“Jasper?” I arched an eyebrow, curious as to how he would fair after being in such a state.
“I saw—” Jasper blinked rapidly as if clearing blurred vision. “That was amazing.”
I grinned, supposing that his experience had been similar to mine.
Jasper clapped his hands in amusement. “This magnificent thing invariably shows what your heart desires most,” he touched the fallen stone with his booted toe. “Lydia, my dear, we were back at the College in Cambridge, being awarded highest honors for our research.”
Damned hubris. I stopped listening, anger rising in my cheeks, threatening to spill tears from my eyes.
Jasper gesticulated frantically with each word as he expounded upon his fantastic observation. “Would you agree?”
I neglected to note that he had ceased speaking. “Agree with what?”
“That we should examine the stone more closely in the laboratory?” As he spoke he transferred his pipe from the breast pocket of his waistcoat to the pocket of his trousers, and unbuttoned his waistcoat. My mouth turned dry and I swallowed.
“No,” I croaked and wheeled around, returning to the ladder.
“Why not?”
“That stone does not show a heart’s desire. We’ve fallen into hell and that’s the devil’s trickery.” I ascended. Ignoring questions from fellow crew, I picked my way across the wreckage and entered the ship. Fatigue settled into my body upon entering my ruined cabin. Clothing and books littered the floor, and it looked very much like my armoire had projectile vomited my belongings across the space.
Finding a night gown among the scattered clothes, I stripped and slid into the soft cotton. The firm mattress on my bed had never been more comfortable, I decided, and I closed my eyes.
Not an hour had passed before there was a loud hollow knock upon the metal door. I called out to the visitor to hold for a moment and dragged myself from beneath my quilt. Searching for a robe in the mess of garments proved futile, and I abandoned it. I knew it was uncouth for guests to see a lady in her night dress, but at present the Spider-mole’s crew and I were at an extreme depth below proper English society, the faux pas would likely be overlooked.
I opened the door and Jasper stepped through. “Lydia, I am deeply sorry for whatever transgressions…” he paused. “Are you wearing your night dress?”
“Your powers of observation are keen as ever, Jasper,” I said tartly as I noticed that he was holding his waistcoat balled in his fist.
Jasper arched an eyebrow. He stared at me, his perplexed expression softening. The moment drew out and I waited for him to do or say something. I felt compelled to end the awkward silence. “Did you need something, sir?”
He cleared his throat and thrust his waistcoat at me, folding away the fabric to reveal the repulsive red gem. “I think I’m right, but I need you to tell me your vision exactly.”
I bristled. “Are you mad?”
“Lydia, I have allowed others to hold the stone and all experienced the same sort of effect, a vision portraying their heart’s desires. The only person to suffer from a different effect is you.”
While I admired his scientific skill, it did not ease my suffering. “I am a brilliant scientist and a master of invention. I refuse to believe that my heart craves something so base.” I crossed my arms across my breasts, my passionate vigor rousing the memory of my earlier vision and thusly parts that I did not wish presently roused.
Jasper’s mouth twisted up at one corner. “I find no shame in base desires, my dear.”
“A privilege of your manhood, I’m sure.”
He bit his bottom lip, looking at me as though I had wounded his soul. Good. “I cannot apologize for all of the transgressions suffered by the fairer sex, but only offer to be aware and remedy those that I have caused.” Jasper set his waistcoat containing the stone on the now empty book shelf near him. “However, I lack all of the data for a conclusion to my experiment. I need to know your vision.”
I sighed. “If I tell you, will you leave me be?” Please don’t.
“Yes.” He stood, shoulder’s squared, hands held behind his back. The stance broadened his spectacular shoulders and my mouth watered for want of him close to me.
“My vision,” I began, my stomach twisting into nervous knots at the same instance other parts of my body pulsated with a heat brought on by Jasper’s presence. “I was engaged in very carnal activities…” My cheeks and ears burned pink and my fingers went to my lips, stifling a girlish giggle.
“Carnal activities with whom?” Jasper posed the question.
I cleared my throat and raised my chin defiantly. “I fail to see why that is necessary to your experiment, show yourself out.” My nightdress, swished around me as I turned away.
