by K Larsen
“Swim with me,” I say.
She tilts her head again. “Swim?” I can barely understand what she’s asking as I take in all of her. Milky skin clad in lace. Slender and slight in all the right places for my liking. Her tits are full and real. I nod.
“Yes, swim.” I unbuckle my pants and let them drop to the concrete. My fingers make quick work of the buttons on my shirt. I toe off my shoes and socks and pull her flush against my chest pressing my cock into her belly. With one hand, I pull at the pin in her hair. It tumbles down past her shoulders. Her eyes scream nervousness but she smiles to try and cover it up.
“You first,” she says. I shake my head and release her. With steady hands, I begin to turn her toward the water.
“No. Not yet,” she says but her voice holds no conviction.
The air I suck in is audible when her back comes into view. It is disgusting. It is familiar. It is my childhood. Nora spins around, hands covering her chest, anger in her eyes.
“I told you—”I plant my palm over her mouth to shut her up. With the other, I grab her hand and thrust it into my hair. She looks at me curiously as her delicate, slender fingers trace the numerous scars on my scalp—hidden beneath my hair. She does not say a word. There is no pity in her eyes, no curiosity, and no judgment. I understand her and she understands me and we do not need to discuss the moment. I walk us to the pool steps as she fingers my raised scars. She never breaks eye contact. She stops trembling as I lead her into the water.
“It’s heated,” she deadpans. I laugh so loud, it echoes through the yard.
“I told you it was perfect for swimming.” She wiggles from my hands and dives under, not popping up until she is near the middle. I dive in after her. When I surface, she is treading water before me. Droplets of water slip down her skin. I want to take her hard, here in the pool but I refrain. I swim to the edge of the pool to the remote and turn on the outdoor speakers. Music fills the air, a slow jazzy melody. One of my favorites. She swims up to me. She still cannot touch the bottom at the edge but I can. I pull her to me. Her legs wrap around my waist.
“This is nice. Who is it?”
“Elliot Moss,” I say. I nuzzle my nose in her neck. The chlorine is no match for her scent.
“Never heard of him,” she says.
“You should. He’s amazing.”
“Maybe I will.” Her fingers slide into my hair again. Feeling. Trying to figure out what happened. She does not ask. And for a time, I say nothing. She unwraps her legs from my waist and floats on her back. I swim beneath her and pop up on the other side. I slide a hand along her back. She gasps but does not swim away from me.
“I was broken from a young age. Music helped me cope. It’s therapy for me. A song can come on and take me right back to a single moment in time. It freezes memories; makes them forever tangible. Don’t you have a song? One that rips open your wounds and drops the entrails at your feet?” I ask, as I caress her scars. Her eyes pop open. She stares at the stars blanketing the sky.
“No,” she says.
“You will.”
She half smiles and looks at me. She stops floating and secures herself to my waist. My cock throbs painfully. I need her. “I’m not huge into music. Before you go freaking out on me,” she holds up her hands, “I like music, it’s just not an instrumental component of my existence.”
I laugh, take her hands and wrap them around my neck. “I can change that.”
She raises a brow at me. I wade us through the water. Her body clings to mine. Her skin slippery and silky.
“How?” she asks.
“I’ll show you.”
Nora
Sometimes, when we try to help one person, we hurt another. I keep my art work hidden under sweaters and sleeved shirts. I wear them like a locket, careful to buff and shine every ridge. But Holden didn’t do it out of malice. He did it out of love. He tried to help but he hurt so many. I am surprised with myself for showing that artwork so readily to Liam. To bare my scars without truly knowing him. I am having a difficult time breathing, as Liam leads me out of the pool. I am woozy with desire. Knots in my belly make me feel jittery.
Green eyes hold mine as I stand in my underwear, dripping fat drops of water on the concrete. If I allow myself, those green eyes can be Holden’s and it leaves me rapt. Liam procures his shirt and wraps it around me. I have never worn a man’s button up before. It bears a hint of his scent. It feels intimate. His thumb grazes my bottom lip.
