Fire In His Eyes

by Nightingale, MJ

  “I'm here without you, baby

  But you're still on my lonely mind

  I think about you baby

  And I dream about you all the time.”

  I led him to the foot of my bed and pushed him down onto it; he landed with a thump but still in a sitting position. He lied down after kicking off his shoes, and watched with those mesmerizing ice cold eyes on fire, glittering for me. I stepped back when he reached out to me and then turned away from him towards the mirror on my dresser. I looked over my shoulder at him, as Brad Arnold’s words continued to croon,

  “I'm here without you baby

  But you're still with me in my dreams

  And tonight it's only you and me, yeah”

  I slowly stripped and danced for him dropping my robe inch by inch ever so slowly down my back revealing the red satin and lace bra. I swayed in time to the music and then lowered the robe to reveal the tattoo he had given me in black ink, with the words, Hot! Hot! Hot! above the tribal band just above my fiery red panties with the black lace. His eyes shot to my face, they were on fire, burning for me. As much he tried to push me away, he wanted me. This I knew. I had surprised him by putting the tattoo there. I had really stunned him. He made to move and get up, but I held up one finger and waved it back and forth, the universal sign for wait, and then I let the robe fall and flutter all the way to the floor. I continued to dance for him, swaying my hips erotically, showing him with my hands where I wanted him to touch me. The words to the song caressed my soul, as I caressed my body for him.

  “The miles just keep rollin'

  As the people leave their way to say hello

  I've heard this life is overrated

  But I hope that it gets better as we go, oh yeah yeah”.

  I continued my dance in time to the music wanting him to wait, and ache to touch my body, and as the track ended and the next song began to play, I leisurely crawled up on to the bed, and straddled him. “No touching yet,” I warned.

  “You’ve planned this,” he groaned his frustration but kept his hands to his side like a good boy.

  “Mmh,” I murmured seductively and bit my lower lip fully knowing he was watching my every move.

  I sat on his thighs and began to undo his belt without breaking eye contact. I unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and gave him a little rub through his boxers. He was already fully aroused. I saw him lick his lips, and he, who was always so in control, was breathing out of his mouth. I knew he was incredibly turned on. But he resisted and continued to let me take the lead. I began to work the buttons of his shirt and pulled it from the waist band of his pants, and leaned in to lick his flat chest from his belly button up to chest between his pectoral muscles. I felt his muscles jump beneath my palms as I stroked his chest and abductors. “Mmm, you taste so good,” I breathed. I maintained eye contact the whole time. I licked one of his nipples, flicking my tongue across it, and then blew on it making them harden, then I made my way to his other nipple and did the same. I scooted up on him to continue the journey to his neck while arching my back and pressing my crotch onto his erection. He groaned at the contact. I kissed his collarbone, then neck, and then made my way to his finely chiseled chin, licking, kissing and nibbling him ever so lightly with my teeth. His hands reached for my arms but I pushed them down again, and I could feel him shaking as he fought for control.

  “Oh, God, Monica. I want to touch you so bad. I have to touch you.” His words sounded panicky, strange, yet filled with desire. He was getting desperate to touch me, and this was what I had wanted.

  “Go ahead, baby. You can touch me, now.” I gave him the permission he craved and his hands immediately went around me, to my back, and then my bottom. He pushed down on them and pushed up off the mattress.

  My kissing and seduction continued along his face and neck and when my mouth reached his, I plunged my tongue into it, and withdrew, then bit his lower lip, sucking on it briefly and taking it into my mouth. He lost it, then.

  “Monica, stop for second,” he ground out sounding like he was in pain. “I think I’m going to cum. Please stop.”

  Wow, I thought, and was pretty pleased with myself, but did as he asked and waited for him, not moving until he had the time to regain control. He pushed me a bit, and I sat up, and he positioned my leg off of him. He then slid off the bed as I knelt there and he removed the rest of his clothes, and stripped for me.