The sensation of his warm hand on my shoulder made me still. “Was it with me?”
I plainly saw that I hadn’t given Jasper enough credit for his keen intuition. “Yes. Do you still believe your stupid rock shows the beholder their deepest desire?”
“I told you about my vision, Lydia.”
I harrumphed, stopping him. “Your grand desire to return to Cambridge and receive highest merits for your work.”
“With you.”
I chewed on my bottom lip, contemplatively. “How do you mean?”
“I cannot imagine doing so without you. Lydia,” he said, stepping closer.
Oh, God. The heat of him as he pressed his body against mine delighted my flesh. I melted against him as his lips touched soft and warm on the side of my neck.
“What my heart desires is you by my side.” His breath tickled against my earlobe. He nipped there and I allowed his arms to wind around my waist and pull me closer against him.
“Will you think ill of me if my desire to have you in my bed is greater?” I could feel his stiff manhood pressing against my derriere and was thrilled that he wanted me in the same fashion that I wanted him.
“Not in the slightest,” he said against my feverish skin. With his palm, he cupped the soft round curve of my breast, his thumb raced over the pert nipple. I shivered in response, an undulation that traveled from my nipple down into the feather softness of my sex.
“Bed,” I murmured and found the strength to break away from his embrace. I pulled my nightdress over my head and tossed it to join the rest of the clothing strewn across the floor.
Jasper undressed swiftly, letting his clothes fall among the piles of my own scattered clothing. I sat on the edge of the mattress, admiring his gorgeously sculpted form. He was more beautiful than I had imagined, well-muscled, yet lean. Blush rose to my cheeks when my gaze fell upon his privates. He was well endowed, his girth nestled in a blanket of golden down—the same sunny color as the curls upon his head.
He smirked, “Have you never seen a penis?”
I was both mildly insulted and flattered that he thought me so virginal. “I am quite familiar with male anatomy, but I have never seen one so…enticing.” Indeed, as I spoke, heat blossomed in my belly and I could feel my sex growing slicker with each beat of my heart.
Jasper advanced upon me, pressing me back against the bed with a wild, passionate kiss. His tongue flicked across my bottom lip and invaded my mouth. He tasted wonderful, sweet pipe tobacco and a hint of mint. His fingertips fluttered over my thigh, slipping over the round curve and between my legs. When his touch found my most private parts, I moaned, a guttural sound that filled my head.
I was lost to his exquisite torture. He caressed the lips of my pussy, dipping one finger inside of me and then another. I squirmed when he found a place within me that I knew nothing of. Jasper chuckled, low and seductive, his kisses trailing a line along my sensitive throat, over my breast. His lips enclosed around the hard nub of my nipple, tongue twirling with the same rhythm that his fingers worked inside of me.
The sensation was pure bliss. I shuddered, a new kind of release sending a wave of electric heat from my sex across my skin, tingling. Until now, I had only been intimate
ly familiar with the pulses of orgasm that were restricted to my sex. I resisted the urge to thrash with this unusual climax, but my hips disobeyed. My back arched, begging the touch of his fingers in my most intimate regions.
I fell back against the mattress, gulping in air. “Oh my,” I said. “How?” My usually brilliant brain was not braining at present.
“The Kamaledhiplava,” Jasper said. He leaned on his elbow, smiling at me.
“Gesundheit,” I said, smirking. My familiarity with Boat in the Sea of Love was far less than my familiarity with the Kama Sutra that I had perused in the quiet privacy between the shelves inside the library at Cambridge.
Jasper assailed me anew with hot kisses. I wrapped my arms around his trim waist and beckoned him between my thighs. He positioned himself accordingly and I sighed as the tip of his member pressed against the plump flesh of my womanhood. I gasped as he entered me, filling me completely.
“Sweet, sweet woman,” Jasper exhaled as he sank into my slick folds.
My fingertips pressed into his shoulders, pulling him closer to me, and my kisses fell across his strong shoulder. I nipped at his sweat salted flesh, my tongue relishing the flavor.
