by Mells, J. C.
I slipped my hand into my panties. I rested my head back on the arm of the sofa and closed my eyes, imagining it was Thatch’s hand touching me instead of mine. That was all it took. The second my fingertips made contact with my drenched folds, I closed my eyes and came.
The mini-orgasm was fast and hard and sent a delicious but small shudder up through my body. I gave a small gasp and felt my face flush – just as much from embarrassment as from release.
When I’d managed to control my breathing again, I opened my eyes to see Thatch bent over Max’s arm again.
Thatch
I needed to finish this tattoo – fast. Witnessing what I had just witnessed – all without touching – was an unbearable torture I’d never experienced before. It was fucking killing me.
I gave the tattoo a final wipe and motioned to Max that I was done. He hung up the phone as I rummaged in my bag for the Vaseline and antiseptic. I was trying to look anywhere but at California. If I looked at her right now, I was in danger of losing my shit – right there in front of Max.
“Nice job, man,” Max said, taking a good look at his new tattoo. “Come over and take a gander at this, Cali.”
I heard her get up from the sofa and felt the heat coming off her body as she stood over us. I dared not look up; I didn’t think it would be possible to get any harder than I was right now, but I didn’t want to chance it.
“Oh, Max,” California whispered in a hoarse voice, “that’s perfect.”
I had successfully covered the ‘Tally’ tattoo with a picture of Max’s guitar. Despite my preoccupied mind, I’d managed to draw every detail as if it were a photograph. At least, that was what the top two-thirds of the picture looked like. The bottom of the guitar looked like melting liquid, with droplets of ink glimmering and separated from the base of the drawing. I’d created a 3D effect by using shadow around, and white inside, the deep black puddles. They looked real - like they were sitting on the surface of the skin - as if you could wipe the ink away with a cloth.
“You certainly have outdone yourself with this one, Thatch. Thanks, man,” Max said clapping me on the back and getting up out of his chair. “Now I can’t decide,” he continued as he headed to the door, “whether to go rejoin the party or take a long hot shower. I’m feeling a little dirty after all the eye fucking that’s been going on in this room over the last hour and a half. For the sake of keeping my new tat away from water, I think I’ll head back to the party.” Max winked at us and left the room with a grin.
Neither one of us moved for what felt like ten minutes. In reality, it could only have been a few seconds.
The next thing I knew, California’s legs were tightly wrapped around my waist, her hands clutching my hair, her lips fused to mine. Tongues wrestling, teeth clashing, mouths wide – it was violent, and desperate, and urgent, and passionate, and I just couldn’t get enough. Holding her up by her ass, the sharp points of her nipples pressed tight to my chest, I turned and carried her over to the sofa to sit down.
As I lowered us slowly, she unhooked her legs and brought her knees down either side of my lap to straddle me. With my hands no longer needed to support her, I couldn’t seem to stop them from touching her – everywhere I could. The small of her back, her hips, her thighs – none of it was enough. I needed to touch more of her skin.
As if she’d read my mind, California tugged my T-shirt over my head, momentarily separating our mouths.
We stopped. Her mouth inches from mine, our eyes locked, both of us trying to catch our breath.
We stayed like that, motionless and completely still, for at least a minute. Then, California began to slowly and sensually move her hips, rubbing herself up and along my rock-hard erection she could no doubt feel underneath her.
It was all the go-ahead I needed. Grabbing the collar of her T-shirt, I ripped it in two, causing her to gasp as she continued her hip movements. Free of the T-shirt, my hands had access to the curve of her hips and the soft skin of her stomach.
It still wasn’t enough.
For either of us.
With one hand, I grabbed her behind the neck and pulled her in closer so I could run the flat of my tongue, starting from her cleavage all the way up to her chin, in one long, heavy lick. The other slipped under her bra to squeeze her breast, the peak instantly tightening against my palm.
California ran her fingernails down my chest and abdomen until she reached my belt buckle. The chink of her undoing it suddenly sounded loud in the room and our upper halves separated, mouths open and panting; her midnight blue gaze locked onto mine.
Without breaking eye contact, she slowly pulled the belt from my jeans; taking her time, it was the only movement between us. Once completely removed, she threw it behind her, hitting the coffee table with a loud clang.
It may as well have been a starting pistol, as the second it hit, our lips were fused once again, the level of desire and desperation definitely kicked up to a level of intensity I’d never experienced before.
Using her knees to support herself, she raised herself up as she undid my button-fly, which allowed me to lift my lower body so she could pull down my jeans and boxer briefs. At the same time, a hand on each of her hips, I tugged her panties down. She scooted them off by balancing on one knee and then the other.
She lowered herself back down onto my lap and her warm, wet, naked flesh touched mine for the first time.
It took every effort I possessed not to come right then and there. I closed my eyes, trying to regain some small modicum of control.
Grabbing tightly to my hair with one hand, she tilted my head back and licked along the edge of my jaw, nipping and biting until her lips closed over mine again. She tasted of a delicious blend of cognac, caramel, and cream, and I completely devoured her. Nothing existed for me right at that moment except for that kiss. We wrenched our mouths apart, only when it became clear it was breathe or die.
