Long Time Coming

by Scarlett Parrish

  It’s called an erection, Piper. You’re allowed to think it. You’ve never held back from thinking or saying that word before. Why so coy?

  "You look like you could use a hand." Leo fell to his knees and slid both hands up the back of my legs, underneath my skirt, over my buttocks and pulled at the cotton briefs. When he had them down to my knees he used one hand to continue pulling them down my legs and the other to haul my skirt up even further.

  Leaning back against the door, I covered my eyes to block everything out. So immense was the sense of exposure I couldn’t bear to look at him, though I was still clothed.

  Breath warmed the inside of my thighs; he did nothing but kneel there, breathing on me and my hips jerked forward. To disguise the involuntary movement I moved my leg to one side, kicked off the briefs which yet pooled around my ankles.

  He caressed my leg as I lifted it, running over my ankle as I stepped to one side and did the same when I moved the other leg. One of his hands grasped the backs of my thigh, pulled me closer to him and the other held the front of my skirt up as he traced a line up the inside of my thigh with the very tip of his tongue.

  When his tongue grazed my clit my arms pressed against the door at shoulder height and somewhere at the back of my mind was the thought, that was an accident, he didn’t mean it, he was just breathing against my skin, but no, he did it again. The tip of his tongue easily found my clit, circled it again, again, again.

  He pushed my skirt up further and when both of his thumbs ran grazed my hip bones I cried out, a strangulated moan, and jerked forward again, unashamed this time, lost in the feeling of his tongue sliding past my clit and tasting the moisture it drew out of me.

  He stopped and I realized I was panting.

  "Jesus," he murmured. "Jesus. I only meant to help you get your knickers off but damn it, I told you I wanted to kiss you."

  Leo groaned as he stood, stumbled a little, steadied himself by gripping my hips even harder, pushed himself against me. He licked his lips. "You taste..." He bent to kiss me, gently at first, then ran the tip of his tongue across my lips, teasing the corners of my mouth. My lips parted and his tongue grazed over mine. My first kiss with someone new, and it tasted of myself. "Mmm..." he murmured as the kiss came to an end, pausing to take a breath. "I knew it. I thought you’d be delicious and you are. You’ve got the sweetest taste. I could do that all night if I wasn’t so desperate to get my cock in you."

  The base of my spine tingled as if all the nerves in my body converged at that point. Sensation multiplied so pleasurably it hurt and I worried my legs wouldn’t hold me up much longer.

  He kissed me again as both of his hands went to his waistband to free himself completely. He grabbed one of my hands, guided it onto his erection, showed me how to touch him, how tightly to hold him, how fast to move.

  Letting go of my hand, he drew back from kissing me and his breathing held for a moment while he got used to my touch. While I got used to the feel of him.

  Every time I released my grip then tightened it to slide it down the shaft of his cock he groaned in my ear, muttering obscenities under his breath.

  "No. I can’t..."

  As soon as he said those words I froze.

  He pushed my shoulders back against the door, restricting my arms and I questioned him with my eyes. Disappointment made me bold; he’d stopped me touching him after making me touch him and I wanted to know why.

  "I can’t wait any longer," he said and I exhaled in relief. "I want to taste your pussy again and have you stroke my cock but right now I have to be inside you or I swear I’ll go fucking crazy." His hands searched through his jacket pockets. "I hope you don’t think I was being presumptuous." He winked as he tore the foil packet before removing the condom and dropping the wrapper on the floor. "I brought plenty."

  "Be as presumptuous as you like. I’m just glad you didn’t bring only one."

  "One?" Leo fiddled with the condom, tutting when it wouldn’t behave. "Jesus. Fuck. There, done. One? Christ no. What do you think I am?" He gripped my hip with one hand, bent his knees slightly, forced my legs apart and worked himself inside me. When the tip of his cock was inside, his eyes widened in wonderment at the sensation and as he straightened his legs, forced himself in deeper. "Fucking hell..."