“You look good in my clothes,” he says. His voice breaks my thoughts of Holden and bring me crashing back into the moment. I am with Liam. He is all defined muscles and sandy blonde hair and stunning green eyes. Eyes that make me feel like I am being devoured without touch. “Where’d you go?”
“Memories,” I say. He takes me by the hand and pulls me toward the house. Despite the chlorine, I can smell his scent on me from his shirt. It is arresting. His house dazzles. The decor nothing like my style. It screams wealth and class. We are silent together, Liam wearing a wolfish grin, me feeling meek and inhibited. My feet slap against the tiled floor with wet splats as we traverse the expanse of his home. We enter his bedroom. He stops at the foot of his bed.
“I’m going to show you how life changing music can be.” I smile and lick my lips. His hands push his shirt from my shoulders. It makes no noise as it hits the floor. “Don’t move,” he says. Lust I am good at. It requires so little of me.
“What happens if I move?”
“You don’t want to find out,” he says. Tiny fissures of pleasure race through me. I don’t move. He disappears in his closet but only for a moment before returning. He carries a silk tie.
“I’m going to blindfold you.” The notion of losing my sight in such an intimate moment gives me chills. I nod. He secures his tie around my head with care. He walks me backwards until the backs of my knees hit the mattress. “I’m putting headphones on you.” Big clunky feeling earmuffs cover my ears and muffle all sound. He lifts one ear piece and whispers, “Still okay?” I nod again. “The music will be loud.” Is the last thing I hear before an intoxicating soulful tune blares.
His hand secures my lower back and I think his leg sweeps under mine, causing me to fall slowly backward onto the bed. A finger touches my jaw. It trails downward in time with the haunting female voice singing rescue me. I cannot hear my own breathing but I can feel my chest rise and fall rapidly. My flesh breaks out in goosebumps. I squeeze my thighs together to staunch the wetness growing between them. His finger is at my hip and I have the urge to connect with him. I put my hand on top of his. He takes my hand and places it back on the bed beside me. The earpiece lifts again.
“No touching. Your job is to experience what I do.” The headphone slaps back in place. I open my eyes but see only darkness. The song changes. Fingers are everywhere. It feels like more than one person touching me. My stomach clenches as they graze different areas. Soft traces. Scrapes of a nail. My whimpers sound as if I am underwater. Garbled and echoey. Lips connect with my collarbone and I have to force myself to stay still. A moan escapes me as his warm lips caress my skin. Nips that sting are followed by a soothing tongue. I want more. More. More. More. My brain is on repeat. A finger delves between my legs. Lips and teeth and tongue devour my skin. He bites a nipple through the fabric of my bra. I want to take it off. I want skin on skin. His fingers tease over my underwear. My legs spread on their own accord to accommodate his effort. The beat picks up and his fingers match. My head lolls sideways. My hips begin to move. I bite my lip. My orgasm is crowning. Building in its intensity with every stroke of his fingers. Teeth nip at my belly. It isn’t enough pain. A low groan leaves me. I push my hips harder against his hand. I arch my back toward his mouth at my stomach. Bite me. Harder.
Everything stops. I cannot feel him. I move my hands around. Reaching out for him but I find nothing. “Liam?” I can barely hear my own voice over the music. Hands grab the fabric at my hips and yanks. The lace cuts into my skin before
it gives way. My love; my life; it has all stemmed from pain. I sigh at the sliver of discomfort he caused. His fingers gouge into my back, beneath me. My bra is ripped from me. His knees are on either side of me. The music pounds in my ears. Nails scrape flesh. Teeth graze. My legs are pushed apart. With my eyes closed, he feels like Holden. I can picture him. His hands. His body. His touches. Yes.
Lyrics pump into my head; pain, grace, fire, blood, believer. Liam’s tongue licks my seam as his nails dig at my inner thighs. He eats me ravenously. Like a last meal. It is brutal, skillful and exquisite. I writhe in time with his licks and the music. I am a victim to his desires. I cannot see him to anticipate his next move. I cannot hear anything but the music he has chosen for me. I am at his mercy, yet he shows no mercy for me. I cannot control my legs, they wrap around his shoulders at his neck securing him to me. I think I feel a muffled laugh into my center but I cannot be sure. Does he have headphones on, too? Can he hear the music? His touch is in perfect time to the beat. It is incredible and sensual and erotic.
