Jane Air

by Anna Wellschlager

  The light fragments behind my eyelids, his body rubbing against me, the rough lining of my jeans teasing me. His mouth on my breast, sucking me completely into his mouth as I arch against him, writhing against him like a cat, and I’m coming, harder than ever before, louder than ever before. Almost fully dressed and on his kitchen island. I pulse and thrash against him, sobbing and clawing and gasping for air.

  Slowly, I come down. His movements slow. His mouth softens. He releases my breast and moves up my body, face against mine, lips on mine, whispering sweet things against my mouth. I nod, despite barely hearing him, agree with whatever he says, whatever he wants to do.

  “God, Jane,” he says again, his voice deeper and rougher this time, thick and hard around the edges. The sound of it makes me want to come again, wet and wild against his skin, with him inside, under me, behind me.

  My brain, the tiny piece that hasn’t been blown to smithereens whispers a warning, so soft and subtle I ignore it, my body choosing this moment, this pleasure over thoughts or fears for the future.

  “Come to my bed, Jane.” He murmurs the words, between request and demand, and before I can formulate any words in return, I’m nodding, my legs around his waist, face pressed against the hot skin of his neck as he lifts me off the counter.

  19

  David

  I carry her to the bedroom, enjoying the feel of her skin against me, her breath warm on my throat, her hands in my hair, thighs pressed tight around my waist. A small part of me wonders if we should wait, if we need to talk, if it would be better at night, but all the other parts of me want her, want to feel her and kiss her and sink inside of her, just as I wanted to do that first night, when I saw my fairy sprite naked and free and dancing in the water in the forest.

  The bedroom is bright and I move to the windows, Jane still wrapped in my arms, and pull down each of my shades. Their cream color casts a warm shadow across the mostly empty bedroom, my giant mattress on the ground, with duvet and pillows akimbo across its top.

  I drop to my knees, Jane pressed in my arms, and rest her her ass on the mattress edge. Slowly, her thighs unfurl and she lifts her head, those dark chocolate eyes peering into mine.

  “Jane,” I whisper, brushing my lips once, twice, over hers. “I want you Jane.”

  She tilts her head back, a soft smile playing on her lips and peers at me from beneath her lashes.

  “Yes.” A single word, followed by one finger trailing down the front of my shirt, her touch as soft as a butterfly, leaving a wake of fire in its trail.

  “I have condoms,” I reach behind me, fumbling for a duffle bag in the corner.

  “Good,” she leans forward, breathing the word against my front. Her hands reach towards the hem of my shirt, pulling it up, tugging it until I lift my hands overhead to help remove it. Her eyes survey my skin, fingers running lightly through my chest hair.

  “You are so beautiful,” she says, looking into my eyes.

  I grin, having never been called beautiful before in my life. At least, not in bed, and not by a woman.

  “That’s my line,” I say, my fingers closing on the small, crinkly square of protection and bringing it to the side of the mattress.

  Her fingers reach for the clasp of my jeans but I stop her. She brushes me aside and tugs, popping the first button and my cock leaps against the zipper, eager to claim its prize. I push her gently backwards, holding both hands overhead as she lays against the duvet, shirt riding up, exposing a swath of soft, creamy skin. My mouth waters.

  “Stay.”

  Her eyes meet mine, dark and shimmering in the muted morning light and she nods. I reach for the waist of her jeans and unbutton them, sliding them down her soft thighs and off. She’s barefoot, and I run my palms up the sides of her legs, enjoying the soft feel of her hips, slipping my fingers beneath the edges of her underwear, simple and cotton and very sensible. I smile at my little professor, ever the pragmatist.

  Her breath catches as I lean forward, my fingers trailing under her shirt. She arches her back and I slip it over her head, over her arms and toss it to the side. The bra is next, thrown somewhere in the room.

  And lastly, that small, thin strip of cotton, rolled down her legs and forgotten.