My chest heaving, trying to fill my lungs with air again, I watched as she leaned back and opened the drawer to the coffee table. It was filled with condoms. Thank God for rock stars and their wanton ways.
Apparently, they’re not the only ones.
California handed one to me and I quickly ripped it open using my teeth. She watched as I slid it over my length while she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the ground.
I’d thought her exquisite when I’d first seen her. The word was not enough to justify how she looked now that she was hyper-aroused and sitting naked in my lap. I couldn’t stop the low groan that came from the back of my throat as I ran my gaze along the length of her exposed body.
She grabbed my throat, her palm over my Adam’s apple, to hold my head still. Her other hand took hold of my now-sheathed member. She brought her face in close, our lips just brushing, her eyes looking straight into mine. Then, very slowly, she lowered herself down, giving a small gasp when she’d enveloped me completely.
We both stilled, each of us holding our breath as her body adjusted to having me so deep inside her.
Cali
How we’d arrived at this state – me on his lap, him thick, hot, and hard inside me – was a haze. A beautiful, delicious, wonderful, incredible haze. I’d never acted like this before.
I’d never taken control during sex but, then again, I’d never been overly interested in the men I slept with. There was always more in it for them. I was California Huntington, for fuck’s sake. My father was a millionaire actor. His money and fame, and my connection to him, was more than enough incentive to motivate someone to become ‘attracted’ to me. My past sexual partners, encouraged by Lake, had always taken the lead and had definitely been more into it than I ever had. Hell, I was so out of it on those occasions, I could barely remember who did what to whom.
I was more concerned with making sure they didn’t see too much of me naked. Nothing puts a damper on sex like a flabby ass or thigh cellulite.
At least that’s what Lake often told me.
/> The way Thatch was looking at me now… I’d never been looked at like that before. The lust in his eyes when he’d slowly slid them down my body was not something that could be faked. At least, I didn’t think so.
I began to slowly rotate my hips, our mouths so close, I inhaled his gasp.
“My pussy tastes like Pepsi-Cola,” I whispered against his lips.
In the hour and a half we’d been in this room the playlist had come full circle and was back on the Lana Del Rey album that was playing when he first saw me.
“Your eyes are wide like cherry pies,” Thatch whispered back in a low voice, quoting the next line in the song.
I was never going to be able to listen to this album again without thinking of him.
Using my knees, I increased my hip undulations and switched to an up and down motion. Thatch groaned and gripped my ass cheeks, his fingers digging into my flesh and causing me to catch my breath.
“Do you see me?” I asked breathlessly, picking up the pace, his hold on me helping to control my speed. “Can you see inside me?” I whispered again, my lips brushing against his.
“Who are you?” he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper to match mine.
“Does it matter? Would it change anything?”
He began to pump his hips up, increasing the friction between us, before he sucked my lower lip into his mouth. He bit down gently and let it go with a silent pop before answering. “No, it doesn’t,” he groaned as I began to ride him hard, my hips swirling in perfect time to his upward thrusts – reveling in the delicious friction being generated where our two bodies were so closely joined.
We began to slow down our pace, neither one of us wanting this to end too soon. Our movements now changed to small and quiet. Each touch, each brush of his skin on mine, every small push from him inside me, reverberated over my entire body. I was hypersensitive everywhere, with little charges of pleasure continuously drifting through me, as I felt his sweat mix with mine forming something other. Something hot, and wet, and sexy, and causing his chest to slip and slide against mine in the most divine way.
Somehow, we’d gone from fucking to something more tender, more sensual. I’d been with a lot of guys, but it had never been like this before. This felt…intimate.
Thatch reached up and pulled the hairband from my head. My hair cascaded over my shoulders and down my back.
“You’re so beautiful when you come, California,” he said, in a low gravelly voice. “I want to see you come again. I’m so fucking close, but I need to see you first.”
“I don’t think I can,” I whispered back, my mouth hovering just over his. “I only have orgasms alone.” It’s the truth. I don’t know why I felt the need to tell him this; I was really good at faking it.
I didn’t want to fake it with him.
“Oh really?” he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting up in a cocky smile.
He took my hands and positioned them behind me – one on each of his knees. This separated our upper bodies from their former close connection, and I could feel the cool breeze of the hotel room’s air conditioning across my sweat-soaked skin that caused my nipples to harden, almost painfully. Once in this forty-five degree angle, Thatch began to pick up his pace, his hands holding me up by my hips as he slammed upwards and into me, faster and faster. I threw my head back with a moan of pleasure, my hair brushing across the tops of my hands and his knees.
He began to thrust faster – double then triple time – until things became a thick haze of sexual bliss, as all my senses overloaded at once.
“Look at me, California,” he commanded in a breathless voice. “Look at me when you come.”
Not backing down from the relentless pounding of his body into mine, he took one hand off my hip and rubbed his thumb over my engorged and extremely slippery clit.
I screamed his name as the impossible happened.
My climax hit me hard, my body shuddering violently as I clenched around him. With a triumphant shout, he came inside me, clutching me to his chest, his face buried in my neck.
Wordlessly, we wrapped our arms around each other, struggling to catch our breath as we held one another through the aftershocks still rippling through our convulsing bodies.
