by Callie Hart
I slide the straps of her bra over her shoulders with firm, possessive hands. “What’s your darkest fantasy,” I ask.
“I don’t—I haven’t—” She gasps when I dip down and take her nipple into my mouth.
I run my tongue around her areola, wetting it until the skin is slick and glistening. The monster inside of me snarls out his approval when her thighs clench underneath me. “Just because you hadn’t fucked until yesterday doesn’t mean you didn’t have fantasies, Carrie.”
She’s staring at me. Her cheeks are mottled and blushed in the prettiest way; she looks like she’s running a fever, but that’s not the case. She’s flushed because of my mouth fastened around her nipple, and my hand sliding down in between her legs. I can feel her clit through the fabric of her panties, the little swollen bud of it rolling under the pad of my middle finger. Her head tips back, her lips parting as she lets out a delicious, heavenly sigh. “My darkest fantasy…has always been you.”
Fuck.
FUCK!
She could have said anything. Threesome. Double penetration. Girl on girl. Shame and humiliation. Domination. Any of it would have been hot.
But she chose me?
The savage, dark thing inside me crows with delight. She still doesn’t know what she’s letting herself in for, but she’s about to find out. I grin at her, cupping her tit so I can hold the fullness of her tight while I bite…
Carrie whimpers. Her hands claw at the blankets, ripping at them, but she doesn’t tell me to stop. I grasp her pretty pink little nipple between my teeth and I press down, waiting for her to yield. Everyone has their threshold. This isn’t about surpassing the line where the pleasure disappears and the pain takes over. It’s about meeting the point where you can’t differentiate between the two, and then balancing on that tightrope for as long as it feels good.
Precious Carrie. She hasn’t learned anything yet. She knows nothing. But she’s got me. I’m going to show her what her darkness looks like, and once she’s faced it she’ll be free to either embrace or run from it. I hope to fucking god, for my sake and for hers, that she embraces it. I can already tell how much fun we could have together…
Her back arches up off the blankets. “Ahh! Ahh, fuck, Dash! AHH!”
There, ladies and gentlemen. We have our first boundary line, drawn in the sand. I ease off until I’m not using my teeth at all, and I’m just licking and sucking…
“Carina.”
Her eyes snap open.
“Give me your hand.”
Dazed, she complies, offering me her hand, and I guide it down, in between her thighs.
“Feel? See how wet you are for me, love? You’ve soaked right through your underwear.”
She tries to pull her hand away, but I have her by the wrist. “Don’t. Doesn’t it feel good?” I apply a little pressure, pushing her own fingers down on the wet fabric, and she shudders.
“Yes,” she whispers.
“Then why stop?” I sit back on my heels, letting go of her. “Rub yourself for me, Carrie. I wanna watch you make yourself come.”
She’s torn, I can tell. Oh, she wants to come. Wants to so bad. But…
“Masturbation isn’t—” she whispers. “It isn’t exactly something people are supposed to admit to. Let alone do in front of an audience.”
I laugh. “Who the fuck told you that?”
“I don’t know. I just…” She bites her lip.
“It’s illegal to do it in front of someone if they haven’t given consent. But between two willing parties, it’s just fucking hot.”
She looks uncertain.
“Take off your panties, Carrie.”
She flushes, but she heard the tone in my voice. She knows I’m not fucking around. She raises her ass up and shimmies the little black thong down over her hips. I groan under my breath as I watch her slide the material down her legs, and then off…
I’ll admit, she’s sneaky. The panties disappear into a ball, and then they just disappear altogether. Takes a moment to realize that she tucked them out of sight, under one of the blankets. I make a note to collect them later. Those fuckers are mine.
Carrie presses her knees together, rocking from side to side. She doesn’t realize that she’s doing it, but she’s showing me just how agitated and turned on she is with her restless display.
“Open,” I tell her.
She lets her legs fall open, and holy fucking shit. I thought maybe I’d remembered last night with rose tinted glasses. It was dark, and my senses were operating on overdrive. I’ve only seen her by the moonlight. I reasoned this afternoon that I might have imagined her pussy being so beautiful, but now that I have some actual light to work by, she’s even more magnificent.
