A long high pitched moan escapes her lips.
I love the animalistic cries she is making, almost as much as I love the sound her pussy makes against my tongue. It is the delicious sound of wetness and pleasure. She is so wet for me. Eating her out makes me even more hungry for her. After this I will take her, but I need her to cum on my tongue first. I need to drink her into my system.
She is shaking so much now I hold her steady on the desk as I continue to suck and lick her. I flick my tongue against her clit, then thrust it hard inside of her, and that is when she falls backwards.
I hear her saying “Oh my God” over and over.
Chelsea’s legs tighten like a noose around me, then suddenly release as she lets out a final and very long scream of ecstasy. It just goes on and on.
It doesn’t stop me.
I lick the juice that gushes out of her while I wait for her scream to fade into gentle purrs. She has reached her climax and she’s satisfied. I’m not. The memory of her flirting with Blanchett is still fresh in my mind. I still have more I want to do to her. I give her a moment and then scoop her limp body up into my arms.
I step on her panties on the way out of my study.
Chelsea
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-rey3m8SWQI&index=9&list=RDMM9JntzkszLX8
Be The One
The orgasm I just experienced was so incredibly intense my body feels heavy and satiated, as if I’ve been drugged. I press up against Thorne’s hardness, and clutch at his broad shoulders with my fingertips. My eyelids flutter downwards with a strange exhaustion. Thorne is carrying me up the stairs as if I weigh no more than a child.
I force my eyes open and almost in a daze watch the harsh line of his clenched jaw. The way this man touches me, and licks me, and fucks me is completely different from anything I have ever felt or experienced with anyone else.
The orgasms he brings me actually make me forget who I am. During them I exist only as a point of pleasure in the universe. I won’t admit I’m addicted to the way he makes me feel, but that’s just me lying to myself.
He opens a door and I recognize the faint scent of the perfume I used. We’re in my bedroom. Thorne kicks the door closed and carries me to the bed. Instead of putting me down, he kisses me.
My mouth opens to receive his tongue. I suck it mindlessly, sighing restlessly when he withdraws it.
“Bend over the bed, Chelsea,” he growls into my ear.
He sets me on my feet by the bed and looks at me. I’m glad the lights are off or he might be able to see the greedy expression on my face. Though I’m utterly spent, my insides suddenly become intensely alive and vibrant. I can feel my body humming.
I can’t wait to feel him again.
Thorne rolls my dress up and slaps my ass. I gasp at the unexpected sting. I hear the sound of a zip being opened as he removes his pants and begins to rub up against me. God, he is so hard it makes me wet all over again. He moves his thick shaft towards my center. I find myself tense and desperately waiting for that first feeling, the first stroke of sheer bliss when he plunges inside me.
Soon, I feel the silky head as it forces its way inside me.
His entry is slow, as if he’s savoring the feeling of my tightness around him. I clutch the bedspread, getting used to his size and the total power he has over me. He moves his body over mine so that he is lying across my back. One of his arms wraps around my waist while the other searches for my clit in the dull afternoon sun. When he finds it, he moves his hand in slow circular motions. His deep strokes and the way he caresses my clit are enough to have me nearly at the edge of another climax.
I didn’t think it was possible for sex to ever feel this good.
Every part of my body is tingling with the sensations his body is causing. I almost want to cry, but I barely make a sound. I am too focused on the incredible sensation of his hand massaging my clit and the slow and deep strokes of his cock moving inside of me.
The pleasure is too much for me and a whimper escapes my lips.
He groans in my ear and quickens his thrusts. Each stroke becomes deeper. I love the slight pain I feel from how deep he is going. I want it to hurt. I wanted this feeling to last all afternoon, all evening, all night. I don’t want it to stop. Ever.
Thorne bites down on my shoulder and begins to suck. The way any part of his body touching me sets me on fire is astonishing. My hand reaches for the arm that he has wrapped around my waist.
