by Sage, May
“Shit. I'm out, I'm out! Stay decent for one second, woman!”
One second was exactly how long she got to keep her dress; he'd been tugging at its hem, pushing it up for long enough. Now he slid it up, along her curves and pushed it aside.
Hell.
“Do you ever wear a damn bra?”
She didn't need to: her breasts were perfectly rounded, firmer than natural boobs had any right to be.
“Not if I can help it.”
She was going to kill him.
There was nothing else to do but bite one of those obnoxious, dark pink nipples, lick around it, suck its sweetness as she moaned, and caress the other breast; he wasn't about to let it feel neglected.
The rest is all for you. He wasn't one to gloat, but he'd make her eat those damn words if it was the last thing he did.
He felt her hands up his shirt, and then fooling around with his buttons, but after ten second of fruitless effort, she was tearing the damn thing open. Her cold fingers ran on his chest, grazed his back, explored just a little bit lower, hooking themselves under his belt.
He took both her hands in one of his and kept them behind her back. It would escalate quicker than he'd planned if he let those hands anywhere near his dick.
“Be good,” he told her, lifting her to exchange their position: she was left sitting on the white sofa, her legs wide open.
Liam was the first to appreciate a good piece of lingerie, but he hadn't ever seen anything hotter than his woman in her plain briefs.
She wasn't his yet, he amended, but she would be by the time he was done with her.
“You smell good,” he told her, his face between her thighs, inhaling her.
It was Beth, Dior Cherie, and sex rolled up in one. He was tempted to lick it, but settled against it, going back to her mouth instead.
There was nothing quite as intoxicating as kissing that woman; except perhaps kissing her while rubbing her clit through her panties.
“God...”
“It's Liam, dearest. Get it right.”
With that, he pushed the material aside and slid along her heat. The finger was immediately glistening; an animalistic grunt escaped him at this discovery. She was already ready for him. Nonetheless, he took him time exploring her inner lips, teasing moans out of her before trying one finger inside.
Shit, she was tight. Tight and incredibly responsive; her breathing was already scattered, her back curved to seek more of what he gave her.
He was tempted to make her come – it would have been easy, too – but to present a complete, irrefutable, absolute case, it wasn't what he needed. She hadn't doubted foreplay: it had been intercourse she'd condemn as the vice of men, designed only for their pleasure.
So, he had to make her climax around his cock.
“Protection,” he recalled reluctantly.
It had never gone that far without him setting a condom next to the girl. It was the one rule he abided by – the rest was just details. He'd take his conquests however, wherever they liked, so long as they were safe from diseases and very undesirable pregnancies.
Tonight, protection had barely been an afterthought. He smiled as he looked up to her glowing face.
“I'm going to screw you,” he told her, enjoying the glint of excitement flashing in those big eyes as much as the unusual blush colouring her cheeks. “Then, we'll make love. After that, I don't mind fucking.”
“That's an awful lot of sex, honey. You're sure a man of your age is up to all that?”
“You may want to shut that mouth before I put something too big to chew inside.”
He would, too. Soon.
That is, if she says yes, moron.
All of a sudden, he saw the alternative and the cold, glum perspective was downright intolerable.
Liam took the throw they'd casually shaken off and carefully wrapped it around her shoulders before getting up and walking towards the kitchen.
It took a few minutes but Beth followed him, obviously startled.
“What happened to all the fucking?”
“You've had three of those ridiculously pink cocktails, as I recall. Now, as they contained under half a measure of actual spirit between them, I know you're sober enough for what we're doing, but we'll both feel much better in the morning if we have something to eat now. I plan to use up quite a bit of your energy, dearest.”
He was stalling and she knew it, her sharp glance told him that much. He wasn't about to share his reasons, though. The truth was, it would be over too fast and he was dreading the end. He'd given her an out, a no-strings-attached out-of–jail-free card and he had to make damn sure she didn't take it.
Waffles, eggs, bacon, and a hot chocolate was the best plan he'd came up with at short notice. So sue him; whatever the problem, crispy bacon usually worked.
Her stomach audibly growled as the smell propagated around them. Gotcha.
“Take a seat, it's ready in a minute.”
He set the warm drink in front of her on the breakfast bar and returned to his cooking.
“You know, if you make a habit of preparing breakfast half naked, it's awfully selfish to keep it to yourself.”
Liam raised an eyebrow, ever so slightly startled. He knew what he looked like; he'd spent enough time working on the six pack to be conscious of it. He just hadn't expected her to stare at it that way, or he would have started to conveniently forget to put a shirt on a while ago.
The fire in her green gaze, as she bit down on her lips, was born of pure lust.
“Since when have you been attracted to me?” he wondered, for the sake of the ego she'd repetitively beaten down.
“We're so not doing this,” she said, glaring and blushing.
He couldn't decide which was more adorable.
“I have the food in my custody, woman. It's awfully close to the bin.”
“Could you? Throw it away, I mean.”
Ah. So they'd started The Boyfriend Interview early.
