Stay With Me 3

by Jessica Aniston

  “I want you,” he huffs.

  “Hm,” is her reply. He likes that very much. The fact that he gets to do this after all these years is blowing his brains out. How did he ever get to be so lucky?

  He wants to make love to her so badly already but he reminds himself to be slow, to get her really ready, to make this worth her while. Her trust in him to let him tie her up is so amazing, he wants her to get absolutely everything out of it that he can give her. He gives her another hard lick that makes her voice drop into her belly and he has to hold on to her waist for a second because he blacks out from the sound, just a little. He puts more kisses on her stomach as soon as he’s got himself back under control.

  Karin keens when he catches her belly button piercing between his teeth and pulls it in, ever so gently and he’s loathe to move on but there are still so many more centimeters of skin of hers to kiss and lavish with attention. He can’t wait to swivel his tongue around her nipples, making them hard, nibbling a little and when he kisses her neck, he tastes coconut. When he kisses her mouth, he tastes pure joy.

  “I love you so much,” he whispers after he bites at her bottom lip. “I want you, oh god, Rinny, I want to be with you all the time. You’re mine, alright? All mine.” He knows he talks too much, knows the things he whispers to her are lewd and vulgar and that it’s probably embarrassing half the time but he can’t stop. He needs to tell her all of it, needs her to know he’s crazy about her. He tries to tell her, goes on speaking but uses his body to convey his feelings as well.

  He’s rock hard in his boxer briefs, he can feel how damp they are before he pushes his hips against hers, grinding his length into her wetness. He’s teasing her but he’s teasing himself as well. They moan together then, one at a time and sometimes wonderfully together. He could do this all his life. As long as he can last without coming. The longer he can be with her, the better. All he wants is to be inside her, move with her and be around her, always around and all over. He just needs to last and he’s trying hard to.

  He tries so hard, even when he finally gets rid of the last barrier, casts his underwear off the side of the bed and sinks into her heat to the hilt, he holds back. He thrusts into her slow and steadily, works one hand down to where they’re joined and tries around her flesh for the right spot to apply the gentlest pressure and keeps moving, setting a leisurely pace. She gets more animated, so he keeps at it, clenching his ass tight to rein himself in. He could come right now, could have come easily ten minutes ago but this isn’t for him, it’s for her.

  It’s his fantasy, this is his number one fantasy for exactly that reason. He never wanted to tie her up to have control over her, he wanted it so she could not try and reciprocate, so she can’t refuse all his attention and all his time and all the ways he wants to give her pleasure to give him his. He can’t believe he gets to do that now.

  He pulls out only to push back in, the way she likes it, and keeps his thumb busy on her and every time he moves in, he rolls his hips, to hit the right angle, slowly, slowly, filling her as best as he can, on his knees with her ass lifted off the mattress because she keeps rising to meet him. It’s so good. He has to watch himself carefully now, he’s so close. To steady his body, he moves his hand from the apex of her thighs to her chest and massages her breasts, one at a time. It’s calming, makes him last longer. He could go on longer, when -

  “Oh god, baby, stop,” she yelps and Declan immediately leaves her be, scooting back, gently letting her hips down.

  “Sorry!” he hurries. “Was that bad?”

  “No. Not at all,” Karin says before he’s even stopped speaking. “It’s just a bit overwhelming. Good overwhelming. I just need to breathe for a second.” Thank God. “And I think I’d like to see you.”

  “Of course,” he says. Whatever she wants. He plucks the shirt off of her face and she blinks a couple of times to adjust her eyes to the bright daylight.

  Once she has, she smiles softly at him, like she’s never seen anything quite as precious as him. He’ll never get used to her looking at him like that. The first time she had, so freely without fear of being found out by him, when the TV show had made it possible for her to show what affection she felt for him without fear, his heart had stopped beating for a while. It still sputters now.

  “Can you come up here?” she asks, her hands clasped around the bed frame. Declan doesn’t wait to move between her legs again, perking up to kiss her but she shakes her head.

