was the man who was trained to kill, but his hands were always gentle on me.

  And right now, he was looking at me like I was his last meal on this earth and he wanted to devour me.

  I moved my right hand down to my stomach then it disappeared inside my black lace undies. Webb released a hiss as he followed my trail.

  I dipped my finger inside my center and it was soaked. Slowly, I pulled it out, my essence smearing it.

  “You can’t touch but you can taste.” I’d never been this bold, but I was emboldened by the naked lust in his features.

  “Open.” I touched my finger to his lips and as as soon as his tongue touched it, I knew I could no longer play this game.

  His tongue devoured my cream which only made me even wetter.

  With my undies now joining the rest of my clothing, I sat on him and watched as he slowly, painfully, achingly kissed my finger.

  “Can I touch you now?” His voice was asking but his eyes were demanding.

  The sound that came out of my mouth was raspy, “Yeah…please.”

  He brought his left hand to the back of my head and slowly lowered me towards his mouth. I tasted myself in him and my center weeped in heat.

  The way his mouth devoured me was simply heady, blistering, nowhere near gentle. It was as if he was communicating with me about how much he needed me and how much he’d missed me.

  My hands felt the fabric that he was still wearing and I wanted it off.

  He obliged by unbuttoning his shirt without his lips leaving my mouth. And it took skills to lift me while he shucked his slacks off along with his boxer briefs.

  Webb wasn’t a boxer briefs or briefs guy. He didn’t really care what he wore. He wasn’t picky or fussy like that.

  “You feel that?” His words were caught in my mouth, but I was able to make sense of what he was saying.

  I was grinding his hips, opening my legs wider and keeping my toes planted on the couch. “Yeah. I feel you.”

  “I’m hard for you, babe. Always fucking hard,” he rasped, as I felt steel between my folds. My body wanted him. Burned for him. Needed him.

  I let myself feel the friction provided by his exposed cock and it was nowhere near satisfying. “I want you inside of me.”

  He didn’t say anything, but his mouth gave my lips a reprieve.

  The reprieve only lasted for a second because I felt the stubble of his chin tickle the underside of my breasts. He lifted me up, adjusting me so that he could bestow attention on my chest. His hands weighted them, and slowly he was putting a nipple inside his mouth.

  I watched in equal parts fascination and need as he afforded my left nipple the same amount of attention as the right. I was beyond soaked and I didn’t care.

  His couch would need dry cleaning tomorrow, but we were both past the point of return.

  As much as I’d love to go to his bed, I wouldn’t last.

  It’d been too long.

  His fingers trekked to my center and again, he lifted me effortlessly. I felt a rough finger evade me and it was the best sensation in the world. His eyes commanded me to watch as he inserted another one, slowly stretching me to accommodate his size.

  Webb was a large man and he had large feet, meaning his cock was also big.

  I felt his cock twitching near my butt, but I was lost in the sensation of riding his fingers. The alcohol in my system had left me an hour ago yet the dizzying, addictive, and buzzing feeling was back because of what he was doing to me.

  He added a third finger and I moaned, “Ooohhh…unghh…”

  His breath was in my ear, “Fuck me, babe. Fuck my fingers. Get what you need from me.”

  The sexy talk urged me on and my butt arched to ride the pleasure he was giving me.

  “I can’t wait to feel your pussy again.” He growled and the words were coming out raspy. It gave me another surge of lust, knowing that he was feeling out-of-control because of me.

  His fingers found my clit and as much as I would have liked to, I couldn’t stop the explosion coming out of body.

  Webb stilled for a second then he was carrying me to the bedroom.

  I gave him scattered, reckless kisses on his mouth, neck, shoulders and I even bit at his chest.

  “Christ babe. You’re fucking hot,” he said, as if he couldn’t help himself.

  A lazy grin spread on my lips, “You make me this way.”

  As soon as we reached the bedroom, he commanded, “On the bed, on your knees.”

  I’d made love to him, had sex with him, and had a lot of third bases with him. He’d ordered me around a few times and I loved it.

  Tonight, I freaking savored it.

  My knees wobbled a bit as I crawled to the center of the mattress and Webb was quick to support my weight.

  “You okay, babe?” he asked, even when he was at the height of pleasure, he still looked out for me.

  “I’m okay. I just need to get my bearings,” I said, having had an orgasm a few minutes ago made me out-of-sorts. Endorphins and all that.

  His arms reached around me and his fingers played with my breasts. He was getting me all warmed up again. For him.

  He kept his weight off of me as he peppered my back with kisses, sometimes light, sometimes hard and I loved the juxtaposed, messiness, unpredictability of the touch of his mouth against my skin.

  My toes curled as he touched my clit. It was still overly sensitive from my orgasm, but definitely not unwelcome.

  His fingers slowly entered me. In. Out. In. Deeper. Out.