“God, love. Touch your clit for me. Spread yourself open.”
She hesitates. “Don’t guys normally like…”
This should be interesting. “Like what?” I take the opportunity to stand and remove my boxers. Carina stares at my cock as it springs free, her eyes taking up most of her face somehow; she looks stunned.
“Uhh…” She swallows. “Porn...”
“Yes, we like porn.” She hasn’t looked away from my dick yet. I should go easy on her, but this is just too entertaining. I grab hold of myself and I run my hand up and down the shaft, shivering with pleasure. “This is where I’m supposed to ask if it’s okay if I touch my cock in front of you,” I grind out. “Am I offending you, Carrie? Do you want me to stop?” I’m only half serious. I think we’re past the stage where Carrie’s motives are unclear. Doesn’t hurt to check, though.
“No. I’m not offended. I’m…”
“Mesmerized? Horny? Hungry?” Yes, I like that. “Are you hungry for me, Carina Mendoza?”
She nods to all of it.
“Good. Then do what I told you to do. Touch yourself, too. Spread yourself. I wanna watch you open like a flower for me.”
This brings the color rushing back to her cheeks again. She remembers what she was going to say just now. “Don’t guys like girls with…” God, she’s so fucking adorable when she’s embarrassed. “With really neat little porn pussies. No…no extra...um…”
I can’t watch her suffer anymore. It’s painful to stand by and witness her stumbling through this. Soon, she’ll be able to say anything to me. There won’t be a single word, no matter how filthy or dirty, that will make her blush. All in good time, though. “Are you trying to ask me if I like pussies that look like they belong on a cabbage patch kid, Carrie? A tiny little slit with a tiny little hole underneath?”
If she looked embarrassed before, then now she looks like she’s about to explode. She can’t even speak. I can tell that I’ve hit the nail on the head, though. I laugh. “No. I like a pussy to look like it belongs to a grown woman. I want lips. Proper fucking labia. I want creases and folds. I want a natural, beautiful pussy. Something to lick at. Something to suck on. Something to taste.”
“Oh my god.” She tries to bring her knees back together, horrified by what I’ve just said, but I wedge my body between them in the nick of time.
“I’m fucking obsessed with your body. Can’t you tell?” I glance down at my cock. I had to let go of myself so I could plant myself between her thighs. I’m holding my weight off her, my hands braced on either side of her head, maintaining a gap between our bodies, though, which means we can both see my hard dick resting heavily on top of her stomach. Carrie’s breath hitches as she looks down at it.
“You’re not the only one who…wants something to suck on,” she says breathlessly.
Holy fuck.
Did she really just say that? I replay her last words in my head, and, yep, she did. Looks like she’s getting braver by the second. “Oh, love. You want my dick in your mouth?” My blood is no longer platelets, cells and plasma; it’s high octane gasoline and it’s on fucking fire. It’s a miracle that I don’t go up in a ball of flames and black smoke when she nods.
“I want to know what it’s like,” she pa
nts.
I feel the movement between her legs, her arm moving against my stomach, and…yes. Yes! She’s stroking her clit. Fuuuuuuuuck, it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever fucking seen. “Good girl. That’s it. Make it feel good.” I nuzzle my face into her hair, groaning. I need to calm the fuck down; I’m dizzy off the sight of her small hand bobbing up and down between her legs, so I take a beat and breathe, relishing the fresh, floral perfume of her hair.
Once I feel like I have a handle on myself again, I climb off her and shift myself, spinning around into the perfect position. Lying on my side, I have a front row seat to the ‘Carina Mendoza, fingering her pussy’ show. Carrie doesn’t seem to care that I’m watching her anymore; she’s too fixated on the close proximity of my cock. She’s cautiously wraps her hand around me.
What a fucking idiot I’ve been. I thought for sure that I could take her touching me. I’ve let plenty of girls jerk me off. Too many. A hand is a hand is a hand. Only Carrie’s hand is different. Her halting, gentle touch is curious. Innocent. Sweet, almost.
