by KD Robichaux
I move over to and up the stairs, climbing stealthily so I can hear what’s going on behind these walls. Silence makes my ears feel numb, until I reach the carpeted floor right outside her room. I hear… something, but I can’t distinguish what it is. I put my hands against either side of the doorway, leaning forward until I press my ear to her door. And there’s that sound. A buzzing. Interrupted in intervals by a rocking noise. I close my eyes and listen more closely, trying to put an image to the sounds filling my head.
And then a muffled voice, as if her face is buried in her pillow.
Crying?
No.
Not crying.
Moaning.
Moaning into her pillow to hide the sounds of her…
Rocking noise.
Her hips, grinding so roughly it makes the bed squeak just enough to be audible through her door.
And the buzzing?
I’ve spent enough time in my BDSM club to know what that buzzing is.
A vibrator.
A vibrator as her hips rock against where her hand presses it to her wet pussy.
Her wet pussy that’s soaked that way because she’d performed for me.
And as I hear a whimper filter from beneath the door, something in me snaps, and I take hold of the doorknob.
Locked.
Locked away from the goddess inside who’s trying to make herself come after showing off just for me.
The thought to give her privacy never crosses my mind. Not once.
It’s been a year. An entire year. A full twelve fucking months since I kissed her and knew I’d never let her go. A year of living with the woman who fills my thoughts during my every waking moment. Who fills my dreams when I’m no longer awake.
I thought I could handle it. I thought I could be strong. Like last night, when I believed she wasn’t ready for me, wasn’t ready for us. That she had more healing to do before I finally took what is mine.
But I can’t. I can’t wait any longer. Not when she’s behind this door fucking herself to the image of me, when I’m right fucking here. I’m right on the other side of the goddamn door wanting her with every fiber of my being, while she’s there on her bed wanting me.
So with one adrenaline-fueled, heart-pounding burst of strength aimed right above her locked knob, I bust through her door, and the image I find will haunt my fantasies for the rest of my life.
Just before her scream of surprise, I get one mental snapshot—Astrid in the middle of her bed atop her covers, her knees up and spread apart, her hips lifted, grinding her glistening pussy against the little silver bullet she presses to her swollen clit. Her toes curling into her comforter, showing she’s close, so close to coming, as her face presses into her pillow.
But now she looks at me in shock, and I can only imagine the picture I must make, filling her doorway with my big body after having broken inside her room like a fucking thief in the night.
But she doesn’t look at me in fear. Astonishment, yes, but not the terror that filled her eyes last night when she was still inside her nightmare. And somewhere in there, I see it. A plea, begging me for something, as her breath saws in and out of her lungs, but I’m not sure what until she finally whispers.
“Please, Neil. I need to come.”
And I nearly fall to my knees.
I make it to her in two strides, jerking away the bullet and turning it off. I take hold of her ankles and yank her across the bed until my legs are between hers, and then I pick her up, much like I did last night on the stairs, and I carry her to my room.
I feel the heat of her wet pussy against me once again, but this time it’s only my thin T-shirt that separates her from my abs. When I get to my big bed, I don’t toss her on it right away. I grasp hold of the back of her head and finally allow myself to relive that night a year ago, and my mouth crashes down on hers.
It’s like a shot of electricity strikes through my veins the moment our lips connect, and then it splinters through my organs when my tongue dips inside to stroke against hers. And all the while, she’s moving, grinding her pussy against my stomach, still trying desperately to find the release she wasn’t able to get using her vibrator.
When I turn to lay her down on my bed, she breaks her mouth away with a gasp, shaking her head. “No, no, I’m filthy. Covered in sweat, Neil.”
I bury my face in her neck, breathing her in. “I don’t care, goddess. You taste and smell so good.”
But still, she tightens her legs around me, not wanting me to lay her down. “Please. I’ve dreamed of this moment for so long. I want it to be perfect. And I’ll be too self-conscious if I’m not clean. Please.”
I’m walking toward my bathroom before she can finish the last of her plea. If all she needs is a quick shower to make this perfect for her, so she can relax and fully enjoy the pleasure I’m about to give her, then that’s a small fucking price to pay.
I sit her bare ass on the counter, hearing her hiss when her hot flesh seals with the freezing stone. She lifts her arms, and I whip the tank top off over her head. Her sports bra is ridiculously tight, and we struggle to get the elastic over her breasts and up her back before it finally gives in and sets her free. And there she is, naked before me for the very first time. I’ve had countless fantasies of what she might look like, bared to me just before I take her, but none of those fantasies compare to the reality that sits in front of me. She truly is a goddess, flawless, absolute perfection in my eyes, despite the scars I can now see along her overheated flesh that she’s always kept hidden.
Later.
I’ll save those for later.
Right now, I can’t stop to think about them.
I yank my shirt off, taking only a split second to toe off my shoes and rip off my socks before my shorts and boxer briefs follow. And then she’s lifted in my arms again, and I’m carrying her into the shower through the opening in the glass. I turn on the rain shower, and as she unlocks her legs from behind me, I nearly go cross-eyed as her body slides down mine, her pussy running a slick path over my rock-hard cock on her journey to the floor. When her feet touch the tiles, her arms lift above her head, and her eyes lock on mine as she pulls the elastic out of her hair, her ponytail coming loose and her long blonde locks falling around her shoulders.
