I couldn’t get enough of him, and it certainly seemed he couldn’t get enough of me either. “I need you,” he said as his hands glided back down my body and over my skirt before he plunged them underneath it to meet my melting core.
“Then take me. Take me. Right here, right now.”
“Oh fuck yeah.”
I reached for his belt buckle and tugged. It didn’t come apart easily, given the strain from his erection trying to push its way out. He sighed when the zipper lowered and the fit of his jeans finally loosened. Feeling devilish, I purposely brushed against his cock and he hissed in response. I smiled. He reached into his back pocket, extracted his wallet, and pulled out a condom.
Pushing his jeans and briefs down just enough to free up his dick, he grasped it at the root and looked up at me. I licked my lips and he growled from deep within. “Oh, you’ll suck it, baby, but right now I need to be inside that hot little pussy of yours. I’ve waited eight fucking long months to do this.” He handed me the condom. “Put it on.”
I tore open the package with my teeth and batted his hand away to take a hold of his shaft. When I pulled him towards me he growled again and nipped at my shoulder, hard. “You’re playing with fire. Just get it on.” I rolled the condom over his cock and leaned back on my forearms. Drawing my panties down my legs, he hauled me to the very edge of the counter, taking a firm hold on my ass to pull me onto his dick. He sank into my pussy to the hilt in one fluid motion and we both moaned, lost in sensation. I’d never felt anything like this before.
He stayed still inside me, the head of his cock pressed tight against my cervix, and leaned over me. He pushed my breasts together with his hands and took turns bringing the nipples to his mouth and tugging on them with his teeth. “Yes...” was all I could get out.
“You like that?” he asked me. “Do you like things a little rough? Do you like to be fucked hard?”
“Yes...”
Even before he reared back and thrust hard into my pussy I was on the cusp of an orgasm, and with one more thrust I went over the edge with a keening cry.
He was still almost fully clothed, and that made the experience even more erotic. “Oh fuck yeah, honey, I can feel you milking me.” He began to thrust faster as my rhythmic contractions continued. He fucked me hard, just like I’d told him I liked, and before long, I felt another orgasm building. I reached down to my clit and stroked it. He noticed. “That’s hot, baby. Make yourself come. I want you to come all over my dick.”
This orgasm began at the base of my spine and worked its way outward like a tidal wave. I screamed as every nerve fired from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. I felt him swell inside me and then he was following me over the cliff with a roar; coming and coming and coming while I just lay there, exhausted and replete.
He managed to carry us to the couch, where we plopped down, still locked in each other. We lay there, trying to get our breathing under control. He pressed kisses to my forehead, my eyes, my cheeks, my mouth. “Stay with me.”
I nodded, burrowing into his neck. A moment later I heard him laugh and I looked up in surprise. “What?”
“Why the fuck did we waste all that time circling around each other when we could’ve been doing this?”
Also Available from House of Erotica
True Confession
Indigo Skye
It’s hot and stuffy inside the confessional. I’m claustrophobic in my best black coat and heels. I clear my throat, and the ornate wooden screen between us slides back. I can smell his clean soapy scent - sweet skin, and green grass. Father Matthew - it must be. Hallelujah. My prayers have been answered.
“Yes? I’m here to listen, here to help...”
“Bless me, O Father, for I have sinned,” I say dutifully. ”It’s been two weeks since my last confession.”
“What was the nature of your sin?” he asks. His voice is low and sexy - too sexy for a priest.
“I have to pick just one?” I laugh.
“Charlotte?” Matthew’s instantly on his guard.
“I just couldn’t stay away.”
“You shouldn’t be here. Remember what happened last time?”
“Of course I remember. It was one of the greatest fucks of my young life. Why do you think I’m here? The fucking wine list?”
“Salvation? Confession? I hope that’s why you’re here,” he says.
“Liar.” He can’t deny he’s got something more than salvation on his mind. ”So... what are you wearing?” I say in a slutty voice, to tease him. In spite of himself, he laughs.