  I see a moment of doubt in her eyes, a fleeting glimpse of hesitation and I lean forward, crawling over her, claiming my prize and reach for her mouth. Her fingers tangle in my hair and I love the feel of her body beneath mine, soft and lush, nipples sharp against my chest, the wet heat of her pressed against me.

  I slide down her body, hands and mouth and every part of me enjoying the journey. Her breath catches in her throat again, those soft littles cries and whimpers that send all my blood to my dick. She begins to wiggle when I reach the center of her. I enjoy the torment, tracing a finger around her opening, enjoying the frustrated sounds she makes before I put my mouth on her, feeling that small, firm nub and tease it with my tongue. I slip two fingers inside of her, matching them to the rhythm of my mouth, using my other hand to grip her pubic hair lightly, just enough to stretch the skin around her clitoris slightly so I can apply more pressure.

  Her breathing increases, and I feel her thighs begin to move around me. Her hands play in my hair, pulling slightly and I smile against her skin. There is no greater feeling than a woman coming around you.

  I increase the speed and pressure of my tongue and my fingers, curling them slightly and rubbing against the dense mound I feel inside of her. I glance up, enjoying the expanse of female flesh in front of my eyes, round breasts above a soft stomach, thighs wrapped around my head. Her head is back, eyes closed and neck exposed and it’s all I can do to not rear up above her, thrust inside of her and fuck us both senseless.

  She comes against my mouth. I hear her cries echo in the bedroom, feel her contract around my fingers, sucking me in and I continue suckling her until her breathing calms and she pulls slightly away.

  I move up, raining kisses across her abdomen and breasts, and reach for the condom. She looks at me when I’m above her, eyes glazed over and lips wet. A small laugh escapes from her lips and she smiles.

  “Something funny?” I ask, pausing at the button of my jeans.

  “You’re very good at that,” she says, running a hand over my abdomen. She reaches for the fly of my pants and pulls down the zipper. I lean back slightly as she sits up, reaching a hand in and cupping my cock, its rock solid length pressed against the opening of my jeans. She leans forward, successfully releasing me and before I can move she’s on me, mouth wrapped around me, licking me and sucking me deep inside of her.

  “Oh, God, Jane,” I gasp, my hands in her hair. I enjoy a few more minutes of her ministrations before I push her gently away. She looks up at me, lips glossy and hair messy and I get, impossibly, even harder.

  “Not right now. I’m barely hanging on.”

  We both reach for the condom. I grab it from her and she laughs at me, reaching for my jeans and jerking them down my hips. I fall to my side, kicking off them down my legs until I’m free, trying to roll the condom on as she kisses me, my mouth and body covered in warm, wet woman.

  We laugh as I roll her to her back, pulling her legs around me and dragging us to the edge of the mattress, her ass just hanging off the edge. I press open her thighs and feel her hands on my hips, gripping me and dragging me closer to her.

  “Ok?” I ask, lifting my eyes from the delicious sight of my cock at her pussy, wet and glistening in front me, and up to her eyes. She nods, mouth open, hands pulling me closer.

  “Yes.”

  That word again. A single syllable. And hotter than anything any woman has ever whispered to me before.

  I spread her thighs wide, teasing her clit slightly as I rub over her. She moans and closes her eyes and I shift forward, pressing into her, feeling her wet heat around me.

  20

  Jane

  He’s thicker than I imagined. His width bearing into me and my eyes fly open. He bends over me, chest
pressing against mine, arms caging me to him.

  “Shh, easy, sweetheart,” he whispers against me, as his cock, thick and hard moves gently inside of me, pressing further with each slide forward. I consciously relax, my muscles straining against his size, and my head rolls back as I feel him move, the delicious in-out rhythm beginning, each thrust taking him deeper inside of me until, finally, I feel him, fully seated, hips pressed against mine, and the thick, hard length of him is inside of me. Just the thought of that, his cock enveloped in me sends a surge of wetness between us and I feel my muscles flutter around him, my body thrilling at his glorious invasion.

