by R. J. Lewis
“Yeah,” I nearly whispered, swallowing back my nerves. Being confident was a lost cause. I would never achieve it. Instead, I let my vulnerability hang out into the open. It was like he had that power over me.
His breathing lightened a little, and he glanced down at my mouth momentarily. “Why me exactly?”
“Because…you interest me.”
He tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. “Why do I interest you?”
I shook my head, unsure of the answer. “I don’t know. I guess…I liked staring at you from back there, and…I guess I’m really attracted to you, if we’re going to be honest.” I felt like a moron, and my excuse felt weak. Truth was, it made little sense why I was doing this. I came, I saw him, remembered all he was known for, but it didn’t bother me for some reason like it might have if he wasn’t here and someone was talking about him. No, in the flesh things were different, reality was stranger, and I felt tethered to him.
He looked even more serious after my idiotic words. Quietly, he asked, “And what kind of thrill are you looking for exactly?”
Oh, God. Did he seriously want me to say it?
“You know what,” I replied, equally quiet.
“You want me to fuck you?”
I froze completely. My heart even stopped for a beat. My eyes widened as I looked back at him.
He laughed lightly. “Why are you so nervous?”
“No one’s ever been that forward to me before.”
He studied me for a moment and shook his head slightly. “At this rate, I’m convinced nobody’s ever taken you home on the first night and fucked you to oblivion before either.”
I didn’t respond. It was obvious. My experience was limited, sure. I’d never hooked up before without strings attached.
“Does that bother you?” I wondered, nervously clasping my hands together.
He glanced down at them and his eyes softened. “No,” he answered gently. “Not at all. I just want you to know what you’re asking for.”
“Do I even need to ask?”
He looked amused, running his finger along his bottom lip as he stared at me. “For a girl like you, I’d eat razor blades just to have a touch. But that doesn’t mean I should. You’re clearly out of your comfort zone here. What happens when I take you to my place and you realize what we’re about to do and the consequences of that?”
“What consequences?”
“You’re rich type, Kate. I can see it in every way you carry yourself. Can see it in your clothes, in the jewellery you wear, even in the shampoo you use for that sexy fucking hair. Probably from a respectable family with a virtuous father and a supermom. What would they think of you? What would anybody think of you in that circle if you went home with me tonight?”
I took a long moment to respond.
“Well,” I finally said, “most of the girls I know would call me a slut. If our privileged families knew, I’d be the shame of our social circle, and you want to know the brilliant part?”
“Tell me.”
“I don’t care tonight.”
His face changed at that. He wasn’t looking at me as a passing amusement that would be scared off when the time arrived. No, he was staring at me like he was hungry for a taste, and the tension that arose from that was incredibly satisfying.
“Come here,” he quietly demanded, motioning for me to get closer.
I grabbed at the chair and made to move when he shook his head and said, “No, babe. I’m not talking about you getting closer in that chair. I’m talking about that body of yours. Bring it over.”
I fought to keep my composure, but inside my heart was thundering inside my chest, and I was tingling everywhere. I moved to him and he settled a hand on my waist, settling me over his legs so that I was sitting astride him. I was barely breathing, facing him as he stared back at me with both hands lightly touching my thighs. He kept it tame, but the position was far from it. It was actually the most intimate thing I’d ever done with a guy, sitting in his lap, facing him as we took each other in, completely disregarding the noise and crowd of people. I wondered how that was possible. I’d had sex with two guys, had made out and cuddled, but for some reason, this trumped it all.
But that was Marcus Borden for you. I would soon learn I’d never feel the same heat with another man.
“Is this alright for you?” he curiously asked, studying me intently.
“Yes,” I answered, feeling drawn to his mouth.
“You like this?”
My next yes came out sounding quieter.
I sat like that for a while, and we didn’t talk a lot. Just light little questions he’d ask, glazing over music and movies, anything to fill the quiet, but not even the quiet bothered me. We were in our own little bubble, and it didn’t take long for me to feel completely comfortable in his embrace, like that was where I belonged.
“Still alright?” he’d ask me when his hands roamed my thighs a little. “Not pushing my boundaries?”
“No,” I’d answer. “I like this.”
He was incredibly sweet, and attentive. He brought me closer throughout, until he was inches away from my mouth, but never going all the way. Never kissing me, never raising his hands high enough to touch my ass. It was both sweet and painful.
“You’re really beautiful, you know that?” he muttered, more to himself than me. None of it sounded like he was trying to butter me up, either. He seemed genuinely in awe of my beauty, and right there, I melted in his grip, smiling brilliantly at him while he smiled back thoughtfully.
I felt everything sitting on him like that. Felt the deep ache between my legs, felt my lust form at his exposed upper body, felt him at times hardening beneath me as his eyes travelled around my body, taking me in just as much as I was him.
Then, after an uncertain amount of time passed, he slowly rose to his feet and began to set me down. He kept the contact as he did so, and I felt my apex brush against his stomach and groin, and pleasure formed as he did so. He had me standing on my own and I was lightheaded as I watched him grab his white tee that was slung over the plastic chair.