Matthew recovers his composure. Trying to sound stern, he whispers, “You need to leave. In the future, please confess when one of the other priests is on duty. Father Peter will be here at noon. He’ll hear your confession.”
“He’s not really my type,” I joke. I see Matthew shifting uncomfortably behind the ornate wooden screen that separates us by bare inches. He gets up, as if to leave.
“Don’t do that,” I warn. ”You’re not going anywhere.” I’m in control here; he’d do well to remember that. ”I’d hate to have to confess that you fucked my brains out after choir practice Wednesday night. I doubt Father Peter would approve.”
Father Matthew sits back down - a puppet with cut strings. “Charlotte - please...”
“There is more joy in Heaven over the one lost lamb...” I quote, laughing naughtily. ”Have pity on this poor sinner. The Devil’s got a hold of my soul. Hell’s probably chock-full of bad girls like me.” I grin. I’ve got him right where I want him.
“What do you want?” he hisses.
“I want to suck your cock until you scream for mercy. I want to fuck you hard, and fuck you gently. I want to corrupt you, and make you come,” I purr. “And you better deliver... otherwise, Father Peter might find out you’ve been slipping me something a hell of a lot more substantial than the Holy Wafer.”
“You wouldn’t do that.” He sounds sure of himself, but he isn’t - not really.
“I might, if you don’t get me off hard enough. Make me come with your hands; your beautiful mouth; your sweet cock. Meet me in the choir loft in five minutes, or you’ll find out I’m not fucking around,” I snap. “You started this. I intend to make sure you finish it.” My high heels click on the stone floor of the deserted church as I walk away, leaving him hot and hard and desperate for more. As I climb the stairs to the choir loft, I smile, remembering the day we met...
I was at a church picnic with Sharon, and some dull banker she’d fixed me up with. Bored by his male blustering, I grabbed her for a quick chat and a nip off the flask I carried in my purse - bound to make this little occasion more interesting. I was complaining about being bored senseless when I saw a beautiful young man with his shirt off, leaping up, catching a red frisbee. He was laughing as he tossed it back with the easy grace of a natural athlete.
“This picnic just got a lot more interesting. Who’s that?” I asked, taking another sip and passing my flask to Sharon.
“Chill, thorn bird. That’s Father Matthew. He just transferred here from the mission in Laos. If you came to church more often, you might already know that,” she teased. Seeing the look on my face, she said, “Don’t even think about it! He’s 23!”
“Just the way I like ‘em,” I grinned. “Young, dumb, and... you know the rest!”
“Girl, you’re scandalous!” she giggled. “You wouldn’t!”
“Watch me.” I walked right over and introduced myself. He was all sweaty and bronzed from playing in the sun, with grass in his hair. I wanted to lick him clean, right then and there.
But patience is a virtue - my infrequently-attended Sunday School classes had taught me that long ago - so I decided to find a chance to get him alone. Something told me it wouldn’t be too tough - he was the type to be easily tempted by a
redhead with sinning on her mind.
He blushed - he was endearingly sweet and nervous. ”Since you’re ignoring me, I thought I’d come say hello,” I said. “I’m Charlotte LaRue. It’s high time for the new shepherd to meet the blackest sheep in his flock.”
He shook my hand, but couldn’t meet my eyes. He stammered, “I’m Father Matthew. I didn’t mean to ignore you,” he said. “You’re very pink today, Miss.” He turned bright red, tried to backtrack. “I mean, that’s a pretty dress, and it s pink, too - no, wait...” Sharon got the giggles and had to excuse herself, leaving us alone. The sun seemed a little brighter, and a whole lot hotter, when I touched his arm.
I leaned in close and told him softly, “You have no idea how pink I am under this dress. I got sunburned while I was gardening yesterday, and it hurts like hell.”
He gave me a wide-eyed look, and then laughed. ”Surely you’re Jezebel herself, sent by the Devil to tempt me,” he said, flirting a little. Like I said, he started it...