He thrust deep and his testicles slapped against the curve of my bottom. I screamed with the ecstasy of it, his flesh against mine, his manhood buried deep inside of me. He pulled back and thrust again and again and again. The evangelicals were quite wrong, hell was not at the center of the Earth, it was pure heaven here.
With each surge of his exquisite sex, I cried out in pleasure, my hips tipping toward him, welcoming him deeper into me. Jasper moaned, the sound reverberating through the both of us. We were one, a symphony of ecstatic exaltations kept in rhythm by the percussion of our joining parts.
I climbed higher and higher toward release, the heat blooming in me until it washed across me and I stilled with the pleasure that left my nethers pulsating like a violent heart. Above me, Jasper thrust one final time, his body tensing as he emptied himself inside of me. He kissed my mouth, my neck, and the tops of my breasts.
We remained breathless for a moment, enjoying the shared sensation of release. Jasper extricated himself from between my thighs and rolled onto the mattress. We stared at the ceiling of my cabin, spent and glowing. A thought entered my head and I cleared my throat, banishing the post orgasmic hoarseness before speaking. “How can your heart’s desire be me if your vision was of accepting accolades?”
Jasper turned, resting his head on his bicep, peering at me. His hand caressed my side, drawing a line along the flat of my belly and over the arch of my hip. “Lydia, in my vision, you and I were old, white-haired, and wrinkled. My heart’s desire is a lifetime with you.”
The Penthouse
“I want to worship your sweet wet pussy with my hard cock.”
The message included visuals. Marcus sent me a picture of his erection—the mahogany length of his bulging cock stretched out from the nest of tight black curls at the apex of his muscular thighs. I responded with the selfie I'd snapped this morning after putting on my red lace bra and matching panties. In the picture, I wasn’t wearing makeup and shower dampened tendrils of my straight black hair were clinging to my cheeks and the edge of my jaw.
He texted, "You're so damn sexy, baby.”
I replied, “Leaving office,” and retrieved my car keys from my bag. “Amanda. I'll be out for the rest of the day. See you on Monday.”
“Have a good weekend, Ms. Yè” Amanda, my secretary, waved as I passed.
Noontime traffic in the city wasn't as heavy as expected, and I pulled into the parking garage below my apartment building twenty minutes later. The elevator ride was an excruciating exercise in patience as passengers got into the elevator car from the lobby. Each time the door dinged open to let someone off, my belly clenched, excitement soaking my panties. Finally, I arrived at the Penthouse.
I opened the apartment door and set my purse and briefcase on the bench in the foyer, I called out, "I'm home." I shed my jacket and put it on a hanger in the front closet and I went into the living room, "Marcus?"
The layout of our three bedroom apartment was designed with the dining room and living room occupying the same open space. An island with a black marble countertop and smoky granite tiles separated the kitchen from rest of the room. One of the two sets of arched double doors along the left wall lead into the master suite, and the other into the guest bedroom. In front of the guest bedroom door, closer back toward the foyer, a wrought iron spiral staircase led up to the loft that Marcus used as an office. The back wall of the apartment overlooked the city and the river through floor to ceiling panes of bulletproof glass.
"Hey, baby.” Marcus came down the last few stairs from the loft and kissed me on the cheek as he passed by. “Got to get something from the kitchen, I’ll be in the room in a sec.” He winked.
I grinned, watching him for a moment as he rummaged around in the fridge. His movements were strong and sleek, muscles rippling beneath his clothes almost the same way a jungle cat’s muscles moved beneath fur, compact and fluid.
The bedroom was cool when I opened the doors. Twelve-foot high ceilings and French doors leading out to a private balcony gave the room a sense of grandeur. I had chosen to decorate the room with blacks and reds. The floor was done in hardwood and we’d put the bed on a white area rug. Along the left wall, one door opened to the master bath and the adjoining closet. My vanity table was against the wall between the doors.
I kicked my pumps off in the general direction of the closet. Wearing heels was something I loathed, but my height required it. Even in four-inch stilettos, I was still a head shorter than all of the other lawyers at Ellis, Harding, & Yè.