She closes her eyes then and leans her head back under the spray, sighing when it soaks her hair. I just stand there and watch her, mesmerized by every move she makes. When she opens her eyes and looks around, I reach over and grab the shampoo, her gaze following my hand, but when I pull it back toward her, her eyes stay locked to the cubby built into the wall. I know she’s looking at the bottle there, the red one filled with the lube I use to make my hand feel closer to how her pussy would feel. And when she meets my eyes once again, her cheeks are the prettiest shade of pink.
“You’re not the only one who has to take matters into your own hands, goddess,” I murmur, squeezing shampoo into my palm and setting the bottle back in the stone niche. I soap up her hair, scratching at her scalp with my short nails, and her eyes slide closed as she moans in pleasure, and precum leaves the tip of my cock in a long drip to the tile between us.
When I pull my fingers from her hair, she leans back into the water to rinse it, and I grab my conditioner, loving that she’ll smell like me when we’re done. I work it through the strands, letting it sit for a minute like my hair chick taught me, and use the time to fill my loofa with my body wash, and I start to wash her in gentle scrubbing circles starting at her collarbones. I’m astounded she’s let this all happen, allowed me to take care of her, when every day for an entire year she’s been so adamant about not asking me for anything unless she had to. She’s taken care of everything, all the cleaning, the cooking, the laundry, anything she could find because she felt like she needed to earn her keep here in my home. And now I’m finally, finally getting to take care of her.
I work the loofa over and between her breasts, running it beneath the creases and feeling the weight of the
m against my knuckles. Her nipples are tight peaks, the prettiest shade of rose I’ve ever laid eyes on, the same exact shade as the folds of her pussy I saw right when I burst through her door. I swipe the loofa down the outside of her arms and up the inside, feeling her jerk a little when I run it over her armpits.
Ticklish.
My girl is ticklish.
A year and I’m just now learning this.
But it’s been worth every second of that wait.
I turn her around to face the water, and she rinses her front while I soap up her back, feeling her lean into my hand and moan once again.
Back scratches.
She loves back scratches.
I make another mental note.
I scrub the loofa lower, lower down her back until I make the first pass over her ass, and her entire body stiffens, and I catch her arm so she doesn’t slip as she spins away from me, her arms crossing over her breasts, my heart sinking as I see the trepidation in her eyes.
But it doesn’t last more than a moment as she stares into mine, seeming to remind herself who she’s here with, because she lowers her arms and reaches out gently to take the loofa from my hand.
“I’ve got the rest. Thank you,” she murmurs, and I give her a slow nod, not taking a step away but lowering my arms so she doesn’t feel threatened. She soaps up her lower half and rinses, and as the suds clear to reveal her supple ass, I look more closely at the skin there, seeing it’s covered in scars. I close my eyes, wanting to weep for my sweet Astrid, wanting to avenge her and break my own life-for-a-life rule, knowing damn well that motherfucker wouldn’t have just stopped at the outside if he was determined to punish her ass. And I understand why she pulled away at the first stroke there after never having been touched by anyone since him.
My eyes snap open at the first touch of the loofa against my chest, Astrid having added fresh body wash to it, as it lathers against my skin. I let her have her way, familiarizing herself with my big body as she works it down my abs then over my arms, but my eyebrows lift in surprise when she drops the loofa to the tiled floor with a plop, and she lifts her eyes to mine as she starts using her bare hands instead.
I groan in pleasure at the little smile that pulls at her pillowy lips as she runs her fingers through the short, soft hairs covering the wide expanse of my chest that lead over my stomach before thinning out past my belly button, her palms then gliding upward to feel the V of muscle that end at my obliques. I want to shut my eyes and absorb her touch, memorize it so I can replay it and dissect every second of it when I’m alone, but I can’t look away. I can’t stop watching the little microexpressions that play over her beautiful face with every new discovery she makes on my body.
She likes my nipples.
She wants to ask about the scar at my ribs.
She wonders about the tattoo on my chest.
She’s aroused by the definition of my muscles.
She’s worried by the power of my biceps.
She’s slightly afraid of the place between my thumb and my forefinger.
She loves… my cock.
I groan when she takes it into her hand, her fingertips unable to meet her thumb as she encircles it.
She’s excited by the girth, wondering if she can take it, if it’ll hurt.
She’s astounded by the length… making me feel pretty fucking great about myself.
She’s mesmerized by the precum that leaves the very tip, and she runs her thumb back and forth across the head, making me lock my knees so I don’t fall to them.
She’s curious about the ridge just beneath the crown, as if she’s never felt a circumcised cock in her hand before.
