by Danica Avet
I lift my head, gratified when she tries to follow me, a soft moan of protest sounding from her swollen lips. But I have to see what kind of bra she’s wearing, see if I can take it off—
Except she’s way ahead of me, releasing me in order to roll a little to one side, her hand disappearing behind her back. A second later, the lace confection she’s wearing sags, the straps dipping low on her shoulders. She does one of those things to wiggle herself out of the bra, a girl move that makes it look so easy, while a guy would still be fumbling with the clasp.
When she lies back again, her tits are bare, pink nipples hard and crinkling tighter as I stare at them, as though reacting to my gaze. My mouth waters. I have to taste her. I’m not going to fuck her though.
I’m not going to fuck her. I’m not going to fuck her.
I chant the command to myself even as I cup her bare breast in my hand. Soft. So soft. I repeat my vow like a mantra as I lower my mouth to lap at the slope leading to her nipple. I say it again when my tongue reaches the outer rim of her areola. But I forget what I was thinking when I close my mouth around the sweet peak.
I’m so fucked.
“Levi,” she gasps, her back arching, offering more of herself to me.
She shouldn’t do that. I’m a greedy motherfucker and I take it. I suck. I nip. I lick. I nuzzle and mouth her, going from one breast to the other, giving them equal amounts of attention. She tastes like...everything good. She’s gripping my hair again, her fingernails scraping over my scalp and sending shivers down my spine. My cock’s so hard I’m surprised it hasn’t broken through my fly.
“Oh, yes,” she moans, her back arching again when I rake my teeth across one peak. “Oh god!”
Her response is everything I could’ve ever hoped for, but I want more. I’ll always want more with Jolene. And right now, with her legs twisting next to mine, I know what she wants.
Skimming my hand down the tender curve of her belly, I trace the edge of her panties. Her breath catches, the skin under my questing fingers giving a little quiver. “Levi?” she asks in a shaky voice.
It takes a lot of effort to look up at her because her tits feel like my very own playground. I finally meet her gaze to see her eyes are wide and a little uncertain. “Let me.” My voice isn’t much more than a growl. “I need to touch you.”
She bites her bottom lip, not looking much more confident. “Don’t you… Don’t you want me to touch you instead?”
I fucking knew it. I knew none of those motherfuckers took time to give her pleasure. And that’s when I remember my mantra.
“No, Peaches. I want to touch you. I want to watch you come on my fingers,” I grate as I continue stroking that silky skin just above her panties. “I want to feel you, feel how wet and tight your pussy gets right before you come.”
The blush starts at her chest and moves upward, leaving her looking sunburned, shocked, and a little scared. “Uh.”
“Please,” I whisper, placing a soft kiss on the nipple closest to me. “Let me touch you.”
I lap the same peak. It’s not fair of me to use her responsiveness against her, but I have a point to make, dammit. And all’s fair in love and war and sex and all that.
She still doesn’t look convinced, but she relaxes a little and nods. “Okay.”
That’s okay. I’m not sayin’ I’m a master at sex. Much. But it’s pretty obvious I’ve been around the block a few hundred times and I know my way around a woman’s body. I’m sure people were skeptical when Michelangelo said he was going to paint the Sistine Chapel—I can’t remember—but I’m sure he got the same looks Jolene’s giving me right now. Which just makes me that much more determined to show her how good it can be when someone gives a shit about your pleasure.
Unable to keep the smile off my face, my hand slips beneath the band of her panties and my fingers touch smooth, soft skin, a small strip of hair that guides me where I want to go. Then… “Oh fuck,” I whisper. “You’re so wet.” And hot and I have no fucking idea how I’m going to get her off without coming but I’m damn well gonna try.
Jolene
Waking up to Levi looking like something right out of a Hollywood movie was only the icing on the cake after last night’s declarations of love. Kissing him, our bodies all warm and close, was heavenly. Sure, he never got out of his jeans and T-shirt, but that’s because we fell asleep before he could change.