  “I’ll be right back,” he murmured and went to my bathroom. He came back moments later and set the jar of Vaseline from my bathroom cabinet on my night stand then got onto the bed and knelt in front of me. Taking my head in his hands, he kissed me with a wildness and abandon that left me gasping for air. Gripping my face, his kiss deepened and explored my mouth. He was in control again I could see, but I let him take the lead as I had accomplished what I wanted to do. One hand came off my face, and he used it to reach behind me to unclasp my bra still not breaking the kiss. He drew the strap off one side and then the other, switching hands from my face to the other strap. When my bra fell, his head dipped to capture my nipple in his mouth, and he flicked his tongue across it several times and the blood in my veins rushed to my groin, and then he sucked my nipple deep into his mouth. I urged him on, with a throaty response. Desire for him pooled at my core.

  He switched to the other breast giving it the same magnificent attention. My nipples were hard little stones, and it was nearly painful, yet it was exquisite torture too. He pushed me back onto the bed, yanked my panties off with one hand, stroked the outside of my pussy with his palm, and cupped me there. I watched his eyes as he worked. They were like blue fire. Amazing! I felt one finger go in my pussy, then out, then two fingers, in then out. He put those fingers in his mouth and sucked on them, and then returned to his fingers there, stroking. I was on fire, twisting and turning to meet his touch. His thumb found my nub and pressed, and circled repeatedly as I began to buck on the bed, and reach for his cock to stroke him, too. He stopped my hand after a few passes, and turned me around so that I was lying on my stomach with my ass in the air. “Touch yourself, Monica. Slowly, not too fast,” he instructed. I did. His palms found my ass, and he bent to kiss each rounded mound. “You have a beautiful behind, Monica. And I am going to love fucking your ass.” He caressed my rear when I tightened nervously at his words. I had wanted to surprise him with the tattoo on my lower back, but thought he would take it to mean doggy-style. From the look on his face, I didn’t have the heart to disappoint him. I guess I was going to try something new again.

  “I know you haven’t done this before, baby. But I am so happy you are willing to try it. Relax, and keep touching yourself slowly, circles, Mi Cara.” I felt the mattress dip as he leaned over to reach for the Vaseline, and heard the soft pop as he opened the jar. One hand kept caressing my ass, and one finger began to probe my ass. It felt strange. He inserted one finger, just the tip. It wasn’t too bad, just different. He inserted it deeper, then withdrew, then did it again. “You’re so tight. You have never done this before so it will hurt. Thank-you for this, not a lot of girls are willing to try it. You’re so special.” He kept sliding his finger in and out of my ass. “It’s going to be uncomfortable for a while, I’m not going to lie, but I will prepare you, and please you.” He repeated the motion four or five more times with one finger, then two, and I felt him spreading those fingers stretching me. It was uncomfortable, but not unpleasant. He then spread my legs, and knelt between them. “Monica, touch yourself faster, and harder so that when I penetrate you the pain will be less intense,” he spoke the words as he continued to slide his fingers in and out of my ass faster. It started to feel really good. “Don’t tighten up, stay relaxed.” I watched him over my shoulder as he watched me pleasure myself between my legs. His eyes blazed as he took a condom from the bedside table and put it on his engorged penis. Not breaking eye contact with him, I watched as he moved closer. Then I felt his dick at my ass. He pushed into me slowly, just the tip, and I stretched around
him. He only went in a little bit, then pulled back out to put more Vaseline onto his shaft over the condom. I turned my head to watch as he stroked himself, a couple of times, while looking me in the eyes. I touched myself, circling my clit, in the way I liked best, and began to squirm. He bent over leaning on one hand and slid his other hand under my waist to urge me into a kneeling position. Then he plunged into me, to the hilt, it hurt like holy hell, but I didn’t feel anything tear. I cried out. He withdrew, and plunged again. It still hurt, but not as much. He withdrew and plunged again sliding in and out staring into my eyes all the while. He then began to yell. “Monica, make yourself cum for me, baby, hold nothing back. You are so fucking tight, baby. I am close, baby.” I was already close, too, despite the pain, but I could tell from his voice he was closer. I rubbed furiously at my clit, and began to really get into it as he rode my ass. I clenched the muscles in my vagina, and he screamed, “Monica!” I screamed out, “Oh Victor,” and collapsed on the bed. He collapsed beside me, and drew me close to him and we gazed into each other’s eyes. I didn’t see the fire there anymore, but what I saw surprised me because I thought it looked like tears because his eyes were glistening. He closed his eyes then and turned away, but used his hand to press my head down onto his chest so I couldn’t look him in the eyes, and he held me like that until we fell asleep whispering about how spectacular and special I was. It made me feel for the first time that he might care for me just a little bit. But, when I woke up at six, the alarm clock blaring in my ear, he was gone, no note, no nothing. He had simply left in the night, and I cried for the first time in a very, very long time. Then I got mad.

