by Lila Younger
My hands tighten, not wanting to let go, not wanting the moment to end. She tastes perfect, like warm honey and I can’t get enough of her soft body, so different from my hard one. I explore her curves, touching her soft exposed skin. She’s warm from the sun, and as I press her tight against me, I can feel her pebbled nipples through the fabric, turned on as she is. My hands reach tug apart the knot holding her wrap together, letting it fall to the floor, before tracing her bikini bottom. I trace the outline of her lips, swollen and juicy, and she moans softly, shivering in my arms. I can’t stop devouring her, and she can’t either, until finally we part, lungs burning, gasping for breath but unwilling to let go.
“Perfect. You’re just perfect,” I tell her.
Everything pales in comparison to the feeling of Isabelle in my arms. I cup her cheeks, pulling her to me in another kiss. I let the scent of her overwhelm me, filling my nostrils, my pores with her until nothing else remains.
“Wait,” she says as we break apart again. “What about dinner.”
“Fuck dinner,” I growl, lifting her high and wrapping her legs around my waist. “We’re going straight to dessert.”
Isabelle
Wyatt carries me, literally carries me, up the stairs to his bedroom. I’m so surprised, so giddy with happiness that I can’t believe it. I’m still taking it all in. My hands hold tightly to his muscular shoulders, and I catch a glimpse of a beautiful silver dress hanging on the hook by my door before we enter the French doors of his master suite.
He wants me, I think in disbelief, but then I look into his eyes, dark with lust, and I have to believe it. Our kiss brands my lips, hot and rough and perfect and as if reading my mind, he kisses me again as we fall together onto the navy sheets of his bed. His weight pins me down, his cock driving into my slick cleft as our tongues tangle together again. The heat between my legs is unbearable. I can feel his cock pressing against me, the source of my desire, and I desperately try to rub my clit against him. Wyatt moves with ease over my body, the calluses in his fingers marking me with fire as he quickly undoes my skimpy bikini top. This isn’t some boy fumbling around, not by a long shot.
“Oh!” I gasp, as his mouth descends onto my neck, tongue pressing against my heartbeat in the hollow of my neck. My breasts heave up and down, my body trembling as he kisses lower, lips brushing over my nipples. Pleasure courses through my veins as he cups my breast in his hand, drawing it to his mouth. He sucks hard, and I cry out in pleasure, teeth grazing the sensitive nipple with just enough pain to drive me crazy. My whole body feels alive, every neuron jumping with pleasure. How can his touch feel this good? It’s another realm of pleasure, one I’ve never reached on my own. I can feel his lips swirling over my breast, marking me with his hot tongue.
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, Wyatt’s hand moves down, tugging the bows off my bottoms with the flick of his wrist. I’m exposed to him now, at his mercy. My legs snap together, suddenly shy, because I’ve never had a man down there. Gently he pries me apart, opens me up, until I’m spread wide apart for him. My eyes flicker to his face, but I shouldn’t have worried.
“You look beautiful Isabelle,” he says, running a finger across my pearly pink cunt. I’m dripping onto the bed sheets below, slick and moist and ready. His finger sink into my shaved folds, penetrating me for the very first time. My whole body jumps at the sensation. His finger, coated in my juices trails upwards to my exposed clit, pulsating with need and desire. The slightest graze has me swimming in pleasure. He slides a second finger into my pussy, feels the resistance as he enters my virgin entrance. Heat spreads from his touch through me.
“Please Wyatt,” I beg him, my voice thready with lust. My brain is foggy with my want for him. “Please.”
I don’t know what I’m begging for, just that this isn’t enough, delicious as it is. My body demands more, more of him.
“You’ll get it Isabelle,” he says, his own voice deep and ragged. “I have to get you ready.”
I shiver. Just how big is he?