Once again, the dark, corrupt thing inside me roars. He likes the way she explores the shaft of my cock. He loses his shit when she lightly traces her fingers over my balls, and then cups them in her palm, judging the weight and the feel of them. And when she hesitantly leans forward and flicks the tip of her tongue over the head of my erection, he sees fucking stars.
How appropriate, given our location.
I watch, fascinated as she slowly wraps her full lips around the head, and then gradually slides down my shaft, the wet heat of her tongue stroking and swirling against my rigid flesh as she goes.
I’ve always prided myself on the fact I’ve never shot my load prematurely. Not. One. Fucking. Time. But when Carrie’s mouth stretches around me, her lips wet with saliva, and she moans…
Legs locked.
Jaw clenched.
Hands clenched.
Eyes screwed shut.
Breathe! Breathe, you motherfucker. Don’t you fucking dare.
I rein in the rising explosion of pleasure before it’s too late. But only just. “Fuck! Fuck me, Carrie. Jesus. My god.”
She hums, pleased, I think, and the vibration coupled with the heat and the sound nearly catapults me right over the edge again. I need something to distract me. Fuck. I grab her by the hip and pull her roughly. She moans again—protest, this time—but she doesn’t stop me from pulling her on top of me. Then, the sweet taste of her cunt is coating my tongue, and I have my fingers inside her, and she’s rocking against my mouth, riding my face…
She’s good at this. A natural. She’s doing what her body commands her to do, not what she thinks she’s supposed to, and it’s fucking beautiful. I lick and I suck on her clit, massaging it deeply, closing my whole mouth around it so I can work it properly, and Carina sobs with my dick in her mouth.
I pause long enough to ask, “Okay?” One word. A question. It’s all I’ve got. She doesn’t even come up for air. She nods, and even that movement nearly tips me over the edge.
I start doing arithmetic in my head. I’d go for something a little more complicated normally, but even basic addition and subtraction is beyond me with her like this, her head bobbing up and down on my dick, her tits crushed up against my stomach, and her sweet pussy grinding against my face…
She sobs again. I keep very, very still—I want to hold her head and fuck her mouth SO bad, but that is not what she needs her first blow job to be like. I am a gentleman, and I keep my hip thrusts to myself. Carrie sinks deeper on my shaft all by herself, though. Again, she sobs, her hips moving faster, and I read the cues—she’s about to fucking come.
She exhales, blowing hard and fast down her nose, whimpering, and I do what needs to be done. I coax her orgasm out of her with my fingers and my tongue, using both, stroking, rubbing her clit with the tip of my tongue when she begins to shake on top of me, and soon she’s falling apart on top of me.
She rips her mouth away, panting. “Fuck! Oh…come! I want…you to come, too!”
No way am I coming in her mouth. No fucking way. But she wraps her lips around the tip of my cock again, sucking and licking, keening as she climaxes, and the whole thing is taken out of my hands.
I can’t stop myself.
It builds in my thighs first, then my balls and the pit of my stomach. Before I can do anything about it, I’m coming right where I swore I wouldn’t. And Carrie isn’t pulling away. She’s sinking deeper, sucking harder, her tongue lapping and licking…
A nuclear bomb detonates in my head. “Oh god. Fuck! FUCK!”
White noise. Static. My head’s in fucking pieces.
“Carrie! Carrie! Oh god. Stop. Stop!”
She rolls off me, her shoulders hitching up and down, an alarmed expression on her face. “Sorry! Oh, shit, did I hurt you?”
I can’t catch my breath. I let out a dumbfounded laugh, shaking my head. “No. You didn’t hurt me. You just gave me the best orgasm of my entire fucking life.”
Naked, wrapped up in the blankets together, we lay tangled up in each other until our breath becomes less urgent and the sweat cools on our skin. Sex is somewhat of an occupational hazard when you’re foreign, have an accent, and you own half of an English county. I screwed my way across a number of countries during the holidays with Wren and Pax last year. But not once have I done this. It’s always been a race to see how quickly I can get up and out of the door once I’ve finished coming, but lying here with Carina in my arms, while she traces circles on my chest with her fingers, breathing in the quiet? I can’t imagine trying to drag myself away from this. I have a sneaking suspicion that it’s actually going to hurt to part ways when we have to leave. I’d stay here and fuck her for days if I thought the boys wouldn’t notice.
