by Claire Adams
“How do you know it isn’t already?” I asked in desperate voice.
“Because you’re still talking to me,” he smiled as he returned to the task of torturing my breasts. I groaned as he sucked harder, and then let out a small scream as he lightly bit down on the skin surrounding my swollen nipple. It hurt, and yet the pain coursed through my body in waves of pleasure that I’d never felt before. I felt weak, so when Brian stood up and scooped me off of the couch and carried me to the bed, I was powerless to resist.
He laid me gently on the mattress and set about removing the rest of my clothing before he sat back and let his eyes wander over my exposed body. He’d heightened my desire to such a level that I didn’t feel any shame or embarrassment as he sat staring at me before reaching out and touching my skin. He ran his fingers lightly down my body from my head to my toes and then back up again. The featherlike touch sent shivers up my spine, causing me to raise my hips to try and direct his fingers to touch the aching place between my thighs. What I wanted most was to feel him sink into the wet, velvety folds and stroke my inner walls with his strong, thick cock, but he resisted all of my attempts to find relief.
Instead, he bent over me and lightly kissed my lips before he began to trail his tongue across the tops of my shoulders.
It was agonizing the way he teased and then stopped to watch my face, and although I cried and begged him to take me, he made it clear that the rhythm and timing of his slow descent was his and his alone. He had lost himself in the pleasure of exploring my body and I was helpless to stop him. The stroking fingers, the light caress of his lips, the pain followed by pleasure all combined to drive me to the outer edges of my own desire, and by the time he’d descended to the cleft between my legs, I’d ceased to notice exactly where he was giving me pleasure, and when he slipped his fingers between my engorged lower lips and splayed them open so that he could dip his tongue into my wetness, I thought I would lose consciousness.
“Oh God,” I groaned as my hips bucked upward of their own volition. “Oh God! Oh God, yes!”
Brian moved his hands to the sides of my hips so that he could hold me down against the mattress, but his mouth stayed glued to the mound between my legs and his tongue never ceased its firm probing of the folds that were now so wet and engorged that I cried out for relief. He ran his tongue from top to bottom, stopping only to tease my swollen clit with firm, sweeping strokes before moving lower and probing the tight opening that was now dripping moisture onto the bed. There was no stopping him, so I buried my fingers in his hair and begged him not to stop as I drove my hips upward to meet his mouth.
Soon he let go of one of my hips, and knitting three fingers of his right hand together, he began to work the knobby knot into my slick wet opening. I could feel his thick fingers pushing up inside me as he continued to bathe my clit with his tongue, and the sensation forced moan after moan from my lips. I heard myself saying things I’d never said to anyone before; begging and bargaining as I arched my back and thrust my hips up to meet his fingers, but he would withdraw and continue to keep me hanging on the edge of orgasm.
“Brian! Brian! Please!” I pleaded in a voice hoarse from what felt like hours of begging. “I need to cum! I need it! I need it!”
“You need it, do you?” he asked with a smile as he lifted his head and looked up at me. I was wild-eyed and desperate as I nodded frantically, my hips pulsing against his hand, my fingers still buried in his hair, and as he watched me desperately trying to satisfy the overwhelming need he’d created, he smiled. “I can see that you want it, but do you really need it?”
His question pushed me over the edge, and I burst into frustrated tears as I cried, “Yes! Yes! Yes! I need it!” and as he watched me crying and begging for what I needed, Brian pressed down on my clit with the thumb of the hand he had nearly buried in my pussy, and I rocked against it.
I didn’t even notice that he’d used his free hand to undo his jeans and pull out his completely swollen cock until he had pulled his fingers from me and positioned his shaft between my legs as he began pressing the tip into my opening. I was so wet that it didn’t take much for him to slide inside, and when I felt his cock filling me, I wrapped my arms tightly around him and arched my back to push my hips against his as I tried to drive him deeper.
Brian reached underneath me and grabbed my ass as he slowly pulled his cock back so that only the tip was still inside me before he plunged back in, filling me with his rigid shaft. He did this a few times before he began to stroke my G-spot with the tip of his cock. I could feel him pulling back just enough to be able to quickly push back in over and over, making me moan and beg him for release. He smiled as he bent down and kissed my lips softly before thrusting up into me again.
My arousal was so intense that I couldn’t catch my breath, and I gripped Brian’s upper arms as I tried to force him deeper and deeper. He smiled as he reached up and brushed stray tendrils of hair from my face before he covered my cheeks in soft kisses. I couldn’t stand the agony of waiting, and I heard myself begging him over and over to take me; to make me cum. For a moment, he stopped and looked deep into my eyes and waited for me to reach the edge with him. He watched me as I writhed beneath him, looking for relief in the pressure I felt as our bodies moved together.
Brian slipped a hand between us, and as he began to increase the tempo of his thrusts, he also strummed out a beat on my engorged clit that dragged a low moan from my lips. I felt myself falling over the edge of orgasm only seconds before he groaned as he began to pulse deep inside me and fill me with his warm, thick cum. He collapsed on top of me, pressing his lips to mine as I bore the full weight of his body. It felt safe and warm, and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and held him against me as we lay in silence.