I cry out when my body cannot possibly take any more of his torture. My thighs tremble, the muscles spasm. I go limp but Liam does not let up. He licks and kisses his way to my belly button. He sucks on my breasts until I am certain I will come again. The bite he doles to my neck sends electricity from my core up my spine. With missing senses, I find myself delirious. This is not vanilla. This is impeccable. This is more than I’d hoped for. This could be a satisfying alternative to my needs. It is as if Liam knows my desires, my needs.
His lips hover over mine. I can feel his breath, warm on my lips. His tongue barely touches my mouth. His lips crash against mine when he slams inside of me. It startles me; his roughness without warning and I cry out in ecstasy. Pain, it rips me up. Tears through my veins. He is big. Bigger than I have had before. It fills me up uncomfortably for long moments. He does not stop or ease up. He pounds. His pace furious. The music in my ears raving. I breathe deeply through my nose. My mind wanders to Holden. Yes, yes, yes. I adjust, match his thrusts, his rhythm. I ignore his previous request to not participate and raise my arms. Feeling blindly for him, my hands make contact and I hold on, nails stabbing skin. I can almost feel green eyes boring into me. I rake my nails down his back. Through the music, I hear him moan. It spurs him on. Holden’s face dances like a ghost behind my eyelids.
I grin.
Liam
I didn’t expect to be sated. My desires are, more or less, the same as Nora’s. I had every intention of giving her what she wanted, needed, to keep her coming back for more but I didn’t foresee her reciprocating. We’re a tangled mess of limbs. I switched the music to the speakers and turn the volume down. The blindfold is somewhere on the floor. I take her in. For a moment I swear she looks disappointed, but it is just a flash of emotion before a small grin spreads across her lips as she stares at the ceiling.
“What was that song near the beginning,” she asks.
“You’ll have to be more specific than that.”
She rolls to her side and stares at me. A determined look on her face. “Um, talked about pain and being a believer. I don’t know, that’s all I’ve got. You made it slightly hard to concentrate on remembering lyrics.”
I laugh at her openness. Her bluntness is a breath of fresh air. I reach for my phone and scroll through the playlist until I find the song and push play.
“This one?” I ask.
Nora listens for a bit before nodding her head. “Yes. This one. I like it.”
“It’s Believer by Imagine Dragons.”
I can’t help myself. Her lips are perfect and in this lighting, they glisten. I reach out, thread my fingers in the hair at the back of her neck and pull her to me. For a moment, she is stiff, resistant, but the more firmly I hold her to me, the more pliant she grows. I press my lips to hers. She tastes unique. There is something different about Nora Robertson. I can’t quite put my finger on what it is but I am confident there are not many women in the world like her.
“You’re insatiable,” she says, when I pull back to examine the flush in her cheeks.
“You’re delicious.” She rolls her eyes at me before laying on her back and staring at the ceiling. “What are you thinking about?” She shakes her head. “You’re always so introspective. You’re allowed to speak, you know.” This earns me a faux glare.
“Introspective does not mean that I am scared to verbalize.”
“So, tell me then, what’s going on in there,” I say and gently poke her temple.
“Are you always like that in bed?” She swats at my offending finger.
“Like what?” I ask. She hesitates. She wants to say rough but she is, I think, ashamed of her desires.
“Aggressive.”
“I go after what I want with ...” I clear my throat, “vigor. Yes.” Nora smiles. She’s beautiful. Tinged a dewy pink from being fucked, hair spread out around her, white teeth and sparkling eyes. Her stomach growls and I laugh. “Hungry?”
“I could eat,” she says.
“Let me see what I can dig up. Stay here.” I sit up and grab my boxers from the floor before pulling them on.
“What happens if I leave?” I pause in the doorframe and turn to her.