  “No,” she murmurs. “I want you in my mouth.”

  “Oh,” he gasps, his dick twitching, very much up for that. “Yes, oh god yes.” It takes a while and some awkward repositioning until he can oblige her but, God, once he does, she ruins him.

  “Oh god, Rinny, that was amazing,” he says, a while later, knees back between her thighs, hovering above her, glancing down to see the splatter of white he just put on her chest and belly. “Was that fine for you?”

  “More than fine,” she answers as he cleans her up with his shirt and then undoes her ties. “We can do that again.”

  “Definitely,” he agrees, his body still radiating from that orgasm he just barely survived without getting a heart attack. “I just need a minute here, because I’m quite certain I’m partially brain-dead right now. But tell me your thing, I want to do your thing next.”

  “Or we can do your thing again,” Karin says, rubbing her wrists as he flops down next to her, in that voice that tells of how she would like to move on from the topic of her desires. Now that she is unbound, she is back to putting her needs beneath his again.

  “Or you can tell me your thing,” Declan says and grabs her hand from between them, interlacing their fingers.

  “Declan,” she whines, like he knew she would.

  “Come on, Rinny ... I told you mine,” he presses. “And it was fun, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “So tell me yours,” he says.

  “Mine’s embarrassing,” she tells him and ain’t that interesting.

  “Don’t care,” he says. “Tell me. Please tell me!”

  “Declan!”

  “Don’t be a shy girl, Rinny, just tell me,” he keeps needling her. “What dirty thing do you want to do to me? The time to be shy is seriously over, you know? I just came on your breasts.”

  “I don’t - ”

  “Tell me!” he urges, one last time ... and she bursts.

  “I always wanted you to be my dance teacher,” she blurts, too loudly for the quiet morning. “In the fantasy. I wanted you to be coaching me, like you did at the dance studio, just not on the dance floor but like ... for ballet, and you’d be my very strict dance teacher and you’d seduce me. That’s what I used to imagine when I…”

  “When you?” he whispers, curious, his body responding despite not being quite ready for it yet. It stings a little.

  “You know,” Karin mutters sheepishly. “When I touched myself.” It stings a little more.

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “I told you it’s embarrassing,” she says, sounding mortified and struggles to get her hand back from him, probably to smack it over her face along with her other one but he’s not letting her go.

  “It’s really, really not,” he sighs and rolls on his side, now letting her hand go so he can have it free to run his knuckles over her creamy, naked skin. “When was this? When you used to do that?”

  “It’s far too early to tell you,” she says under her breath, her eyes rolling back into her head for a minute from his touch and he knows she came, once, maybe twice, but Karin can outlast anybody. She doesn’t tire of him, which is enough to make him sing ‘Hallelujah’ in the back of his head.

  “Don’t tease me, babe,” he smiles, grazing her breast, trying to persuade her, hands and words in tandem.

  “I don’t know,” she groans, in that way she does when she’s going to give him what she wants. “It probably started when I was fifteen or sixteen. It went through a couple reiterations. It varied.”
<
br />   “What varied?”

  “What kind of dance it was,” she says. “What I was wearing. How strict you were. How long it took until you managed to seduce me.”

  This is so hot, he can hardly breathe deep enough to get the oxygen he desperately needs into his brain. “Were you hard to get?”

  “Most of the time,” she allows. He wants to jump out of his skin and become hers.

  “So do you want to ... role play that?” he hopes to God she will say yes. But instead she turns around to bury her head between his shoulder and the mattress.

  “Isn’t that silly?” she mumbles into the downs of the pillows. “It just involves acting dramatic and strange.”

  He laughs. “I’m a retired dancer, there’s no acting dramatically too strange for me.” He kisses the top of her head, her hair crinkling beneath his lips. “I’m up for it. I can role play.”

  “I don’t know,” she’s wavering. But in his direction, he can tell.