His hands down my panties with that little smile of his curling his lips? Awkward. Would it be wrong if I told him I think we should just have sex and skip all the foreplay?
I know, I should be doing cartwheels or thanking the lord that he wants me, but I’ve had guys touch me down there before. They all act as though they know what they’re doing, except when they get to the promised land, they fumble and—
Levi’s fingers spread me open beneath the cover of my panties and my face burns. God, this is just so… So… He strokes my clit with the tip of one finger and the warmth in my lower body deepens, sharpens.
“Oh,” I breathe, my gaze locked on Levi’s smirk.
“Did I mention I play the piano?”
He strums that little bundle of nerves, his touch light and almost feathery, almost a tease really and without meaning to, I arch my hips up for a firmer stroke. My hands scramble for something to hold onto and I grip the sheets as his dexterous fingers play me like an instrument. I squirm, my eyes closing as the pleasure begins to build.
I don’t know how long he does it, but it’s sweet torture that has me releasing the sheets only to grab his shoulders, trying to pull him over me, in me. But Levi Cracchiolo is a devil because he doesn’t fill the empty ache inside me the way I want and need him to.
Because he’s evil.
“C’mon, Peaches, let me take care of you,” he rasps, his teeth raking over the tendon of my neck. I shiver, a spasm of delight making my muscles tighten. “That’s right, baby. Just enjoy it. You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous and all mine.”
He slides two of his skilled fingers inside me, pumping slowly, confidently as his thumb presses and rubs my clit. It’s a different feeling, especially with how wet I’ve become. I vaguely realize I’ve never been this excited before. Not when I’ve touched myself, or when I was first learning about heavy petting. This is different. It feels exciting and new, as though I’m rediscovering my sexuality. And maybe I am because none of my exes ever took the time to please me.
And I really should be disgusted by how wet I am. I can actually hear his fingers plunging in and out of me, smell my arousal filling the air between us. Our breathing is ragged, his little murmurs of approval and enticement leading me deeper into the deep waters of pleasure. It should be uncomfortable because the waistband of my panties is digging into my skin and I’m starting to sweat as I pant for air, but it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever felt.
“So wet and perfect,” he murmurs.
When he captures one of my nipples between his lips and sucks in time with his thrusting fingers? The heat explodes up and outward. My fingernails dig into his shoulder as I drive my hips up to meet his clever fingers, my inner muscles clenching around him in hard, fast contractions. A little scream builds in my throat, releasing as a high-pitched whimper as everything and I mean everything falls away.
My past, my present, my future. My fears, my insecurities, my hurts. All gone, leaving me nothing more than a blank slate.
When I finally come back to myself, I’m panting as though I’ve run, which I never do unless I absolutely have to. Levi’s fingers are still inside me and all those muscles down there are twitching, not to mention there’s a fine tremor vibrating through my legs. Opening my eyes, all I see is Levi. Dark eyes watching me with a warmth no man’s ever looked at me with before. As though I’m the most precious thing he’s ever seen. Or held.
Considering where his hand is, cupping me possessively, is it any wonder I feel a fiery blush scald my cheeks?
His grin is all smug and if I weren’t feeling so
good, I’d probably glare at him. At the most, all I can manage is to look away from him. I mean, his fingers are still inside me. Snugly, as though my body doesn’t want to let go of him.
But of course Levi won’t let me pretend I hadn’t just had the most intense orgasm of my life. He leans closer to me, running the tip of his nose up my neck to my ear. He presses a little kiss on the lobe before tickling it with his tongue. My inner muscles actually quiver in response to that touch and I have to bite back another shameless moan.
At least I know why the movies—not porn, mind you—always show the woman really enjoying herself, making noises that make it sound as though she’s about to die. If their lovers were anything like Levi, I completely understand now.
“I hope you liked that, babe, because I loved it. The way you gasped.” He kisses my cheek. “The way you moaned my name.” He kisses my lips softly, reverently. “The way your pussy grabbed me as though you’ll never let me go.” A soft kiss to the tip of my nose. “Every fuckin’ thing about you is perfect.” He groans deep in his throat. “Do you have any idea how fuckin’ beautiful you are when you’re comin’?” he whispers in my ear, warm breath threatening to make me do that whole body shiver again.
