Finding Peace

by Emilia Finn

  “Are you sugg--”

  “Do you ever touch yourself, Peaches?”

  I’m pretty sure I just came.

  “Ah--”

  “If you and I were in the same room right now, do you think we’d be talking yet?”

  “Yes,” I murmur, because I’m approaching that line real fast. I’m about ready to sit on his face and tell him whatever filthy word he wants to hear. But I’m still shy. I hate that I can be a prude sometimes. I want him to talk me through this. I want this. I just can’t ask for it.

  “If I was there, would you let me touch you?”

  “Yes,” I breathe, my heartbeat throbbing in my panties. I can feel the slick. I would die to have him here right now.

  “Touch yourself, Peaches. Pretend it’s me. Tell me what you’re doing.”

  “You tell me,” I beg him. I can’t tell him, but I’ll do what he asks me to do.

  “Alright. Where are you right now?”

  “In my bed.”

  “Good,” he grunts softly, the sound intensifying the throbbing. “What are you wearing?”

  “A cami and shorts.”

  “You got a bra on?”

  “No,” I breathe, trying really friggin hard not to pant for him.

  “Touch your nipples for me, babe. Pinch them and let me hear you. Don’t be quiet.”

  I groan out loud this time, unable to hold it in as I run my right hand along my stomach and up the side of my breast.

  My silver charm bracelet jingles on my wrist as I move, then I burrow my head into my pillow as my thumb moves over my nipple.

  “Does that feel good?”

  “Yeah,” I tell him softly. “Are you… are you touching yourself too?”

  “Fuck, Peaches. I had my dick in my hand ten minutes ago.”

  Oh my god.

  “It feels good, babe. I’m pretending it’s you and you feel so fucking good. Touch your pussy, Peaches. Are you wet?”

  I let my hand fall from my chest, skimming my stomach and inching inside my shorts.

  Hesitantly, slowly, I let my fingers creep lower until I tap my throbbing clit unexpectedly and almost jump off my bed.

  “I can hear you, Peaches. You sound so good. I wanna feel your sighs on my skin. I wanna touch you right now.”

  “I wish it was your hands on me right now,” I admit, letting my middle finger glide through my folds, the moisture allowing easy movement. It feels okay, but I know he’d feel a million times better. I look toward my bedside drawer again. Maybe I could --

  “I wish it was me too. I wish that so fucking bad right now. I wanna touch your pussy, Peaches. I wanna feel you wrap around me.”

  “Oh my god.” I’m definitely panting now.

  “I wanna fuck you till you can’t walk tomorrow.”

  Holy shit.

  Fuck it.

  I reach across and open my drawers.

  “You okay?” he asks, obviously hearing my movements. I grab my small vibrating bullet from the drawer and some other stuff, then lay back in place again.

  “Yeah.” I turn the bullet on low, hopefully not too loud. “Just getting comfortable.”

  “You feel so good wrapped around my dick, Peaches. You’re gonna feel amazing when I get you for real. You still touching yourself? You fucking yourself, baby?”

  “Mmm,” I answer as I turn my bullet higher and sit it on my clit. “Ohhhhhh,” I groan, feeling the heat pool low in my belly.

  “You sound so good. So fucking good.”

  “Mmhmm. Feels so good.”

  “How many fingers you using?”

  “Umm.”

  None.

  “Use more, baby. Stretch yourself wide. Get ready for me.”

  My eyes close, unable to take much more. He’s just too much. Too forward. Too sexy.

  I grab the larger rubber toy, sliding it through my folds and hissing because it almost feels like the real thing. Almost.

  “Yeah, that’s it, Peaches. More. Take more. Make sure you’re ready for me.”

  I rest my phone between my shoulder and ear, then I push the rubber in, groaning as it fills me. It feels so good.

  “Good girl.”

  I turn my bullet up higher, needing more, then I use both hands, working my body and feeling the flames race through my blood.

  “What’s that noi-- You’ve got toys?”

  “Umm.” Oh no.

  “Please tell me you’ve got toys right now, Peaches. Please tell me you’re fucking yourself with a rubber dick.”