And then she’s lowering… lowering to her knees, and I think she’s just wanting to explore my legs, but she never lets go of my cock. And then she’s leaning forward, her face closing in on the tip she holds parallel with her mouth. And I have to stop her. I must stop her. I don’t want to, but I can’t let her—
“Wait.” My voice is desperate. Hoarse. And she looks up at me from her knees. My cock looking obscene in her little hand. But her eyes. God her eyes are an ocean during a hurricane. She wants me. She wants me in her mouth so badly. “Lean back just a second, baby,” I order gently, and she listens. She follows my soft command so perfectly. And I reach out to the dial and change the rain shower to the waterfall setting, the water forming a wall between us so I can’t see her face, but I feel her hand, still holding my cock as I quickly rinse all the body wash from my skin. And she twists her hand along my shaft, making my knees buckle and a growl of need burst out of me before I catch myself and stand strong once again.
She clears the body wash from my taut flesh, then I switch the dial back to rain shower once more.
She looks at me in question. You ready now? her eyes ask.
Fuck yes, mine respond.
And then my crown is between those plump fucking lips, and I feel her tongue trace along the ridge like her fingers had. Exploring, discovering, and by the little moan in the back of her throat, liking what she’s uncovered and claiming it as hers.
She sucks me deeper, and my hand goes to the back of her hair. “Mm-mm,” she denies, shaking her head but never pulling my dick from her mouth. I take the hint and remove my hand, moving it around to the front instead to cup her cheek, feeling it go hollow in my palm as she sucks harder and looks up at me.
Like this? her eyes prompt.
“Just like that,” I encourage.
Am I doing good? they pray.
“So fucking good, goddess,” I praise, and she closes her eyes in relief and takes me to the back of her throat.
“Fuuuck,” I groan, and her eyes snap open once more. But not in worry. There’s no fear in them that she did something bad. She heard it clear in the deep rumble that left me that it’s so fucking perfect what she’s doing to me. No, it’s arousal in her eyes. She likes it when I’m verbal.
Fucking. Noted.
“God, your mouth feels so perfect,” I tell her, my thumb stroking her cheek, and she swallows around me. The vision of her looking up at me goes blurry for a second as my soul leaves my body, and then I’m back, letting out a moan that echoes throughout the huge shower. “Fucking hell, baby. You’re… fuck… so good. Such a good girl,” I tell her, and she whimpers, her eyebrows lifting together in the middle as her eyes close, but not before I see the look of relieved bliss in her pupils.
That’s what she’s wanting.
That’s what she craves.
She wants verbal praise. Undeniable, spoken appreciation. Fucking words of affirmation, like she always craves, her love language she needs above all others. Of course.
She starts working her hand along with her mouth after that, sucking my dick like she was born to do it. And the entire time, I’m telling her how good it is, how perfect she sucks my cock, how she’s going to get me off like no one ever has before. And over and over again, I’m calling her my good girl, my goddess, and each time she hears it, she doubles her efforts.
“Fuck, Astrid. You have to stop. You’re going to make me come, goddess, and there’s so much more I want to do with you,” I whisper, but she tightens her grip and looks up at me.
Just try to fucking stop me, her eyes challenge.
And there must be a reason. There has to be a reason she needs to make me come this way, while she’s sucking me off so good, like I’ve never been sucked before. But I can’t think of it right now. I can’t dissect and figure it out right now, because she’s too fucking good at this. How is she so fucking good at this? Why is she so… goddamn… good at this?
And then I understand. Without having to dig deep and pick it apart. I just get it.
She’s good at it, because she’s had a lot of practice.
She’s good at it, because she was forced to do it until she did it right.
She looks up at me with those pleading eyes, begging me to call her a good girl, because he never did.
She’s refusing to stop unti
l I come, because she wants to rinse away everything that was there before.
And it doesn’t matter what I want. Doesn’t matter that there are hundreds of things I want to do with her out in my big bed while I worship her like the goddess she is.
Because what she wants is for me to coat her mouth and throat with my cum so she can stop feeling like the used and unworthy whore he made her believe she was.
So I give her what she needs. As she sucks and licks with her tongue and twists and strokes with her hand, I tell her every loving word I’ve ever thought about her, and just as my balls tighten and my heart thuds inside my chest, I warn her, “I’m about to come for you, Astrid,” and then I do just that, my face contorting in pained ecstasy as I empty myself down her throat, my cum filling it before she can swallow it all and she gags just a little until she gets it all down. She slides my cock out of her mouth slowly, the end coming free with a pop just as I turn the water off, and then she’s squealing, because I pick her up from her knees and haul her out of the shower, grabbing the towel from the warmer as I go.
I throw her on the bed, and she gasps midair before she lands. And the ferocity on my face has to be scaring her, but I’ve lost control. The moment her back hits the comforter, I toss the towel across her. She can dry off if she wants. But I’ll be too busy, and I’m not waiting.
I tug her knees apart, and without any preamble, I slam my parted lips to her pussy, hearing her squeak and feeling her try to close her legs around my head as I suck her lips into the heat of my mouth. Her thighs quiver, and I feel her try to move up the bed, away from my mouth, but I lock my arms around her hips and hold her still. I’m licking, sucking, devouring her, eating her like a starved man, and I am. I’m starved for her. I’ve been dreaming of this moment, playing it out in my mind for an entire year, and it’s finally happening. Finally reality.