I am not going to respond to that outrageous question or his comments. I probably looked like a landed fish, gasping and wiggling around.
“Think I wanna see it again,” he continues.
That manages to snap me out of my stunned silence. Turning to look at him with wide eyes, it’s to see that smirk still in place, except the crests of his cheeks are dark red and his eyes glitter with need. With his lean body pressed to mine, I feel how hard he is. The thought gives me a little thrill, but with the way he’s watching me, I don’t think he means we’re going to have sex.
“What?”
Now he grins and kisses me hard and fast. “We’re gonna do that again. Ready?”
Before I can answer, he curls his fingers inside me, touching that spot. The one that I’ve heard about, but never found on my own. How do I know that’s what he’s starting to stroke with firm confidence? Because this deep ache develops. My hand clenches on his shirt, balling it up as that almost painful pleasure builds with each rub.
“Levi,” I gasp, twisting my hand in his shirt. He concentrates on that spot and the more he does, the wetter I get until I’m almost positive I’m soaking his sheets with my arousal. “Levi? Oh, what. Oh. Levi.”
I don’t know what to do with myself. I let go of his shirt and grip his shoulder, digging in with my nails because I think I’m about to fly apart. He’s got some kind of rhythm going that has my eyes rolling back, my body going limp yet stiff all at the same time.
“Come for me, Jolene,” he whispers in my ear and then he presses his thumb to my clit and rubs in time with his fingers deep inside me.
This time, there is no small whimper or squeak. This time I scream his name and come all over his fingers.
Levi
Three weeks later
“Great practice guys,” Klauss says. “Remember, game time is seven. Make sure you’re ready to go by six. White rally shirts tomorrow night.”
Dismissed, the ensemble begins to pack up. Twirling my sticks, I watch Jolene as she chats with Princess about the piece we started playing tonight. She’s wearing her ‘slob’ clothes as she calls it, a long black skirt, baggy T-shirt, and sandals, but she still looks about as pretty as a picture, her cheeks flushed from vigorous playing.
It’s almost the same pink I manage to create when I make her come. Which I do as often as she’ll let me. What can I say? I love making her all breathless and wild, love listening to her call my name as her pussy clamps on my fingers, and love the way her honey drips down my hand by the time I get two or three good orgasms out of her. And yeah, I’ve done it all with my fingers. There’s been no oral or dick-to-pussy contact. I haven’t even let her get me off.
Not that she needs to. When I get her writhing all over the place, her sweet accent thickened by pleasure, my dick explodes. Yeah, I know. Just like a goddamn teenager, but at least she understands she comes before me. Literally.
I’m grinning at my pun when she glances up. Our gazes connect and she turns fire engine red. Princess frowns at her, follows her gaze, and grins. Yeah, I haven’t made a secret of our relationship or how fucking happy I am with it. The teasing has been nonstop, but it hasn’t been vicious. I guess because it’s obvious I’m in love with the girl and she loves me back.
I really do try not to be one of those annoying people who give in to public displays of affection, but I’m not successful. If we’re in the same room, she’s tucked into my side. I kiss her, hug her, play with her hair, and generally put my hands on her as much as possible because I can’t not do it.
“See ya, Crash,” Terry calls out and I wave before dropping my gaze to my kit.
I play through King Oliver’s Jazz Band’s “High Society Rag” one more time, conscious of the others filtering out of the room until it’s only me, Jolene, and Klauss. Finishing out the piece with a flourish, I nod. It’ll do.
“I’m going to head out,” Klauss says as he pushes his papers together. “Do you mind getting the lights and locking up for me? Security will be by in about an hour and a half to make sure everything’s shut down.”
“Sure,” I tell him easily, a plan coming to mind.
“Do you mind if I stay a little longer too?” Jolene asks softly, staring at the sheet music in front of her. “I just want to make sure I get that third stanza down.”