  I couldn’t make any sound other than a helpless gasp. His cock didn’t hurt but I experienced the strangest of sensations. Already wet with arousal I needed more to be able to accommodate him fully. I just couldn’t get into the right position or to the right angle with one of my legs drawn up and hooked around his waist. Our height difference made it too awkward but I still wouldn’t surrender this for anything. I’d wanted this almost since the first moment we’d set eyes on each other and now here he was. Inside my house. Inside me.

  Somehow he managed to lift me up, help me get both my legs around his waist and support my weight by holding onto me himself while forcing me up against the door.

  "Fuck."

  "I’m not hurting you, am I? Am I hurting you?"

  "No, no, just gimme a moment." I had my arms around his neck, ankles hooked together at the small of his back underneath his blazer. A tangle of limbs and nearly-removed clothing and he had all the power. All I could do was cling to him as he jerked inside me, jarring me up against the door with every thrust.

  Leo grunted as he pushed into me, so strong he supported my weight and moved enough to withdraw slightly and force his cock back in. It wasn’t romantic, it wasn’t comfortable but it was hot. He’d wanted to be inside me. I’d wanted him there. He was. Pinned against the door I did nothing but passively take every sharp thrust he rammed into me.

  "Jesus Christ," Leo moaned. I couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or closed; still I clung to him, arms around his neck, and he continued to whisper obscenities. "I never come this quickly. I never fucking do. Jesus Christ, I can’t..." He thrust more rapidly and with one jerk of his hips pushed himself in as far as he could and dug his nails into my skin where he held me, and moaned, the helpless whimpering of a man who’d completely lost control. He panted against the skin of my throat, "Fucking hell that was hot." He shuddered with exertion, his legs buckled and we slid to the floor, still tangled, still with him inside me.

  His breath warmed my forehead before he kissed me on the lips and asked, "Uh, where’s the bathroom? I better get rid of this thing..."

  "There." I pointed. "That door."

  It was hard to suppress a disappointed sigh when he pulled out before retreating to the bathroom. I remained slumped on my hall carpet with my legs splayed in front of me, probably looking like a dirty slattern, observing the debris of our knee-trembling fuck up against my front door. Knickers discarded, coat tossed onto the floor, handbag thrown to one side.

  I stood, and though wobbling, managed to stay upright and straightened my skirt, made myself look something approaching decent again. "Come on Piper, you can do this," I whispered, so he wouldn’t hear me talking to myself. I hung up my coat and grabbed my handbag before heading for the kitchen to throw my underwear in the washing machine drum.

  In my room, I sat on the edge of my bed and kicked off my heels before falling back onto the mattress, throwing my arms above my head and closing my eyes. I wasn’t ready for sleep, not by a long shot, but closing my eyes made it easier to picture what I’d just done.

  Yes, he was gorgeous. He was growing on me, that much was clear. Yes, he was dirty. And no, he didn’t want to stop there, I could tell, but I didn’t want to commit to anything beyond this night. Didn’t want to make plans to see him again, didn’t want to get my hopes up or hold any expectations as to what would come of it.

  I just wanted to have fun. No strings attached.

  Eight

  "Where the fuck have you gone?" Leo demanded to know, sounding not angry but put out at least. I expected you to be here waiting on me, woman.

  Such a caveman.

  "In the bedroom," I called out.

  "Ah, that’
s more like it," he said in a quieter voice. "I left my jacket hanging up in the hall. I assume this is..." He appeared in the doorway, the light from the hall illuminating his left side, his right entirely in shadow as I raised my head, propped myself up on both elbows to get a better look at him.

  "And that is definitely more like it. Don’t you dare move. A woman like you looks best when she’s lying on a bed. I’m sorry for rushing things back there." He adjusted his cuffs. "I don’t know what came over me."

  "Oh, I didn’t mind. Too much."

  "You weren’t uncomfortable, were you?"

  "No. Well. I had no control because you were holding me up, but..." I shrugged as best I could while leaning back on the bed.

  "Is that something you’re used to? Being in control?"

  "You could say that."

