by Liz Madrid
Erik’s naked now before her, and Sam, with the jeweled thong inspiring her to do things she’s never done before, at least not this boldly, starts just inside his left thigh. She kisses the skin there, feeling him tighten beneath her lips, one hand still stroking him and the other, caressing the inside of his right thigh. She licks, laps, and sucks the delicate skin of his balls before taking it gently in her mouth, hearing him take in a deep breath, his fingers in her hair.
By the time she takes his cock in her mouth, but not before running her tongue along the length of him, Erik is moaning her name, fisting his hand in her hair. She loves having him like this, at her mercy.
“Tell me what you want me to do,” she purrs, teasing him with her fingers as she sits up to watch him.
“This,” he hisses, spinning her around so that she’s positioned over him and he has access to her, too. He’s gripping her hips, pulling her down towards him as his mouth finds her, and this time, it’s Sam’s turn to gasp as Erik runs his tongue along the swollen clit.
It takes all of Sam’s energy to focus on pleasing him, for everything he’s doing with his mouth and tongue is driving her crazy. She can feel the way the delicate chain is rubbing against her, the way the sapphire pendant swings to and fro and gently taps against her mons. She takes him in her mouth, his engorged crown between her lips as her tongue strums the underside of his cock. Stroking the base, she brings her mouth lower, taking him slowly. She takes him all in, till her lips touch the base of his cock, her throat as relaxed as she can manage though seconds later, she slowly brings her head up, his cock now glistening with her saliva. Then she does it again, feeling his tongue right there, against her most intimate of places, driving her to the brink and back.
They remain this way for a few minutes, each one pleasuring the other with their mouths, hands and fingers. When she comes, she cries out as he continues to suck on her sensitive pearl, his arms pinning her hips in place even as she bucks against him, her knees trembling from the sensations hitting her. Erik’s in control now.
Before she knows it, he’s shifted positions, taking her with him. She’s flat on her back and his face is right in front of her, his mouth descending onto hers and allowing her to taste her own juices. And as his tongue slips between her teeth, Erik enters her, seating himself deep within her, breathing in her gasps like they were his own. The pendant moves between them as he movesP, still hanging on its delicate chain and she can feel its smooth coldness, now warm with the touch of the others’ bodies.
Sam hears him say her name in between gasps of breath, and this excites her, leading her along the precipice of her own orgasm that builds like wave after wave slamming against the shore. When Erik buries his face in her neck, feeling her walls tighten around him, coming for him, he comes, too, riding the crest of his climax as high as it takes him. His hands squeeze, pull and tug. His mouth sucks, nips and bites, leaving marks where only he’ll know where for he’s careful to leave them where no one but him can see them. She digs her finger nails into the skin of his shoulder blades, feeling his body tighten, hearing him groan as he comes inside her.
It’s minutes later when Sam finally opens her eyes and finds Erik watching her, a bemused smile on his lips. His eyelids seem heavy, his pupils dilated. He’s propped his head up with one arm, his other arm by her hip, tracing the butterfly on her mons with his finger. Their bodies are drenched in sweat but Sam doesn’t care, and she suspects, neither does Erik.
“Thank you for my present,” she whispers, kissing him on the lips as his finger follows the trail of the butterfly, then down the chain and past the pendant, dipping into her. She moans.
“And thank you for mine,” he murmurs. “I think I should get you more of these.”
“You should,” she says. “Though I doubt we’ll be staying long at any parties if you knew I was wearing one.”
His finger curls inside her, hitting her at a spot that makes her body quiver. She grips his arm, burying her face in his chest.
“That should be the challenge now, shouldn’t it?” He says.
“Do you want me to wear it tomorrow?”
“Of course,” Erik smiles mischievously. “Can you bear it? The drive alone will be about an hour.”
She giggles, sighing when he parts her thighs with his hand. “Me? Can you?”