“Fuck,” Thatch said as soon as he was able to speak. “That was unbelievable.”
I took his head in my hands and pulled him in for a deep, lingering kiss.
“Fuck,” he repeated once we came up for air again. “What are you doing to me, woman? I think I’m already hard again.”
“Oh, you definitely are.” I smirked at him, wiggling my hips slightly, still enjoying the way it felt to have him inside me.
“Something tells me we’re going to need another condom,” Thatch said, arching an eyebrow at me.
Before I could reply, he had flipped us both over so my back was on the couch, with him on top. He gently removed himself from inside me and opened the drawer in the coffee table. He tied off the used condom and replaced it with a new one.
“Something is going on here between us that I can’t explain,” he said in a low voice as he positioned himself between my legs again. “Something I’ve never experienced before.”
I gasped as he pushed into me again.
“Please tell me I’m not the only one feeling this,” he panted out as his hips began to pump into me and his mouth came down around one of my hardened nipples.
“No. No, it’s not just you,” I breathed out in a dreamy voice as I arched my back to give him better access to my breasts. My legs locked at the feet behind his thighs, my fingernails embedded in his ass-cheeks to pull him in closer. “Just don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”
“Jesus woman, I don’t think I could if I tried.”
He changed his pace again, his hips moving in a leisurely, circular motion, his pubic bone grinding slowly against my clit.
“So you never came with a partner before, eh?” I felt his mouth smile around the nipple currently being worked on by his hot tongue.
“You’re pretty pleased about that one, aren’t you stud?” I smiled.
“Oh, you know it,” he chuckled as he lifted his head and brought it level with mine.
The mirth left his eyes as we stared at each other, the intensity of his thrusts began to pick up until he was slamming into me once again.
Somehow, I was coming and screaming his name again as my body convulsed around him. Two hard thrusts later and he joined me in release, his upper body wrapped so tightly around mine… I never wanted him to let go.
A loud banging started up on the door to the room.
“Cali! You in there?” Lake’s grating voice sounded from out in the hallway. “Come open the door.”
“Shit, it’s my stepsister,” I groaned, not ready to separate myself from him yet.
“I think I may hate her already,” Thatch said with that cocky smile, as he lifted his upper torso up and off me using his elbows. “Just one more thing before you get up,” he added in a husky voice. He bent his head down to slant his mouth over mine and slipped his tongue between my lips, kissing me deep and slow.
“Open the damn door, Cali!” Lake’s voice immediately brought us back to our senses.
I looked at him apologetically as we got up from the sofa and hastily started putting on our clothes. I held up my baggy T-shirt, now torn down the middle, and showed it to him.
“Sorry about that,” he said sheepishly, as he righted his clothes and headed to the bathroom to dispose of the condoms.
I gave a small laugh. “You’re so lucky I happen to have a sweater with me.”
“Cali! Open the fucking door already!” Lake shouted again.
“I’m coming!” I replied.
I smiled to myself. Five minutes earlier and Lake could have witnessed it firsthand.
I heard the faucet running in the bathroom as I finally went over and opened the bedroom door for my drunk and/or high stepsister.
“About fucking time,” she mumbled as she stumb
led into the room. “I need you to meet someone.” A stocky guy in a suit stumbled into the room behind her. He was about my height, blond, and had way too much hair product going on.
“Cali, this is Stuart,” Lake continued. “See,” she addressed Stuart now, “I told you I knew her. Stuey is an executive assistant at Timeline Records.” She pushed him towards me. “I’m sure Cali would love to… spend some time with you, Stu.”
I looked nervously in the direction of the open bathroom door, knowing full well that Thatch was hearing all of this.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cali,” Stuart garbled, his eyes glassy as he waggled his eyebrows suggestively at me.
“I’m sorry,” I turned to Lake, “I’m not in the mood for company tonight.”
“Oh, come on now, girl,” Lake laughed. “You know you’re always down to par-tay! Stu has some really great coke and I know you don’t want to say no to that.”
It was at this moment that Thatch chose to make his exit from the bathroom.
“Oh,” Lake slurred with a sly look on her face, “Excuse me. I didn’t realize you were already entertaining someone. Please introduce me to this fine-looking specimen of manhood, California.”
“Hi,” Thatch smiled politely at her. “I’m Thatch Reston. I just finished doing a tattoo for Max.”
“Oh really,” Lake smirked, clutching onto his arm for balance and no doubt copping a feel of his biceps at the same time.
A lick of jealous heat fluttered in the pit of my stomach. Despite the fact she was a messy drunk, I still couldn’t compete with the perfection that was Lake.
Stick thin, her emaciated, heroin-chic body was more than just inherited genes from her former fashion model mother. She had inherited her mother’s looks though. Even with smudged black around her eyes and smeared lipstick, Lake was still striking. If you ever saw her when she hadn’t been binge-partying, she was drop-dead gorgeous. Unfortunately, my praise for my stepsister stopped there.
There was one thing I was dead certain of: if she even suspected I had any interest whatsoever in Thatch, all bets would be off and the claws would come out. I’d seen it happen too many times before.
