Sexy Just Walked Into Town

by Lucy Felthouse

  “It won’t work, won’t happen unless you tell me what you want,” she said. “It won’t do any good showing me images like that, as erotic as they are.” She looked at him again, all bright green eyes and wafting hair, nipples perking.

  “I see.” He didn’t know what else he could say, what she expected him to say. He’d been out of the dating game too long. Had lost the ability to be relaxed, charming, and do whatever he needed to make a woman like him, want to be with him. He’d lost the driving urge to try, too, although not completely. No, it was still there, inside him; otherwise, how was this figment here?

  “So tell me,” she said, gliding over and climbing onto the bed, resting beside him, propping her face into the cup of one hand, “exactly what you want.”

  He knew exactly what he wanted—a woman to share his life with—but he wasn’t about to get it anytime soon. He couldn’t look at her so fixed his gaze on the wall behind her, focusing on the billowing curtains then the cats’-cream moon hanging in the lead-grey sky. Clouds shunted in front of it, fast-moving. A storm was brewing.

  “I don’t want to know what you need for the long-term,” she said, her voice clearer, “but what you need right now, this minute.”

  Will shifted his gaze to take stock of her again, snatching in a breath at her closeness, one breast touching the top of his arm. Although she was on top of the sheet and he beneath, her body heat seeped through, warming those chills racing over his skin. So she was real, then.

  Or a bloody good imitation of reality.

  “This minute?” he asked, unsure whether he ought to nurture the nugget of thought threatening to grow in his mind. It didn’t seem right to do so, not with where the thought was heading—images of them on this bed, him commanding her to do as he asked without question. No, he couldn’t tell her that.

  “Yes, right this minute. I know you’re thinking something, I can see it, see what you want, but you have to say…” She sighed, but not unkindly—more of an exhalation of regret that he didn’t have the balls to do as she’d requested.

  Embarrassment unfurled inside him, weaving a path right up to his cheeks. Damn it. He wasn’t usually so… so bloody schoolboy-ish, but something about her made him feel young and stupid. Unsure. And her—the one he’d loved before—she’d had him feeling all kinds of fool, pretending she loved him when all along he’d just been a dalliance, someone to play with until a better option had appeared. He’d fallen for that one—hard—and it still stung to think about it.

  “I can’t tell you that. It isn’t right.”

  I can’t let you know what I want, give you a part of me, because you’ll take it, throw it on the floor, and trample all over it.

  He stared into her eyes, purposely avoiding those beautiful swells of her tits in his lower vision, wanting to raise an arm from under the sheet and place his hand on one of them, to see how it would feel against his skin. His cock twitched—please, not now, not when she’s so close—and he fought back the erection that would come if he indulged in the carnal images his mind prodded him to entertain.

  “Of course you can.”

  She stared back, willing him, he was sure, to express every sordid thought he’d ever had. And how was it she knew what he’d been thinking? How was it she could see what he wanted? She was from his mind, that was it, yet… here she was, appearing as real as any woman he’d ever seen.

  “No, I can’t.” He shuffled across a little, away from her, already mourning the loss of her body heat.

  Far from looking affronted, she smiled and lifted one hand as if she were about to touch him, then thought better of it. “I want what you want, Will.”

  Fuck, she knew his name?

  “So if we want the same…” she whispered.

  She blinked slowly, the action mesmerising, reeling him in, encouraging him from the safety net he’d created around himself the past few months, leaving him floundering.

  “Close your eyes, Will. Tell me everything.”

  Her eyes flashed a brighter green, and his reflection was in them, miniatures of his face, his expression showing how startled and confused he was. He attempted to adopt a better look, one she might find attractive, but failed. He closed his eyes, turning his body the other way so she couldn’t see him—his inadequacy, his inability to even be with a woman these days without feeling useless and fumbling. Giving her his back was rude, but he had no other choice. She was too there. Too within reach.

  “If I tell you, it makes me sound like I just want you for sex.” There, he’d said what was bothering him.