  By seven I was running, well almost finished running. I ran five miles every day before work, religiously, and rode twenty miles on Saturdays on my bike. I did weight training three times a week after school. I was determined to keep the body I had regained after my long bout of depression. When I ran, I carried my phone with me, in case I got hit by a car, or something. I felt it vibrate at my waist. I was in the cool down part of the run, so I picked it up, and glanced at the caller ID. Victor.

  I stopped running, but continued to walk. I answered the phone. My run hadn’t cooled my temper. I didn’t even say hello. “Nice disappearing act. I didn’t know you were a magician as well as such a great lover.” The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them.

  “Sorry, yeah, that is why I called. I know it was rude. I am sorry. I can tell you’re mad, but you’re making some weird sounds, too.”

  “I just finished a run.” Was he trying to change the subject, I thought.

  “Oh, yeah, me too. That’s why I left. Well, I couldn’t sleep last night after and when you did, I just decided to call it a night and come home and run. It helps me think, clears my head. I’m on my way to work, but didn’t want you to wait until this evening before I explained. I’ll call you tonight, just please don’t be mad. I know you have to get ready for work, so I’ll call you tonight, okay?” he rambled.

  I was having a hard time buying this explanation, but I didn’t think it would be appropriate to question him about it now. And, I did need to get ready for work. I didn’t like what he had done, and I would let him know that when he called tonight. “Ok, Victor, I don’t need an explanation, and I don’t want to force one out of you. I know where I stand. You have explained you’re situation. I am fine the way it is, for now,” I added.

  “But you deserve more. You were incredible last night. What you allowed me to do . . .” he paused and I heard a catch in his breathing. “I’ll call you later. I promise,” I could almost see him wincing as he said those words. He had told me he could not make me any promises, and I thought he had meant it.

  The call from Victor came at six o’clock when I was sitting down to eat alone.

  “Hi, Victor,” I answered, pushing my plate away.

  “Hello, Monica. How was your day? Another good one, I hope?” he asked tentatively.

  “It was good, Victor.” I answered. “Kids behaved. Nothing extraordinary happened at work today.” Then, “I do want to be honest, though, I was upset by the way you left last night. A note would have been nice if you didn’t want to wake me.”

  “Monica, it’s that I couldn’t sleep and was restless. I didn’t want to rummage around looking for paper. I am sorry. I won’t do it again.” Hmm, another promise I thought.

  I had told him how I felt, and I did not want it to become an issue. Our relationship was tentative at best. “Okay, I forgive you, but I just wanted you to know how I felt.”

  “Thanks for being honest. I don’t want you to lie to me,” he stated. There was a pause and it was slightly awkward. “Listen, Monica, what I told you earlier, I meant. I’m not in a place in my life where I can commit to a relationship. Last night, after we had sex a part of me realized just how special you are, and I am not a guy that goes around hurting girls. I couldn’t sleep because I just kept thinking I was going to hurt you somehow, and I don’t want to hurt you. That is why I left so abruptly. I just needed to clear my head and think.”

  Hearing that explanation made me feel a whole lot better. If he was worried that he would hurt me then he did care about my feelings, and that could grow. So, he had left out to think about me, us, and then had called. I was foolish to be falling in love with this man, deep down I knew it, but my god I just could not help myself.

