by S. E. Lund
When I did, he ran his fingers over the curve, stopping to stroke my nipple, taking it between his finger and thumb, rolling it to a hard peak.
"Now, the other," he said and watched while I complied. He seemed to enjoy me following his commands.
Both breasts were now fully exposed, and I stood waiting for his next command, my body so in need of his touch. He cupped both breasts in his hands and bent down, kissing one and then the other, tonguing each nipple softly, then tugging hard.
I moaned, the sensations sending a zing of desire through my body.
"I love your breasts," he murmured against one. "I can't get enough."
He looked up into my eyes while he pulled down my dress. It fell into a puddle of fabric on the floor and I was left standing with my bra pulled down, my breasts exposed and my lacy black thong all that I had on.
"Beautiful," he said, standing back, admiring me.
I felt exposed but very wanton at that moment. His eyes on me, the possession in them, the lust, made me almost weak. It had been a long time since I felt such a mix of love and lust from a man -- maybe never. It made me need Josh's touch even more.
"You're perfect." He ran a hand down my body from my breast to my hip and then stepped closer, slipping his hand between my thighs. "Mmm. You're nice and wet."
"It's all your fault," I said with a coy smile.
He smiled back. "This isn't going to take long, is it?"
I shook my head.
Then he pushed me back onto the bed and I lay there, waiting, wondering what he'd do next.
He remained standing but removed his jacket and loosened his tie.
"Take off your thong," he said. When I reached down to remove it, he added, "Slowly."
I smiled to myself and tried to be as seductive as I could be, slipping the thin piece of lacy fabric down over my hips and then pulling it off my legs. He watched with obviously interest, his erection visible, pressed against his slacks. When I had the thong almost all the way off, I removed one foot and spread my thighs, knowing that would give him a good view of me. His eyes widened greedily in response.
Finally, I held the thong in one hand, my thighs spread, feet on the edge of the bed. I threw the thong over at the closet and waited for what Josh would do next.
"You're beautiful," he said in a throaty voice. "Perfect."
I smiled and closed my eyes, knowing I wasn't but glad he thought so anyway.
While I watched, he unfastened his belt and unzipped his slacks, letting them fall to the ground, before stepping out of them. Next, he removed his shirt and threw it aside, leaving him almost naked in his black boxer briefs, his erection straining against the fabric.
When he pulled them down, his erection, thick and red, sprung loose and the sight of it sent a jolt of lust through me, imagining how good it would feel when fully inside of me.
He climbed on top of me, leaning over my body, his knees between my thighs, which I spread even wider. He kissed me hungrily, and then began to devour the rest of me – his mouth moving over my chin to my neck, then each shoulder, his tongue tracing a line down between my breasts to each nipple.
When he got to my hips, he slid his fingers between my folds, spreading me wide.
"You're so wet," he said. "And ready."
He licked me slowly, up and down over my clit, until I was breathing rapidly, aching to feel him enter me and start to thrust. I needed to feel him inside of me but waited to see what he would do.
He slipped two fingers inside me and stroked while he licked.
"If you keep that up, I'm going to come," I said, my eyes closed.
"That's the idea..."
"I want you come with you inside of me," I said, my voice shaky.
"You will," he said. "We have all night."
I smiled. "Braggart."
"I deliver, so it's just truth in advertising."
Then I let myself go. He wanted me to come while he licked me and then make me come again while he fucked me.
It sounded like a great idea.
He continued to lick me, stroking his fingers inside of me while he did and soon, I felt my orgasm build, my body going over the line between pleasure and ecstasy.
"Oh, God," I said and tensed, my muscles all contracting as I orgasmed, my body clenching around his fingers.
He didn't stop, his tongue circling my clit until it was too much.
"Stop," I said, my voice shaky. "It's too much..."
Finally, he did, and my body recovered, my breathing slowing.
I lay still, recovering, and waited for what he'd do next.
He climbed on top of me and loomed over me, his erection in hand.
"Suck me," he said, I leaned up on my elbows, taking the head of his cock in my mouth, tonguing the rim and licking off the salty fluid that leaked out.
He closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation, but I knew he couldn't keep them closed. He loved to watch me suck his cock and so I did, sitting fully up, taking his cock in one hand stroking as I licked and sucked the head.
"That's good," he said, his voice deep. "That's so good..."
I sucked and stroked for a few moments and he watched, one hand on the wall behind us, the other on my head, guiding me gently.
His erection was rock hard, and I knew he was ready.
"Stop," he said and pulled away. "I want to come inside of you."
I pulled off his cock and waited for what he wanted to do next.
"Lie back," he said and so I did, spreading my thighs and lying back. He leaned over me, one hand sliding along my body, his fingers finding my clit. He stroked me again, then licked me before rising up and leaning over to the side of the bed for a condom.
While he removed it and rolled it over his cock, I waited, my body swollen and ready. I groaned with pleasure when he slid the head of his cock against my clit. When he pushed inside of me, I closed my eyes, enjoying the sensation of being filled completely.
He began thrusting slowly, completely withdrawing and then entering me again. Each time, the head of his cock rubbed the most sensitive spot inside of me. He knew exactly what I needed and soon, I felt the buildup of sensation and I knew I'd come after a few more thrusts.
