Sweet Seduction

by Anthology

  After all this time, the years, the grief, and now he was deciding he had to tell her no?

  Maura straightened. Shoulders square. Chin high. Not accusing, not demanding. Not begging. "You're going to let me walk away."

  "Yes."

  She swallowed her anger. Made herself calm. "When we are together, everything shines."

  "You'll find someone else."

  "Of course I will. You think I can't walk out that door right now and find someone? A dozen someones?" It should've sounded arrogant, but it was the truth. "I don't want someone else. None of them will be you."

  He tried to laugh, to make a joke. "C'mon. You'll have your pick."

  Maura wasn't laughing. She moved around the table while he still sat. It gave her a little power, at least, standing over him this way. She made her face and voice cold because she wanted to be warm. "You don't get to pick who makes you shine."

  And then she left him in his spotless kitchen, alone.

  ***

  The text came a few hours later, in the dark of night. Their favorite hour, when the numbers on the clock all aligned, 11:11. Make a wish, the message said.

  Instead of typing in her reply, she called him. She could do that now, without hiding anything. She didn't have to make it a secret.

  "It's always the same one," she said when he answered, before he even had a chance to say hello.

  "I'm sorry," Ian said.

  "Not sorry enough," Maura replied without malice. Tucked into the comfort of her bed -- the one she no longer had to share, her pillows and sheets and comforter all brand new and never used by anyone else but her, she nestled into the warmth and stared up at the ceiling of her new bedroom. "If you were really sorry, you'd be here with me right now."

  To her relief, because she hadn't been sure if she and Ian would ever laugh together again, he chuckled."Oh, yeah?"

  "I find it intolerable, as a matter of fact, that you aren't here. That I'll never kiss you again," she added, stomach twisting at the very thought of spending the rest of her life without him. "That you will never touch me again."

  "You don't know that," Ian said in a low voice still perfectly clear through the phone.

  Maura let out a single razor blade of a laugh. "You told me you thought it would be best if we didn't see each other again. That seems pretty clear to me, Ian."

  "You never know what might happen."

  Maura shifted under the weight of her comforter. "Don't fuck with me."

  Silence. Then, "what?"

  "I said," she told him very slowly, very clearly, "do. Not. Fuck. With. Me."

  "I'm not fucking with you, Maura."

  "Oh, yes, sweetheart. Yes, you are." The endearment tasted bitter, but she didn't regret allowing it to slip out. It was sincere. "Because that's what you do, and you're very, very good at it. It's an old game, isn't it?"

  Pull her close, push her away. Give her just enough, then not enough at all. He'd been doing it for a long time, but she kept letting him, she thought, so who was the one at fault?

  "I wanted to talk to you, that's all."

  "Let me guess," Maura said coldly, "you've got a hard-on."

  More silence told her she was right. She closed her eyes and saw his face. And then his beautiful, delicious cock. She should be angrier. She should tell him to fuck right off.

  "Yes," he admitted finally.

  She let out a long, slow sigh. "Fuck you, Ahab."

  She hadn't called him that in a long time. It had been a private joke between them -- the man chasing the white whale, elusive and always out of reach, the thing he wanted most that would also destroy him. Except he hadn't been the one destroyed, had he? No, that dubious honor had gone to her.

  "I'm sorry," he said again.

  "You said that already."

  "Do you want me to hang up?" The soft hiss of his breath reminded her of how it felt when he murmured in her ear. Of the brush of his lips and teeth and tongue against her throat.

  Her pulse throbbed in the spots he used to nibble and suck -- the base of her throat, the place just below her ear. Her wrists. The backs of her knees. Her cunt. Against her will, her hips rocked, pushing her suddenly too-sensitive clit against the soft weight of her pajama bottoms. Every place he had touched her remembered and mourned the loss his mouth and hands...and Ian had touched her everywhere.

  "No. Goddammit, Ian," she muttered. "You know I don't."

  "You want me to touch you."

  "Yes." The reply gusted out of her with a hitch of breath. An admission, nothing shameful about it. Simply the truth. "I want you to touch me."