  If I died tonight, I wouldn’t care if I was in hell as long as this was what I’d be doing with Webb for eternity.

  “You close, babe?” His voice was needy, so close to the edge.

  “Yeah…keep going,” I said, as I felt his other finger open my folds and stroke them on the sides. My instinct was to keep my legs closed to savor and prolong the moment but I was helpless.

  He was too good.

  “I’m so close…” As soon as I said it, I closed my eyes and saw the sparks inside my eyelids.

  I felt his arms close around my waist and soon his fingers were replaced by his cock. I opened my legs wider to give his legs room to move.

  Then, he was thrusting, thrusting, his cock going in and out of me. He forged a relentless pace. One of lust and need.

  “Fuck…” His hoarse whisper made me move against him as he thrusted inside me again. The friction was building and he kept going.

  Never letting me up for air.

  My knees were starting to get tired but I stayed upright.

  His hands left my waist and I felt them cupping my butt. In, out, in, IN, in.

  “I’m commmingg…” His un
restrained warning was so damn sexy. I felt the condom inside me fill with liquid and slowly I put my elbows down.

  Webb gingerly pulled out, as if wanting to savor the feeling of his cock inside my body.

  He turned me to face him and I watched him tie the condom up and he made a straight shot to the basket close to the bed.

  His eyes landed on me, they were gentle, less tense, but the devotion in them unwavering. “You’re amazing, Athena.”

  I lifted my hands to his forehead, outlining his eyes to his nose and mouth with my fingers. “You are.”

  He was.

  He made me feel amazing.

  And cherished.

  And definitely satisfied.

  I’d always been a morning person.

  From the time I could run, I ran with my dad and he loved to run before the sun had completely risen.

  Dad loved to surf and I got that love of the water from him. The best time to surf was either at dawn or dusk. And since dusk was reserved for family time, Dad and I used to put on our wetsuits before mom woke up for the day. Dawn favored offshore winds and less human traffic in the water which was why for us surfers, it was the best time to ride the waves.

  Growing up with a father who lived the military life meant being away from him a lot, but when he came home, bonding time was early mornings by the coast and breakfast at a local diner. We didn’t stick to one place, we tried a lot of breakfast places so we could experience variety. Mom didn’t mind as long as we brought her pastries.

  I didn’t believe in much.

  But I believed in what my father had taught me – that mornings were the beginning of memories.

  And there was nothing that I loved more than beginning another memory with her.

  The woman who occupied my bed and started to fill the empty, cracked spaces in my heart.

  Athena.

  She stirred in her sleep, her mouth slightly opened, her right hand went under the contoured pillow designed to support the curve of her neck thereby relieving pressure. It was one of the injuries she’d sustained from being crammed in the trunk of a car for hours.

  I’d read the medical report. Head trauma, neck sprain, left bicep partial tear, UTI, and muscle contractures.

  That was just half of the report. The mind and cardiac alterations caused by the drugs injected in her system would be enough for anyone to believe that she wouldn’t make it. I might not understand a lot of medical jargon, but I was competent enough to comprehend that “not a good prognosis for a full recovery” meant that my woman was in trouble.

  But I refused to accept that she was going to be a statistic.

  And so did her father.

  He was my ally, my strongest one in fighting for her, in believing that she was going to be back to her hundred percent self again.

  I would take her at any percent, as long as she was alive.

  But as soon as my hand touched hers, I knew that she was going to be okay.

  Or at least that’s what I kept telling myself and Joseph.

  Dr. Simms always came in Athena’s hospital room with bad news. It wasn’t his fault, he was just giving us the facts.

  But for every fact that Dr. Simms handed out, Joseph challenged each one of them. When Dr. Simms said Athena’s blood gas results were bad, (I had no idea what that meant), Joseph offered another possible explanation, and I could often tell that the other doctor became frustrated, but he respected Joseph’s opinions.

  I guess that’s what made Joseph the best of the best.

  It was what differentiated him from regular doctors who spoke like they were gods.

  He was a genius doctor who actually believed in God and miracles.

  I softly pressed my hand on her chest. She’d put on a silk light blue nightgown after we’d made love for the second time.

  I could feel her heart beating strong and her skin was warm and I remembered what she’d said to me when she was shot at during her friend Dyan’s paintball birthday party. The one where Felipe David’s men drew first blood.

  Back then, she’d said, “Feel my heart, Webb…”

  I closed my lips on her forehead, my hand still on her chest, my cock growing harder because whenever she was near, it was an instantaneous reflex.

  I could see small streaks of lights peeking from the blinds but I ignored it.

  I gently lifted her left leg to my waist and she barely moved. I was hard, but I wasn’t going to act on it. I just wanted to feel her warmth around me.

  I eyed the clock on my nightstand.

  5:43 AM.

  The night had left and the day had started.

  I could get up as usual, like what I had been doing for most of my life.