“I may be,” I told him, walking away with an extra swing in my hips. He caught up to me and personally invited me to join the Ladies’ Chorale Society, which had snubbed me for years. I was secretly delighted at the chance to get my own back on those goody-two-shoes bitches, but I resisted, playing hard to get.
“I can’t sing a lick. You sure you’ve got the right girl?”
“I’m sure. You have a beautiful alto voice... and we need an alto. I can teach you. I’ll even give you private lessons, just the two of us. Please?” he begged. I couldn’t resist, and agreed to meet him for private singing lessons every Friday morning before Mass.
He soon began to stand too close; his hand lingered on mine when he passed the sheet music. He gazed at me with those big brown eyes, the colour of hot coffee. I thought it was only a matter of time... and I was right. After a few more singing lessons, he landed in my bed, where I taught him a few things. Always do unto others, and all that...
Now, I hear the sound of his footsteps, hurrying up the stairs behind me. He grabs my arm too tight. ”You’re putting me in an impossible position,” he says fiercely.
“Impossible positions? If you wanna talk dirty, let’s go back to my place,” I tease, making him laugh.
“I can’t stop myself from having impure thoughts about you. Even in my dreams, you tempt me,” he confesses.
“That’s what I do best,” I grin. He tries to resist; I up the ante. Tempting him further, I press against him, giving him a teasing little kiss. I lean close, arching against him in the narrow stairwell. He moans when I slip my tongue into his mouth. I feel the hard length of his cock through the fabric of my trench-coat, pressing urgently against me.
I unbutton my coat slowly. ”I have a surprise for you,” I grin, revealing a sexy little Catholic schoolgirl uniform - a white blouse and my rosary; my St Columba’s sweater and a plaid skirt; come-fuck-me heels.
“I’m a bad girl,” I purr, dropping my coat to the floor. ”I need a spanking. Punish me...”
“Why?” he asks. ”You look like a good girl to me.”
“I’m a sinner... and I have a confession to make.” I drop my little black sweater at his feet. He cups my left breast, moaning.
“Tell me more...” he says, with a naughty grin.
“I have sexy dreams about you. I touch myself and pretend that you’re watching me. I think about fucking you all the time,” I whisper, unzipping his fly.
“You should pray for forgiveness,” he whispers.
“You might be right about that.” Smiling wickedly, I lead Matthew to the top of the stairs and kneel before him. “Bless us O Lord, and these, thy gifts, which we are about to receive... and receive again...” I murmur, worshipping his cock with my tongue.
“Amen.” He thrusts his hips forward, filling my eager mouth. I pull away, flirting my tongue around the base of his cock. I unbutton my blouse; he buries his fingers in my wild red curls.
“Hallelujah,” I smile, take a long breath, deep-throat his cock. Matthew cries out, arches his spine; his hips rock in a quickening rhythm.
He moans, gripping my shoulders hard. His joyous release looses a silver-pearl flood all over my tits. He sprays my rosary with hot jets of come. I drain the last precious drops, licking his salty-sweet juices from the gleaming tip of his prick. He gasps, releasing another spurt onto my waiting tongue.
“What are you doing to me?” he asks, buttoning up my shirt.
“Anything you’ll let me do,” I reply, straightening my sweater. ”See you at choir practice.”
“Can we work on ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’?”
“We just did,” I grin, and turn to go. He calls after me, but I’m already gone. I don’t need to look back to know he’s watching me disappear, and wishing I’d stay.
Also Available from House of Erotica
The Weight of Duty
Madeline Elayne
The assembly job really needed at least two people, but Thompson was off taking a smoke break and I was in that kind of mood where my hands just needed to be doing something, you know? So that was why I was pounding like a lunatic on this bent strut that just wouldn’t fit right, and probably why some of the things that I was yelling at it would’ve made even my teammates blush - and that’s saying something, because artillerymen are not easy to embarrass. It’s also why I didn’t see the girl come up to the course, or hear whatever it was that she was asking me.
“Sorry, Ma’am, what was that?”