“Guess tomorrow will have to be a test of self-control then,” he says, positioning himself over her. “Should that be the challenge for tomorrow? No touching on the drive there?”
“I can do that,” she says. “Though I doubt you can.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“I guess it is,” she giggles. “May the best woman win.”
He’s hard again and she closes her eyes as he slides into her as she leans her head back at the deliciousness of it all.
“I love you,” she whispers, wrapping her arms around his neck as he begins to move in and out of her, slowly, taking his time. There is no rush, nothing on the calendar but them and their pleasure—a reconnection.
“And I love you, Sam. And I have since I first met you,” he says, his blue eyes staring deep into her own.
And with that, Sam kisses him as he makes love to her, the pendant between their bodies now forgotten though she knows it’s there. What matters most is that Erik is there with her, the best present she could ever ask for each and every day.
LETTING GO
Bella and Greg (Someone Like You)
With dinner over, Greg and I sat in his living room couch. Music was playing from built-in speakers on his ceiling and for few minutes, we simply sat there, lost in our own thoughts.
It was only our fourth date yet here we were in his high-rise apartment, having eaten dinner at his place in lieu of going out and probably running into his former girlfriend like we did the last two times. I swear the woman was stalking him!
It was the only reason I’d agreed to meet him here for dinner, and with the early drive to Santa Barbara in the morning, a sleep-over but with me taking the guest room. Whether that was happening or not, I had no idea. I figured, I’d take things as they came.
I was still struggling at the very idea of a lawyer asking me out—and not just any lawyer, but someone who didn’t even need to do it for a living because he was filthy rich. Greg’s family owned hotels and other commercial buildings all over the country, and the only reason we’d stumbled into each other was that strange connection we’d made on an online dating site—one where he claimed to be a nerd wearing Clark Kent glasses while I was busy proving to my roommate that not all men were jerks just looking for a good time. Well, not all of them. Even I had to be realistic. This was the age of Tinder and sexting, and the only reason I hadn’t jumped onto that bandwagon—other than not having anyone to sext to—was because I was on a limited bandwidth plan.
As it turned out, he was no geeky Clark Kent at all, but Greg Rocklin, the quiet youngest son of an ambitious Brit who built his empire one small hotel chain after another. Yet despite the fact that Greg actually owned the high-rise building we were in now, he still wanted me to see him as just another regular guy I’d met at that coffee shop in Redondo Beach after weeks of email and phone conversations. Of course, that was next to impossible, not when I felt like I was in some Architectural Digest lifestyle spread as I sat on the sofa next to him. At least he was honest about one thing: he really was a lawyer.
What he saw in me, I had no idea. I was still the same woman who waitressed for a living, serving vegetarian fare at a hole in the wall when I wasn’t teaching senior yoga. There was nothing special about me, but somehow Greg didn’t think so.
He showered me gifts—flowers sent to the restaurant during my shift, though the books were my kryptonite. Old books that I loved growing up. The Little Prince, The Jungle Book, and an early edition of Elizabeth Gaskell’s North and South. If anything, it told me that he was really serious about pursuing me. He loved books as well, and in his high-rise apartment, with its ultra moder
n conveniences, his office was all of wood, Turkish rugs and walls of books—early editions of many classics and legal resources, all of them with that old book smell that blended well with the scent of leather from his office chair and the sofa. It felt surreal, being in that office, though it didn’t come as a surprise when he told me it was his favorite room. With three dates behind us, there was still so much to learn about him but right now, I wouldn’t begrudge him a home run.
After all, Clark Kent or not, I had fallen for Greg Rocklin.
A song began playing and Greg turned to look at me, as if the song had snapped him out of his own thoughts. “Would you like to dance?”
“Excuse me?” Michael Bublé was singing I’ve Got You Under My Skin and as far as I knew, this was a song that fell under the category of geeky ballroom dancing. “I don’t know anything about ballroom dancing.”
“Would you like to learn?” Greg asked, still reclined on the sofa although before I could say an emphatic hell no, he’d managed to get up and pull me along with him.