  He smiled, folded each sleeve over a number of times and leaned against the wall with his now-exposed arms crossed. Light from the hall crept into the room through the open doorway. "You like being on top." A gentle laugh. "That’s what I thought, that you’re a woman who’s used to making the rules."

  "You say that like it’s a bad thing."

  "Oh it’s not, believe me. It’s more fun when you’ve got two people both trying to come out on top, as it were." Despite his saying a woman like me looked best lying on a bed he still made no move to approach. Perhaps he was just appreciating the view.

  So I decided to give him something to look at.

  Even though it meant breaking his implied rule, I sat up. Reached for the hair clip at the back of my head, loosed it, tossed it onto the bedside table and shook my hair free.

  All while ignoring the observer in that self-conscious, hyperaware way woman have. I will not look at you but you’d better be looking at me.

  The low growl from the back of his throat told me he’d taken in every detail. It sounded like an engine purring. Idling, as if he’d thus far only been warming up. After his performance in my hallway minutes before, the intensity with which he’d stared at me, the way he’d pushed me up against the door and fucked me, not caring if any passing neighbors heard, he gave off the air of testosterone-fuelled confidence only ever found in men who knew beyond a shadow of a doubt they had what it took to melt women down to their basest components.

  "You’re welcome to try," I muttered, too nervous to speak out loud and freely.

  Leo uncrossed his arms as I peeked at him through my tousled hair, finger-combing it. "What did you say?" His voice was too musical for there to be any anger in his words; indeed there was a hint of laughter in his tone.

  "You heard."

  "No, I didn’t." He took a step away from the wall, a step towards me. "That’s why I asked you to repeat it."

  "I said." I paused to take a deep breath. "You’re welcome to try."

  "Oh really?" He dipped his head in a parody of a deferential nod and neared the bed, his movements much slower now, more controlled, which made sense. The blinding lust was out of the way, temporarily, for him at least. He’d had an orgasm but I was still in want of release.

  He knelt at the side of the bed and wordlessly took hold of each of my ankles, placed one foot on his left and one on his right so he was now positioned between my legs.

  Gripping the bedcovers, I wanted to lift my hands to touch him but didn’t, unsure of where to touch him first. Too fascinated by what his hands were doing. Those hands were teasing shadows, simultaneously stroking my legs from ankle to knee. Agonisingly slowly. He might have taken enjoyment from my skin under his, but for me it was torture. He took too much time, damn it, and I wriggled under his touch.

  "Am I tickling you?" He watched himself stroke my skin.

  "No."

  "I keep feeling you move."

  "It’s not..." I faltered, closed my eyes for a second and took a deep breath. "It’s not ticklish."

  "Then what is it?" His thumb ran above my knee and my lips parted in a near silent gasp.

  "I want..." No, that wasn’t it. "I don’t want..." No, that wasn’t it either. "I can’t..."

  "Can’t what?"

  Think straight. "I can’t say it." My eyes started to roll back in my head and he’d barely touched me above the knee since we’d moved to the bedroom.

  "Of course you can," he whispered.

  My eyes closed as I tried to pluck up the courage to let the words out. I had no idea how to articulate what I desired.

  And then my breath caught in my throat at the sensation of his lips on my knee, as his hand slid along my inner thigh. The warmth between my legs which had begun as a flush of arousal became unbearable desperation. His stubble hissed against my leg, giving me goose bumps, or maybe that was down to the trail of his tongue, flicking its way inch by inch up my thigh.

  He pushed my skirt up and stared, not at my face but wherever his hands had been a millisecond before. Thighs, hips, waist. Again his thumbs grazed my hipbone, making me choke on another caught breath.

  "You like that?"

  I nodded.

  "I can’t hear you."

  Of course. His hands on my skin held his attention. He did it again to get a reaction. "Yes."

  "What do you want me to do?"

  "You already know. There’s no need to make me say it—"

  "No, there isn’t." At long last he looked at me. In the light from the hall, I just made out his features. "There’s no need for you to say it, but I know it makes you uncomfortable and that’s why I want to hear it." A pause. "Now tell me." And again. "What is it you want?"