  "Where?"

  Her hand traveled the path she wished his would take. "The back of my neck. Then over my shoulder. I want you to tease my nipples until they're hard."

  Her flesh tightened beneath her touch as she spoke, and pleasure roughened her voice. "Put your mouth on them while your hands move lower."

  His low groan sent a tingle of arousal through her. "You taste so good."

  "Suck my nipples, Ian," she whispered as her hand moved over her belly and came to rest on her hip, fingers twitching. Her back arched at the sound of his muttered acquiescence. Her nipples jutted against her pajama top and she pulled it up to let the night air tease her. The bedroom was chilly, but that made the heat on her skin at his imagined touch all the more real. "Touch me."

  "I'm touching you. I'm using my tongue on your nipples now."

  A fucknoise slipped out of her. Maura licked her fingertips and used the wetness on her skin to simulate his tongue. "That feels so good."

  "I want to make you feel good." The rasp in his voice made her imagine his prick in his fist, the slow pump of his grip. The slant of his mouth as he concentrated on fucking his hand.

  "I want to kiss you." She'd meant what she said -- the thought of never kissing him again was intolerable. The idea that she would never feel his breath on her face or taste him, or feel him inside her. More than intolerable. Insufferable. "I want your mouth on me. Bite my neck, Ian. Scrape your teeth against me. Leave a mark."

  He huffed a breath. She knew that sound. She was pushing his buttons, turning him on and embarrassing him a little at how easily it happened.

  "Sink your fingers into my hair at the base of my skull," Maura murmured. "Pull my hair..."

  "Oh, shit," Ian muttered. "God, girl, I'm so hard right now."

  Triumph and vindication warred with her leftover anger and disappointment. She was letting him play her, giving him something he'd told her he didn't want. Denying him now would prove a point, but what exactly would it be? That she could cut off her own nose to spite her face? She wanted him. She always wanted him. That hadn't changed.

  "I love it when you call me your girl." That was her embarrassing turn-on. Any other man who'd ever tried to call her that had been shut down with a raise brow and pursed mouth, what Ian laughingly called "The Face." She'd been nobody's "girl," insisting on her womanhood. But for him she'd been many things she'd never been for any other man.

  For him, she was a flower.

  "I want to kiss my way down your neck, over your whole body. Over your belly, even if it makes you giggle."

  She did giggle, thinking of it. "I'm ticklish, I can't help it."

  "I love it when I kiss you there, and you wiggle around, and you sound all out of breath. And you beg me to stop." Ian laughed, too.

  Maura snorted softly. "I don't beg."

  "You will," he promised. "When I have my mouth so close to that sweet pussy, and you want me to kiss you there and I hold off. You'll beg."

  She had never begged him for that, but then she'd never had to. He'd always willingly put his mouth all over her. The thought of this now, that he would tease her in that way, sent another slow rolling wave of arousal and heat all over her. "You think so?"

  "Oh yeah." So cocky. So fucking smug. It set her on fire. "I know so."

  "Tell me what you'll do to make me beg. I won't. But you can try to make me. I want you to try,"
she teased. "Try real hard."

  She could play him, too.

  Ian's voice rasped against her ear. "First, I'll nibble my way down over your hip. I'll bite you a little harder there. Then lick, just a little."

  Fuck, he was good. "I can feel you there."

  "I'm going to kiss your knees."

  She laughed, but it was breathy and harsh.

  "Then up the insides of your thighs."

  Maura groaned. Her knees fell apart, opening herself to him though he was so fucking far away and all she had of him was his voice. It was all she might ever have.

  "What are you wearing?" Ian interrupted himself to ask.

  "Pajamas."

  "Take them off. I want you naked for me."

  She was already wriggling out of them and kicking off the covers to expose her entire skin to the chilly dark. Her nipples peaked and her skin pebbled into gooseflesh that was also as much a result of Ian's whispered words as the cold. She ran her warm hands over her body, imagining again they were his.

  "I want you naked for me," she told him. "I want you stroking yourself."