Klauss’s smile is benevolent and clueless. Of course, so is Jolene’s, but that’s okay. She’ll understand why I’m hanging back soon enough.
“Certainly,” Klauss says with an approving nod. “Your dedication to your music is what makes you a magnificent trumpeter, Jolene. I’m proud to have you in my ensemble.”
Her blush is sweet and goddamn arousing. I shift on my stool and almost drop my sticks when I try to twirl them again. Klauss shoots me a look that makes me wonder if he knows more than I thought he did.
“Good night and please make sure to lock up,” he says firmly.
“No problem.”
He gives me another pointed stare before he retreats to his office. Jolene starts running through “High Society Rag” again, but not as loudly as she would during practice. I know she likes to do several reads through it, her brain trying to find just the right places to embellish before she goes full out.
Klauss’s office door closes. There’s the sound of his shoes squeaking across the lobby and then the outer door slams shut. We’re alone. It isn’t like I planned this out completely. I just keep having this recurring fantasy about Jolene splayed out over my drum kit wearing nothing but that post-orgasm face I love so much.
Tonight I plan to make fantasy reality.
“Hey, wanna drum lesson?” I ask when she pauses her playing to write something on her sheet music.
She starts as though she forgot I’m here. I don’t take it personally. My girl loves her music the way I do. When I get to playing, sinking into whatever piece I’m practicing or trying to figure out, the rest of the world fades away until I’ve appeased the music gods. She’s the same. It’s another reason why we’re perfect for each other.
“What?”
“I said, do you wanna learn how to play drums? Aren’t you taking percussion in the fall?”
I know she is because she asked me which professor she should take the class with. My answer? Frosty, of course. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let her start the course without some knowledge of the skins first. In more ways than one.
“Y-es,” she drawls slowly, her gaze going over my kit with interest. My dicks hardens as she stands, unable to resist the temptation of a new instrument. Although I really wish it was about my cock. “You really want to teach me how to play?”
Despite the pain in my groin, I grin and stand. “Of course,” I say truthfully, waving her to take my seat. “I get a kick out
of watchin’ someone discover the joy that is beatin’ the skins.” And no, I don’t mean that in a perverted way.
Although her cheeks turn bright pink anyway. Still, she sits and looks at the kit, her forehead wrinkling. “It looks so much more complicated back here than I thought.”
Pulling up another stool, I perch next to her. “Don’t worry about anything but the snare,” I say. “Take my sticks and hold them— Yeah, just like that.”
For the next thirty minutes I concentrate on teaching her the basics. I teach her how to single and double stroke, flam, drag, and she progresses as far as a single paradiddle before she gets frustrated. Abandoning my stool, I stoop behind her and guide her hands through a double paradiddle, although it’s something that’s automatic for me.
Standing this close to her, with her hair in my face, she’s all I feel, see, and smell. I close my eyes and breathe deep. God, but I love this girl. Everything about her calls to something inside me I didn’t realize I even had. My dick thickens as she wiggles on the stool, the sides of her soft breasts rubbing the insides of my forearms. She’s gonna kill me.
“Let me try it,” she says, bringing me back to the moment.
I release her hands, but I don’t straighten. I can’t. She’s like a fucking lodestone pulling me closer. She stumbles through the double paradiddle a few times before she finally beats it out perfectly. Because this is a girl who doesn’t fail at anything she puts her mind to.
“I did it!” she exclaims, spinning on the stool to face me.
I back up then, but only because a broken nose would put a damper on my plans for the night. Her grin is wide and proud. God, this girl.
“Proud of you, babe,” I say gruffly.
“We should play more,” she says with a little bounce that makes her tits move under her shirt in a way that I heartily approve of. “Maybe you could teach me a little while every day?” I grunt because all I can think of is tearing off all her clothes, dropping to my knees in front of her, and burying my face in the sweetest cunt I’ve ever had the honor of touching. “Why, you should become a teacher, you know? A music teacher,” she says in a serious tone that manages to capture my quickly misfiring brain cells.