I grip it tightly as the sounds of our mating fill the room. It’s impossible to pretend it doesn’t feel as amazing as it does. No amount of holding back will convince Thorne, Besides, I don’t want to deny this amazing feeling. It was hard enough even getting me off once, let alone multiple orgasms.
I moan his name. It sounds good in my mouth and it makes him rub my pussy faster. I want to see his face, the expression in his eyes. He groans, and the sounds of his pleasure turn me on even more, though I didn’t think that such a thing was even possible.
His pace quickens and he thrusts in and out of my pussy with intense speed and power. My body starts to shake. It won’t be long now before I reach another peak. I almost don’t want to climax. I want this to last longer.
My arms buckle and my head and upper body fall to the bed now. I bite down on the bedsheets to try to control the sounds that I’m making even though I know that no one can hear us. Thorne raises himself off me and, holding my waist with both of his hands, pounds into my pussy. He is moving so fast and so deep now that my eyes begin to roll back. My body shivers under him as I wait for the earth-shattering orgasm to hit.
“Whose pussy is this?” he grunts through gritted teeth. I can’t reply. The sound of his voice coupled with his heavy breathing is about to send me over the edge.
“I said whose pussy is this?” he asks more forcefully, as he slams even deeper into me.
“Yours!” I scream, and that is when I feel it. The delicious sensation that erupts from my very core. Thorne pulls out then and puts his tongue on my pussy. He tastes me as my body spasms with indescribable pleasure, before shockingly, opening his mouth wide and sucking, almost swallowing, my entire pussy. It is the most amazingly possessive thing anyone has ever done to me.
I suck in a long, shuddering breath as Thorne holds me firm in his mouth until my orgasm dies away. Then before I can even recover properly, he is back inside me, pumping relentlessly. He makes me come again before he allows himself to release his hot seed deep inside me.
I am so completely exhausted, I can’t even move my body, I lay unmoving as Thorne pulls out and collapses onto the bed next to me. I look into his eyes. In the slanting light his eyes shine like gray jewels between his half-hooded lids. I stare into them. I love him. I love him so much it tears me up inside because I know it’s like loving a snake. It will never love you back. It doesn’t know how to. He is the perfect man to develop an unfeeling robot.
He lifts his arm and starts to unzip my dress.
“I can’t take anymore,” I whisper.
“I know. I just want to see you naked.” His voice is mellow. I haven’t heard it like that before.
I allow him to undress me. He takes my bra off and cannot help himself. He bends his head and sucks my nipples. One after the other. I gasp at the sensation.
“I want more, but you’re tired and I haven’t slept in twenty hours,” he mutters. Picking up my nude body, he puts me under the covers. I watch Thorne remove his clothes and, to my great surprise, join me beneath the sheet.
“Go to sleep, Chelsea,” he says, wrapping a heavy arm around me.
I close my eyes obediently. It doesn’t take long before sleep comes to collect me.
Thorne
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qEd6QUbK2Mw
(Making Love Out Of Nothing At All)
I’m dragged out of some deep dream, my eyes snapping open suddenly. My brain is only half-present, but it instantly notes that I’m not in my own room even though it is dark. The sound that w
oke me up comes again. Someone’s voice. Chelsea’s. I raise my head and turn to peer at her. In the dark her skin glows like porcelain.
“What is it?” I ask.
She doesn’t respond to me. She shifts and rolls over to face me.
“No,” she mutters, “don’t touch me.”
I stare at her. Her eyes are closed. She is talking in her sleep. I know I should wake her up, but I cannot resist the opportunity of seeing behind the mask. Listening to her most private thoughts. Those only expressed in her dreams.
She starts writhing violently, as if trying to escape from an assailant in her dream realm. Holy hell, she’s not dreaming. She is having a nightmare.
I can’t watch any longer. Gently, I shake her shoulder and Chelsea jerks awake and instinctively scoots away from me. Her eyes are wide with fear and she is breathing hard.