  “I could be your strict teacher, see?” he nudges her shoulder so she’s back on her back and he gets close, into her space, making his face hard and jaw clenched. “Miss Hanson, you’re late for class again.”

  “It’s private tutoring,” her voice is airy, sultry, but he’s quite certain she’s unaware of it. “You’re taking extra time for me to make me better.”

  He can work with that, too. “You’re late for our special secret one on one dance lessons. Ungrateful, much?” he grins and then drops the dramatics. “Honestly, I want to do it. Let’s just play a bit.”

  Karin touches her fingertips to his lips. He’s got her.

  Twenty minutes later, Karin comes into the living room, where Declan has put the couch to the side and put a chair in the middle of the free space to serve as her barre. They’ve put some effort into it, too. He’s wearing a black tank and his grey sweatpants, one leg rolled up to look right for the role and she walks in with black tights, a spaghetti-strap top, and a sheer skirt which he’s quite certain is the kitchen curtains tied around her waist. He can feel his face split into a grin, feels the fondness on his features, and then remembers he’s supposed to get in character. To be strict and cocky. It’s difficult. Acting like he isn’t a desperate fool in love with her. But it’s her fantasy and he’s so deep in it. So he clenches his jaw and gets into character.

  “Look who decided to show up,” he snickers, leaning against the backrest of the couch, watching her understand how he’s setting the scene.

  “I’m sorry,” she says, looking aptly apologetic.

  “I’m sorry, what?” he says, hoping that she gets what he wants. “Where’s the respect for your elders, Miss Hanson?”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” she amends, getting it, getting it so good, it rips through him. He pulls in a sharp breath to keep from throwing the game before they’ve fully started.

  “That’s more like it,” he rasps. “So do you have an excuse for making me wait?”

  “No, I was ... tardy,” she admits and casts her eyes down. “I have no excuse, sir.”

  “Well, then that’s less warm-up time for you,” he snears, mindful to make it especially unsympathetic. Then he has a thought. “So, get on it. Stretch, ma petite jolie.”

  “Sir!” She’s scandalized. It’s perfect.

  “I’m sorry, was that inappropriate?” he mock-asks. “Do you not like it when I call you that? When we both know why you’re here? Why you keep coming back?” He’s decided that Dance-Coach-Declan and Ballerina-Karin have gotten down and dirty before. “Why I know you’re late? Because you stood under the shower for me and scrubbed yourself down, so you’re all pink and soft for me when I go down on you? We both know you’re the best dancer in class, I’m not doing you any favors here ... not for dancing at least.” They’ve done this a lot, their characters, he’s sure of it ... and he also thinks the French pet names are a nice touch and were pretty creative thinking on his part. “So, come on, jolie, stretch.”

  “Oh damn it, Declan,” she exhales hotly and maybe she agrees on the French. This is already going great.

  “That’s sir for you, Miss Hanson, and I don’t appreciate your vulgarity,” his words are as sharp as his dick is hard as a rock again, straining the fabric of his underwear, tenting his sweatpants. “First position.” He needs to get this started, impatient to get his hands on her, and pushes himself into the space to watch Karin put her heels together closely, observe how she is turns out, from her toes all the way to her inner thighs. She’s got marvelous posture.

  “Elongate,” he orders, moving in to run the back of his hand up and down her neck gently. “A little further.” She exposes more of her beautiful skin to him, still fragrant and tantalizing. It was nearly perfect before and now it’s divine, how she stands before him, all straight and graceful. He wants to maul at her neck like an animal but it’s not the time yet. “Hmm, like that,” he says instead and steps away from her to do some more actual coaching like she wanted, which is going to require every piece of ballet knowledge he can scrape from his horny, one-track mind.

  “One hand on the barre now.” Karin does what he asks, ready to work, even if this is a sex game, that’s just how she’s wired. He’ll love her for that forever. “Demi Plié, lift up, grande plie and up,” he watches her go through the movement, her turnout magnificent and honestly, it’s so like her to have this in her fantasy, someone being strict with her over something she is practically already flawless at, incorrigible perfectionist that she is. “Two more. Heels down, Miss Hanson. Tendu to fifth.”