  “Um, yes,” I whisper, feeling those flames that were in my belly now fill my face.

  “Fuuuuck,” he groans, deeply, gravelly and the flames shoot south again. “Does it feel good, Peaches? Is it big?”

  “It feels good… but--”

  “But? Tell me. What turns you on?”

  “You. But I wish it was you.”

  “Now?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Right now?”

  “Yeah,” I whimper, my hips lifting from my bed, my orgasm almost ready to tear through my body.

  “I’m coming over,” he says quickly, the sound of movement tearing me from my imminent explosion.

  “You’re… what?”

  “Is that alright with you? Is that okay, Peaches? Because I won’t if you don’t want me to. But I really, really fucking hope you do.”

  “Yeah, it’s okay,” I admit, because it is. I really want him here.

  “Thank god. Keep going, baby. Keep fucking yourself. Lemme hear you.”

  “But you’re--”

  “Already in my truck, I’ll be there in a couple minutes. Let me hear you, Peaches. Lemme hear you pleasure yourself.”

  “But--”

  “But don’t you come. You hear me? Don’t you dare come.”

  “Oh my god.”

  “You got a vibrator too?”

  “I’ve got a bullet.”

  “Good, baby. Tease your clit for me. Pretend it’s my mouth. I’ll make up for it soon, I promise.”

  “Holy shit. Okay.” I tap the bullet down again and my hips buck away from the hypersensitive spot.

  “Yes,” he groans. “Let me hear you.”

  I can’t tell if it’s been ten minutes or ten seconds since he said he was in his truck, but he better hurry, because I’m going to come soon.

  “Open your door.”

  My eyes flare wide as reality slams down on me.

  “You’re here?”

  “I’m coming up your steps now. Open your door.”

  I shoot up in bed, undecided if I want to run to him or bury myself under the covers. I know I asked for this, and I definitely want it, but oh my god.

  “Tina,” he murmurs softly into my ear, his use of my name sending tingles straight to my toes. “If you don’t want this, tell me and I’ll go home. We can finish this on the phone. Hell, I’ll sit on your stairs and stay on the phone and get you to the end. But if you do want this, come open the door for me.”

  I stand on shaky legs, my camisole bunched in the middle exposing my lower stomach and my breasts. My shorts were peeled away long ago. Should I get dressed?

  “Tina?”

  “I’m coming.”

  “You better not be,” he replies with a smile in his voice, chuckling softly and sending those flames licking at my need again.

  I walk to the door, keeping the phone tucked against my ear, standing quietly and contemplating the enormity of what I’m about to do.

  “If you open that door, I’m gonna fuck you,” he promises softly in my ear. “I need you so bad. But only open the door if you’re sure. Please don’t regret this tomorrow.”

  His words, the plea in them, the obvious fact he cares about me, about what I think and feel has me swinging the door wide, revealing his hooded eyes and hungry hands.

  My phone drops to the floor the same second he shoves his in his pocket then rushes me, lifting me from my feet and slamming his mouth down on mine.

  Contradicting
his wild need, he turns, gently closing and locking the door before walking us the few steps toward the kitchen.

  “You ready for me?” he asks, lowering me and laying me flat across the dining room table. At my nod, he pushes my cami up, exposing my belly then he drags my panties down my legs and tosses them aside. With no warning at all, he buries his face between my legs, delivering on his promise from earlier.

  Holy fucking hell. His stubble rubs me oh so good as his tongue tastes me from top to bottom.

  I don’t even have time to turn shy, because he has my legs wrapped around his head, and I’m squeezing and ensuring he can’t escape.

  He’s here now; if he escapes, I might kill him.

  “You taste so good,” he murmurs against me, nibbling on my clit, my hips lifting from the table so my weight rests on my shoulder blades and his shoulders. “I can taste your orgasm. How fucking close were you?”

  He moves back, plunging his thick fingers unapologetically inside me and I buck wildly, my orgasm rolling over me taking me under and not allowing me to breathe.

  “Fuck,” I hear him groan as I ride it to the end. “That close. You were that close,” he repeats as his hips buck forward, looking for his own friction, his own pleasure, as he continues to fuck me with his fingers.

