by Bryce Taylor
I lean forward.
"Kidding," I tell her, huskily in her ear, sliding my hand down, caressing her collarbone, tracing a line down her shoulder, down her bicep.
She laughs and shuts her eyes for a moment.
I take the opportunity to rock my hips into her again, kiss lightly up her neck, feel her shiver underneath my lips, her legs moving to push my body up higher against her.
I scrape my teeth against her collarbone and she groans. Just like that I can feel her all her intentions dissipate. She has stopped thinking about if this is a good idea, just that she wants it and she will have it.
My lips on her neck are telling her how much I want it too.
Her arm slips around my waist and she pulls me hard against her, rolling her hips, arching me towards her. Her head is between my breasts, breathing in my scent, her cheek pushing up against one side, pressing soft flesh, her lips grazing across the material, over my nipple that is pressing out towards her, the ache for her to touch them is burning through me.
I slide my fingers through her hair, guide her head, her lips just there, she looks up at me as her mouth closes over my nipple, our eyes sharing what we have now, this, this moment, the desperate need to feel nothing but this.
I'm expecting it, but when she sucks my nipple through the cotton and her other hand simultaneously presses my other nipple lightly between two fingers, it's a bolt of energy, coursing through my skin, my veins, prickles all over my body.
"Leigh," I cry out. I grip her face with both my hands, bring her mouth up to my lips and claim her. My tongue pressing against her, pushing, taking everything. I'm grinding into her so hard that I can't tell where her body starts and mine ends. Her hands are moving under my singlet, up my sides, cupping my breasts, restrained by the soft material.
Her strong hands and body are guiding my movements, keeping a rhythm as I am descending into frantic madness. She is methodically covering my neck and shoulders with sucking kisses and I am insanely on the verge of coming. My body is liquid, pliable against her and I can feel the slippery wet flowing between my legs.
She stops, a halt I don't quite understand for a moment. Her hands firmly on my hips, fingers holding me still, her eyes on mine watching.
We stay, locked together, for a minute, for longer, the throbbing between my legs growing, subsiding, growing again. The experience so raw and intimate that it is mending my broken heart and remaking my soul.
Our breathing slowly becoming even.
She parts her lips and tilts her head back, offering her mouth to mine. Our first kiss, our lips brushing so lightly that shivers are running down my skin, the tips of our tongues touching in brief electric encounters.
She starts to move again, her legs and hips rolling my body against hers, slow, long movements, both of us groaning against each other's mouths. One of her hands is sliding behind me, under the material, cupping, sliding between my legs, a deep sound from her throat as she finds how wet I am for her. Two fingers slipping up, moving against the direction of my body, thrusting through me. Teasing at the edges of my clit. Her other hand is moving down my stomach, pushing aside wet material, one finger sliding skilfully inside me, the muscles in her arm tensing at the tightness pressing around her finger.
Her mouth is around my nipple and she is sucking lightly, my breast disappearing in her mouth and I lose all sense of myself. I'm writhing against her, both her hands fucking me, her body undulating against mine, her mouth sucking me, a second finger sliding with practiced ease inside me.
Caressing inside me.
The orgasm is spreading out in waves, crashing against every corner of my body, rippling back, pushing out again, the sensation increasing.
"Sweet Mary, mother of Jesus." I'm talking incoherently, just knowing the I can't say her name again, otherwise I might say, 'I love you', at the same time.
"Sweet Mary, oh god, sweet Mary, oh Jesus, fuck," I'm mumbling in her ear, my body shuddering against hers, my walls tightening around her fingers, clamping down, holding her there, my whole body rigid, my fingers pulling at her hair.
My energy is gone, drained and I am left with a buzz, a high. I rest my forehead against hers, unable to think.
"You are so Irish," she says into this silence.
I raise an eyebrow.
"Sweet Mary, mother of Jesus," she reminds me, and I can hear the amusement in her voice.
I curl my hands into her shirt.
"Fuck you, Leigh Grenfell," I tell her, my hands in fists in her shirt, pulling her back from the wall, turning her, pushing her down on the floor.
I tilt my head, appraising her, liking her right here beneath me.
"Literally," I tell her, grinning. "Let's see what comes out of your mouth when I fuck you."
Her eyes are widening and I can tell she is not comfortable with this. That as soon as the words were out of my mouth I knew that I have made a terrible mistake, that Leigh doesn't want me to touch her, that the thought of receiving any sort of attention is too much for her to bear.
That she doesn't want to or she doesn't believe she deserves it. That if I push her we will never, ever do this again.
We stare at each other for a long moment, stalled, at an impasse. I take my singlet by the hem and start pulling it up, off over my head, discard it on the floor.
"Unless you have a better idea," I tell her innocently.