A third finger joins the rest, forcing me apart. I love the way he’s looking at me, the way he drinks in the sight of me, a quivering ball of pleasure from his ministrations. Moans escape my lips as his fingers fuck me, wet sucking sounds as he hits the spot that makes me so wet. My cream coats his wrists, his fingers delving inside of me and opening me up for him. He bends down, his breath hot against my pussy. There’s a split second when I realize what he’s about to do, and I almost stop him, but then his tongue presses hot against my clit and I forget everything. Pleasure explodes out of me, the fat muscle tasting every single bit of me. I let his tongue part my folds, drinking and scooping up my juice. I’ve never been able to give myself this satisfaction this sensation that’s so good it’s almost painful in intensity. I’m panting for breathe, lungs desperate for oxygen. With expert care he wraps my clit and sucks, and I can’t held it, I tighten my thighs against his head, my hips jerking my cunt into his face, orgasm hurtling towards me until I come, splashing myself all over him, screaming his name. My back arches clean off the bed, transported into sheer bliss.
He drinks it in, every last drop, fingers rubbing my clit until I come again. It’s like he can’t get enough of licking my honey. Slowly he pulls away, but I hardly notice as he takes off his own swimming shorts. My eyes slowly blink open. His cock is long and hard, ten inches at least, huge and leaking sticky drops of cum onto my pussy as he works it. His hand smears the white stuff over my lips, working it into my folds until I’m covered with him. His eyes ravage my body, spread out on his bed, slick and ready. He looks amazing, all clean strong lines, defined muscle, perfect proportions.
“You’re absolutely beautiful Isabelle,” he tells me. “Just like this. Do you know how long I’ve waited to have you on my bed, naked and innocent and waiting?”
He mounts me, his cock brushing up against my still quivering pussy, and kisses me again, pulling me to him. I can taste myself on him, sweet and tangy, and it turns me on even more. His cock presses, slides, lubing up against my pussy lips, denying me my release.
“What are you waiting for?” I whimper in frustration.
“It’s your first,” he says, his voice rumbling low. “If we do this Isabelle, then you belong to me. There’s be no other.”
I reach my hand up to his cheek. I already have my answer. I’ve had it ever since I laid eyes on him.
“I’ve never wanted anyone else,” I tell him. “I never will.”
He shifts, and with one long stroke, he claims me. Pain blooms through my belly as if I’m being torn in two, and I sob into his neck. He kisses me, soft tender kisses, but he doesn’t stop, not until he’s inside of me, filling me up. His lusty groans fill my ears, his body settling into mine as if I was perfectly made for him. I try to breathe, try to let go and relax, my fingers tightening in his hair. Wyatt lifts just a little and fucks into me again, driving me into the mattress. Our eyes meet, and I know that I am his. His cock grows even harder inside of me if that’s possible.
“You’re so damn tight,” he growls through gritted teeth.
Slowly he begins to rock into me, short and shallow at first until I’ve loosened up just enough, and then faster, until he’s almost pulling all the way out before slamming into me again. He tosses my leg over his shoulder, deepening our connection. I can see his cock penetrating me, red and slick, a turn on like never before. In and out, in and out, pleasure seeping in where pain used to be, until it’s a distant memory, and all I can think is how good his cock feels as he enters my tight little pussy. How I’ll never know another cock, just his, because he is everything I could ever need and want. He’s my man, and I am his. His powerful trusts, with the whole force of his strong body behind it, trigger something inside of me. My orgasm comes like a hurricane, unavoidable, and I give into it again, hands clutching onto the sheets as I come around him, my pussy spasming and tightening around his cock as he drives himself into me.
Wyatt
ruts me through my orgasm, lifting my left leg to press against my right, fucking into me faster, until I feel the tide rise again, and we come together at last, his cock going off inside of me like a hose, filling me up with his cum. My pussy milks him for every drop of seed he’s got, drawing his cock deeper inside of me. He collapses on top of me, rolling so we’re side to side, his cock still in mine.
“I can’t believe sex feels that good,” I whisper. Our foreheads are touching, and we’re sharing one breath. The connection I have with him is physical, emotional, and spiritual.
“That’s because I love you Isabelle,” he says, and my racing heart almost jumps out of my chest.