"I'm going to come," I said, breathing hard. Josh began to thrust more quickly, pumping faster. My orgasm began, and I clenched around him through it.
"Oh, God, oh God," I cried out, my body spasming around him. In response, he thrust harder, and I knew he wanted to come when I did. Before my orgasm had wanted completely, he groaned, and I saw him straining above me, his face contorted with pleasure.
When his orgasm finished, he collapsed on top of me.
"God, that was good," he said, his mouth beside my ear.
"It's always good," I said with a smile.
It always was.
"It was perfect," he murmured against my neck. I could hear the amusement in his voice.
"It was," I replied, closing my eyes and lifting my arms over my head, enjoying the moment.
It was the perfect way to start the year together.
After we cleaned up, we snuggled together, naked still, our arms around each other, the covers pulled up around us so that we were almost covered. It felt like our cocoon against the rest of the world and we two were all that mattered.
8
Josh
Ella and I spent the next week off from work searching for a new apartment that we could call our own.
When I was engaged to Christie, we had planned to live in the penthouse my father owned on Central Park West, with a stunning view of Central Park. After the engagement was called off, I never wanted to set foot in the apartment, despite how perfect it would be for me. Instead, Christian got it in the will and for that, I was happy. He didn't have bad memories of it, so he could live there -- if he wanted -- and raise a family there in the future.
Ella and I wanted something that would be good for us as a new couple -- with at least two bedrooms, preferably three, so we could bo
th have an office and a master bedroom. Since money was no object, we decided to buy something close to the Macintyre building on 5th Avenue.
There were a few properties we were interested in and arranged viewings the week before we went back to work. Of course, Ella was shocked at the price of the apartments, because she was used to properties in New Hampshire, which were much more affordable than those in Manhattan. You got so much less for your money -- but of course, that was the price people paid for living in one of the most prestigious neighborhoods in the entire USA.
After viewing about seven properties, all in the Central Park area, we settled on three and had to decide among them.
One penthouse apartment near was perfect and had everything on our list, including a roof-top patio for summer barbecues. Completely modern in decor and design, it was my pick for it looked brand new, with sparkling new appliances, and four bedrooms. It would mean we could each have an office and a guest bedroom for visitors -- or a baby.
Ella also liked a penthouse apartment that was more traditional with more of a Victorian design and decor. Everything looked like it was out of a 18th or 19th Century apartment in London or Paris. Also four bedrooms, it had a totally different character than the apartment I preferred. In the end, if Ella was happy, I'd be happy, so I told her that the choice was up to her. The price was close -- within a couple of million dollars -- and so it really didn't matter to me as long as we had what we needed.
The only other choice was for us to buy in an old building that was being renovated and design the apartment from top to bottom. It would be less expensive to buy but would require a few months of renovations before we could move in. We stood in the old apartment on the day of our viewing and tried to imagine what we would do with the place. Whoever owned it before had rented the apartment out for most of the past three decades and it was not kept up to date with appliances or paint, flooring. But it was a totally blank canvas.
We could make it completely our own.
"What do you think?" Ella asked me, taking my hand and squeezing. "Are we completely stupid to get this place and have to do all the work to get it the way we want?"
"No," I said. "That's Michael's business, building and renovating. I'm sure he'd love to take on the project and would make it perfect for us."
"Should we get him here to take a look at the place before we decide?"
I nodded. "Good idea. I'll call him and make an appointment for him to come and see it with us. We can talk about what we want done and he'll decide if it can be done."
* * *
We made another appointment and took a risk that our other choices would remain on the market for the time it took to see the fixer-upper with Michael. Luckily, he was available for a viewing the next afternoon.
Michael took his time looking at the place, inspecting all the fixtures and appliance hook-ups, and taking note of the layout and floor plan.
"Tell me what you want. I can do pretty much anything you like. The place needs new floors, new plaster, new fixtures, new appliances, paint, wallpaper. The bones are good, the layout is decent. You could open up the dining room and living room if you want a more open-concept layout. Or you can stick with the current plans and make it more formal and traditional."
I glanced at Ella, figuring she'd prefer the more traditional look. "Well?" I asked, squeezing her hand. "You like traditional."
"Would it bother you?" she asked, making a face of doubt. "I've always wanted a formal dining room where we could have big family meals. I don't want the kitchen and living room to be all one big mess."
"I'm fine with whatever makes you happiest." I bent down and kissed her to reinforce my words. Then I turned to Michael. "Traditional, it is. Maybe do some really nice plasterwork and antique fixtures. A professional kitchen with top of the line appliances and lots of space for cooking. One thing I do want to insist on is the view. I want to keep the huge picture windows that span the living areas, but maybe put new windows in that are more weatherproof and fit the decor. Maybe tall arched windows so we keep the traditional feel, but lots of light."
"Yes," Ella said and squeezed my hand. "I love the floor to ceiling windows in every room, but they need updating. Can you do that?"
"Everything's possible. What about the rooftop?"
We went upstairs to the rooftop area that came with the penthouse apartment. The building itself was only ten stories tall so we weren't up too high. There was nothing there and the space would have to be completely built anew.