  “Victor, I can tell you’re not a mean guy. And, I don’t think I am being used by you, if that is what you’re worrying about. You have been honest with me about where you are right now, I respect that a lot, and even if I don’t know the particulars and the ins and outs of your situation, I’m okay with that, for now,” I added.

  “It is the for now part, that worries me, Monica,” he stated truthfully.

  “We can cross that bridge when we get to it. Can’t we? Can we not worry about that right now, Victor? Please. I am enjoying what we have. I promise I won’t put any demands on you.” It was a promise I would keep, I told myself.

  “Are you sure?” he asked sounding a little hopeful, well more so than when the call started.

  “Yes, I am sure.” I wasn’t. But, I was beginning to really care about him, but telling him that would not be a good idea; I knew instinctively it would not do me any good.

  “Okay, I can come over again next week, or you can come to my place. This weekend is family, next is the reserves, and the week after family again, but the weekend after that maybe we can go away together and do something. Wednesday and Thursday are the best nights for me by the way.”

  “I will come to you,” I stated. “Just let me know when the day gets closer which is better for you. I can sleep over and drive home the next morning.” I was thrilled about having him for a whole weekend, but did not mention it. I didn’t want to sound too eager.

  “Okay sounds good. It’s a date.” He laughed nervously. “I will call you a couple of times during the week, too, and you can call me whenever you want. I may not be able to answer right away, but I will always return your call as soon as I can.” Something tightened in my chest a little, but it was a good feeling.

  He called me every night! On the weekend, too. It was always a little after ten, but never later than eleven. So, he must not be staying out too late. We never talked about what he did that day, and he never mentioned the people he spent his time with. We mostly talked about shows we watched. He loved the show Friends, loved that my name was Monica because she was his favorite character. I laughed at that, and told him I used to be fat, too. He didn’t believe me at first. He was upset because the series was coming to an end, in a few weeks. There were no other shows he followed religiously. He was shocked when I described to him why I had been fat, and I explained to him what had happened to me. He made the right remarks about it, outrage, and anger at the violence of rape. He was angry that it had happened to me, when a woman said no, a real man had to respect that. It warmed me to hear him say so. I even told him about Dan, and how little experienc
e I had. He told me he thought he would like Dan. He seemed like a great friend and asked if we kept in touch since he had moved to California. I told him we just exchanged dirty jokes and kept in touch on the internet through email once or twice a month; he had left over a year ago. He had been a friend of my sister’s and she had introduced us. Dan had been a safe and comfortable friend, I explained, and we had only dated casually with the understanding that either one of us could move on if we met someone we loved.

  Victor shared simple things about his life. He liked news programs and took an avid interest in politics, and he absolutely loved the History Channel. He liked movies, but not theatre prices so he waited for them to come out on DVD. He told me about some of his army buddies, and the people living in his building. He never talked about his family though or the people he worked with in construction. It bothered me that he wouldn’t share the more personal stuff. When he did talk about his new job, I felt he didn’t like it that much. When I asked him why he did it when it seemed obvious to me he didn’t enjoy the work of a contractor, he was honest and told me the money was better than what he had earned in the military. I told him money wasn’t everything, and he simply remarked that it helped. It sounded kind of cryptic when he said it too, but I didn’t want to make an issue out of it. I loved my job, and couldn’t imagine going to work every day if I didn’t love it.

  It was nice. Each evening he would call me and we would talk for an hour or so, and then we would say good night. The next three weeks, were great. It was hard just seeing him once a week, but the talks were nice and kept me from missing him too much. I looked forward to those calls. I called him a couple of times, too, usually earlier, he hardly answered when I did, but usually returned the call within a half an hour or so. Those calls were not as satisfying as the ones in the evening, but nice still. He was usually busy, working late, or at a family obligation of some sort when I called, but he made time to listen to me tell him a story about something that happened at work, or something I saw on the news and wanted to hear his thoughts on the matter.