by L. B. Dunbar
When I thought about it though, he did seem to know me. I did feel bottled inside lately, and I was rethinking what I wanted to do. I had been slightly tempted by his offer of the 4G group, but Mel Agent had offered the New York Symphony Orchestra. I couldn’t think of Mel. His offer came with too many strings attached and they weren’t from my cello.
“I have thought about your offer with the 4Gs,” I said softly, but his response startled me. He whipped his body in my direction and placed his hands on either side of my hips.
“And?” he said hopefully.
“I think I would like to audition,” I raised a hand to cut him off from his excitement, “but I want the job honestly. I don’t want it because I’m Leo’s daughter or your … whatever … I just want to audition and if they like me, they like me.”
He leaned in and kissed me forcefully, taking my breath away for a moment like the wind had been knocked out of me before he pulled back just as abruptly.
“What do you mean, my whatever?”
I returned his glare, but refused to answer. I didn’t know how to label what I felt, or rather I knew what to label it for myself, but not what to label it for him. I was at great risk of having my heart broken, I knew. He was too smooth with words. Too gentle with his touches. Too powerful with his kisses. He would consume me and spit me out. He probably wouldn’t be unkind, but he would be done with me. For now I felt more like a mouse played with by a cat than the lioness, but I couldn’t get myself to mind when he kissed me like he just did.
He was still looking at me, waiting for an answer, but I continued in my refusal to speak.
“Whatever you’re thinking, you’re probably wrong,” he said as he leaned in and placed his lips on mine. As quickly as he kissed me, he pulled back again.
“Unless what you are thinking is good, and then you might be right,” he said with a laugh before reclaiming my lips.
“So right,” he said against my mouth without missing a beat in the kiss. We continued in this manner of lips locked, tongues tied, and hands slowly roaming when Arturo pulled me to his lap, forcing me to straddle him. I broke the kiss as I righted myself over his legs, pulling up the dress that tangled in his struggle to get me over him. His eyes watched me as I tugged the light summery material upward and I saw him swallow as I parted my legs over his.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen my legs before. We had spent a day on the lake and one in the pool, both of which I was barely clothed in my tiny bikinis, but he watched my display and clenched and unclenched his fingers before placing them on my hips.
I paused for a moment before I made the next move. It was my turn to lean toward him and hold his stubbly cheeks between my hands before pressing a powerful kiss of my own to his lips. He was an eager responder to my attack and pulled me closer so my middle cradled him between my legs. I pressed down on him and his hands slid up my sides to the edge of my bandeau-styled top. He slipped a finger inside one side as if testing me for refusal. I didn’t refuse.
As his finger slid to the top of my breast, the distraction made me suck in a breath when he palmed my other one. He massaged my breast, slipping his hand down so it covered me before he pulled at the light material to make my nipple firm and peaked.
“Cold?” He smiled against my lips.
“No.” I shivered and wiggled against the seam of his jeans.
“Let me see,” he softly groaned and pulled the top of my dress down to my waist in one tug.
I should have felt exposed. We were outside, again in the open air, and despite the quiet sound of the crackling fire and the soft noise of crickets, I felt like all the world could see me. But it was dark, and Arturo’s gaze was so passionate and worshipful, I couldn’t feel ashamed. I actually sat up a littler straighter and he returned his hands to lovingly caress me while I watched his tattooed hands work over my sensitive skin. I began to grind my hips a little more against him.
“If I made you come with just a kiss the other day, what will it be like if I only do this to you, Guinie, my beautiful.”
I wanted to tell him not to be crass, but I was lost to the feel of his hands on my breasts. The squeeze where I felt full and the tug where I was tight sent at pulse down between my legs.