“I really have two left feet,” I protested. “It will be so embarrassing, and at this point in our relationship, I really can’t afford to embarrass myself any more than I already have.”
Greg laughed heartily. “By doing what? By being yourself? You’ve got to give yourself more credit, Bella.”
“But I’ve never done ballroom dancing before,” I protested again but it fell upon deaf ears.
“It’s not ballroom dancing when it’s just dancing. Anyway, all you have to do is follow my lead,” Greg said, his tone turning slightly serious. “I can even break it down for you.”
I glanced at him suspiciously. “You like Michael Bublé, don’t you?”
He laughed. “So what if I do? Does that lower my cool factor somewhat in your eyes?”
“Erm, no,” I replied. “But I’ve never met any guy who’d admit to liking Bublé, much less you.”
Greg chuckled as he placed my left hand over his right shoulder and held out my right hand to the side. “I think my secret is safe with you, but he really isn’t bad. Really.”
By this time we had managed to kick off our shoes and were barefoot. I was nervously rocking back and forth on my heels as I maintained the position Greg had placed my hands in.
“I’m going to end up stepping on your toes, Greg,” I laughed but he only countered that he had tough toes.
A few of our friends at the beach did take ballroom dancing lessons although all of them were couples. It was something we had laughed about at first but when four of the coolest married couples in the group began taking ballroom dancing classes, we realized then that many of us actually envied them. Though we would never have admitted it in public.
It took Greg only half an hour to get me to stop leading, stepping on his toes, or looking over my shoulder to make sure we didn’t hit something by accident. Before long, as one song segued into another, Bublé followed by Sinatra, then Martin and other singers I couldn’t name, I stepped my left foot back whenever Greg put his right foot forward, knowing not to look down at his feet but his eyes and always keep my gaze up to his eyes. I learned how to recognize how his left shoulder moved forward whenever he put his left foot forward, which told me to step back with my right foot just as my right shoulder would move back. But always, to look at his eyes for it allowed me to tune in more to the subtle movements of his body that way. And most of all to simply trust that Greg wouldn’t send me tumbling over coffee tables or walls.
“It’s a matter trusting your partner, Bella,” he whispered, guiding my body through his living room. “Wherever the man goes, the woman follows. It has nothing to do with politics or feminism or who’s right or wrong, who’s stronger or who isn’t. It’s simply a dance between two people.”
He nudged me gently with his free hand as I twirled, our hands still lightly clasped together over my head and I found myself returning back to his arms, guided by a simple tug of his hand. When another Bublé song came on the speakers, this time The Way You Look Tonight, I was a giggling fool, giddy with excitement, and overwhelmed by the fact that even though I may have looked silly at times, my torso going one way and my legs going another way, I was having a lot of fun. In fact, it was the best date I’d ever had, second to only our first date – or was it our third? Hell, it was simply an amazing date and I was laughing before the song ended and asking him if we could do it again, breathless from all the moving about the room and the spinning he’d made me do.
Greg looked down at me, the sides of his eyes crinkling in amusement as I found myself almost hopping on my toes just wanting him to lead me to yet another dance, and send me laughing or holding my breath as he twirled me about, or simply hold me like he did, our hips barely touching yet I knew he was only inches away from me, the butterflies in my stomach fluttering in a fury, begging to be set free.
I no longer cared if Bublé was a cool name to drop among friends or not. I no longer cared if my hair was flying loose about my face, or whether sweat had gathered along my brow as we danced. All I cared about was how Greg made me feel, how he made me forget all my worries, and how he made me feel so alive. All I cared about now was how it felt to be held in his arms as we found ourselves standing there, not moving, only staring at each other, breathless and losing myself in his dark blue eyes.
