Legato: smooth and connected
Damian
She wants to sixty-nine. She wants my mouth on her while her mouth is on me. Isn’t this every guy’s dream? A girl who loves giving head? Who can blame her for wanting to be on the receiving end too?
And I want nothing more than to pleasure her however she wants.
But I don’t want to admit that I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m good with my hands, as she’s pointed out on more than one occasion. I know how to touch her to drive her crazy and make her fall apart. But the only time I’ve given oral to a girl, it didn’t go well.
Charlie’s already naked and impatient. I’m still unbuttoning my shirt when her hands go to my belt, yanking the leather through the buckle and whipping it out of my belt loops, dropping it on the floor with a soft thunk. The button and zipper are undone before I know it, and she’s shoving my pants and underwear down over my hips together, her hands cool and soft as she caresses my thighs, my ass, which she pauses to squeeze before circling around to the front. One hand cups my balls and the other pumps my shaft.
Her eyes sparkle in the candlelight, full of love and lust and mischief. “Catch up, Damian. You still have too many clothes on.” Her tongue darts out and she takes a long swipe over the head of my dick, and my knees almost buckle.
“Christ, Charlie, how’m I supposed to catch up with you doing that?”
She lets out a giggle. “Am I making it hard to focus?” Before I can answer, she licks me again, then sucks me into the wet heat of her mouth. This time my knees lose their firmness, bending till they hit the bed.
Pulling back, Charlie surveys me almost philosophically. She releases my dick, kneeling up and wrapping her arms around my neck, bringing my mouth to hers for a slow, sensual kiss. I abandon my buttons, instead wrapping my arms around her luscious body, losing myself to her kiss.
She sinks back, bringing me with her, pulling me to lie next to her on the bed. Then she rolls us so I’m on my back, and she’s propped over me. She breaks the kiss, tsking at me and shaking her head in mock disappointment as she finishes unbuttoning my shirt. Her eyes meet mine for a second. “Do you think you can manage to get this the rest of the way off while I take care of your pants?”
Letting out a low laugh, I sit up and pull my arms out of the sleeves. “Since you’re not trying to blow me while I undress, yeah, I think I can manage.”
She gives me an unrepentant grin, pulling my shoes off and dropping them on the floor before yanking the rest of my clothes off my body. She crawls on top of me, leaning over to kiss me again, her hand coming between us to grip my shaft and rub up and down in slow, even strokes.
This time when she breaks the kiss, she turns, edging back on the bed next to me, her hand still stroking me. It’s not until her knees are even with my head that I realize she’s about to position herself for our sixty-nine. Since I’ve voiced no objection, she’s operating under the assumption that I’m on board.
And it’s not that I’m not on board. It’s that …
“Charlie, I’ve never done this before.” My admission is soft, but I manage to get it out.
She looks back at me over her shoulder. “You’ve never done a sixty-nine before?”
I shake my head, unable to help myself from reaching out to run a hand over her thigh. “I’ve never done sixty-nine.” I swallow hard, looking down at my feet. “I’ve never given oral to a girl before, either. Well, once, but it was bad. I don’t …” I clear my throat and force myself to go on. “It wasn’t good. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t think you’d much enjoy a sixty-nine with me.”
She releases me and sits back on her heels, looking up and down my body. Her eyes settle on my face. “How was it not good?”
With a shrug, I look away, not enjoying this conversation. “She didn’t like it. So maybe we should just—”
“Did you use your teeth?”
My eyes jerk to hers. “What?”
Her expression is curious and a little detached, no longer lost to passion like she was just seconds ago. “Did you use your teeth?” she repeats slowly.
“No. Should I have? That sounds painful.”
She giggles, the sound breaking the tension. “No, don’t use your teeth. Unless the girl is into that.” Her eyes cut to mine. “I’m not, by the way.”
“Uh, good to know.”
Her hand slides over my chest, a smirk crossing her face. “So that’s why you’ve never gone down on me.” It’s a statement, like she’s just figured that out.