*****
Before long, Brian rolled to one side and pulled me against him wrapping one arm across my body. He was warm and strong, and as I lay pressed against his chest, I could hear his heart beating steadily. There was something comforting and familiar about him, and as I lay in his arms, I drowsily drifted toward sleep.
I didn’t know how much time had passed when I heard the ding of my phone letting me know that an email had been deposited in my inbox. I rolled over and peeked at the lighted screen to see that the message was a reminder that I was supposed to be at a meeting of the Campus Peace Activists the next morning. I was excited about the meeting because I’d been elected president the week before, after a long and contentious campaign. I wanted to share my excitement, so I rolled back over and looked up at Brian, who looked like he was napping.
“What’s going on?” he asked without opening his eyes.
“I’ve got a meeting I need to be at in the morning,” I replied.
“Not another fraternity-related event, I hope,” he smiled, still not opening his eyes.
“No, this is an early morning meeting and those don’t get going until well after sundown,” I deadpanned, then said, “I need to go to my CPA meeting across campus.”
“I did not know you were an accountant,” he said.
“I’m not, silly! It’s the Campus Peace Activist group, I’m the president and I need to be there,” I replied.
“Campus Peace Activists?” he repeated as he opened one eye and looked at me.
“Yes, we protest unjust wars, lobby our representatives, and basically oppose all acts of unprovoked violence against citizens of the world.” I proudly recited the mission statement that we’d spent weeks hammering out. We had come together with a common purpose, but it had taken a long time for us to develop a common vision for the organization, and the mission statement was representative of our willingness to work together toward a common goal.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Brian blurted as he pushed himself into a sitting position and gave me a hard stare.
“I’m not,” I said. “Why? Do you have a problem with it?”
“A problem with it?” he repeated, before a bitter laugh escaped his lips.
“Do I have a problem with it? Oh good one, lady!”
“Brian, what’s wrong?”
“Not a thing,” he replied in a sullen tone as he climbed out of bed and turned to look at me. “There is absolutely nothing wrong.”
“Brian!” I protested. “Why are you being so difficult?”
“I don’t believe I’m the one who is so damn difficult, Ava,” he was obviously angry with me, but I had no idea why.
“Brian, please tell me what’s going on,” I begged. “Why are you so upset?”
He grabbed his clothing off of the floor and began pulling on his pants as he watched me in his peripheral vision. He said nothing, but I could tell that he was holding something back just by the jerky way he pulled on his shirt and then stood staring at me through narrowed eyes. After a long silence, he took a deep breath and said, “Look, I’m going to sleep over on the couch, so unless you need me to do something to physically protect you from harm, I’d prefer that you leave me the hell alone. Got it?”
I was angry and confused by his sudden shift in tone, and I could feel the tears begin to well up in my eyes as I nodded and then watched him walk across the room toward the sofa. I stifled the urge to offer him a blanket. If he was going to be an ass to me, then he could figure out how to stay warm all by his own big self.
PROTECTOR #4
I tossed and turned all night. Around 3:00 am, I finally fell into a fitful sleep that was interrupted by Brian’s restlessness. When I woke up the next morning I felt worse than I had the morning before. I sat up slowly and looked over to see Brian fast asleep on the couch across the room, and I immediately felt the previous night’s irritation return. He’d shut me out without saying anything or even trying to have a conversation, and now he was sleeping like a baby. I shook my head in disgust and went to the bathroom to get ready for my meeting.
In the shower, I let the hot water cascade over my body as I tried to clear my mind of the way that Brian had reacted to learning about my involvement in the anti-war group. I couldn’t see how he could be angry with a group whose sole aim was to keep peace and prevent war, and it pissed me off that he’d just shut down and stopped talking. It made no sense to me whatsoever. I rinsed my hair and turned my face up toward the warm flow one more time before twisting the knobs to shut it off.
I stepped out, grabbed the fluffy towel off of the counter, and began drying myself off as I thought about how to start the conversation with Brian. We were going to have to talk about this in some way or another, or else we weren’t going to be able to find a way to continue the physical part of our relationship, and I had already grown to like it - a lot. I towel-dried my wet hair as I looked in the mirror, and noticed that there were dark circles under my eyes. The stress and lack of sleep were getting to me, and Friday night’s partying hadn’t helped matters.
Ah well, that’s what concealer is for, I thought to myself as I reached into my cosmetic bag and pulled out the tube. As I began to dab it on the dark spots, I was transported back to another morning when I had had to do the same thing, but for very different reasons. The night before, Dominic had returned home angry with me about some imagined infraction of his rules and had spent the evening moping silently in his man cave before emerging to teach me a brutal lesson about obedience. I cringed as I recalled how the concealer hadn’t been able to do its job the next day, but then, it hadn’t been designed to hide the handiwork of a man who was determined to leave his mark on my face.
As I dusted my cheeks with a peachy blush and tried to brighten up my pale skin, I thought about how I was certain that Brian wasn’t at all like Dominic. But I also knew that I wasn’t going to roll over and let another man dictate what I could or couldn’t do with my life; even if it meant that Brian was going to be irritated enough to continue sleeping on the couch.