  Definitely better than my toys.

  My legs turn to jelly once the waves recede, my limbs turning heavy with a deeply satisfied fatigue.

  “Not sleeping yet, Peaches. Let’s go.” He picks me up, not even gently, his roughness matching his personality in every way, his gruff demeanor and hungry hands turning me on despite the fact I just came in my kitchen.

  “Where’s your room?”

  “Down the hall,” I whisper, conscious of the fact we’re nearing Evie’s room. “To the left.”

  “Alright,” he whispers back. He carries me in, dropping me unceremoniously on my bed then freezes when he spots my girl time paraphernalia sitting beside my head.

  Oh no.

  “I’m gonna fuck you with this, babe.” He picks up the dildo and sits it on my belly. “Then I’m gonna fuck you with mine.”

  Holy fucking hell. How did we get here?

  And can he hurry?

  “Touch yourself,” he demands as he unbuttons his pants with a quick snap. “I wanna see what I could hear earlier.”

  “I don’t wan--”

  “Show me,” he growls, the sound ripping through my system, almost short circuiting my lust fogged brain. “Show me. I got to hear it, I got to imagine it. Now I wanna see it. That way I can remember it every day when I don’t get to see you. Show me.”

  He leans over me, his jeans rubbing along my most sensitive areas, his arms stretching above my head, then leaning back he puts my bullet in my hand and wraps my fingers around it.

  “Show me.”

  My mouth goes dry, my whole body frozen in place as I watch him stand. He flicks his cap to the floor then drags his shirt over his head.

  Fucking hell. I can’t believe it, but I actually forgot about his piercings. And his ink. My bullet holding hand instantly goes searching for my clit, the image of this red hot man in front of me stroking the flames.

  “That’s my good girl,” he murmurs, slowly lowering his zipper, my eyes glued to the way his muscles twitch with his movement and my own fingers twitching at his gruff demands and praise.

  I’ll be his good girl. I’ll be anything he wants.

  I turn my bullet up high, pressing it down on my clit and I fight to keep my eyes open. Despite the fact I’ve just come on his hands, I feel like I haven’t been touched in a decade. I’m ready to explode around him; I just need him. And his permission.

  His large hands lower his jeans a few inches, the downward progression making my mouth water, then his dick springs free, so big and demanding.

  He takes it out of his pants, his large hand wrapping around the shaft and I almost come instantly.

  His hand moves, stroking up and down, the skin peeling back as he rolls down, then bunching at the tip again when he reverses direction. Down again, and my mouth waters at the bead of liquid seeping from the tip.

  My bottom is perched on the edge of the bed, my knee’s bent, my feet sitting on the edge. I’m open to him, as open as anyone can get.

  He stands between my legs, his strong thighs brushing against the inside of mine, his course hairs brushing against my smooth.

  He continues stroking himself as I continue playing with my clit.

  I hiss when I feel the ball of liquid drip from his tip and land on my hip bone.

  “You do that to me, Peaches. I’ve had wet boxers since I met you.”

  “Oh god,” I whimper as his hand moves faster, more insistent, massaging along his shaft, his breath coming sharper. His hips jerk forward, as though his hand isn’t enough, as though it knows there’s a warm and willing pussy nearby.

  “I wanted to fuck you that time at Jonah’s,” he admits gruffly. “I watched you select milk with your ass in the air, taunting me, daring me to go for it.” He continues stroking himself, moving closer to me, our thighs running along each other’s. His hand squeezes his dick, the purple head seeping, dripping onto me.

  His spare hand, previously resting on my knee, lowers along my thigh, teasing me, then pressing down on my hand that holds my bullet and sending zings of pleasure rocketing through my system.

  “Ah,” I cry out softly, trying my best to be quiet when I really want to scream.

  Aiden continues working himself and grabs the dildo perched on my stomach, picking it up and smirking as he rotates it in front of his face.

  “You ready?” he asks, grunting in time with the jerking movements of his hand. I nod my head but I sit up quickly, knocking his hand to the side and taking his cock in my mouth, gagging as it hits the back of my throat and continues down.