“Yeah. I know what I’m doing otherwise, but not …”
“With your mouth?” she finishes for me, another smirk.
“Right.”
Her hand strokes up and down my chest, her eyes following the movement. “Would you want to? I mean, you don’t have to. It’s not like a requirement or anything, but—” She bites her lip and cuts herself off. Her nervous babbling makes me smile.
My hand wraps around her hips, pulling her close. “Do you … I mean, you’d like it if I did that?”
Her blue eyes find mine, heavy with desire and affection, and she nods, her lower lip still caught between her teeth.
With a deep breath, I sit up, smooth my thumb across her lip to free it, and place a kiss there. “Okay,” I whisper against her mouth. “But you’ll have to tell me what to do.”
Her eyes widen and her nostrils flare as she sucks in a breath. “I think I can do that.”
She kisses me again once, a quick press of her lips to mine, and then she wiggles around so that she’s the one lying in front of the pillows. I move out of her way, scooting back and surveying her as she lays herself out for me. She lets out a giggle and meets my eyes.
“What’s funny?”
She shakes her head. “I’ve never taught someone how to give oral before. So this is new for me too. But, um, well, so, I like it when we warm up with kissing and touching first.”
“Yeah. We do that usually.”
“Exactly. I love the way you touch me. Just, this time, add your tongue into the mix.”
Carefully, I lie down next to her, propping myself on one elbow and skimming my other hand down her belly to the juncture of her thighs then back up. When I do it again, she presses her hips up, and I smile, not giving her what she wants. Yet.
Leaning over, I cover her mouth with mine, delving my tongue inside. She opens for me, her tongue sliding against mine in a deep, loving, languorous kiss. Slow and sweet and sensual. My hand still coasts up and down her torso, sliding over her breasts, the slightest friction across her nipples, and back down to her mound. Her legs have fallen open enough that my hand can slide between them, but I keep my touch on the outside, waiting for her to get back to the state of arousal she was in before our discussion of sixty-nine and oral sex. If she likes kissing and touching first, then kissing and touching is what she’ll get. I know how to do this part, so we can stay here for a while.
Her breathing gets faster, and she’s undulating under my hand, arching her breasts into my touch at the top, pressing herself into my hand, trying to drive my fingers where she wants them. So I give her what she wants on my next downward stroke, parting her, dipping inside her opening to gather her juices and rub them up and over her clit. Slow, steady strokes that only ramp her higher.
Meanwhile, I close my lips over one nipple, teasing it with my tongue. She grips my head, her fingers digging into my scalp. “God, yes.” She gulps in air. “That. Do that on my clit, and you’ll be a master at oral.”
I can’t stop the grin taking over my face at her breathless words, and I lift my head, looking at her face. “Really? That’s it?”
“Really. You can even use your fingers inside me while you do it.”
“Like this?” I plunge two fingers inside her, curling them to hit her G-spot.
Her legs spread wider as she lifts her hips in response, her eyes falling closed on a low sound of pleasure. “Yeah. Just like that.”
Shift
ing down the bed, I keep tapping her G-spot as best as I can as the angle changes, sliding my thumb around her clit. It’s really as simple as mimicking that action with my tongue? Sucking on it like I do with her nipples?
Bolstered by that encouragement, I settle between her legs, bringing my face close to her bare pussy, spread and wet, waiting for me to give her pleasure. The scent of her arousal, tangy and musky, fills the air, and I wonder what she’ll taste like.
Tentatively, I run the point of my tongue from where my fingers disappear inside her, up and over the top of her clit and back down the other side. Slightly metallic, a little tart, a little salt.
“Yeah,” she says, and I glance up to find her watching me intently. “Do that again.”
So I do. Soon, I don’t even notice the flavor, more wrapped up in the reactions I get from her when I do different things. I experiment with pressure, using the flat of my tongue versus the tip, how my fingers move inside her during all of that.