“My Guinie is so beautiful when she is close,” he whispered as he stared at his own handiwork before he leaned forward and took one of my breasts into his warm, moist mouth. The pleasure of him nipping at me was almost painful and I squeaked as I bucked against him. He placed both hands on my hips, sliding me back and forth on him while he continued with his hot mouth on my soft, pink areola. He moved to my other breast and I slid my fingers into his hair, gently holding his head to keep his lips on me as I pressed down on him.
“Arturo,” I whispered and his fingers dug into my hip bones. He began to push the material of my dress upward, rutting it up in his fists until he could get his hands underneath it. His warm fingers against my dampening skin sent another shiver up my spine and Arturo released my breast.
“Guinie,” he said as he looked directly at me. “Let me touch you.”
My only response was to slide my hands down to his shoulders and tug myself harder onto him. He undid the top button of his jeans and I stared at his fingers as they snapped the material open, but he moved his fingers then to tortuously walk up my thighs and disappear under the yellow skirt of my dress, only to brush against wet material between my legs.
“You’re soaked. For me,” he choked as his fingers fiddled across my most sensitive area. I imagined he touched me like he strummed his guitar. He repeated the motion several times outside my panties before slipping a finger inside the elastic, and inside of me. I had never felt anything like it before. No man had touched me like this. I hadn’t lied when I told him I’d never had an orgasm. I hadn’t, but I had rubbed against others, to never find the release.
I had never let someone in my pants before and the sensation was overwhelming me. I felt the buildup and the pulsing was so fierce it was like a drum beat in my underwear. His finger filled me and yet I ached for more. He fulfilled that need immediately with another finger.
“You’re so tight, Guinie,” he groaned at me. He opened his mouth to say something else, but clamped his lips shut instead. He leaned forward and took my mouth, inserting his tongue, working it like he worked my lower body with his fingers. In and out. In and out.
I couldn’t breathe and had to pull back from the kiss. I felt myself rocking uncontrollably on his fingers, using my hands on his shoulders to both steady myself and leverage my body against him.
“That’s it again, Guinie. Take it, beautiful girl.”
I exploded at his soft voice that mumbled against my neck with small kisses. He worked me harder, adding his thumb against the nub that acted like a switch for my excitement. In the darkness I saw fireworks and the sensation of heat came from my toes. Literally, I curled my toes as I stiffened my legs and captured the release. I continued to squirm on his fingers, feeling like the display of pleasure would never end until I felt it begin again.
“Arturo,” I gasped like I was taking in water. I couldn’t get air in my lungs as the sensation climbed again.
“Arturo?” I wasn’t coming down like I had the other day. It was like a frenzy between my legs and I had to have it again.
“One more,” Arturo growled as he worked his fingers faster, in and out, in and out. I could smell the sweet scent of myself and I knew I was dripping with wetness. He pressed his thumb to me and flicked it. Once. Twice. Thrice.
I screamed his name and leaned forward, stifling the sound in his neck. My teeth were bared, but I didn’t bite him, only set my open mouth on the spot between his neck and shoulder. I gripped his biceps as I felt the release spiral out of me and onto his fingers. I eventually relaxed, slumping against him and sliding my arms around his neck to hold him in an embrace.
Eventually, I let one hand fall down his chest, lazily bumping up and down the hills and valleys of his taunt abs u
ntil I reached that open spot on his jeans.
He grabbed my wrist.
“Guinevere,” he said in warning, but I ignored him. I put my forehead on his shoulder in a way that I could look down at my own hand. I smacked away the grip on my wrist and kissed his chest above his heart before unzipping his jeans entirely. I was shocked to find he was bare. Commando style.
I looked up at him.
“A bit of a foregone conclusion, aren’t I?” He smiled. “Or maybe just hopeful?”
I wrapped my hand around his now-freed shaft and he closed his eyes. He wiggled his hips and pulled the jeans down a little more to release himself completely. Sensing my hesitation, he placed his hand over mine and wrapped his hand firmer around my delicate touch.
