Morgans Muse

by Morgan's Muse (lit)

  Shut up! Ignoring that inner voice, she threw caution out the window, again, and leaned toward him, eyes half closed. Touching her lips to his, her own parting to invite entry, she succumbed to her desires, and his. Changing angles, he slanted his mouth over hers, tongue diving deep, and took control. Pressing her back, he laid her beside him, leaning over her as their mouths fused together.

  Oh my god, right here? In the middle of town? She pulled back as he released her, reached over, and tugged the entrance flap down. A quick rasp of a zipper and they were sealed in against prying eyes. He settled half on top of her, kissing her senseless as she wrapped her arms around him. In that position, she spotted the huge painting hanging over them and her lips curved in a smile against his.

  His hand swept under her shirt, under her bra, thumb and finger pinching her nipple until she squirmed, thrusting willing flesh into his palm. Michael! In a flurry of movement, he pulled her shirt up and she broke minimal contact only long enough to yank the garment over her head and toss it aside. As she settled on her back, he sat up, on his knees beside her hips, and curled his fingers into the waistband of her jeans, and underwear. In one clean sweep, he had her completely naked under his appreciative stare. His gaze lingered for a moment on her breasts, brazen nipples hard and aching for his touch. Looking his fill, he returned his attention to the dark curls between her thighs and with one finger nudged her knee until she spread her legs just enough to allow him to see her pussy.

  Excitement lit his eyes, deep blue flames burning just for her. Her stomach flipped and liquid heat drenched her cunt. And he hasn't even touched it yet! Oh my god, what...?

  She squirmed under his intense perusal, biting her lip to keep from begging. Desire curled in her belly, anticipation a slow burn in her blood. "Michael," she hissed between her teeth.

  Slow and easy, eyes never leaving the swollen lips of her pussy, he shifted to lie between her legs, warm puffs of breath stirring crisp curls and warming her skin. Lowering his head, shifting his gaze to her eyes, he held her focus as he slicked his tongue over those throbbing folds until she bucked her hips off the ground, seeking more. His tongue jabbed deep, sliding into her hot wet pussy so hard pleasure rippled through her. He pulled out, and slid in again, tongue fucking her until tension coiled deep in her gut, tighter and tighter until she grabbed fistfuls of his hair and held him to the feast. Yes, oh god, yes! Eat my pussy. Make me come so hard...

  Relentless, keeping her high on the razor edge of orgasm, he played with her pussy, alternately tonguing her hole and nipping her clit with his teeth. Sharp sensations shot through her, but he didn't let her come yet. Tears leaked out her eyes, frustration and pleasure making her curl her hands into fists, pulling at his hair as her hips twisted under his passionate onslaught.

  "Michael!" Squirming, she screamed, demanded, to no avail. He maintained the same maddening pace until orgasm blasted through her so fast and hard everything went black around her for a moment. Breathing stopped, her lungs strained for air as tidal waves washed over her, ecstasy so mind numbing all thought vanished.

  He left her, cool air blowing across her tits as rustles of fabric and slight movements forced her eyes to flutter open. He stood over her, all magnificent male glory, and her startled stare zeroed in on his rock hard, throbbing cock. It jutted from his crotch, primed and ready to plunge deep. He froze under her fascinated study and allowed her to appreciate the hard male flesh she wanted deep inside her.

  He tans in the nude! Every inch of bare skin bore the same tan color as his arms and legs. The bulbous head of his rigid cock promised ecstasy beyond what he'd just given her, the hard length quivering under her perusal. Breath caught in her throat, heart racing as her pulse pounded in her ears, she sat up and slid fingertips over him. Velvet over iron, and so big! My god!

  Suck it, the idea floated in her mind, her libido raging and unable to decide what it wanted more. Put it in your mouth and suck it!

  Enslaved by her own instinctive desires, she leaned forward and flicked the tip of her tongue across the tip. That pure male taste exploded across her tongue and she swallowed, licking him like a decadent chocolate fudge ice cream cone. Drowning in the sensual sensations, she closed her lips around the tip and sucked hard. A low groan escaped him, somewhere over her head, and his fingers tangled in her hair, tightening to hold her to the feast as she sucked harder and faster.