“I’ll find you,” I say and continue to the kitchen, a grin plastered on my face. I fucked Nora. I crack my neck and roll my shoulders as I let the reality sink in. I thought perhaps once would do it. That I’d be done with her but I am only more intrigued now. To push her further into my world after tonight. I rummage through the cupboards but find nothing appetizing, so move on to the fridge. Nada. I didn’t stock up for tonight because I had no way of knowing if she’d come home with me or not. I yank open the freezer door, irritated at the lack of options so far. Cherry Garcia ice cream. Perfect. I grab the pint and two spoons.
I’m grinning when I enter the room. She’s still lying in my bed. Only a sheet covers her. I watch her look at me. A pint of ice cream in one hand and two spoons in the other. I keep watching her. I don’t believe in safety nets and she doesn’t have enough rage to battle my storm. I feel like the wolf from red riding hood. I’m going to gobble her up.
“Ice cream?” she asks. I approach the bed and she props herself into a sitting position. Tits bared. I stifle a groan.
I shrug. “It’s all I have.” Nora laughs, the sound light and cheerful. I hand the opened pint and one spoon to her while I set the lid on my nightstand. I watch her eat ice cream in my bed. I can’t tear my eyes from her mouth. The way her tongue darts out to clean the spoon before sending it spelunking into the pint again. She takes large heaping spoonfuls before offering me the pint. “You’re an ice cream enthusiast I see.”
She looks sheepish for a moment before smiling. “I’m really hungry.”
“Didn’t you eat at the party?”
She shakes her head. “And that was hours ago.”
“I didn’t realize you needed feeding so often,” I say and lick my spoon clean.
I dig another spoonful out and give the pint back to her. Leaning against the headboard, I watch her read the label.
“This is great. I really like it. Haven’t tried it before.” She shoves another spoonful in her mouth and I chuckle. I take the pint from her three spoonful’s later.
“I have an idea.”
“Oh?” she says.
“Yes, if you’re done eating, that is.”
She pats her belly. “Sufficiently sophonsified.”
“What?”
“Sufficiently sophonsified, anything more would be flippity floppity. My mother used to say that when I was little. It means you’re full.”
“Your mom sounds funny.”
“She was,” she says and hands me her spoon. “I should get going.”
I toss the spoon on the nightstand next to the pint and grab her wrist.
“Oh no, I’m not done with you.” She eyes my fingers around her wrist with narrowed eyes.
“What if I’m done with you?”
“Cocky much?” she says.
I push her onto her back and straddle her. I grab the pint and hold it over her. Digging one hand in, I pull out a clump of ice cream.
“Listen, Cherry, the fun’s just starting.”
“Cherry?” she asks. I hold up the pint.
“Yeah, Cherry.” She cracks a smile before laughing. I smear the ice cream in my hand all over her breasts. She squeals but seems to have no issue letting me clean it off my with my tongue. I lavish her tits. Full and perky. Dusky nipples. “I need you,” I say. She hears the truth, as well as my lie. I am sure of it. It is what women want to hear. She knows the game, yet there she lies, not responding. I dip down, lips at her ear and whisper, “Now, Nora.”
I hover over her. Her eyes widen. Fear, only a flash, emanates from her. She reaches up and pulls my face toward her, gently pressing her lips against mine. They give more than I expected. Under my body, her muscles relax. Letting out a low groan, her kissing grows urgent and hungry. I’m just as hungry. Any space between our bodies too much. I want to hold her down. I want to wipe my brother from her memory. If I stick around, I’m bound to lose my mind over her. I stutter like a broken clutch as she touches me. She’s a spider beneath my skin, an itch that needs to be scratched. And that’s why I’m here, isn’t it? To scratch that itch? That’s the game.
Our connection right now is unadulterated lunacy. Oppressive. She’s noxiously pretty. Her tongue massages mine. I bite her bottom lip. My heart is cracked like the dusty desert ground. She bites mine back. Hard. Yesterday is right behind me like a loaded gun and tomorrow looms with unknown outcomes. I pull back to take her in. One hand goes around her throat. She tries to move out of my grip but I don’t let her. She’s so petite. So delicate. So mine. With one hand wrapped around her neck, I use my other to sneak between her thighs. My fingers spread her lips and push in. Her pussy is wet; succulent like a ripe cherry. Her moan is intoxicating. She is deviously dirty.