When we finally kissed, it was me pulling Greg’s head down towards mine, wanting nothing more than to inhale the masculine scent of him and taste and feel the heat of his mouth, opening up now to allow my own tongue to explore him hungrily. My boldness surprised Greg, and I caught a hint of a smile as he responded to me in measure, and we fell onto the sofa, exploring each other with our mouths, our tongues and our hands, tasting the sweat slicked skin of our necks as I unbuttoned his shirt, my hands moving down to caress the rippling muscles of his back.
Twice, he grabbed my hands, as if restraining me from touching him which only drove me to be bolder, my breathing becoming heavier as desire suffused through my whole body. I struggled to sit up, fighting him playfully.
“What do you plan to do now?” I asked him, challenging him with an arch of my eyebrow.
Greg did not answer. I could see the desire in his eyes, his nostrils flaring as his gaze moved down to my parted lips, eager to taste him again. When he let go of my hands, allowing me to pull his shirt off his torso, tossing it onto the floor, Greg pushed me down onto the sofa where his mouth claimed mine, his hands cradling my head, his fingers running through my hair as his mouth traveled down my neck, nibbling the sensitive skin there that I was bucking beneath him from the ecstasy of it all.
“I want you so much,” I said.
“Show me,” he murmured, his eyes searching my face.
I pulled his head down, our mouths meeting hungrily, tongues and teeth meeting and sending me moaning beneath him, our bodies molding together on the sofa. I could no longer hear the music playing around us, hearing only the sounds of our breathing, hot and heavy against our bodies, our clothes becoming a hindrance to our explorations. When Greg’s hand slipped beneath my dress, his eyes widened when he realized that I hadn’t worn any underwear.
“Presumptuous much, Miss Rey?” he teased.
I shrugged. “Whether we got to this point or not, it wouldn’t have mattered. Why? You like?”
His fingers found the heat between my legs, his fingers curling to cup the wetness that coated my nether lips. I gasped as he rubbed on the sensitive nub that he found there, a knowing smile on his lips as he slipped a finger inside me, watching me shut my eyes and moan. “Very much. You’re full of surprises.”
I was too overwhelmed by the emotions brought about by the simple act of trusting Greg as he led me about the room earlier, too lost in his eyes as we danced. And as I now took over, leading him onto the precipice that would send us soaring over the edge of desire and bring about an aching in my soul that only his touch could remedy, I knew that I was lost again.
“It’s your turn to surpris
e - oh!” I gasped as he slipped two fingers inside me and began moving them in and out of me. I gritted my teeth, burying my face against the crook of his neck as he continued to torment me, till he withdrew his fingers and brought them to my lips. Then he watched me lick them, his own breathing turning even more ragged and I sucked my own juices from his fingers.
Afterwards, there was only the memory of clothes strewn on the floor, our awkward attempts at making our way smoothly towards the bedroom interrupted by bumps along the walls as we continued to hold onto each other, neither one leading the other but together too busy exploring one another to navigate our way seamlessly towards the bed that awaited us.
But when we got to the bed, it was my turn to show Greg just how much I’d learned from our first time together, that I, too, knew how to please him, my mouth blazing a trail of kisses along his lips and neck, down onto his chest and taut belly as he lay writhing beneath me, his hands entwined through my hair. And when I found his cock, hard and hot against my hands, my palm swirling circles along its tip, coated by the pre-cum that awaited me there, Greg could only utter my name again and again as my mouth ultimately found him and took him in. Greg raised his head to watch me, gasping as his hips moved up to meet my eager mouth, taking him in slowly as my tongue thrummed playfully along the underside of his cock.
His hands grabbed my hair, guiding my head up and down along the width and girth of him, shutting his eyes and flinging his head back against the pillows, his hips grinding against me.
“You vixen,” he groaned as I felt the head of his cock hit the back of my throat, almost gagging me. I forced myself to relax, and as I closed my eyes, I went down on him again, lower still till my mouth completely took him in and I could hear him gasping, calling my name as I gently moved up again, my mouth abandoning him for a moment yet leaving my tongue to tease the tip before I repeated it all over again.