We exist in a blissed-out bubble of contented silence for a while. Neither of us rush to fill in the gaps with noise. The soft push and pull of her breathing is enough for me. I’m drowsy, dipping in and out of sleep, when she whispers, “Are you cold?”
I slowly shake my head.
“Then…” She smiles impishly. “D’you wanna see something cool?”
“Always.”
I hate that she gets up and leaves. However, watching her pad barefoot and completely naked across the observatory does have its benefits. I rake my teeth over my bottom lip, stifling a groan as I watch her hips and ass sway, and Carina throws a blushing glance over her shoulder.
“Animal,” she accuses. She stops in front of the door and laughs. “Brace yourself. You might get a little wet.”
Didn’t I say that to her, earlier?
The front of a small panel mounted on the wall goes up, and Carrie hits the button inside. The loud, grating screech of steel on steel fills the observatory, and the heavens crack open. Or rather, the ceiling does.
A shower of water sprinkles down into our little sanctuary, as the shutter above us inches back, revealing the night sky over our heads. The brief smattering of water dies off quickly; it was just the remnants of the rain from earlier that had gathered on the observatory’s roof. The large rectangle of midnight blue that Carina unveils is free of clouds, now, a color so deep and rich that it looks like you could reach up and touch velvet. At first, I only see five bright points blazing in the little snapshot of space, but my eyes quickly adjust and there are more. So many more. A sea of stars. It’s astonishing.
Carina hurries across the observatory. Her tits bounce, nipples tightened to little punctuation marks despite the humid night air, and I have trouble trying to decide where I should look. Then, she’s back underneath the blankets, nestling into my side like it’s a perfectly normal thing to do, like the circle of my arms is a safe harbor and not a terribly dangerous place to be.
She points up, her index hovering in my field of view. “That, right there? That’s Mars.”
“Bullshit.”
“It is!” she laughs. “How can you call bullshit? It’s bright red!”
“That…” I kiss her,
because I can, and it feels fucking good. “…is a Boeing 747.”
Her mouth falls open. She shoves me halfheartedly, and this whole thing suddenly feels so normal and good that I need to clench my right hand into a fist as hard as I can underneath the blankets, where she can’t see. “That is not a plane,” she insists. “That’s a planet. How can you possibly think that’s a plane? Plane’s move!”
I shrug. “Sorry, Stella. You can’t see planets with the naked eye.” The pinprick of red in the sky is Mars. You can see plenty of the planets without a telescope just by looking up, depending on what time of year it is, but where’s the fun in admitting this when Carrie looks so cute in all of her outrage?
She watches me quietly for a second, then says, “Stella? What’s that, a new nickname you haven’t told me about?”
I sigh, regretting letting the name slip out of my mouth. I’ve been thinking it ever since she started talking about her passion for astronomy earlier, and it just kind of…stuck. “Stellaluna. Stars and moon. You’re way more beautiful than the night sky, Carrie. And…I dunno. Carrie just doesn’t seem to fit you somehow.”
Her eyes go wide. “What do you mean, it doesn’t fit me?”
“I don’t know. You just…don’t look like a Carina. Not to me. I can’t put my finger on it.” Ahhh, fuck. I’m digging myself an early grave over here. She’s gone very quiet, very still, and I can’t really blame her. I just told her that I don’t think her name suits her. Time for some last-minute maneuvers. “Or…I could have just called you Stella by accident, ’cause that was the name of the last girl I fucked, and I got you confu—ow!”
She pinches me hard. Pinches me again. “Oh my god! You’d better be joking!”
“I am! I am!”
““You want me to fight you, don’t you?” She digs me in the ribs, laughing, and just like that, a fundamental part of the very coding that makes me me overwrites itself. I realize that I’m smiling. I grab her wrists and pin her to the blankets, spinning her over so I’m on top of her, and I’m smiling, and she’s laughing. What the fuck is this?