  No woman ought to be made to feel that way. He was a gentleman, or liked to think of himself as such, and telling her that he just wanted to lose himself in a fuck was… That God-awful embarrassment blazed hotter in his cheeks, and he gritted his teeth, internally struggling with the useless prick he had become yet wanting to be so much more. He could be more, had been once, but when she’d left him, his nerves threadbare, his heart broken, soul with a great big fissure in it, he hadn’t found the impetus to pick up the shattered pieces and put himself back together.

  “And why shouldn’t you just want me for sex? If we both want the same thing, what’s the harm?”

  Oh, she was good. Very good. As though she’d placed the images there—somehow, some way, just like she’d arrived from nowhere—he imagined her body beneath his, her legs wrapped around him, her wet cunt settled over his cock. Warmth burst in his groin, and his cock sprang to life, his balls tightening with his need. He covered them with one hand to prevent his hard dick being evident. Shame splattered a cowl of heat on his face, paling the embarrassment into insignificance.

  “Wouldn’t you love to sink that hard cock inside me, Will?”

  He almost nodded but bit his bottom lip instead. He couldn’t tell her, could he? Admitting he was hard—even though she knew already, damn it—was admitting his need. He couldn’t take her when he didn’t know who she was and where she’d come from… could he? He wasn’t the kind of man to fuck for fucking’s sake, never had been, but Christ, he knew he could be if he’d just learn to get rid of the shackles that bound him to propriety.

  “Tonight you can do whatever you want,” she said. “You just have to say…”

  Her breath cooled his back.

  Fuck it.

  He took a deep breath and spoke before he could convince himself not to. “Yes, I want to shove my cock inside you.” He closed his eyes. As if doing that will make this any easier. He cringed at his words—he’d swear they still echoed around the room, mocking him, a faint tinge of laughter at their edges.

  “What else, Will?”

  “I want to…” Say it. Just say what she wants. “To fuck you hard.”

  “And…? Tell me more. Everything you want.”

  “I can’t. Fuck, this is so… it isn’t me. Isn’t who I am.”

  “It is, if you want it to be. If I want it to be.”

  She blew on his uncovered shoulder, a heady breeze infused with… something?

  Whatever it was, it made him say, “I want to slap your arse and make you cry out, make you come.” Now he’d started, the words waited in a queue on his tongue, crowded his brain like an insistent mob. “I want to suck your nipples, pull them, tug them, and have you begging me to do it harder. I want everything you have to offer, but I want to call the shots. I need… I need you to do what I say, to be an active partner yet—”

  “Subservient?”

  “Yes.” Shit, his cock and balls ached.

  “Then come and get me, Will.”

  He swivelled to face her, the sheet bunching between them and exposing his arse. Will reached back to cover himself, but she grasped his wrist—he felt her; she was there, real.

  “Relax,” she said, “and just be you. Act how you want, how you’ve always wanted to. Do it. Become who you really are. No woman should have reduced you to this. I’ve come to help you. To make you believe in yourself.”

  She leaned forward and brush
ed the briefest of kisses on his mouth, drawing back to observe him through heavy-lidded eyes. She licked her lips, pink tongue coming to rest in the seam. He wondered what it would feel like on his cock, licking, laving, curled around his hard-on as she sucked up and lashed it over his tip. Whether she’d flatten it against his balls and—

  Courage filled him, grew from his damn toes right to the top of his head. His self as he knew it receded, fading out of him, replaced with another Will who knew what he wanted—a man who wasn’t afraid to reach out and get it, either. How this had happened he didn’t know, but if he questioned it he might talk himself out of what he knew was to come. His mind fuzzed; he blinked and shook his head, stared at her with new… new what? Clarity? Awareness? Enlightenment?

  She wanted him, he sensed it coming off her in surging waves, and by fuck he wanted her.

  And he was going to have her.

  “Go and stand with your hands against the wall,” Will directed. “With your arms up. Spread your legs.”

  She eyed him for a moment, that sexy smile of hers doing things to his cock it shouldn’t be doing. How could a mere smile do that? Make him harder than he’d been before? Make the need in him so fierce he struggled to keep it contained? She wasn’t of this world, he knew that all right, and if she was a figment of his imagination, he didn’t give much of a shit. Not when he felt like this—so powerful, so wanted. And she did want him; the curly hairs of her cunt glistened as proof.