“I love you too Wyatt,” I say, sounding out the words I’ve spoken to myself over and over again. “I love you too.”
********
We never did end up going to L’Epicure, but that’s okay. I don’t need fancy food to know that Wyatt cares about me, that he loves me. He’s been showing me since day one when I first arrived on his doorstep. When I wake up the next morning, I’m deliciously sore. I open my eyes to see him smiling at me. His body looks amazing, and it’s hard to resist touching those long planes of muscle. My eyes drop to his cock, already at half-mast. It’s massive, and I can’t believe how much I had to stretch to accommodate him.
“Did you just watch me sleep?” I ask him. “Cause that’s creepy.”
“Only for a minute,” he says, with this goofy grin on his face that’s the best thing I’ve ever seen. It’s a smile just for me. “I can’t get over the fact that you’re finally here in our bed.”
“Our bed?”
“It is now,” he says, giving me a soft kiss that’s got my body humming again. “I’m not spending another night without you.”
“I still can’t believe it happened to someone like me,” I admit to him. “It’s like a fairy tale.”
“It’s better than a fairytale,” Wyatt says, his hands brushing over my shoulder, pushing the blanket off of me. “It’s our story, and it’s all true.”
I think back on that feeling I had, when I first met him. How my whole world seemed to change right then and there. I don’t know why I didn’t trust that gut feeling, I don’t know why I didn’t just talk to him. It would have saved me so much heartache.
“People… people might not understand,” I tell him. “My father especially. I don’t think he’s forgiven you.”
“I don’t know about that,” he says, his eyes thoughtful. “Before he left, he told me to take care of you. I think he might surprise you. And as for everyone else, I don’t fucking care what they think. You’re old enough to do whatever you want. Nobody can take you away from me.”
I close the gap between us, sliding my supple body against his.
“Well right now what I want is you for breakfast,” I say softly, my hand guiding his cock towards me. “And maybe lunch, and dinner…”
Epilogue
Two months later…
I’m pacing nervously backstage by the curtains, wondering why I signed up for this level of stress. The fact that everyone’s rushing around doing things last minute just adds to it all. It’s our first night, and even though I’ve been completely calm, now that there’s an audience on the other side of the curtains, I feel like I’m going to fall apart. I nervously smooth down my maid’s dress. Someone’s cleverly sewn feather boas around the dress, so that I really do look like a feather duster. I see Bailey coming up to me, her hair plaited back, a basket on her arm. She really does look like Belle.
“How are you doing?” she asks me sympathetically.
“I’m a wreck,” I tell her. “I should have never signed up for this.”
“I know how you feel. I was like that before my first play too.”
“Were you? So how’d you calm down?” I ask her feverishly. “Because I’m pretty sure I’m about to explode with stage fright.”
“I didn’t,” she says cheerfully. “I’m pretty sure I threw up on stage. I was eight though, so people kind of let it slide.”
“Great,” I say. There’s another thing I can add to my panic. “That’s super reassuring.”
“Well, I wasn’t very good. After all, I didn’t bother to study my lines. But you’ll be okay. You’ve practiced with me so much that you probably have the whole play memorized.”
The director’s assistant comes up and drags Bailey away on something or another, but she gives me one last supportive smile.
“You can do this Isabelle,” she calls out.
Instead of taking her word for it, I turn back to pacing. The theatre’s supposed to seat almost two hundred, and we sold out for opening night. I briefly contemplate throwing up like Bailey says, just to get out of it, but I know that Wyatt will be disappointed. He paid extra to get a front row seat. I edge toward the curtains and peek out. Yep. There he is. He’s chatting to someone beside him, a dad probably. I wish that he could see me, and I give a little wave. Wyatt glances over, flashes me a smile, and I feel a sudden calm come over me. I can do this if I just focus on him, I think. Just pretend there’s nobody else in there. I’m just performing for him.
I quickly let the curtain drop back down.
“We’re about to begin!” I hear, so I back up enough so that I can’t be seen.