“Hey, it’s only me,” I say, and pull her unresisting body towards me. Her heart is pounding so hard that I can feel it. She is so upset she forgets her normal reserve. Wrapping her arms around me she begins to cry softly.
“Shhh … I’m right here. Everything is all right,” I croon, running my hand up and down her bare back. Reassurance is all that I can offer her without knowing what it is that has her so afraid.
“Tell me what’s wrong?” I whisper into her silky hair, when the sobbing stops.
Just as suddenly as she came to me, she suddenly pulls away. She wipes her tears and lies back on the pillows, staring at the opposite wall. “It was nothing. Just a bad dream,” she mumbles.
This is a side of her that I have never seen before. Chelsea has always been pragmatic, practical, intelligent, hidden, and most of all distant. To see her now so shaken up makes me feel as if I’ve never known her.
“What did you dream about?” I ask.
She doesn’t look me in the eye. “It’s nothing.”
The pinched expression on her face is the best evidence for why that simply isn’t true. “If there is anything I can do to help you …”
She shakes her head. I am about to speak up again, when she turns around and bites down on my bottom lip, then starts kissing me ferociously. Almost as if she wants to consume me. I know what that feels like. I know she is doing that because she doesn’t want me prying into her dream, but it’s impossible to resist her now. I want to be consumed by her.
She maneuvers her body quickly, her breasts bouncing in the gloom, and climbs on top of me. She hovers over me like an avenging angel, and blood rushes to my cock, electrifying me. I bend upwards to reach her.
I close my eyes as she trails delicate kisses down my neck. My body tenses as she sinks her teeth into my neck. Chelsea taking charge and trying to overpower me is a new and sexy feeling. I feel her lay her tongue on my skin to taste my heartbeat in the blood that flows under my skin. From my neck down to my bare chest she goes.
Her tongue makes circles around my nipple, then she sucks on it.
She pushes me down so that I am lying back on the pillows. Then she straddles my thighs. She is so wet, she leaves a wet patch on my skin. She wraps her hand around my shaft, then lifts her body over it. I don’t thrust upwards. I let her take charge. She impales herself on my cock beautifully, her mouth opening in a soundless cry of pleasure.
With my cock buried deep inside her Chelsea starts playing with her breasts, squeezing and rubbing them. Her silhouette is beautiful, unforgettable. Her face is contorted. She tilts her body and rocks her hips back and forth so my cock is moving back and forth inside of her pussy.
Then Chelsea leans forward and allows her hips to move in a circular motion. I can feel her clit, rubbing, rubbing, rubbing. Her movements are rough and fast.
“Yesssss,” she hisses, lost in the sensations her body is feeling.
Though I enjoy it, I can sense that she is not completely here with me. She isn’t taking her time. She wants to come and she wants to come now.
I sit up and hold her, my hands gripping her by her waist so that her movements remain steady and fluid. Then I thrust my hips to match her rhythm. Moving with her is my way of letting her know I am here with her; that whatever it is that scared the hell out of her in her nightmare doesn’t mean shit to me.
Our agreement included me protecting her as if she is part of me.
I stare into her face, watching the emotions of pleasure and lust and need and greed. I catch her hips and pull them up and down so she is no longer gyrating into me. Now she is bouncing on my dick, but at her own pace and to her own rhythm. She is going at me hard. My grip on her tightens. My mouth opens in a groan.
“Chelsea, you’re gonna make me cum.”
“Cum for me,” she orders.
I stare into her beautiful eyes. Fuck, she has never been more beautiful than she is now, her face twisted with passion and desire. With a roar, I shoot my load deep into her. She continues to fuck me, even after I have filled her with my cum.
It’s her turn.
My erection is still strong because I am still aroused by the way she looks and the way her body undulates. I watch her move up and down my shaft. She begins to moan restlessly, and I know that means that she is close. I wait for the familiar shiver of her body. Chelsea tosses her head back, leaving her breasts exposed. It gives me an opportunity to suck on them.