  "Don't worry, girl, I am."

  She let her fingers drift over her belly, her own touch not tickling but the memory of his mouth there making her shiver, anyway. A little lower, over her soft curls. The heat there. She was already wet.

  "I'm not begging yet," she told him in a husky voice. Daring him, knowing he'd rise to the challenge. Pun intended.

  "You will be."

  "Tell me," she ordered. Her muscles tensed as she slipped a finger inside her to draw her slickness up and over her clit. She circled it lightly, then stopped, teasing herself. Letting the arousal build. She wanted his words to seduce her.

  This wasn't the first time they'd ever gotten each other off on the phone. In the beginning it was all they'd had. The hush of voices and touch of their own hands. Later, after they'd become lovers in the flesh, Maura had sometimes yearned for the times like this, when the sound of her voice was enough to make him hard. When she could make him come with nothing more than her words. Here they were again, only now instead of only imagination to urge her on, she had the memory of his weight on top of her, the press of his teeth against her flesh, the slide of his body in and out of hers.

  All she had were memories.

  Bitterness slid down the back of her throat, the sting of unshed tears a parody of the times when she'd taken him in her mouth and tasted a different sort of salt. She licked her lips, thinking of his musky flavor. Craving it.

  "I want to kiss the insides of your thighs, up and up, so close to that sweet pussy." Ian made a low, hungry noise. "I'll slide my hands under your ass, holding you still, because you're moving. Your hands dig into my hair, urging me closer, but I don't move."

  As always, his dirty talk flipped her switch. He was so mild-mannered, so outwardly steady and stable and clean-cut, nobody would ever guess he had a mouth on him that could rival any sailor's. Maura's hips moved, pushing her clit against her fingers as she circled, circled. Then she stopped, listening.

  For a moment, all she heard was the low rasp of his breath. Then, "I want to taste you."

  "Oh, yes. Please. I want you to."

  "Not yet." She heard the hint of smile in his voice. He didn't say that he was waiting for her to beg. But she knew that's what he meant, and she smiled too at the game. "First, I'll just let my breath cover you. Your fingers pull my hair harder, you want me to move closer, but I stay still. And then, just when you can't stand it any more --"

  "Put your mouth on me." She gave him that, not begging, but still a clear proof of her desire. "Don't make me wait, Ian. Put your mouth on me. It feels so good when you kiss me there."

  "Your clit's already swollen, ready for me when I use my tongue on it. I'll slide a finger inside you. Then two. Slide them in and out so slow you can't stand it."

  She let out a low, stuttering groan as her fingers moved faster. She was swollen and slick and hot. She pushed her fingers inside herself again, curling to find the slightly rough bump of her G spot. She didn't always love that pressure, it could be too much, almost distracting, but right now it sent spiraling coils of pleasure through her.

  "Are you wet for me?" Ian asked.

  "Yes. So wet." Fucktalk, nothing much eloquent about it and all the hotter for that. "I'm so fucking wet for you. My cunt's a furnace for you, Ian."

  He made another of those low noises, and Maura had to stifle a laugh. She liked it when Ian gave himself up to explicit language, but sometimes hers seemed to shock him as much as it turned him on. He'd never said it was too much, and in fact there'd been times when she'd been whispering to him while she jacked his cock or as she rode him that she swore the filthier she spoke, the harder he got. But she thought it embarrassed him a little that he liked it so much.

  "Put your mouth on me," she said again. "Please."

  It still wasn't begging, not quite, but it must've been close enough for him, because Ian gave another of those hoarse breaths that sent shivers of desire straight to her core. "I want to lick your clit, soft and slow. Steady circles while my fingers fuck inside you. My other hand's under your ass to press you close to my mouth. It feels good, doesn't it?"

  The first time he'd ever gone down on her, Maura had finally understood why people talked about orgasm as "the little death." He wasn't the first guy to give her head, but the pleasure of his lips and tongue on her clit had been so effortless, so surprising, that she'd come twice before he'd even had to come up for air. She loved sucking cock, but receiving oral had always been so fraught with anxiety -- how long would it take her to get off? Would he get bored, give up, what if he didn't like being down there...so often her orgasms from a man's mouth had been so hard-won they'd almost not been worth it. Not with Ian. His mouth was magic. Everything about him was magic for her.