  She got off the bed with graceful, gliding movements, nothing hurried about her. As she reached the foot she glanced at him over her shoulder, eyes ablaze, and damn her, she smiled that smile again. Will dug an elbow into the mattress and braced himself on it, taking in the curve of her waist, her generous figure, an arse that reminded him of an upside-down heart. Skin, smooth and shouting for him to run his hands all over it, to taste, to suck, to pet. But he wouldn’t—not yet. He wanted to savour every minute with her.

  But what if she disappears before I get the chance to—

  “I won’t,” she said, doing as he’d instructed and pressing against the wall in a star shape. “Not now you’ve told me what you want.”

  The rounded swells of her breasts caught his attention then, only semi-circles of them visible due to her position. He wondered if the wall was cold and whether her nipples were painful buds as they grew from the contact. His mouth watered—he wanted those nipples between his lips, his teeth.

  “Open your legs wider,” he said, amazed at his commanding tone and her compliance. “That’s it. Just like that.”

  He sat, yearning to get out of bed and grip her long hair in his fist, yanking on it so her head tipped back.

  “So do it,” she said.

  Will threw the sheet off and it seemed he stood behind her within a second, her body heat once again warming him. He smelled her—ripe strawberries and the unmistakeable musk of her cunt—and his cock pulsed in time with his heartbeat.

  “Fuck, I want you,” he said, voice rough, jagged.

  He slid his hand between her legs and held his breath for a second before touching her wet slit. Silky, so smooth he’d swear he’d never felt anything as glossy. His cock jerked, and he bunched his arsehole tight in an effort to stop pre-cum pooling on his tip.

  He failed.

  “Jesus Christ, woman…”

  Gently, he explored her, brushing a fingertip over her clit, learning its shape, embedding it in his mind in case she never came back after tonight. Would it feel the same beneath his tongue? Would her taste match her aroma? He drew his touch down, circling her entrance, loving how wet she was, how creamy and ready for him. With deliberate slowness, he pushed his finger inside her, bringing it back down until it was almost out then inserting it again. She whimpered, a delicate, breathy sound that further hardened his cock, and fuck, if she was this tight now, what would she feel like clamping his cock?

  He swept her hair away from her shoulder, gripping it in his fist and acting on his earlier impulse. She arched her neck, offering it for him to kiss. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to her shoulder, the heat of her skin burning, an electric-like current skittering through his lips and spreading down his throat to his chest. His nipples hardened, tight points of rigidity, and he snatched in a breath at how contact with her threatened his equilibrium. His knees toyed with buckling of their own accord, and his lungs felt empty despite the breath he’d sucked in. With every finger-thrust she grew wetter, her juices thicker, and she jutted out her arse.

  “You want more?” he asked.

  “Do you, Will?”

  God, yes, he wanted more—he wanted everything.

  He stepped back, withdrawing his hand, and brought it up to his mouth. Her scent was something else—strong, enticing—and he wetted his lower lip with her cream. Sliding his tongue out to taste it, he reeled a little, tongue on fire, an explosion of her filling his mouth. Greedy for more, he sucked his finger and swirled his tongue around it, cleaning off every bit of cunt, swallowing the taste of her.

  It wasn’t enough—would never be enough.

  She shoved her arse out again until the crease almost touched his dick. Going with his urges, he flattened his palm on her mound and coated it with her cream, drawing his hand up the shadowy crack of her arse over and over until it was slick. He settled his cock between her arse cheeks, pumping his hips so his length glided up and down. She reached back, cheek to the wall, and squeezed her buttocks together, creating white-hot tightness around his cock. With one hand on her shoulder and the other still clutching her hair, he used her for leverage as he watched his cock moving.

  “Oh, yeah, that looks so fucking hot,” he said, sweeping his gaze from there to her hair in his hand, to her awkward position, then back to his cock. All of it was too much, too damn sexy. “Put your hands back on the wall.”