The fierce look that comes over her face is completely worth it. She reaches up with surprisingly gentle hands, pulls me down to her, rolls my body under hers, kisses me deeply.
"I'm sure I can think of something," she says, grinning teasingly, her confidence returned.
"Carpet burn?" I ask her wryly, feeling the thick wool beneath my bare shoulders.
She laughs.
"I promise you, no carpet burn," she says, smiling genuinely now.
She's right, it is definitely not carpet burn. When she is done we return to our respective rooms and I'm left feeling highly satisfied from being thoroughly fucked yet still left with pockets of emptiness that could only be filled by being curled up in bed with her.
I float through work the next day in an exceedingly good mood, Gupta eyeing me curiously through lunch, wishing that he could ask me for all the details but he is too polite to pry that deeply.
I get home to an empty house, but set my alarm for an ungodly hour and then wake up minutes before it goes off, breathlessly waiting for Leigh to get home. Hoping that yesterday wasn't just some one-off thing. Not even hating myself at all for waiting around for casual sex.
I can't hear her car pull into the garage but I do hear the door shut quietly. I hear nothing for a few minutes and then I do hate myself. For thinking that Leigh would want me. That yesterday was ever going to happen again.
Suddenly I want to be away from this house. Away from all this that is Leigh. The emptiness inside me and the lack of anything meaningful in my life. From the realisation that my happiness and self-confidence are truly this fickle.
Till I realise minutes later as I'm walking down the hall in my swimsuit that she is showering in the downstairs bathroom and the door is open a crack. Which makes no sense when she has a perfectly nice en suite attached to her bedroom at the other end of the house.
Unless she is asking me in, that this is her way of seeing if I want more too.
I stand there for a moment trying to determine if Leigh showering down here and the door being open a crack is an invitation or just a habit she already had and I somehow hadn't noticed.
I quietly open the door just a few inches further and stick my head in. I unconsciously open the door the rest of the way when I see Leigh naked, dripping with water, her body lean and soft in all the right places, her hand still on the faucet. I'm biting my top lip appreciatively because her naked body is even better than I had imagined, a perfect sum of parts, an ache in my hands and deep inside me to touch her.
She turns around, her face falling into a hard grin to see me standing there
.
She tilts her head to the side and turns her hand out towards me, a glimpse of her wrist, a question in the flash of pale skin.
I nod at her once and she turns to the taps again, turning the water back on.
My heart is pounding, not just from staring at her naked body, but from the sense that this is real, that it wasn’t just a slip on her behalf, that she is going to do this with me, whatever this is.
She looks turns to me as I too am completely naked, standing on the cool tiles and the look in her eyes, a fierce desire for me, her gaze taking me in from head to toe, wanting me, burning with need quickens my steps into her arms.
I want her to kiss me, to feel her lips against mine but she is turning me, pulling me under the water, her hands sliding down my body, her mouth opening against the curve of my neck and I am groaning already, melting into her, letting her take me over.
I am pushing my body into her, revelling in the feel of her, in her skilful hands that are travelling over my body, moving to those places that she knows I like, tilting my head back, her teeth grazing under my ear, her tongue pushing at my earlobe, behind my ear.
Her hands are caressing up and down my body, cupping my breasts and she is groaning in my ear, the sound of it making me press myself against her, needing her. She is capably bringing me up, bringing me to another plane of desire, wet and burning for her, for her touch.
She places my hands on the wall and slides down against me the silken feel of her body making me shiver, with her mouth and her fingertips and I'm resting my head on the tiles, waiting for her next move.
Her hands are on the outside of my thighs and her tongue is probing between my cheeks and I let out a whispered, 'fuck'.
She pulls her head back and I can feel her smile against my hip.
"No?" she asks questioningly.
"I didn't tell you to stop," I manage to grind out.
I can feel her grin getting wider and she bites me gently there on my hip before returning to where she was, her tongue pressing again, deeper and I'm groaning, spreading my legs further apart, inviting her in.
She is, with hands and tongue, fingers sliding through me easily, thrusting gently, teasing.
I'm trembling as she slides back up my body, the hardness of her nipples and the soft warmth of her skin against my back driving me crazy.
She is pausing to pour something into her hands from a bottle and then they are back on me, slippery and returning to my breasts, my arms, up and down my forearms and I'm groaning mindlessly, needing her hands there between my legs.
"Please," I'm whispering the word, repeating it over and again as her practiced hands are teasing and massaging, pulling and pressing, till I can't take it anymore.
"Leigh," I start in a hard voice and cut off as suddenly as one of her hands is descending over my stomach and between my legs touching me lightly, cupping me, gentle pressure, rippling excitement breaking over me.
"Relax," she whispers in my ear as she can feel the tension in my body, can feel me on the edge.