I began removing my jewelry. "No, leave that on.” Marcus approached from behind, looking at me in the vanity mirror. He bent his six foot five frame and pressed his full lips to my left cheek. I inclined my head, giving his kiss access to the space of my throat just behind my ear. “Champagne, my darling?” He handed me one of the flutes he was holding. There were a few frozen raspberries in the bottom of the glass. I sipped, the delicate bubbles tickling my tongue as they burst, filling my mouth with hints of raspberry.
Marcus’ brown eyes were intense behind the dark fringe of his eyelashes. The fabric of the cream polo shirt he was wearing molded to his broad shoulders, thick biceps, and muscled chest. Marcus went to the gym religiously.
As my gaze wandered further south, I noticed the bulge straining against the zipper of his khaki slacks. I hummed my approval against the rim of the champagne flute before setting it down on the vanity. Stepping forward, I pressed my body against his, my hand going to his face, pulling his mouth down on mine. My tongue danced out, parting his lips. He drew my tongue in, sucking on it, and then let his caress mine gently. Marcus broke the kiss long enough to set his glass down beside mine.
He cupped my face in his hands, kissing me again. His hands made a slow trail down my neck, his warm fingertips whispering against my skin. Marcus worked the buttons of my black blouse open one by one, his long fingers skimmed across the tops of my breast and down along my waist. His palms were calloused, rough, and warm against my skin, as he tugged the hem of my shirt free from my black pencil skirt. Marcus pulled me closer, his tall body arching over mine as his hands slid over the curve of my ass, giving it a slight squeeze.
Marcus moaned into my mouth as his cock pulsed against my belly, begging to be freed from his pants. He worked his fingers into the waistband of my skirt, searching for the hook clasp on the back, growling gutturally when he couldn’t find it. “Turn around, please.” The command was a breathy bass note.
I obliged. He removed my blouse first and laid it across the chair of my vanity. Gently, he brushed my hair to one side and planted a kiss on the top of my shoulder. His fluttering kisses moved across my shoulder and down my spine. My body responded, skin goose pimpling as his lips went still further. Marcus dropped to his knees and pressed his mouth to the back of my
waist, just above the top of my skirt. I felt his long fingers dip into the waistband and release the clasp.
His fingers went to the delicate zipper. Marcus’s broad hands moved to my hips, bunching the fabric of my skirt in his palms and sliding it down over my thighs and calves. I sighed as the slip of cool air after the touch of warm fabric increased my desire, my nipples tightened against the lace of my bra. Marcus held the skirt so that I could step out and he then laid it across the vanity chair on top of my blouse.
I was wearing the red bra and panties from the picture I’d sent earlier, but now I had on the black garter belt that kept my favorite silk stockings in place—the ones with lace around the tops and the seam down the back. I sidled up to him, grasped the hem of his polo shirt, pulled him close, and slid my hands beneath the cotton, my fingers dancing around the waistband of his pants. My hands pushed the hem of his shirt up, exposing his abs and chest. He reached back and pulled his shirt over his head, letting it drop softly to the floor.
Marcus was watching my reaction as he undid the button on his khakis. I licked my lips—he’d gone commando, the dark, tight curls of pubic hair were visible with just the button undone. Each metallic pop of his zipper’s teeth as he worked it down slowly increased my anticipation. My body responded to the sight of him, my pulse quickened and my pussy clenched with want. His pants were still around his hips; his hard cock stretched the fabric of his right pants leg, pleading for release.
I bit down on the first knuckle of my thumb. "I want to see more.” My voice was weak and breathy, almost begging. He obliged, hooking his thumbs into the waistband at his hips, he slid his pants down. Once they fell past his thighs, his erection sprang free. It bobbed between his thighs, solid and heavy. I stepped toward him, pressing our bodies together, his cock between us. "I want you,” I said capturing his face in my hands and bringing his mouth to mine, hot and sweet with champagne.
“I’m not done undressing you.” His voice vibrated in his chest, making the heat of desire radiate through me. His large hand engulfed mine as he led me toward the edge of the bed. “Now, gorgeous, bend over and spread your legs apart.”
Drinker with a Writing Problem Page 3