“You won’t hurt me. Hold tight,” he said. He wasn’t demanding, he was teaching, and although I should have been embarrassed by my lack of experience, I wasn’t. With his eyes closed and his head tipped back, holding my hand, guiding me around him, I felt like I had all the experience in the world. I was bringing this great man pleasure. He released his own hand to place it lazily on my hip and looked down to watch my hurried movements. When he looked up at me, I had to hold the gasp. His eyes were black.
“What are you doing to me, Guinevere?” he groaned in a raspy voice. I pulled and tugged and massaged until a spurt of liquid escaped him and I used it to moisten him and make my hand slip over his warm, smooth skin. He captured my lips in one of those surprise attack kisses I was growing used to and enjoying too much. Just as he worked me with mouth and fingers, I worked him, and I felt his breath hitch in my mouth before he pulled back and grunted my name.
“Fuck, Guinevere,” he said before I felt the warm release over my hands. Not knowing what else to do, I tried to capture some of the liquidy substance and continued to use it to lubricate him further. He stopped my hand abruptly.
“Enough. I can’t take anymore,” he sighed as he closed his eyes again and let his head fall back on the cushion.
I slowly removed my hand, uncertain what to do next. Arturo placed a hand behind his head and tugged off his T-shirt. He wiped my hand in a caress, holding it gently in his own. Then he used the shirt to wipe himself off and secretly tuck himself away. He ran a hand through his own hair before reaching his fingers into mine.
“Come here,” he whispered as he gently tugged me forward and kissed me softly for a moment before pulling back to stare into my eyes.
Arturo
She had completely undone me. I stared in her lake-colored eyes, wondering if she could read me. I didn’t want to label what she meant to me. I couldn’t say the words I felt inside. She would be the end of me.
Her inexperience made no difference to me. I liked that I was teaching her and she was willing to learn. She was innocently eager and shocked at her own responses to me. Her double orgasm made me certain I would need release tonight, and I was willing to take it for myself later, using her as my fantasy, but when she touched me with her small hand and followed my lead, I knew that would be a better way. And it was. I hadn’t had a hand job since high school and yet I was surprised how sexually excited I was with this one. I was excited emotionally as well, though. She was beginning to mean so much more to me.
I didn’t want to part from her tonight. I didn’t want her to go back to her room and analyze what happened. I knew she did that because I could see it on her face at times when I kissed her, as if she took the kisses then questioned why I did them. She was second guessing me, or second guessing herself, and at times I wanted to say something, but didn’t.
So when she said she was my whatever I was ready to pounce, but I was lost again in my excitement that she was considering the 4G group. I would arrange for her audition performance … tomorrow. Tonight I had to proceed with care.
“It’s getting late,” I said as I felt the sudden chill from sitting shirtless in the night. Guinevere slowly slid off my legs. She looked shaky as she stood to straighten the top of her dress and the bottom slipped back to the ground. She stood up and had that look on her face.
“Don’t do that,” I said.
“What?”
“Whatever it is that you’re thinking, stop it.”
“How do you know I’m thinking anything? Maybe I’m just tired. Or cold. Or nothing.”
“Are you telling me you feel nothing after that?” I asked, pointing to the couch cushions after standing up myself.
“No.”
“No, you don’t feel anything?” I asked incredulously. She was not that cold-hearted, so I didn’t believe her.
“No. I mean, I’m not thinking anything negative. That … that was wonderful,” she sighed as she tipped her head in the direction of the couch. She shivered; the fire had died down to only embers and I knew she might have been slightly sweating before but would feel the damp air as I did now.
“Come on,” I said as I took her hand and led her to the house. The rooms on the first floor were dark as I escorted her to her room. I opened the door for her and held it open. Once she was inside, I paused, hoping she would invite me in. I felt like the moment was slipping away from me, and I had to admit I was inexperienced in this category.
She turned to look at me and smiled sheepishly as if she just got away with something she shouldn’t have done, but thoroughly enjoyed. I had to smile back and felt relief sweep over me.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Of course,” she replied.