“You had much to drink, Kate?” he asked, throwing it on.
“A couple beers,” I answered.
“You’re not drunk?”
“No.”
He nodded, satisfied. “Good.”
Then he extended his hand out to me. My heart hammered inside my chest as I stared at it and then at the tattoos snaking up his arm. Oh, God, was this really happening? I stopped thinking and took his hand with my own, its warmth so deliciously good against my skin. He pulled me closer to him and brushed the blonde strands of my hair out of my face and behind my ear.
“I’ll give you a thrill,” he whispered down to me. “And it’ll be good. I’m going to take care of you and make sure of that.”
His voice sounded so certain, and that confidence was sexy as hell in a man.
Instantly, I believed him.
Two
Marcus
If someone told him he’d get laid tonight, he would have tried not to look like a fucking homeless person, especially to a girl of Kate’s standards. He would have looked his best, or at least, the best he could afford with what little he had.
Why the girl wanted him in the first place was perplexing to him, but he wasn’t about to question the gods on this one. He was going to venture down that rabbit hole with arms wide open.
With one hand wrapped in hers, he opened the door of his tiny apartment with the other and led her into the darkness. He hit the light switch of his living room, but the bulb crackled.
“Fuck,” he cursed quietly.
“What?” she asked behind him.
“Light’s out.” Of course it fucking was. Hell, maybe that was a good thing. She wouldn’t see the ratty couch in all its ratty glory, or the boxes of leftover pizza from yesterday on his chipped coffee table.
“Where’s your bedroom?” she wondered.
“I just moved in. Haven’t gott
en that room up to shape yet.”
Fucking liar.
He’d moved into this place six months ago, and his bedroom consisted of very little. Thanks, poverty, you little shitl.
“Then we’ll just have to make do,” she said, her voice quivering a little at the end.
He turned to her and wrapped his arm around her waist, bringing her closer to his front, until her breasts were pressed against him. He felt her shake as he delicately moved the strands of her beautiful blonde hair out of her face. She looked like she wanted this. She didn’t give a fuck about his place, and it warmed him a little. He leaned down and gently kissed along her jawline just below her ear. Fuck, she smelled good, like jasmine and rose.
“I’m not going to pressure you into anything,” he whispered, feeling how tight with nerves she was. “You do what you’re comfortable with.”
Her breathing picked up. “I want this.”
He resumed his kisses, feather light ones before reaching her mouth. She had beautiful thin lips, soft and red from her lipstick. He’d never look at another red lipped mouth the same way again without thinking of her.
He kissed her slowly, softly, and her entire body froze at the contact. She parted her mouth and kissed him back. She made light little noises at the back of her throat. He ran his hands down her smooth arms, covered in goose bumps. She was eager, pressing her mouth harder against his. Her lips were soft, supple, but that fucking tongue unravelled him the second it slid against his. He led her to the couch, dropping her down slowly with an arm wrapped around her.
She twisted beneath him, her hands moving everywhere, up and down his back, squeezing at his thick triceps. He resisted roaming her body with his hands. He needed to maintain his control, not go all out the way his body desperately wanted him to. It’d always been like this in sex for him. He wanted to fuck hard, wanted to feel that cocktail of pain and pleasure merging together. But he couldn’t do that. Those were merely fantasies never to be realized, and it didn’t matter so much now. Not when he was kissing the shit out of the sexiest woman he’d ever met, one that twisted him apart with her strange want for him.
“Please, touch me,” she begged, lifting her hips up so she could rub her pussy against the hardness in his jeans. “Please, Marcus.”
He groaned. God, he loved his name on her tongue. Loved hearing her say it.
He spread her legs wide, and he was thankful then of this couch. It may have been shit but it was a fucking mammoth. With his elbows propped along each side of her, he used only his mouth to touch her. He kissed her so deeply, they were out of breath when he finally pulled away. He pushed down her body, kissing her neck and licking over her pebbled nipples through her thin shirt. She seemed most responsive there, so he licked and bit lightly, causing her to jolt beneath him. She was breathing fast, he could hear her heartbeats as he descended, kissing over her clothes, driving her even wilder.
This was anticipation, and he loved giving it to women slowly, winding them up before they exploded. Down her hips he went, sliding her skirt up to expose her black lacy underwear. He nibbled up her inner thighs, leaving wet cool trails behind. He could smell her arousal, and it sent more sparks to his dick. She was madly turned on. He licked at her pussy, keeping the underwear there as a barrier, and she shook beneath him, moaning loudly into the quiet air.
“Please,” she continued to beg.
He pulled her underwear down her long legs, and fuck did they go on for miles. He tossed it on the floor and returned to the soft skin between her legs. He was hard, very fucking hard, as he lightly flicked his tongue along her moist pussy. She bucked beneath him, her hands flying straight to his short hair, and he wished right there and then she’d dig her French tips into his scalp and prove to him how riled up she was. Fucking hurt me. He begged internally. She scratched in need instead, and he forced her hips down in place and sucked at her clit.
“Oh, my God,” she moaned.