  "Morgan," he muttered, emitting a low growl of extreme arousal.

  Pleased by that response, thrilling to the tiny swirl of feminine triumph sprouting inside her, she lowered her head and engulfed him deep in her mouth. Pulling back, she slid down his flesh again, from tip to base.

  "No," he sputtered. "Too much. I want..." Tightening his grip, he forced her head back and his cock popped out of her mouth.

  Deprived of her treat, Morgan looked up at him in surprise. In a flurry of movement, he pulled her to her feet and spun her around. The slightest pressure from his hands on her shoulders leaned her over the table under the painting he'd given her. He stretched over her, his chest rubbing her back as his cock slid between her thighs, branding her pussy with a scorching imprint.

  Breasts crushed against the table, the cool surface a direct, spine-chilling contrast to the fire roaring between them, Morgan curled her hands around the far edge of the table and hung on, waiting for the plunge of his cock deep inside her.

  He teased her, sliding his cock along her pussy lips, between the swollen throbbing folds without entering her, denying her for the moment the very thing she craved. Teeth clamped on her lower lip, she shoved her ass back, attempting to capture him. He angled back, and his cocked nudged her, his hand wrapped around it as he teased her pussy.

  "Please," she begged, thighs clenched tight around his arm.

  He rubbed over her clit and leaned closer to whisper in her ear. "Please, what?"

  Oh my god! Please! No words emerged and she released the table edge, reaching down between her legs to find him. Her fingers brushed his cock head, urging it closer to her sopping wet entrance. "Now," she muttered, heart beating a rapid rhythm in her chest.

  He held still, the imprint of his cock head a gut melting sensation. "Now, what?"

  He wants me to say it? "Fuck me, oh god, fuck me now! I can't stand it!"

  He drove into her, so deep, so hard, so fast, her breathing stopped. Her eyes popped wide open and she tightened every inner muscle around him. He pulled back and drove deep once more, again and again, until she squirmed against him, pushing back and forth along his rigid length. Her hips ground into the edge of the table and her heart raced in her ears. Tension coiled once again, tighter and tighter until it threatened to snap.

  Withdrawing, he held the tip of his cock just inside her hole, and planted his hands on her ass to hold her still. She couldn't push back onto him again and groaned in frustration. It grew, spreading through her, the need to come, to explode around him and milk him of every drop as he came deep inside her.

  One hand on her ass, he reached around and thumbed her clit, pushing down hard to hold it for a long, sizzling second. Then he released it and pushed down again, and slowly plowed his cock deep inside her, again and again, his cock in her pussy and his thumb pushing on her clit in unison. The unusual sensation sent her over the edge as the ultimate orgasm erupted inside her, wave after wave of ecstasy crashing through her until her eyes closed and she sagged on the table. Still he pounded into her, relentless and strong, his thumb working her clit, his cock reaming her sodden pussy, until orgasm built once more to unbearable levels, tension so tight, so terrible yet so necessary to her life in that moment that she could only hover, helpless, on the precipice.

  Finally, he drove deep and pushed on her clit at the exact same moment. Through her own explosive orgasm, he erupted deep inside her, his cock pulsing as jets of hot come filled her. He pulled back and shoved in again, still coming, still filling her with his cum. Pulse after pulse, throb after throb; he filled her as her own orgasmi
c aftershocks faded into small ripples.

  Lungs burning for oxygen she let out a breath and inhaled deep, struggling to breathe. It came in short, sharp gasps for several seconds. The roar in her ears gradually lessened until she detected Michael's harsh breathing, and pushed back against his weight on her. He shifted, allowing her to stand on legs that wobbled, threatening to drop her on her ass. Turning, she looked at him as he leaned against the table, pure male satisfaction a deep gleam in his eyes.

  A slow flush spread over her naked body and she looked down, only to have her gaze snared by his cock, now relaxing in slow stages but still appreciably large. Eyes closed, she turned and opened them again, looking at the canvas walls of the tent, the shadows of people moving around as the sounds and scents of the carnival invaded her awareness as light flooded the interior of the tent. Michael had turned on the light hanging from the center pole of the tent. Right in the middle of town! But the fear of discovery only added to the thrill of the deed, the desire to do it again. But not here, this time. That's only asking for trouble.