I closed her door and opened mine to find the adjoining door to our rooms was open. My heart leapt with the hope that I might get to hold her. I wanted to hold her, and I never held women after I was with them. I was a roll over kind of guy once I was finished.
I walked to the door and peered into Guinevere’s room. The space was empty and I assumed she was in the bathroom, so I went to mine to clean up and returned to see her lying in her bed. From the position of her bed, she could see directly through the door. From the position of mine, I could not.
“Hey,” I said softly. She was turned in my direction with her hands under her head and her hair pulled back into a messy bun at the nape of her neck. She looked sleepy but satisfied, and my heart swelled with pride that I had put that smile there.
“Hey,” she responded, waiting for me to say something else. I wanted to ask her if I could come in and lie down next to her, or if she would come to my room to curl up with me. I’d never had a girl in this room before. Looking at her half-closed lids, I decided tonight would not be the night. When I brought her into this room, I had every intention of claiming her as mine by making love to her.
“Do you need anything?” I asked. She only shook her head slightly as her eyes closed involuntarily.
“Good night, Guinie. Sleep well,” I said. Dream of me, I added silently.
Arturo
I slept restlessly, so when I woke with a start and the feeling of two beady green eyes on me, I knew immediately I was going to be in a bad mood all day.
“Morte,” I grumbled, “what are you doing here?”
Lying on my stomach, I kept my arms under the pillow and didn’t bother to lift my head, but my eyes were now open.
“It’s Thursday. You promised we could spend the day together on Thursday.”
“Yes, well, Thursday implies more day and it’s only the morning.”
Morte sighed as he shook his little head.
“Mother has breakfast waiting downstairs.”
“Ugh,” I groaned into the pillow, now wishing to smother myself with it. I stayed that way a moment longer until I sensed that Morte had left the room. For some reason my eyes shot immediately to the open door between my room and Guinevere’s, and I sprang out of bed, crossing the room in a few long strides. I didn’t think twice about only wearing my boxer briefs when I found Morte sitting on the bed next to Guinie. She was sitting upright with the sheet covering her legs, which were bent at her knees. She seemed intent on listening to what Morte was explaining.
&nb
sp; “And then I found a frog and I wanted to keep him, but Mother said no.”
Guinie smiled at him. She reached out and brushed his longer black hair out of his eyes, and this caused Morte to look up her with a bright smile. It was still an eerie look on his face, as though his lips didn’t know how to form a smile properly, and I shivered.
“Morte, did you wake Guinevere? That wasn’t polite,” I said with a voice that was firm and edged with anger.
“He’s fine.” Guinevere smiled at me sweetly until she saw something in my face and blinked before looking back at Morte.
“Morte tells me you have plans to spend the day together.”
“Yeah, well, later. I have band practice this morning,” I said, looking down at my feet. I knew I sounded belligerent, and I didn’t mean to, but I was in a mood.
I looked up to see Morte’s fallen face, and Guinevere’s questioning stare at me.
“Maybe we could do something together, Morte?” she said softly to the child, and his face immediately beamed. He was too pale, I noted again. He was too thin. What did his mother do with him, keep him locked inside? I reminded myself, I didn’t care.
Morte’s little hand touched Guinie’s raised knee and I was jealous of the intimacy. I didn’t want Morte touching her.
“Morte,” I said more firmly, “go downstairs. I’ll be down in a moment.”
Morte slid off the bed and walked to the door with his head hung. He stopped and looked back at Guinevere with questioning, watery eyes.
“You won’t change your mind, will you?” he asked her.
“Of course not.” She smiled back at him. “See you in a few minutes.”
I had transferred from bad mood to downright pissed off. I didn’t want Guinie to spend the day with Morte. I wanted her to come to the barn and listen to me play. Then I would set up for her to record her audition tape. Even before my day started, it wasn’t going how I planned.