He felt her tensing around him, trying hard to lift her hips as her pleasure rose. He ate her up, using his strength to keep her still as he intensified and prolonged his movements, licking fast and then slow, until she couldn’t hold back. She shook, coming against his mouth, crying out as her nails finally dug into the back of his head. He moved his head along her nails, relishing in that pain, because that pain made his dick throb.
Fuck, it’d been a while since he was with a woman. He was worried he’d come right then and there in his pants and how the fuck would he live that down?
She was panting by the time he surfaced. On his knees, he hastily pulled off his belt – he couldn’t wait another minute – and removed a condom from his pocket. She stared hungrily at his movements, watching with an open mouth as he shoved his jeans and briefs off before moving back over her.
“Just so you know, I’m pierced, baby,” he then said, gesturing to his dick.
She stilled and looked down, her eyes widening. “Where?”
He showed her the frenulum piercing a couple inches below the head of his dick. Her jaw dropped. To his surprise, she looked absolutely horrified.
“Can you take it out?” she asked, nervously.
“If that’s what you want,” he answered, fighting the slight disappointment he felt at her response. It usually went the other way. “It’s meant to enhance the pleasure for you –”
“What about the condom? Won’t it break?”
“That’s never happened to me.”
She hesitantly looked back at his length, debating about it for a moment before whispering, “Can you take it out? I just… I don’t know. I’m a little scared of getting cut up, or something.”
He bit his tongue and nodded. “I’ll take it out for you, babe.”
He climbed off the couch and walked to the window where the moonlight offered him better vision and carefully removed his piercing. It was a damn fucking shame, too. Girls usually exploded beneath him at the feel of it, and he would have loved to have seen that same reaction in Kate.
He slipped the condom on and returned, and by then, she had her legs closed and was looking worriedly at him. He stopped and gazed at her face, his brows coming together.
“You alright?” he said, wondering if the damn piercing had turned her off completely.
“I haven’t upset you, have I?” she asked. “About taking it out, I mean.”
He smiled down at her and shook his head. “No way, beautiful. I’m just going to have to work a little harder to get you screaming.”
He didn’t need the light to know she was blushing. She gave him a shy smile and her legs came apart. He moved back over her and softly kissed those red lips, letting his hands roam her body, cupping at her breasts, until she was arching under his grip and moaning.
“You’re fucking sexy, you know that?” he muttered against her mouth, staring down at her. “It’s like you walked out of my dreams, with your little red fucking lips and big tits. What am I gonna do if your pussy is tight too? I’ll fucking die, for real.”
She smiled at him again, her lustful eyes begging for him to take her, and he spread her legs to do just that. He rubbed at her pussy slowly, studying her reaction before he eased himself inside her.
Yeah, she was tight. Fucking tighter than a glove, dear God.
He froze, taking in that wave of pleasure, hardly breathing, hardly thinking, just feeling. Yeah, just feeling as he moved back and slammed into her again, causing her to jump and moan loudly. Settling his elbows on either side of her head, he moved in and out with deliberate slow thrusts. It was hard. Fuck, it was hard not to let go and pound her silly.
“Run those sexy fingernails down my spine, baby,” he told her in between every thrust.
So enveloped in bliss, she wrapped her arms around him and dragged her nails down his back. It wasn’t hard enough, it didn’t pain enough, but the beauty’s moans were enough to rile him up to release.
He fucked her, swallowing every moan with his tongue and mouth, until she shook beneath him,
exploding with her second orgasm. Her walls tightened around him, and he slammed into her once, twice, groaning loudly before coming hard inside her. And it felt like…sweet fucking ecstasy.
Better than any drug he’d ever had.
*
She stayed there, her warm naked body pressed against his. Her head rested on his chest, and she traced the tattoos over his abdomen, sighing lightly every now and again. He felt peaceful and euphoric, still on cloud nine from his sexual release and still in the company of a woman who looked very much like what his dream girl would.
“Do you take a lot of girls home like this?” she suddenly asked him.
Marcus opened his eyes, smirking. “Is that your roundabout way of calling me a manwhore?”
She tensed. “Oh, my God, no. I’m sorry. I guess…I don’t usually do this. Actually, I’ve never done it, and I know it’s none of my business, but I was just curious if I’m…you know, if I’m just another one of those girls to you.”
“No, you’re not,” he simply answered, and for once that was incredibly true.
He didn’t want to expand, mostly because he never revisited his past lays. What’s done is done, after all. But women were different, he supposed. Perhaps it wasn’t very easy for them to bury their sexual encounters the way a lot of men did. They were sentimental creatures. They didn’t want to know that they would be forgotten. They wanted a place in a man’s soul the way the stars had a place in the skies.
Kate didn’t press for more answers, and when the minutes passed, he squeezed her gently and said, “So tell me about yourself.”
He felt her smile against his chest. “What do you want to know?”
“What are your hobbies? What are you studying? What’s your life like?”
“I’m that artsy-fartsy person you roll your eyes at.”
“I’m doubtful you have one pretentious bone in your body, babe.”
She laughed lightly. “Well, people think that way when I go on and on about art. See, the problem is I think I see beauty in all things, and I try to recreate that.”
“Do you paint or draw?”