  You've got trouble all right, Morgan! Her mind barged into the pleasant aftermath of hot hard sex. You didn't even think about using a condom! And neither did he!

  At the moment, basking in the afterglow of intense pleasure, Morgan couldn't bring herself to think about the forgotten condom. Though common sense pricked at her, she only began to find her clothes and get dressed.

  "Morgan." Michael's hand on her arm stopped her in the act of pulling on her jeans over her underwear. "I owe you an apology."

  Startled, she looked up at him, worry gnawing at her. "Why?"

  Face flushed, he nevertheless looked into her eyes, sincerity stamped on his features. "I… uh...got carried away here. I forgot..." He sucked in a deep breath and plunged onward. "I had condoms but forgot to use one. I'm sorry."

  She sighed despite a secret pleasure that he didn't apologize for what they'd done. Pulling on her jeans, she said," Don't worry. I wasn't exactly thinking with my head at the time." A slight smile curved her lips. "I'm just glad you weren't apologizing for taking advantage of me or some such stupid nonsense."

  He arched an eyebrow in surprise. "Why would I do that? We both wanted it. An apology for that would be stupid. But to clear the air here, my medical history is clear. I've never failed to use a condom before."

  I don't want to hear what you did or didn't do before, she grumbled. "So is mine, in spite of my ex's playing around, I made sure of it." She paused, watching his intense study of her. "I have paperwork if necessary."

  "So do I if you need it."

  She arched an eyebrow. "Recent? Mine was last month."

  "Same here."

  He shrugged and then grinned. "I think we can rest easy on that. I don't need your paper work, but my offer stands."

  Taking in the sincerity he radiated, Morgan shook her head. "Okay." She pulled on her t-shirt and slid her feet into her sandals.

  "But there might be another problem."

  The gravity of his tone demanded her full attention and she looked up at him, into his narrowed eyes. He stayed silent so long, she finally demanded, "Well, what is it?" Does he think I'm going to be demanding some kind of commitment of something? God, let's not--

  "I could have gotten you pregnant just now." His face now impassive, he regarded her through blue eyes that showed no sign of his thoughts on pregnancy.

  The word meant nothing to her, though, and she hastened to assure him. "First, if you did, it would be as much my responsibility as yours, but relax. It's not possible."

  "Oh? Wrong timing?"

  Something in his silky smooth tone alerted her to trouble. It will take more than just my say so. She let out a slow breath and faced him. "I can't get pregnant, Michael. Mumps… in college. It really ticked off my ex, especially when he was drunk, that he couldn't knock me up. It's one of the reasons he fucked around on me, too. If that bothers you, say it now, before..." Shut up, Morgan. Don't give away anything else.

  "I'm sorry. I thought..." He shook his head. "Never mind what I thought."

  Morgan stood tall, pride straightening her spine and frosting her voice. "Well, it's obvious you thought something, but I won't demand an explanation. Now or ever."

  She turned on her heel and took a step toward the tent flap, reaching for the zipper tab.

  "Wait!"

  Morgan paused, but didn't look back at him. You don't need this, Morgan. Keep going! Self preservation urged her to leave, to go back to the a-frame and perhaps back home. She couldn't make her feet move, however, and only stared at the canvas.

  "I thought you were lying to me. Most women have, you know."

  "No, I didn't know. And I'm not most women."

  Silence greeted her response and she sighed. Damn it, I hate baggage, mine included! "If you want to tell me, fine. If not, then don't. I won't pry it out of you."

  His eyes narrowed at her harsh words and he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. "Damn near every woman I've let into my life has lied to me, including my own family."

  Family? Alarm shot through her. Married? Damn it! I never play with married men! "Oh you...! I never do this! Not with married men! Damn it, Michael!"

  "Whoa!" He held up his hands, a warding off gesture that told her to stop advancing on him. Only then did she realize she'd gone on the attack. "I am not married!"