“No, I couldn't. Leftovers? Something I've messed up? Sure. But there is no way I'd throw a painful of good waffles and bacon – or any edible food, for that matter.”
“Sorry, it's just...”
They hadn't eaten together that many times, but he'd noticed how she generally finished whatever was on her plate.
“I've been hungry,” he confessed. “It ain't all that.”
They ate in relative silence, his leg brushing against hers, her hand resting on his.
It was nice. It was a damn sight more than nice, actually.
“I feel like taking a shower.”
“With me?”
After consideration, he nodded.
“Well, you do owe me one, at the very least.”
They smiled as they recalled her interrupting his masturbation back in March.
Beth shed the blanket and stood bare in front of him, unabashed. She turned around, giving him a full view of that sculptural, luscious ass, and he almost drooled as he followed her like a lost puppy, all the way to the bathroom.
God.
She was perfect, from the long legs, to the tip of her tousled dark hair, passing by the hips, the box gap between her toned thighs, the line of dark pubic hair on her otherwise waxed pussy, those breast, the shy blush on her cheeks.
The blush didn't make sense, though. She didn't have a damn thing to feel self-conscious about.
Wordlessly, reverently, he brushed every little bit of her skin with her sponge as she reciprocated. Those hands were setting him ablaze, bolstering the waves of lust to a point whence he just couldn't take anymore.
He threw her over his damn shoulder like the Neanderthal he had been turned into, stormed down the hall and launched her towards the middle of her bed, to her endless amusement.
“You find this funny?” he demanded as she failed to contain her fit of giggles.
He crawled toward her with deliberate slowness, kissing his way up from her toes to the inside of her legs, her stomach, her breast. She wasn
't laughing when he made it to her mouth. He was aligned just at her entrance, a thrust forward would have been enough to take her.
But he rolled on his side and got up, leaving her panting, wanting, and maybe the tiniest bit frustrated.
“Really?”
“As I may have mentioned before, sweetheart, we need protection.”
“Oh.”
Yes, oh. They were back to square one, one breath away from taking her without a condom. He'd been tempted, too, but his last health check was five months old.
Making it to his bedside table and back to her in a record time, he sheathed himself and, without warning, without another kiss, dived right inside her heath in one thrust.
She cried out in surprised, but not in pain. She was incredibly tight around him, but wet as she was, she'd accommodate him without discomfort.
“You're good?”
She nodded eagerly, pulling his torso towards hers; that was enough of an invitation. He moved his hips, slowly at first, pushing her endless legs apart as he sank right in her depth. When she moaned, he sat up, pulling her hips with him and soon, she was meeting him at each thrust.
They both breathed out hard, fast, as they approached their ultimate release but save for that, the sound as their bodies collided, occasional curses or grunts one or the other couldn't bite out, they weren't very noisy; it needled him at first, used as he was to hearing just how great he was, but one look down at her face told him that and more.
Much more. What they were doing to each other was bringing her closer to ecstasy at every movement.
Without warning or withdrawing from her, he flipped her around in one swift motion and as soon as she was on her hands and knees, resumed his relentless rhythm. The new angle sat very well with her, if he was to judge from the whimper accompanying each motion.
He was close. He was ever so close to coming and he needed her there. He pulled her torso to his and kissed the hell out of her without stopping or slowing down; one hand reached around to find her clit as the other palmed her breast.
God. God. God.
That was it.
The end of the road, the close of the waltz, the paroxysm of his sexual existence. One simple, plain, boring vanilla one-to-one with the right person had done the trick. There wouldn't be more, there wouldn't be better after this.
They say a little bitter makes everything sweeter. They, whoever they might be, were right. The chase, the doubts, the uncertainty of her reactions had made these climax the very best of his life.
What now? What was next? Because there would be a next step, another exploration of the chemistry. He was spoiled for anything less.
He felt when the woman in front of him came down from the high, reaching the same melancholy as him.
What now?
He was still working it out when she moved.
It wasn't very much, just her hips, slowly rocking back to front, but it was enough. The somnolent appendage between her thighs somehow reawakened, responding to this teasing by hardening quicker than he'd thought possible after this.
Oh god, that felt so good.
His hands drifted from her chest back down to her hips, caressing her skin with undulated adoration. She turned to drop a small, somehow chaste kiss on his lips, all the while slowly continuing her seductive dance.
"Again?" She whispered, her eyes smouldering and ravenous.
He flipped her back on her back in one quick movement, removing himself from her just long enough to change the condom.
Fuck, he knew what was next.
There was no hurry, no timescale, but if he came across the perfect ring tomorrow, he'd buy it and get it sized.
He finally got it, understood why so many people did it. They weren't foolish. It wasn't about making their long time fuck happy, about ridiculous romantic notions of forever.
It was acquisition.
She, her moans, her cookies, the songs she played on her ugly instrument, her body, was going to be his. His to kiss, to enjoy, to cherish, his to share if they felt so inclined.
At the moment, he didn't.