  But as I felt her pulse on my hand, I let my eyes drift close.

  Mornings were the beginning of memories.

  I lowered my head to touch the bridge of her nose, inhaling the feminine scent that Athena inherently possessed, savoring that precious moment with her.

  And with my heart beating steadily in a rhythm that matched hers, I whispered, “Athena…babe, my memories now start with you.”

  “How many hazelnuts do you need?” Athena asked.

  “About ten pieces.”

  “Okay, Muscle Chef.” Her voice held equal parts amusement and mockery.

  I eyed her through my periphery and grinned. She was mocking me now, but I couldn’t wait until she tried my Spätzle, then her mockery would turn to reverence.

  Placing the hazelnuts inside the plastic bowl, she lifted her butt to the marble counter and watched me as I mixed the ingredients in the large metal saute pan. The butter was melting along real nice and it was starting to smell nutty which meant that it was time to remove the pan from the heat.

  “Your mom taught you how to make this?” Her hazel eyes were on the boiling pot of water, and I was trying to concentrate on shaping the Spätzle into perfect little sparrow pieces, but it was tough because my hands itched to massage her legs instead of molding the batter to create smaller noodles.

  The batter felt cold in my hands and it was exactly the right temperature for molding. Mom had a Spätzle press, but since I didn’t have any, I used a colander to help shape them.

  “They’re so cute,” Athena said, her hair was still wet from the shower and her face still flushed from our lovemaking. We’d been going at it like rabbits and I was still insatiable.

  Even after two rounds, my cock was rearing to go again.

  “Hmm…” Her voice interrupted my dirty train of thoughts. “Why are those starting to look like tiny penises?”

  I looked down on the soft batter in my hands and guffawed, “Fuck.”

  They looked like miniature dicks because I was thinking of my dick.

  “Are they supposed to look like that?” Her eyes twinkled in humor, she now had both of her legs up on the counter and since she was wearing tiny boy shorts, they’d ridden up and shit, I saw a hint of pink lace underneath them.

  “No, they’re not supposed to look like uncircumcised dicks,” I retorted.

  “Then why?” Her eyes questioned, her demeanor innocent and guileless. She had no clue what she did to my insides.

  “It’s because you distract me,” I said simply. I tried to change the shapes of the noodles to salvage the dish and I was quite successful at it. My mother would be proud. She often made them in my younger years and I was tasked with ensuring that they were the perfect sparrow-shaped noodles.

  “Distract you?” Her brows rose to her forehead. “I’m not distracting you. I’m watching you make me dinner.”

  “Babe, do you want me to finish making you dinner or do you want me to have you for dinner?” I asked, though not really concerned about her answer because after dinner, I’d definitely be eating her up.

  She licked her lips and said, “Hmm.”

  My cock grew harder inside my board shorts, and it really took all the control I had to shake my head, “The batter won’t be good anymore if I let it sit.”

>   Mom always said that fresh Spätzle was best when cooked as soon as the noodles were done. I could’ve bought commercial noodles, but I only wanted to serve the best for my girlfriend.

  She afforded me a naughty grin that she’d pay for in bed, but I stood my ground. “We’ll eat and then you can have me for dessert.”

  “I already had you for breakfast.” She returned, the green in her eyes turning liquid. “You were so hard. And thick and –”

  My mouth was on hers before she could finish her sentence.

  She did have me for breakfast.

  My cock in her mouth was high on my list of fantasies. Fantasies that she’d slowly made into reality.

  My right hand was all battered up but at this moment, I could give a flying hoot. I lowered her legs on the counter and slowly I placed my hands on the straps of her green tank top. She wasn’t wearing a bra, I could visibly view her nipples getting hard as my hands carressed her breasts throught the thin fabric.

  With my eyes on her face, I said, “Up” as her hands lifted to allow me to remove her top.

  The sight of her perfect round breasts broke the tiny piece of resistance I held.

  Fuck the Spätzle.

  I’d make her a fresh one after I made her come once. Or twice. Or three times.

  “I thought the batter won’t be good anymore if you don’t make it now.” Her words came out choppy as her breathing picked up and the flesh between her legs started to heat up.

  “I won’t be good anymore if I don’t fuck you now.” I groaned, my fingers now lightly caressing the center of her body. I’d pushed her boy shorts and lace panties to the side so I could feel her naked flesh. In the beginning, Athena was somewhat reluctant to get naked outside of the bedroom. She wasn’t a prude, she just wasn’t used to it. Now, she was comfortable letting me feel her up everywhere. Yesterday, we’d gone to a restaurant and my hand never left her thigh and sometime during our meal, my hand found its way to her center. I wanted to give her an orgasm right there and there. I stopped myself because Athena could be loud. She was a screamer and I loved hearing her lust-filled voice when she came. As soon as we got into my car, I’d gone down on her and she screamed as loud as she could.

  Fun, fun times.