Two coats of mascara and a swipe of a berry-colored lip gloss later, I considered myself in the mirror and decided I looked good enough to lead the meeting. I pulled my long, thick hair back into a low ponytail and smoothed my bangs before wrapping the towel tightly around myself and walking into the room to grab my clothes. When I emerged from the bathroom, Brian quickly looked away as I headed to my closet.
“It’s okay to look, you, know,” I said in a light tone. “You’ve seen it all anyway.”
“Yeah, got it,” he replied as he tried to hide the smile that flitted across his lips. “Just trying to give you some privacy.”
“Well, it’s hard in a space this small, but I appreciate it,” I said as I grabbed my clothes.
“It’s kind of chilly out there this morning,” Brian offered as he thumbed through my Psych textbook. “You might want to dress appropriately.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I shot back as I felt myself getting defensive. “Are you implying that I don’t usually dress appropriately?”
“Step down, spitfire,” he said as he raised a hand in defense. “I’m just saying that you might want to dress for rain, that’s all. I’m not judging you.”
I stood there fuming as I looked at him. How dare he tell me what’s appropriate and what isn’t! I was sick of his constant back and forth, one minute approving and the next disapproving. I was tired of having to walk on eggshells as we tried to navigate the path between security guard and boyfriend. Suddenly, a flood of questions came rushing into my brain.
Does he see me as his girlfriend? Do I think of him as my boyfriend? Are we a couple? I quickly discounted my answers by telling myself that it was insane to think that he could be someone I viewed as a boyfriend after less than a week. It’s Stockholm Syndrome, only without the kidnapping and violence. I chuckled as this thought crossed my mind.
“What are you laughing about?” Brian asked in an irritated voice. “Is there something funny I don’t know about?”
“Just thinking about my Psych homework,” I replied. “No need to get all irritated with me.”
“Irritated? Who’s irritated?” he said in a voice that was even more irritated than before.
“Obviously you are, sailor,” I said nonchalantly.
“I’m not irritated!” he yelled as he shot up off the couch.
“Evidence would prove otherwise,” I said as I held my ground.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Ava?” he shouted. “Why do you push me like this?”
“How exactly am I doing anything, Brian?” I said. My voice was calm, but inside I was trembling like a leaf. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, but his anger was palpable.
“You are so…so…so…” he stuttered before blurting out, “Infuriating!”
“Oh, I’m infuriating? Me?” I cried. “That’s a good one! You’re the one who gets all pissy and then shuts down and refuses to talk about anything! I didn’t do anything to you, and you just get mad and stop talking! What’s that all about, huh?”
Brian stood glaring at me with his fists clenched at his sides for what felt like hours before he lowered his eyes and loosened his hands. He stared at the floor in front of my feet for another long while before taking a deep breath.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he began. “I just feel…frustrated.”
“About what?” I asked quietly.
“About the fact that I want to protect you, but I feel like you won’t let me do the things I need to do to ensure that you’re safe, and then you go and…” he trailed off.
“I go and do what?” I asked.
“You participate in that hateful group that does such awful things to members of the military. How could you?” he asked as he looked up. The hurt and pain in his eyes took my breath away.
“What hateful things?” I was confused by his accusation.
“Those anti-war groups protest at military funerals and say hateful things about people who’ve given their lives for their country,” he explained. “How could you participate in that kind of thing?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” I protested. “We don’t do those kinds of things!”
/> “I’ve seen the groups that do,” he said quietly. “They were at my best friend’s funeral when I accompanied his body back to the States. They had signs and literature that they were passing out about their anti-war activities.”
“Brian, we’ve never once protested at a funeral,” I assured him. “That would be rude and disrespectful of the people who’ve sacrificed their lives for our right to oppose war.”
“Then what do you do?” he asked. “What’s the purpose of an anti-war group that doesn’t protest?”
“We do protest,” I said. “We protest against unjust wars that use our military servicepeople as cannon fodder. We protest against the government’s lack of concern for the servicepeople who’ve returned home after the wars, and we protest against the use of violence to ensure peace! It’s all wrong!”
“It’s not wrong,” he muttered.
“Yes! It is horribly wrong to send young men and women out to fight a war that is simply about protecting oil and resources!” I yelled. “How can you say it’s not?”
“Because I fought the war! I fought for freedom and democracy and to get rid of a dictator that had brutally oppressed his people for decades!” Brian shouted back. “I was there, little girl. I saw what was going on and fought to bring peace to those people.”
“Little girl? Little girl?” I was pissed. “Don’t you dare dismiss me simply because I haven’t been over to Iraq and fought in the war. That’s the most asinine argument I’ve ever heard!”
“Oh, really?” Brian crossed the room and stood not more than a foot from me as he continued. “Then please explain to me why I went over there and spent years on the ground helping secure the territory. Please explain why I spent so much time away from my friends and family in order to patrol the cities and prevent violence. Please explain why I watched civilians get blown up by their own countrymen who were trying to kill me and my team! Please explain, Ava, why…” Brian stopped as a look of anguish tore across his face.