  “Oh fuck,” he grunts, his hands flying into my hair and fisting it painfully.

  He controls my movements, slowing me down as I move back then slamming me back onto him again, fucking my face and forcing me to work on my gag reflex.

  I use my tongue, licking him like he was the finest gelato in Italy, then suckling on the tip until he calls out.

  My own excitement is spurred on by the sounds he makes; the fact he’s always so quiet and mysterious and is now completely spellbound by me.

  Grunting gutturally once last time, Aiden removes his hands from my hair, shoving my shoulder away so I lay flat on my back, then he climbs on top of me, fisting his dick again, then coming on my stomach, the hot salty streams shooting around my belly button.

  Holy shit.

  Without a conscious decision to do so, I find my fingers moving lower, running two through the puddles on my skin then bringing them to my lips.

  “Fuck, Tina. You wanna taste me?” he asks thickly. I nod eagerly, ready for more.

  He lowers his head, biting the skin over my ribs and exploring with his tongue, then running his thumb over my stomach, collecting his juices, he brings his hand to my mouth.

  Roughly pressing his thumb past my lips, I groan, because having anything of him in my mouth is intoxicating.

  “You taste so good,” I tell him and meaning it, licking his thumb then biting down. His eyes grow further hooded, darker, the silver gray penetrating me as though he can see straight into my brain. Into my heart.

  “Tina,” he breathes, bringing his mouth down on mine. Still wearing his jeans, he moves his legs between mine, the denim rubbing deliciously against my sensitive clit.

  My arms, heavy with fatigue but strong with exhilaration come around his neck, holding him against me, refusing to let him go as his mouth dominates mine.

  “Please, don’t make me wait any longer,” I beg him, lifting my hips, dying to have him inside me now. I feel like I’ve been waiting forever. “Now, Aiden. Please.”

  Unlatching his mouth from my neck, he pauses, looking into my eyes, studying me.

  “Alright, Peaches.” He nods, lifting hi
s weight from my body and pushing his jeans down towards his knees.

  He grabs something from his back pocket, then the telltale sound of a condom packet being ripped open sends shivers racing through my system.

  Finally.

  “You ready for me?”

  “Yes,” I breathe, pulling him back over me and holding his head low, nipping at his lips even as he lines himself up.

  “Finally.” He slams into me with a grunt, no easy and slow introduction, just Aiden Kincaid, a siege, battering at all my defenses and tearing them down.

  His mouth comes down on mine again to swallow my cries; I know they’re getting louder but I can’t help it.

  He surrounds me, he fills me to bursting. There’s no adjustment period, there’s just him, everywhere, his hips moving like a well-oiled machine, flawless and fast, burying himself deep within as though he’s tapping at my womb and asking for entry.

  “You feel so fucking good.” He pushes inside me, holding my legs up and around him because without, they’d just fall limp against the bed like boiled spaghetti.

  “Hold onto me.” He pumps harder, and stroking the flames to a wildfire, hours, weeks, of teasing and torture have come to a head and I’m ready to explode.

  “I can’t--”

  “Don’t you dare go, Tina. Don’t you fucking finish until I say so.”

  “I… please,” I whimper, locking down and trying to fight the release. It’s there, it’s ready to go. “Please let me finish.”

  “Not yet,” he snarls, running his hands down my thighs and cupping my ass.

  He grabs me with both hands, levering my hips and squeezing tight, lifting my bottom half from the bed and resting my weight on my shoulders as he continues pushing into me.

  My hands grab onto him, my nails scoring into his shoulders and arms as my tits bounce with his momentum.

  “Don’t cover them,” he snaps sharply, startling me as my hands come down to cup them. “I wanna see,” he says roughly. “I wanna see them. Don’t you ever cover yourself in front of me.”

  “Aiden, please let me go.” I’m begging, skirting the edge of pleasure and pain. “I’m ready.” I might tip over into insanity if he doesn’t let me finish.

  “Alright, Peaches,” he grunts deeply, the tenor of his voice digging from deep within him and reverberating through my body. “Come now.”