I do, sinking back into her, trusting her, my head rolling back, resting on her shoulder.
Her other hand is tracing down my back lightly, careful not to push me off balance, her hand resting on the curve of my cheeks.
"Is this ok?" she asks softly and there is a burning, a tightening in my chest and even though I haven't done this before I want to now.
"Yes," I breath and feel her finger exploring gently, circling the rim, waiting for a reaction, that I like it.
I press back into her, needing to feel her body, needing her to take me. I groan loudly as her finger slips inside me, past the ring of muscle and then slowly deeper.
I'm expecting her to add another finger but she slowly thrusts in and out, a steady rhythm and I am groaning, wordless, unable to think just wanting more and more.
The hand that is over my clit starts to move too, a finger stroking me and instantly I'm shuddering, coming, wrapped up in her arm, my muscles tightening, in waves over and again until she stops, her hands falling from me.
I turn to her, wrapping my arms around her shoulders, drawing her thigh between my legs, offering my mouth to her, needing the pressure.
She is holding me up against the wall and her tongue is invading my mouth and I am shuddering again, my body surrendering to hers.
When I am finally finished I rest my forehead on her shoulder wondering if this time I can touch her, to let my hands run rampant over her body, to taste each and every last inch of her.
I draw back and see the look of fear in her eyes, that this is what I will want and I know immediately that I can't even ask.
"Good night at work?" I ask her casually as I push back a strand of her hair from her face, feeling that at least I can make this small gesture.
"Not bad," she says with a grin, stepping back from me, under the water, washing herself off efficiently and stepping from the shower.
She takes a towel from the rack and roughly dries her hair before wrapping it around herself.
"Have a nice day," she says with a wicked grin as she leaves me still lingering under the hot water, smiling unconsciously at her departing back.
Chapter 16
Leigh comes home from work between one hospital and another, something she has started doing in the last week since we started having sex all of the time.
We aren't having breakfast or hanging out any more, it appears to be a one or the other proposition, Leigh is either my friend or my fuck buddy.
I'd like to say that her friendship is more important but the sex is amazing and I am starved for physical affection, for what passes as love right now and I am happy to have her expertly fuck me every time we cross paths.
Today I am doing all the washing that I've been neglecting recently and wearing the one thing that doesn't need it.
My tiny string bikini.
I don't even have the defence that I plan on swimming in it, because I now have multiple sets of swimwear and this is definitely the one that is purely for decorative purposes.
Leigh stares at me lounging casually at the kitchen counter as she enters the room as if I hadn't heard her coming. There is a tiny smile on her face and abruptly she is standing in front of me, a hand extending towards me, curling around my bicep, a finger tracing down my arm, wrapping around my hand.
She leads me to the couch, turning me, her hands on my hips, pressing me down into the cushions, kneeling in front of my legs. She is staring at me seriously, hungrily, her blue eyes intent, waiting for a sign from me.
It is insane how much I want her, my hands on her face, pulling her head towards me, guiding her mouth to my neck.
Sighing when she kisses me lightly there, pulling her harder against me, groaning when she passionately trails kisses down my body, her lips on my chest, her hands cupping my breasts, her tongue tracing a warm wet line back up to my collarbone.
"Oh, Leigh," I groan, my legs opening around her body, pulling her in against me, my arms tight around her ribs.
Her hands are at my hips, pulling me roughly towards her, a bolt as my groin comes in hard contact with her body.
Her lips are on mine and I'm thrusting my body against hers, wanting her to take me over. Her warm hands are sliding around my back, undoing my top, her hands over my naked chest, my nipples hard under her hands, her tongue flickering inside my mouth, against my lips and I'm already feeling the insanity of what she does to me.
"Oh, god," I moan against her mouth, I can feel my body reacting, hot and wet between my legs.
Leigh is pulling back from my lips, letting me guide her head down my body, wet kisses, her tongue dragging across my nipple, pressing into the grooves of my ribs, kissing my stomach and hips.
She looks up at me, her brow furrowed, her need for me clear, waiting for my word.
"Please," I tell her and gasp as her hands are immediately sliding behind me, under the material, pulling the bikini bottoms off, down off my legs, her lips following, lightl
y kissing the sensitive junction of my legs and stomach, a pounding pulse there, needing her, needing more.
Her lips are grazing up the inside of my thigh, tongue tracing a line to my hip, opening around it and sucking the skin there gently before returning to the heat between my legs, her tongue ever so lightly, teasingly, tasting me. I'm rolling my hips towards her, my hands weaving into her hair directing her.
She already knows my body, has mapped it carefully, knows every secretly sensitive zone, where I like it and how, here to use her teeth and there her lips. None of that compares to what she does to me when she goes down on me.
Her tongue is quite possibly as skilled as her hands, warm and wet, by turns teasing and probing.