"Again."
She'd made it last. They'd screwed, made loved, fucked, as he instructed and then, just for luck, had one good old lay before collapsing on her bed, completely spent.
In the morning, she'd been sore, but she'd lied when he asked, just to feel him as he took her from their sides.
Now though, after breakfast, she'd had to repeat the question.
How fucked up?
“What do you know of Sin?”
“It's a very exclusive club. It opens its door to the general public only one Saturday a month. Is it a sex club?”
After last night, she sounded eager, rather than frightened, but he only smiled.
“Not exactly, no. But upstairs is very... liberal. From time to time, some of us book one of their larger rooms for private parties. They accommodate up to about thirty guests.”
Oh. She hadn't exactly expected that.
“You're a swinger.”
“Not fundamentally. But I like to be watched.”
Wow. That was... hmm.
Kinky. The word was kinky.
“I don't turn down the occasional threesome.”
“Shut up.”
His short derisive laugh was enough for her to gather her wits.
“You're testing me.”
It wasn't a question.
“Maybe a little? I need to know you aren't going to run for it as soon as you stumble into anything that displeases your sensibility. Everything I said is true, though.”
“I'm not running yet.”
“Yet?”
“I thought you were a dom,” she confessed.
He looked at her with astonishment, at first, then some amusement.
“Is that why you ran on me in April?”
“Maybe a little,” she confessed, mirroring his response.
But it hadn't been it, exactly. She had still believed sex wouldn't be pleasurable, up until that night, when she'd touched herself and discovered it insufficient. Then, she'd realised she wanted it.
Sharing that particular piece of information was too embarrassing for words, though.
“Actual BDSM doesn't do it for me at all. I tried it but inflicting and receiving actual pain is just beyond my understanding. Now, if we're talking about tying you up somewhere and spanking that delightful ass of yours...”
He gently rubbed against her, letting her feel just what that notion incited.
“I'd very much like to understand why you aren't running for the hills, though. A few weeks ago, the idea of being with me shut you down for days. Now, you're almost open to orgies.”
“Hardly,” she snorted. “You said you'd compromise. That may be one of my hard limits. I don't know. I don't know anything, apparently.”
He squeezed her knee, acknowledging the half apology and she appreciate his silence. He had been fully entitled to one big fat told you so. That – in an effort to avoid making her uncomfortable – he didn't say it meant a lot.
“So, threesomes? Like, me and another girl?”
“Or me and another guy. I'm not difficult: I just like to...”
“Display?”
He smiled at that.
“Exactly.”
He didn't know how extraordinary it was that she didn't feel like running away, screaming bloody murder. Sharing and displaying had been exactly what the monsters who had attacked her had been into.
But sex with him had been nothing like her previous experience and absolutely nothing like the rape. What's more, it had completely cleared her mind of the residue of hatred and resentment she'd felt towards all men. Her issue had been that every single man she’d ever interacted with on a personal level had either caused her pain, discomfort, or embarrassment. The fact that he hadn’t meant so much.
If he was into it, she was willing to try anything she didn't find degrading, if only once.
“Well, I'
d have to try it and tell you what I think afterwards then.”
His smile completely disappeared.
“I'm not sharing you. Not now.”
“I thought...”
“We'll get there, someday. Maybe? But a girlfriend isn't a casual hookup. We need to find us before we can explore the rest.”
While she liked his response, she had to disagree: if that whole exhibitionist thing was part of him, she had to know soon. Walking away would be painful now, but in a few months, or some years?
So, she pushed for answers:
“I don't think I get it. I mean, Disney gets in our head and it's not exactly Happily Ever After with Jasmine, Aladdin, and the Genie.”
A long pause ensued, but finally, Liam let out a laugh.
“That was just disturbing.”
“You see what I mean, though.”
“Yes. I also see that a third of marriages end in annulment, divorce, or separation. In my world? No one gives up, Beth. When things get tiring between the sacks, they invite someone to join in and it's the honeymoon all over again.”
“So, it's about not getting bored?”
“Not really. It's about seeing beyond what society dictates. Look at every other mammal out there: how many mate for life? Now, because of our consciousness, we have more, we have love. So there is a point when we'll find someone special, someone we can cherish forever. It's just childish to think that it's the only person you'd ever want. Don't think once that it means I'd be free to screw someone out of the blue if I wanted to. I believe in trust and commitment in a relationship. But if we discussed it and you were willing? I could screw them with you. ”
It was a mindfuck, but the issue was, there wasn't a word she could contradict.
“Doesn't it prevent you from getting attached?”
“No: I prevented me from getting attached. Not because I didn't believe in relationships, but because I’ve seen love gone wrong, and I didn’t think it was worth the risk. Thing is, dearest, I am attached to you. Not as much as I could be, but enough to want to make a go for it, if you're willing to try.”
Chapter 11:
Compromise
Liam was aware of the fact that the woman seating on the other side of the breakfast bar was talking, but he just didn’t hear a word of it, stunned by the letters in front of him.