  "I like that noise you make," he told her.

  She hadn't realized she'd made a noise. It had slipped out of her when she remembered the feeling of his face between her legs, the soft brush of his hair on her thighs. The press of his tongue flat on her clit and the way he used it, moving slow and steady just as he'd described. He always made a meal out of her. Appetizer, entree and dessert, he said. Her fingers were a sorry substitute for his tongue, but it was all she had.

  "I love it when you use your mouth on me." Her fingertips grazed her erect clit. Back and forth. Barely brushing her heated flesh. She rocked her hips, teasing herself.

  "Your hips move. You want me to go faster, but I don't. Slow, that's how I go. I lick you so nice and slow. Now I have three fingers inside you. Stretching a little."

  "Oh. God." She mimicked his description with her own hand, the flick of her thumb acting as his tongue while she filled herself with three fingers. His were bigger, thicker, would stretch her more, but she was so caught up now in the mesmerizing whisper of his words, so hypnotized by the picture he painted for her, that it was almost like he were there. Not quite, it could never be as good imagining as the real thing. But close enough.

  "You want me to keep going?"

  "Yes, Ian."

  He paused. She imagined him palming the head of his delicious cock, then stroking the shaft. He had this trick he did when jerking off, this method of fucking into his fist instead of moving his hand, and it always drove her crazy to watch him. She wished she could see him now, too late thinking of how she should've asked him to get on video chat with her. To ask now would break the mood. She had to be satisfied with what she had -- something of which he'd accused her of being incapable. Now wasn't the time to point out to him otherwise. Not with her fingers deep inside herself and her clit so hard all it would take was a couple of tweaks before she'd tip into climax. She didn't want to come, not just yet. She wanted this to last and last. Forever might be out of the question, but at least a little while longer.

  "Are you close?" Ian asked.

  "Yes." She took her clit between her thumb and forefinger, squeezing gently. "So close, th
inking how good you feel against me. I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me."

  "No. Not yet. I want to make you come with my mouth first. Then I want to fuck you."

  Maura let out breath. "Sounds good to me, so long as I get to come again when you're fucking me."

  He laughed. "Greedy girl."

  "Always."

  "I wish I could see you," she said before she could stop herself.

  Silence. Then, "hold on."

  Her heart thumped and thundered so hard it almost hurt. A half a minute later, her phone buzzed in her hand with a text from him. A picture. His bedroom in the background, a closeup shot of his belly and the curve of his hip. The picture was fuzzy and dark, but she knew his body so well there was no mistaking him. Her heart skipped in its beating, and she blinked back another threat of tears, moved that he'd given her what she asked for. There'd been times when such a simple request would've been met flat-out with refusal. This picture had more meaning than a simple snapshot, but she wasn't ready to let herself think of what.

  "I love it," she told him. "I want to bite that. And then lick it."

  "Now you."

  Again, she blinked away a sting while her pulse thumped, and cursed her tender heart for letting him ever make her wonder if he really wanted her. It took maneuvering and the light was terrible, but she sent him a shot of her head, turned from the camera, the line of her neck and throat exposed.

  "Perfect," he told her. "I know you want me to bite that. And lick it."

  She managed to find the breath to speak, even though her voice shook as much as her hands and the muscles on the insides of her thighs. "Leave a mark. I want to remember you."

  As if she could ever forget him.

  He didn't answer right away, but the hiss of his breath edged toward a groan. She pictured him, eyes closed, brow furrowed with effort as he pumped his cock into his fist. He'd be biting his lower lip by now. Easing himself toward coming. She loved watching him get off.

  "I'm licking your clit," he murmured. "Moving my mouth a little lower to taste you. So fucking sweet. You're hot and silky wet, and you can't stop moving under me."

  This was true. She was moving, lifting her hips as she stroked her clit. "I'm so close."