  She did, and he nestled the head of his cock at her wet cunt hole. He waited a beat before sinking inside, and she clenched him, sucking him up until his balls met her dampness. His head lightened, and as he eased out a bit to set up his rhythm, he dipped his head to flash his tongue along the curve of her neck.

  “You like that?” he asked beside her ear. “You like my cock inside you, and not being able to move because you’re pinned?”

  “Fuck, yes,” she said on an exhale, jerking back onto his cock. “Fuck me. Do what you will. Fuck me until I can’t breathe. Can’t think.”

  He shoved into her—hard—shunting her body upwards. She cried out, clutching at the wall with useless fingertips, soft pants coming out of her—pants he wanted to make jittery, uneven. He gained a furious rhythm, rutting in and out with a force he hoped would give maximum pleasure—to her and to him.

  She moaned, releasing a volley of “Ah-ah-ah!” that sung of an orgasm looming in her immediate future. Holding himself back, he pumped on and lightly bit down on her shoulder. She gave a long, drawn-out groan.

  “That feel good?” he asked, then licked her neck, her earlobe. “That feel good with me fucking you like that?”

  She nodded. “More. Give me all you’ve got. Fuck my cunt.”

  He ramped up the speed, increased the force of his thrusts, his balls slapping her. Almost at the point of no return, he pulled out and landed a different kind of slap—to her arse.

  “Yes,” she hissed. “Do it again.”

  He stepped to one side, held onto her hair and delivered smacks to her lower cheek, his fingers making contact with the wet flesh at the very top of her inner thigh. He struck on, slapping her arse red. She sagged against the wall, her cunt growing wetter, her cream drenching his fingertips. His cock expanded and lengthened, and he released her hair to clutch at his dick. She dragged herself down the wall so she bent over, her back a straight line.

  “Fucking hit me,” she said. “Harder!”

  He obeyed, slapping her and jerking his cock, digging his toes into the carpet pile. Her body spasmed with every hit, and once again the excitement became too much. He let go of his
cock, unable to stand it being touched, his over-sensitive tip thrumming with pressure. Her arse bore a large patch of claret, so startlingly vibrant next to the untouched skin that he momentarily wondered if she was in pain.

  “Oh, God,” she said. “This is it. I’m going to—”

  Will rammed inside her, holding her in place with a rigid grip on her left shoulder. He pulled her up a touch then curved his free hand around her and delved between her legs. Rubbing her clit, his fingertips bumping his cock every time he withdrew, Will fucked her hard and fast. She grunted and hung her head, giving out those stuttered “Ahs” he loved hearing.

  “You watching that?” he asked, not expecting an answer. “You watching my cock going in and out of you? See my fingers on your cunt? You see that?”

  She moaned, long and loud, rearing back onto him as though he was never going to drive deep enough. He took that as a sign to work faster and jerked in and out, rubbing her slippery clit with more pressured strokes. She wailed, her cunt pulsing around him, sweat popping up in the slight dip between her shoulders.

  Will couldn’t hold back. His cock stretched both ways, seeming to grow so much bigger before his balls scrunched, his asshole puckered, and he yanked himself out, jerking off and spewing cum over her hot, abused arse. It kept on coming, creamy ropes that jetted onto her skin, and as he closed his eyes to better feel the myriad sensations speeding through him, she bucked and gyrated over his rubbing fingers. She came, her pussy a wet mass, surrounding hairs soaked. Will’s release gave way to throbbing after shocks, painful tingles biting into his cock and savaging the end. He let his dick go, holding her by the waist with his cum-soaked hand while she rocked with jerky movements over his other.

  He opened his eyes, slowing on her clit.

  “Fuck,” he said, breathless, his heart thumping. “Just…fuck.”

  * * * * *

  She stood at the foot of the bed, hair sweat-slicked, face flushed. He realised, as he stared at her from his prone position on the mattress, knowing she would evaporate any second, that he hadn’t touched her breasts, hadn’t kissed her. He’d got caught up in the fuck, in doing what he’d wanted—like she’d told him to.