The scene opens to Bailey in the center of the stage in the village, and she’s a natural. I can see why she was chosen as Belle. I follow along, and pretty soon, it’s my turn to show up. I step onto the stage, the lights so bright that I can’t see the audience. For a moment, I forget all the words. Cold fear seizes my heart, but then my eyes flicker over to where Wyatt’s sitting, and I can swear I see him there, giving me that smile. I take a deep breath, stand up straight, and there they are, my lines. And then I’m caught up in the play, because Bailey’s right, I have memorized the whole thing. I know exactly what to do, how to do it. Nobody even seems to notice my slip up, and when I step onto the stage for curtain call, I feel this sort of euphoria.
I did it! I actually performed in front of everyone!
My smile’s so big my face hurts, and I link arms with everyone in a bow to thunderous applause. I can already tell; I’m hooked.
When finally we all leave the stage, Bailey runs over to me and gives me a hug.
“You did fantastic!” she shrieks.
“So did you!” I tell her. “I can totally tell why you love to be in plays so much!”
“You’ve been bitten by the bug, haven’t you? And to think you were so against it in the beginning,” she crows.
“I know. You’re never going to let me forget it, are you,” I tell her.
She glances over my shoulder and I turn too. Wyatt’s there, holding onto a bouquet of flowers. Bailey’s face is questioning, and for a moment I hesitate. But then I realize how silly that is. Wyatt’s my boyfriend, my love, and I’m going to have to tell everyone sooner or later. I take Bailey’s arm and bring her over to him.
“That was an amazing performance Isabelle,” he says, handing over the flowers.
“I messed up in the beginning,” I say. “Could you tell?”
“Not in the slightest,” he replies.
Bailey nudges me.
“I don’t think we’ve officially met,” she says.
“Wyatt, this is Bailey, my best friend,” I tell him. “She was at my birthday, but she spent most of it flirting with Noah. And Bailey, this is my-my boyfriend, Wyatt.”
She shakes his hand and I let out a breath. That wasn’t so hard, was it?
“Pleased to meet you,” she says.
“You too,” he says. “Isabelle’s told me a lot about you.”
Bailey raises an eyebrow.
“Has she? Cause she hasn’t mentioned much about you,” she says, turning a reproachful eye to me. I give her a placating smile. Luckily, I’m saved by the ring of her phone.
“Oh! I’ll have to continue this later,” she says. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow Isabelle. It was nice meeting you.”
Bailey leaves, and I take Wyatt with me to the back rooms. I need to get out of this maid’s outfit.
“Sorry about that,” I tell him as I put down his flowers on the table. “But I figure it had to come out sometime. I’ll just change real quick and-”
Wyatt comes behind me, strong arms wrapping around me. I can feel his cock pressing against me, his lips dropping hot kisses on my neck.
“I like the outfit,” he whispers against my ear, and a little thrill of pleasure shoots down my spine. “Can you bring it home?”
I can feel his rough fingers sliding up my thigh, pushing up the hem of the dress until he’s brushing my inner thigh, and then higher, up against my panties. I feel a gush of liquid under his touch, pasting my panties to my lips. The hem of my dress slides higher, up over my hips, exposing me to him.
“Wait,” I tell him. “We can’t do it here.”
Wyatt nips at my neck, little bites that make my pussy pulse with need. Even though I’m protesting, my head tilts, allowing him better access to me.
“Really, we can’t have sex here,” I tell him breathily. “Someone. Someone could come in.”
I’m not going to lie, the threat of being caught is actually making it hotter, and I feel another wave of liquid wetting my thighs. Wyatt pulls me over behind one of the screens. It’s a little better, but not by much. If someone walks in here, they’ll definitely hear, but we’re losing control already. He pushes me against the wall, our bodies colliding as he takes my lips in a consuming kiss. His hands are all over me, pushing my breasts up from the square neck of my maid’s dress. His tongue enters my mouth, and I taste that familiar, sexy taste of him.
“Isabelle, you look so fucking good,” he tells me, before taking me in another urgent kiss.