  She follows. “Port de bras,” he tells her and she leans forward, then bends down and moves her arms gracefully in time with the movement. “Good. Up.” When she’s halfway back standing, he puts his hand on her back so it’s parallel to the ground. “Hold it there. Straight back.” He lets go off her. “And stretch toward the barre. Yes, into that. Down again, and one more time, stretch towards the barre.”

  She does as she’s told and he watches her upper body arch toward the backrest of the chair she’s holding onto, her arm following the curve of her body. She’s a ballerina still, even after all these years. Even if, yes, he can critique a few little things here and there. But that’s the same with the kids he coaches, no matter how long they’d been at it, there are always notes to give.

  “Keep your hip forward,” he says and steps behind her, two hands on her pelvis, left and right to tilt it. “Right there. You feel that?” He’s not talking about the stretch but about his hard-on pressed against her ass. “Hmm, now back into first.” She straightens. “Right foot devant dégagé. Four times.” Karin’s execution, moving her leg forward just above the ground and pointing her toes, is exquisite and her muscles are shivering with every move, making him pull her tighter into his front. Fuck.

  “I want to feel that here,” he chokes out, trying to ride the line between blatantly sexual and keeping the story alive, it’s difficult. “Core pulled tight. Yes. Right foot to the side now.” Her ass is rubbing so deliciously against his dick, he has trouble staying upright. “Yes.” He wants her right now but he needs to be patient, still. “To the back. With me,” he whispers close to her ear and holds on to her hips as he extends his leg backwards along with her. “Abs engaged, Miss Hanson. Dégagé. Forward again. Squeeze here.” Dropping his voice even further, he reaches around her, hand on her leg. “Inside of your thighs, I want you tight right here.”

  Under his hand, she clenches her muscles. “Good. Now let’s see how high we can get your leg. Arabesque avant.” He sidesteps her a little, so she can unfold into a perfect arabesque if he’s ever seen one and he knows that she can do it because he’s been to a million of her recitals but he hadn’t known that she was still this good at it after years away from the barre. The move is near flawless, except for: “Mind your arms, Rinny.” And, oh crap, there went his character for a second. The slip has him clear his throat and course-correct awkwardly. “Miss Hanson. Arms. Arabesque devant.” She adjusts her arms to cater to hi
s wishes. “Hold.”

  Declan wraps his arm around her leg, stretches her. Hmm, just like that. “Hold.” He pulls at her. “Hook your leg around me.” Inching his face closer to hers, he runs his hand from her thigh to her chest, nearly ripping her against him, breathes hard, swallows, whispers in her ear because he can’t stop himself: “I want to be inside you so bad, baby girl.” She shudders in his grip so much he just has to bite her earlobe and suck it into his mouth until she whimpers, still in arabesque, her ass still brushing his ridiculously throbbing cock. “You feel me? How hard I am for you? My tiny dancer. Hm?”

  With a growl, he grinds against her, sets her foot down again, tries to keep it together. “First position. Left foot forward. Tendu and point. Again, tendu and point. Let me feel you.” God, fucking hell, if this was real, he’d be fucking her against the studio’s mirror already, propped up on the bar. “Port de bras. Bend over for me, baby.”

  Karin moans as she goes down and he laughs, throaty and hungry. “You like that, pet?” Another grind into her. “You like your lessons with me?”

  “Sir ... ” she whimpers, making it impossible to keep from grabbing her by the shoulder and pulls her up, pressing up to her until she is flush against him, back to front, his chest to her spine, his one arm holding her tight around her stomach, the other loose around her shoulder and neck.

  “Do you like it when I teach you?” he growls to an unintelligible, gurgling response. “Answer me, petite.”

  “Yes, sir,” she moans.