“Ahhh!” she cries.
My grip on her tightens as she quivers, then becomes rigid. The muscles in her pussy clench me so tightly it feels as if she is fused onto me. She claws at my body like a feral cat. She can’t control the power of her orgasm. She draws blood, but I watch what I’ve done to her with joy. I caused her to lose control.
When it is finally over, she collapses on top of me, breathing hard, my cock still inside her. I listen to her breathing as it becomes more and more even until she falls asleep on me.
I know now there is more to her, much more, than the manipulative accountant who stole from me. She almost allowed herself to be vulnerable tonight, but tomorrow morning, I expect she’ll become distant once again, which will be a good thing. She’s not here to be my girlfriend. We’re not meant to be together. This is just a passing phase. She is here simply because I need to purge myself of this crazy need for her.
When I look down at the way she is sleeping on me, as innocent and helpless as a child, something in me softens and refuses to be turned away.
There was a sadness about her tonight that reaches deep into some unknown part of me and makes me want to protect her even more. As I watch her I notice my heart getting warmer with each second that I gaze at her sleeping face and body.
I wait until I can stay no longer. Dawn is in the sky and soon she will open her eyes again. If I let her see how much I have started to care, she will take advantage of that weakness.
Carefully, I shift her off me, and return to my bedroom.
Chelsea
I wake up, naked and alone in that big, grand bed. Thorne is long gone. I never sleep naked so I feel cold even though I am under the duvet. I feel a strange unreasonable anger start bubbling up. It’s not really him I’m angry at. The anger is coming from a dark place I have had inside me for almost my entire life.
I should call her.
It is like an itch that must be scratched.
I get out of the bed and put on a quilted dressing gown. Then, I pick up my mobile and make the call. The phone rings several times before it gets picked up. I close my eyes and imagine her in her dingy little apartment. It always smells musty and stale. I see her shuffling towards the phone, a cigarette dangling from her lips.
“Hello?”
My fingers grip the phone harder. “Mama.”
There is a long pause. “So you decided to call me,” she says finally, her voice flat.
The right words don’t come to me. Always when I am around her I become unsure of what to say or do. “I’m back in England,” I blurt out.
“I know. Melody called me.” Her voice is monotonous. There is no feeling there. I don’t know why, but in my mind
, I was hoping there would be more emotion than that. I should be used to this by now. It’s not something I’ll let myself dwell on for long. My relationship with my mother has always been a strange one, but I am still more loyal to her than to anyone else on earth. That is not a comforting thought, that is just how it is.
“I’d like to come see you, Mama,” I say. There is no reason for me to say this other than the fact that it will be an excuse for me to get out of this house where I am constantly obsessing over Thorne.
“Suit yourself,” is all that she says.
I swallow the hurt of her callous words. Nothing changes between us. No matter what I do or say. “I’ll come around right after breakfast,” I mumble and hang up.
Nineteen Years Ago
I didn’t much care for all the men that Mama brought home, but I like Dave Stevens. He is quiet and he has kind eyes. He works as a night porter at a hotel nearby so when he comes in after work in the mornings he makes sausages and toast for Mama, and takes a tray into her bedroom. While he is making breakfast he always talks to me. Mostly he tells me stories of what happened at the hotel. Funny stories that make me laugh.
That day he doesn’t tell me what happened the night before at the hotel. He tells me about the time he was my age. He says he was brought up in an orphanage. No one cared for him. The men who worked there were very cruel to him.
“Did they beat you?” I ask, alarmed.
He smiles sadly. “They beat my spirit, sweet little Chelsea.”
I frown. “What’s a spirit, Uncle Dave?”
“It’s the invisible essence of a human being.”
My eyes widen. “Does everyone have a spirit?”
“Yes, everyone has a spirit?”
“Even me.”
“Even a little monkey like you,” he says with a smile.
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