  "Then what the hell are you talking about?" She planted her hands on her hips and glared at him. A sliver of sympathy for the pain in his eyes stayed her fury but didn't get rid of it.

  "My father's second wife, I won't even call her stepmother, was a conniving, scheming rich bitch. My mother died right after I was born and my father raised me, to be an honest hard working man, to go my own way, all that good stuff. When I was twelve, he married her… Yvonne. How she managed to con him, I have no idea, but what he saw and what she really was, were two different things. Of course, she came to him with three equally conniving scheming teenage daughters."

  A male version of Cinderella? Morgan scoffed but said nothing, only nodded, indicating he should continue.

  He drew an audible, deep breath and settled against the table they'd just fucked on. Face flaming, she nevertheless watched him, waiting. "Anyway, Yvonne was always whining at him to do this or that for her daughters, to make their future a little easier. She was a really good actress, a nice streak of melodrama to all four of them. I was disgusted, but Dad was infatuated. Beauty only went skin deep there, but I couldn't tell him anything. He wasn't as rich as she was, but he gave them everything they wanted. He couldn't stand to see a woman cry, even fake crocodile tears, and they knew it."

  "Why didn't she just spend her own money?" Morgan asked before she thought better of it.

  "See, that was the biggest lie of all. It was all a facade. There was no money there, just my father. Until I turned 18, I never knew why she insisted on spending Dad's money and not her own. It was damned suspicious. And the girls… flaunting everything. They were more trouble than I ever thought about being. Drinking, sex, everything. If they had trouble, my father paid for it, bail money, cars they crashed, rehab, everything. After I'd left home, I joined the Army at eighteen so I wouldn't have to watch her screwing him over every day, it just got worse. When I got out four years later, I settled in my own place and they started coming around… the girls. The youngest was the most persistent, though I had no idea why at that time."

  "Don't tell me, she was pregnant and wanted to get something out of it. How could she possibly name you as father unless you two...." Morgan let the sentence drop but he got the idea.

  Scowling, he declared, "No, never. I wanted nothing to do with them, and besides, that was family. It was just...wrong."

  His statement held such vehemence Morgan accepted the truth of it. "Okay, then what the hell happened?" Intrigued with this drama in spite of herself, she waited.

  "My father had set aside a considerable trust fund for me, which would come to me at age thirt
y. The greedy little bitches wanted that too. I guess Dad was running out of money, but he refused to touch the trust fund. And he never said a word to me either. I could see the increasing stress taking a toll on him though and suspected. Anyway, the youngest came around all the time, nagging and overstaying, but I couldn't get rid of her. She cried a lot, that streak of melodrama was large in her. At any rate, I came home from work late one night, found my father and Yvonne, and the girl in tears, in front of my apartment door. The accusations flew, she was pregnant and the baby was supposedly mine. I hadn't touched her, and Dad believed me on that score, thank god. If he hadn't it would have destroyed me."

  He paused, pain and fury mingling in his eyes in such a way Morgan took an automatic step toward him. Holding up a hand, he forestalled her sympathy. Morgan sighed, only looking at him.

  "Two months later, he had a fatal heart attack. He left them the only thing they ever wanted, all of his money, except the trust fund. They contested the will, claiming the trust fund as part of their inheritance, dragging pregnancy into court until blood and DNA testing proved the baby wasn't mine. Since the funds passed to me if he died before I turned thirty, it was all mine to do with as I wished. They lost the court battle and tried to make my life miserable. The publicity was scandalous, untrue stories of abuse and such misery... At any rate, I ended it."

  "How?" Curiosity prompted the question before Morgan could sensor it.

  "I signed the entire trust fund over to them and called it quits."

  That bombshell stunned her into gaping silence for several seconds. Finally she demanded, "What the hell for? They didn't deserve anything but contempt and a jail cell!"

  He grinned without humor. "There were conditions. They could never utter or print or let loose in any way with another lie about my father or the family. Nor would they ever contact me again for anything. I don't know if the silly girl was really pregnant, or if she got an abortion, but there never was a baby born. I got rid of them for good." He stared at her for a moment and continued. "If that bothers you, I'm sorry. It was either give them the only thing they ever wanted, or kill the bunch of them."