There are these ‘rules of conduct’ that we’re supposed to follow when we’re interacting with civvies while we’re in uniform. I hate them: they always seem so fucking fake, and talking like that makes people look at me like I’ve got an eye in the middle of my forehead or something. What’re you gonna do, though, right? Rules are rules, and when you risk getting court-martialled by breaking them, it’s just way easier to go along with the ones that don’t matter.
“I said: what did that poor trapeze do to you to deserve getting beat up like that?”
She was perched on the near corner of the spectator stands and was grinning over at me - a gorgeous series of contradictions that seemed to combine like magic into one helluva sexy-looking girl. Her straight hair was deep, deep black, but when she flipped her bangs out of the way, her eyes were a pale electric blue. Those bangs, by the way, long enough to tickle the bottom of her nose, were the longest part of her hair; from where I was standing it looked like the back was even shorter than mine. She had an innocent-looking face that made her glittering black-gemmed stud look like it belonged in someone else’s nose, and while her red and green tartan kilt (complete with sporran) looked authentic she accessorised it with knee-high Doc Marten boots and black braces over a skimpy tank top telling me to “talk nerdy” to her.
“It’s not a trapeze,” I corrected her, “it’s a zip line, and let’s just say that considering what it’s been putting me through today, it probably deserves much worse.”
She snickered and I felt my cheeks get warm. It felt good to make a pretty girl smile. Almost started to make up for the shitty day I’d had so far. Almost. She hopped up to her feet and strolled a few steps in my direction, thumbs tucked behind her braces.
“Looks like a job for two. Need a hand?”
“Love one, Ma’am, but I can’t accept. Thanks anyway.” She rolled her eyes and grimaced at me when I called her ma’am.
“It’s Lisa, and why not? Is it because I happen to be a woman, and you think I can’t handle all your big manly tools?”
It was my turn to chuckle. “Hey now. I might just be a dumb army buck, but I’m not a complete idiot.” I figured that there wasn’t much chance of Lisa reporting me for breach of etiquette, so I dropped the protocol bullshit. She seemed to approve.
“Nah, this has nothing to do with whether or not you were born with
a dick, it’s just military legalese fuckery. You’re a civilian, so if you get hurt somehow doing something that’s supposed to be my job, the army is in some deep shit. Besides, you’ve got some serious tone going on there - I bet you could probably get this rig up twice as fast as I could.”
She raised an eyebrow with a smirk and struck an Arnold pose for me. A-fucking-dorable. I let her know that as far as I knew there wasn’t any regulation against her keeping me company, and she settled for that. We wound up having a pretty decent chat about nothing in particular until Thompson came back. The work got finished a hell of a lot quicker, but the conversation wasn’t nearly as good. I figured turnaround was fair play, and decided to leave Thompson alone with the fucking hellish course setup while I wandered away with Lisa until we were far enough away to be able to hear each other again.
“Hey, so we’re probably gonna be done setting up by supper time. Did you have plans for tonight, or can you show me around and point out somewhere decent to eat?” I asked her.
“Hm. Yeah, yeah I guess I can do that. I’ve never been here before either, but I met a townie earlier who was telling me about this place that the tourists haven’t found yet, good food and should be pretty quiet. We can go look for it together, as long as you promise not to invite mister personality back there.” She made a face and directed a stuck-out tongue at the back of Thompson’s head.
“You’re not from here? Oh, sorry. I guess since you were wandering around before the Tattoo opened, I figured you were one of the locals working the event.” Lame!
“I am working the event. You didn’t think that everyone performing in the Nova Scotia International Tattoo was a member of the Canadian Armed Forces, did you? I’m with St Andrews Pipes and Drums. Which explains the skirt that, given your track rating so far, you may or may not have noticed.” She pulled out a set of drumsticks that she had somehow magically concealed behind her back amongst her brace straps, and, one in each hand, pulled out the edges of her kilt for a saucy little mock-curtsy.
Uniform Behaviour Page 10