"We want easy access from the apartment. We want a hot tub and a patio area with a covered barbecue. Plus, lots of planters for flowers. Maybe a more solid structure so we can spend a lot of time out there when the weather's nice."
"Sounds good to me," Michael said. "I can get a couple of my designers out to view the place and start plans as soon as you close the deal and have access. Renovations won't be too extensive, and I can probably get it done in a couple of months once we start."
"Great," I said and gave Ella a hug. "I can't wait to get started."
"Me, either. I never thought I'd be able to buy a place in Manhattan, let alone overlooking Central Park," she said. "It feels like I'm dreaming."
"It's not a dream," I said. "You'll have your own place. Hopefully, it will all be ready by the time we come back from our honeymoon. In the meantime, we'll have to pick out colors and fixtures, appliances and decor. You'll be kept busy."
"I'm up for the job," she said with a smile.
* * *
We went out for a drink with Michael after the viewing and caught up with him and his life. He'd always been his own man and had rebelled against my father's focus on politics and media. He was the kid who wanted the toy front end loader and tractor, spending his time in the sandbox at the playground digging holes and building sand forts. He went to university to study engineering but really liked carpentry and renovating old buildings. When he went into the military, he was part of the Army Corps of Engineers. He liked to build things -- things that would last decades or even hundreds of years.
He enjoyed managing projects, taking them from the preliminary concept phase through to completion and was one of the most successful builders in Manhattan.
I had no doubt about how well his company was doing. What I wanted to know was how well his personal life was going and whether he was dating anyone seriously. I guess I wanted him to be as happy as I was.
"How's your love life?" I asked, getting right to the point. "Anyone in particular you're seeing or serious about? Last time I checked, you were unattached and happy to stay that way."
He shrugged. "I've got a few years of bachelorhood ahead of me, I figure. Dad's incentivized trust fund isn't going to encourage me either way."
"Oh, yeah," Ella said and turned to me. "I forgot about that. Is that why you're so eager to marry me?" she said with narrow eyes. "You want to get your first installment?"
My jaw dropped open at that and for a moment, I thought she was serious. Then I saw the corner of her mouth crook up in a barely suppressed grin.
"Oh, you," I said and bent down to kiss her. "You almost had me."
She finally laughed out loud. "Oh, the expression on your face was priceless," she said and turned to Michael. "Wasn't it?"
"It was," he replied and held up his beer in a toast. "You got him good."
It was while I was lifting my beer up to my lips that Jerome, one of our bodyguards, came over, bent down and whispered in my ear. Immediately, alarm bells went off in my head.
"Mr. Fedora's across the street from the bar," Jerome had said.
From that distance, I couldn't make out his face in detail as I glanced out the storefront window, but the man I saw looked very much like Mr. Fedora. Standing on the other side of the street with a paper in his hands, he was scanning the sidewalk beside him.
"Wait here," I said, determined to confront the man myself. "Follow me," I said to Jerome. "I'm going to have a little chat with him."
&
nbsp; Jerome tried to stand in my way. "I wouldn't advise it, Sir," he said, holding up a hand. "That's why you hired me. I'll go and have a little chat with him."
Now, I'm big as far as height and weight goes, but Jerome was really big. Six-five, two-hundred and thirty, give or take a pound. Mostly muscle. His suits were tight across the shoulders and biceps. His shaved head and goatee added a look of professional danger to him.
"Please, Josh," Ella said, her hand on my arm. "He's right. Let him deal with this."
I sat back down on the bar stool and shook my head. "Okay. You're probably right. Go and see what he has to say for himself."
"I can't do anything if he's not threatening you," Jerome said. "But I can deliver a message. I can tell him that you're protected and that he's being watched. If he gets within twenty feet of you, I'll consider it a threat. He won't like the way I deal with a threat."
"What would you do?" Ella asked.
"I'd use my special techniques in persuasion to convince him to leave."
He smiled and then left the bar.
"I wouldn't want to mess with Jerome," Michael offered.
"Me, neither."
While we watched, Jerome walked out of the bar and crossed the street, barely even checking the traffic as he crossed. He made a beeline right to Mr. Fedora, and stopped right in front of the man, who put down his paper. The two men talked, and Jerome gestured to the left and both men glanced down that way. I wondered what Jerome said, but whatever it was, it seemed to have an effect. The man tucked his paper under his arm and walked off to the right. On Jerome's part, he stood and watched, then spoke into a cell.
Finally, he turned around and crossed the street again. It was then I saw a black sedan drive to the right and Jerome stopped and pointed down the street in the direction Mr. Fedora took.
The sedan pulled away and Jerome watched for a moment before coming back inside the bar.
"What happened?" I asked when Jerome arrived back at the bar. He adjusted his jacket and nodded.
"I asked him what he was doing. He said he was just passing time waiting for a friend. I told him that we knew he what he was doing and that we were watching him. If he came within 100 feet of you or your properties, he'd have to deal with me. He denied knowing what I was talking about. I pointed down the street and said that there was a security van watching the street and had everything on tape. Then I asked him to be on his way. He complied."