When I suck her clit into my mouth, she lets out a gasp and arches her back. “Oh, God.”
I take that as encouragement and do it again, running my tongue over it like I do with her nipple. When her hips press against my hand, I start pumping my fingers in and out of her. In almost no time at all, the telltale tightening of her internal muscles lets me know she’s getting close.
“Don’t stop,” she gasps out. “Oh God, don’t stop. Please.” The please becomes a chant as I keep at it, moving my tongue and fingers faster, knowing that’ll make her come hard.
When she does, it’s with a loud cry, her internal muscles fluttering on my fingers. I can feel the sympathetic flexing of her entire pelvis under my mouth, and I keep going, releasing the suction of my mouth, but never stopping my tongue or hand. Her legs shudder and twitch around my shoulders, and with a glance up her body, I can see her abs doing the same thing.
After a moment she starts squirming away, her hands pushing gently at my head. “God. Stop now. You’ve got to stop. I want you inside me.”
With that kind of invitation, how can I turn her down? Retrieving a condom from my side table, I quickly roll it on, position myself at her entrance and slide inside in one stroke.
She presses up into me with a moan, her hands reaching for me. I lean over her, propping myself on my forearms, nuzzling her neck. Her hands come to my cheeks, pulling my mouth to hers, completely unfazed by the fact that I just had my mouth on her private parts. The one time I went down on Adriana, she wouldn’t kiss me until I brushed my teeth.
Charlie, on the other hand, sticks her tongue in my mouth, her arms going around my neck as her legs circle my hips. Her passion, her enthusiasm, has me pounding into her, chasing my own orgasm without regard for anything else, her moans and sounds of pleasure spurring me on, giving me permission to lose myself in her.
When I come, it’s with my face pressed into her shoulder, her arms and legs wrapped tightly around me as I shudder through the wave of my own pleasure. Sated and wrung out, all I want to do is collapse on top of her, but I maintain the presence of mind to deal with the condom first, falling back into bed next to her once it’s taken care of.
She cups my face in her hands again, placing a soft kiss on my lips, and looking me in the eye. “Thank you. That was amazing.”
I kiss her again. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
She lets out a low chuckle. “That’s the understatement of the night, at least. Maybe the year.” Her smile fades as she looks at me, a quizzical furrow wrinkling her forehead. “Who told you you weren’t any good at that?”
“You really want to know?”
She nods, solemn.
I roll onto my back, tucking her against my side. “Well, the only person besides you I’ve moved beyond kissing with was my high school girlfriend, Adriana. She, uh, she never wanted to do oral. Either giving or receiving. That first blowjob you gave me? That was my first one. Ever. And I tried going down on her once, because I’d read or seen something about it that indicated that that’s the best way to get a girl off. That all girls like oral. But she didn’t enjoy it. I thought I was bad at it. But looking back, I think she maybe was just grossed out by the idea of it, so she couldn’t let go enough to enjoy.”
Charlie’s hand caresses my chest, and her head moves against my shoulder. I glance down to see her nodding.
“Yeah. That makes a certain amount of sense. I thought it was icky the first time I heard about it. But I had no experience with it. And the first time someone did that to me, it was a revelation. Not that many guys have, mind you. But it made me be more okay with the idea of being the one focusing solely on someone else’s pleasure. It’s powerful and sexy and fun. Especially with someone you care about.”
Her eyes find mine, and I give her a soft smile. “Yeah. It is. All that and more.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Consonance: notes that, when played simultaneously, sound pleasing
Charlie
Damian opens the door of his parents’ house without knocking. “We’re here,” he calls over the music and voices inside.
His mom, two sisters, and several other people spill out of the kitchen, where they’ve obviously been hard at work on the Thanksgiving meal. I recognize Martina, Damian’s cousin, from her dad’s restaurant. The others must be her mom and sister.
“Come in, come in out of the snow,” Elisa says as she wipes her hands on a towel.