  He begins to move, thick, slow slides in and out of my body. The mattress provides enough bounce that I naturally rise to meet him, urging him deeper, closer, harder. His mouth gnaws at mine, lips and tongue and heat matching the rhythm of our bodies. He swallows my cries as his hips move faster, the slow slides coming harder, bearing me down into the bedding beneath. My core begins to shake and my thighs ache. I relish in my passivity, thrilling in his pummeling. My hands grip his back, feeling sweat bloom beneath my palms. My thighs stretch wide and wrap tightly against his hips and I move my fingers lower, enjoying the feel of his ass in my palms, gripping him to me, urging him on, wanting him to ride me faster, harder.

  He laughs lightly against my lips, teasing me, alternating between light, delicate kisses made more of breath than body and deep, wet kisses I feel all the way down in my toes.

  “Relax, honey,” he whispers against my lips, even as I moan into his mouth. “Just relax.”

  The movement continues, that heavenly pounding and I soften further beneath him, clutching him against me. He adjusts his hips and reaches a part inside of me that makes me gasp, my eyes widening.

  He smiles down at me. “Right there, huh?” And continues to rub that sensitive spot, each thrust angled to drive me higher. He teases me with his rhythm, moving from fast to slow, deep to shallow, just enough to draw moans and cries from my lips and I attempt to force him to move as I want him too, all the while knowing how much he loves to tease me.

  I feel the tension, whatever was left in me, drain from my body as I relax even more under him, absorbing his movement. His mouth continues to move on mine, his chest rubbing against my breasts, the muscles of his back and ass beneath my hands, and the feel of him inside of me, thick and hard and unstoppable, a steady, pounding drum beat that resonates deep within my core. His movements call to me, a deep, primitive pounding recognized to some ancient aspect of myself, the wise womanhood of my ancestors that drowns out my brain, silences my mind, and opens me, until I am soft and wet and vulnerable beneath him, all consuming and all consumed.

  When I begin to come, it feels like a wave pulling away from the ocean, drawing back at a slow and inexorable pace, only to return, rushing forward, sweeping everything in its path. The power of it makes me nervous, and I try to steal myself against it, even as his steady rhythm makes that impossible. When it reaches me, shattering me beneath him, I cry out, shocked and overwhelmed by the intensity.

  “Good girl,” he whispers against my ear, as I crash into him, thrashing and crying and bucking beneath him, clawing at his back and sobbing against his shoulder. A string of screams and moans and obscenities leave my mouth and I am briefly, fleetingly, grateful we are in his house, surrounded by wilderness, as I discover that I am, quite unexpectedly, rather loud in bed.

  Slowly, I come down to earth. Softly. Shaken. My breath catching in my throat and I look up at him. He’s smiling down at me, and nibbles gently at my lips.

  “Did you enjoy that?” He asks playfully, nipping at my lower lip.

  I nod, my throat raw, unable to formulate words.

  “Good,” he bends his head and licks my throat, the sensitive corner where it connects to my shoulder. “That’s good.”

  I feel him move inside me again, that pulsing rhythm beginning again and I moan as he rubs against my sensitive flesh.

  “I can’t,” I whimper, even as my body flares once more to life beneath him, “I can’t.”

  “You can, Jane,” he grins as he looks down at me, tongue running a light trail across my lower lip before diving into my mouth as his cock pounds me down below. “That was just the start.”

  I close my eyes and let my head fall back. My thighs fall open around his hips, weak and exhausted as they are, and I feel him rear up, holding my legs around him, his knees on the floors, as he fucks me, harder this time, my back sliding up and down the mattress with each of his thrusts. One of his hands holds me in place, gripping my hip to keep me still as he pounds into me. The other slides across my front, playing with my breasts and reaching down, his thumb on my clit, rubbing in rhythm with the rest of him.

  A small part of me wonders if we should calm down, collect ourselves. Be sensible.

  Another part, significantly larger, says What are you, nuts? Enjoy this.

  And all the other parts, the vast majority, think nothing at all. They enjoy the rhythm and the movement, the texture and the tension. When I feel the wave begin to draw away from the coast again, gathering its power to crash over me, I arch my back, reveling in our stamina, and join them.