  "You..." I swallowed. Closed my eyes and blurted out, "Your hands."

  "What about them?"

  "I want them on my bare skin."

  "Good." He slid his hands down from my waist and back to my thighs, and knees. He pushed them apart and with one finger traced a line back up, eventually finding my clit. The lightest of touches made my heart race. "Do you want me to stop?"

  "No."

  "Good." He had a way of saying that word that made it sound as if it came from the back of his throat, halfway between a moan and a growl.

  As his fingers circled my clit I leaned back but pushed my hips forward and his fingertip played with my pussy, teasing, sliding over the moisture but not entering.

  "Jesus, you’re wet," Leo murmured, almost to himself. "I love it. Is there...?" He looked around and suddenly his hands were off me.

  No contact, no finger almost inside me, no light kisses on my thighs and I gave a silent gasp of shock.

  "I want to be able to see you properly," he said as he reached over to my bedside table, fumbled for the lamp’s on switch. "There. That’s better. Don’t move." He stood and made for the door.

  "Where are you going?" my voice followed him as he left the room, nearly driven mad with frustration. He’d played me and damn, I could have killed him in that moment.

  "Turning the hall light off." On his return he pushed the bedroom door shut. "There. Now we’re... I thought I told you not to move?"

  All I’d done was pull my skirt down. "I was just making myself more comfortable."

  "Yeah, and undoing all my hard work. I wanted to come back in here and see you waiting for me."

  My cheeks burned with embarrassment. "I was too..."

  "Exposed?"

  "Yes."

  "There’s no need for that." He sat beside me on the bed, leaning on one hand, with his other above my knee. "I would have thought a woman like you wouldn’t have any, what’s the word, stumbling blocks, especially in the bedroom. Especially with a body like yours. You should be proud of it."

  "Maybe I still have to get used to you yet. Get used to trying certain things I mean."

  "Sounds good to me." Leo’s hand crept higher, under the hem of that misbehaving skirt. "I like a woman who’s adventurous. Open-minded. Open-legged is even better. You know what I think?" He didn’t wait for any response. "I think it’d be an awful lot better if you weren’t wearing this skirt at all." Leaning in to kiss my neck, he pulled me down ont
o the bed. "Does this damn thing have a button or something?"

  "Here. Let me. There’s a zip at the back." I arched my back, lifted my hips clear off the mattress and somehow managed to work the zipper down before falling back again. "There. Done."

  He propped himself up on one arm and looked at me, not making any further move.

  "I thought you said it would be better if I wasn’t wearing this skirt at all?" I asked tentatively.

  He stared. "Oh you expect me to take it off, do you?"

  "No, but I’d like it if you did."

  "Really?" He slid off the bed, knelt in front of me again and inched the skirt over my hips. "I’ll just bet you would."

  "I like being undressed by a man."

  "Like unwrapping a gift," he whispered. "Trouble is, I’ve been known to tear the paper."

  A ripple of heightened awareness ran up my spine as my skirt finally came off.

  Leo’s breath waved across the V at the top of my thighs and he placed his hand gently across the area his breath had just been. He paused and just as I began to worry, his thumb moved in slow circles over my clit.

  It wasn’t enough and he knew, he must have known, because he told me to move further back on the bed.

  "Make sure you’re comfortable. I’d hate to think you weren’t enjoying this as much as I am."

  I wriggled as his fingers worked their way inside me. Gasped.

  "Am I being too rough with you?"

  "No, no. Just gimme a second to get used to you."

  I didn’t know what was wrong with me. This guy was a stranger, everything about him alien. His touch, his taste, where he’d go next, what he’d do. There was no expectation, no knowledge of what was going through his mind and that realization was what finally tipped me over the edge from arousal to need. I needed to find out what he would do next; curiosity, the excitement of simply not knowing heightened my arousal.

  He stroked me from the inside, crooked fingers slowly drawing out again, taking their time, not trying to force an orgasm out of me, letting it happen at its own pace.