The snow started this morning. Big fluffy flakes. I had to walk through over an inch to get to Damian’s car when he came to pick me up. I’ve seen snow before, but it was always in passing going from one place to the next on tour. Or at a ski resort. Never as part of the mundane facts of daily living.
Elisa pulls Damian in for a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Happy Thanksgiving. So glad you both could make it.” Then she turns to me, her eyes going wide at the foil-covered pie plate in my hand.
“It’s apple,” I blurt out. “I hope that’s okay. I didn’t know what all you were making. My roommate said that there’s always room for an extra pie. And even though Damian said it wasn’t a big deal, I wanted to bring something. Thank you so much for having me.”
Elisa’s face, still wreathed with happiness, softens. “Thank you, Charlie. We’re glad you could come. It must be hard to be so far from family on a holiday. But at least you have Damian, and so you have all of us. You’re always welcome here. You should know that by now.” She takes the pie plate from my hands and passes it to Carla, then folds me into a hug.
This is the fourth time I’ve been here now. And every time, her welcome hugs are my favorite part. She treats me with the same easy affection that she passes out to her children, and it makes me feel warm and welcome and happy. Every time we come over, I just want to bask in her hug for as long as she’ll let me.
She releases me and steps back. “Make yourself comfortable. You’re welcome to help the girls and me in the kitchen, or you can hang out in the living room with the boys. Your choice.”
“Hey!” a male voice objects. “I’m in the kitchen too.”
I glance behind her to see Marco, Damian’s uncle, standing in the dining area.
“Only because I can’t get you to leave me alone,” Elisa shoots back.
Marco crosses his arms and harrumphs.
Hector, Damian’s dad, steps into the space Elisa vacates, wrapping Damian and me in quick, bone-crushing hugs. “Come in. Sit down. There’s room on the couch for both of you. I hope you brought your appetites. Elisa’s got a whole feast about ready in there.”
Damian laughs. “So, same as always?”
“Exactly.” Hector claps Damian on the shoulder and moves out of the way, and we head to the living room, where Hector sits down in his beat-up, but comfortable-looking recliner. Damian’s brother and brother-in-law sit on opposite ends of the sofa. Damian wraps his arm around me and leads me to the loveseat, keeping me close as we sit, knowing that, while I’m more comfortable here than I was t
he first time, crashing their holiday dinner makes me feel like an intruder. Or at least an outsider. Even if I was invited.
Logic and feelings don’t always go together.
It doesn’t help that I have no frame of reference for normal family holidays. The last decade of Thanksgivings have mostly been spent in restaurants away from home. And the ones where we were in California were still spent in restaurants.
When I was a kid, my mom liked to make a show of having family dinners, with spreads like you see in magazines. But she wasn’t interested in cooking, so they were always catered. She slaved over the place settings and hired out the cooking. The Thanksgivings I remember from my late-elementary years usually featured a guest who had some connection to the entertainment industry, my mom trotting me out to show off my piano or dance or singing abilities in hopes of landing me an agent or a contract or a connection to someone who could do that for me.
It was actually one of those connections, a producer who thought I had something special, that coached me, helped me cut a demo, and got me my first manager. From there, I auditioned for a few Disney channel movies, and finally landed a roll on a musical retelling of the Prince and the Pauper, but with female main characters. Since my singing and dancing skills have always been better than my acting, I only did a handful of small parts on Disney shows and movies. But that got me more acting and vocal coaching, and that brought me to the attention of my current manager, who had me cut a demo and shopped it to interested labels. And now, here I am, a megastar, widely touted as pop royalty. One of the biggest names in the industry.
And burnt out on all of it, happier to be cozied up with a boy on his parents’ couch on Thanksgiving, feeling like I can be myself in a relationship for the first time ever.
“You’re awful quiet,” Damian says against my hair, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Everything okay?”
I smile up at him. “Yeah. I’m great. Just thinking.”
Broken Chords (Songs and Sonatas Book 4) Page 15