  21

  David

  Holy shit.

  I lay on my back. Jane lies at my side, her head resting on my arm. My heart is still pounding in my chest like a Kentucky racehorse.

  I have a watch somewhere. Or a phone. Something to tell me what time it is. Probably close to evening, judging from the shift in sunlight outside. I glance at the floor beside the mattress, noting the number of condom wrappers and used tissues scattered across the floor.

  Holy shit.

  It’s been years since I’ve fucked like that. Been fucked like that. Found a woman who could keep up with me, who I wanted to keep up with. I glance down my body, sweat glistening across my torso and back, a slight sting on my shoulders where my little professor bit and scratched me. My dick, limp and exhausted, lays against my thigh, happier than I’ve ever seen it.

  Who would have thought that this quiet, academic woman would be the greatest sex of my life? That my forest nymph, my trespasser and private tutor would blow my mind to pieces.

  “Holy shit,” she says, eyes closed, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth.

  She turns her head and smiles at me. “You’re very skilled.”

  I laugh, my stomach muscles clenching slightly under the movement. “Thank you,” I gaze down at her, dropping a kiss to the tip of her nose. “You too.”

  “I don’t know,” she shakes her head, her face registering the same shock and confusion as my own. “I think that was mostly you.”

  “No, no.” I stare at the ceiling, amazed that my heart is still beating so hard. “It was a tie.”

  “A dead heat.”

  I nod, swallowing. My mouth is dry. In silence surrounding our heavy breathing, one of our stomachs rumbles. It occurs to me that, having spent all day in bed, we haven’t eaten or drunk anything in several hours.

  “What time is it?” Jane sits up, propping herself on her elbows and dragging the twisted sheet up to cover her breasts. I tug it down, enjoying the play of afternoon light over her skin. She pulls it back up.

  “I don’t know. Afternoon?”

  She looks at me, then back at the blank wall in front of us, then back at me. It’s hard not to laugh, seeing her befuddled face. Knowing I look the same way. If someone walked in on us, they would probably think we were shell-shocked, having just survived a grenade shower.

  Then again, they would see the nudity, the piles of condom wrappers, and have a pretty good idea what we’d been up to.

  “I have to go.” She begins pulling the sheet off the bed, wrapping it around her body as she struggles to her feet.

  “What?” I sit up. “Why?”

  “I have a date.”

  “What?” My eyebrows must be at my hairline.

  “I mean, with my friends. A dinner date.” She finishes
wrapping herself in the bedding, a make-shift toga around her body, and penguin-walks around the mattress to retrieve her articles of clothing. “We do it every week.”

  “Tonight’s the night?”

  “Yeah. No. Tomorrow, but I forgot. I was…” she glances at me, naked and prostrate on the bed, now that the sheet is wrapped around her and the blankets have been kicked clear across the room.

  “Distracted?” I ask with a wink and a grin.

  “Very.”

  “Better than Penelope?”

  She gives me a funny look. “I’ve never had sex with Penelope.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “I mean as a distraction. Your original plan was to use your friend.”

  “Ah, yes, well,” she smiles, scooping up underwear, bra, jeans and her shirt, which managed to land clear across the room, “you are a much better distraction than Penelope.”

  “What’s the rush if it’s tomorrow?”

  “I’ve got to get ready.”

  She penguin-walks to the closet door, opens it, peers inside, and shuts it, turning to me. I point to the door on the left, which she enters, shutting it behind her.

  I gather the condom wrappers and tissues and toss them in the waste basket, stamping down the evidence of our afternoon. I reach my hand over, behind the basket, for a pillow which somehow ended up all the way over there and roll onto my stomach, feeling no particular inclination to get dressed.

  She emerges from the bathroom, fully dressed. I feel a wave of disappointment in seeing her clothed. I want to draw her back to me, pull her down on the bed and see if we can make each other pass out again. But the look in her eyes tells me I won’t have much of a chance.

  “So, you’re just gonna bail?”