by Nora Flite
“Touch yourself,” he commanded. His eyes were transfixed on mine. Wordlessly I listened, moving my fingertips down until I grazed my hard clit. Meanwhile, he gripped his cock, angling his hips toward me. His strokes were slow at first as his eyes took me in. I watched his hand work up and down his shaft.
Warmth was spreading through my belly as I made slow circles around my clit. I was so ready it almost hurt. My hands started moving faster. I could have watched him forever; pants down around his thighs, his balls tight and high and his cock, hard as a diamond. His teeth were gritted as he jerked himself, faster and faster still. I saw his head cast back, his balls tighten. My pussy was aching. I wished he were filling me up. I plunged my fingers inside instead.
“Ohhh, fuck me,” I muttered, and as I did, he shot his cum on my skin, letting out a great gasp of ecstasy. Watching his cock pulse was all I needed. My body clenched and shivered and clenched again as I was lost in orgasm, the white light of my pleasure blotting out the light of day.
After a moment, I heard him chuckle.
“You look amazing like that,” he said. I pulled my hand out from between my legs. My cunt was still quivering, tender. With him watching me with fierce curiosity, I dipped my hands in his cum and licked it off my fingers. He was tangy and sweet—it made my heart thrum. “How do I taste?” he whispered.
“Delicious,” I told him, smirking. His whole body shivered; it made me feel powerful. I loved it.
His eyes were on mine as he tucked his cock back into his jeans, buttoned up, and then got a clean towel out of his bike’s storage. He tossed it my way.
Our chemistry drifted into something else. I wasn't sure I liked it, mostly because I had no name for it.
Silently I wiped myself clean. In that moment, I was torn in two directions. On the one hand, I felt like the money and the bet were mine now. After a quickie like that, he was bound to fall for me, fast. But on the other, I was worried that I was too easy for him.
How else could I explain his sudden quiet distance? He was putting himself back together, getting ready to leave. If he took off, I’d never see him again. “Simon,” I started to say, not sure where I'd go with it.
But then he came close again and eased my jeans up over my hips. With gentle hands, he pulled the zipper up, and did the button, too. Simon looked down on me, a shape on his lips. What was he going to say?
And then, suddenly, he kissed me on the mouth for the first time. I hadn't considered that our lips hadn't met. Except now that I felt the pop-rock sweetness exploding on my tongue, my brain shutting down, I wondered how I'd lived without this.
I wrapped my arms around him, holding on tight. It wasn’t long before my pulse was racing again, my hands moving up and down his back. His hand, meanwhile, was moving towards my ass.
“Excuse me,” a gruff voice said. We pulled back in surprise to see the bartender peering down the alleyway, a box of empties in his hands. His expression was perplexed and a little embarrassed. I wondered what he’d seen.
“Get the hell back inside, punk,” Simon said sharply. “No ogling the naked lady. Thanks.” The bartender couldn’t have been much more than a college student, and he blushed at Simon’s tone, then dropped the bottles on the ground and hustled off. Simon smirked as he watched the younger man go. I got the feeling that he got off on being powerful, being commanding. Strange, usually I went for guys who were more like that kid—soft and easily flustered. But in the moment, I didn’t mind being with Simon. Not at all. I leaned in to him, but this time, he didn’t lean back. Instead, he grinned at me.
“I was thinking about what you said earlier,” he chuckled. “Maybe your plan to go back to my place is a good one.”
For all the wrong reasons, my heart swelled. It should have worried me.
I ignored it and said, “I’d love that.”
2
We rode home under a gorgeous blue-purple sunset that didn’t mean a thing to me. My heart was racing, and it had nothing to do with the view. Who was this guy, with his velvety voice that made my heart melt, and why was I letting him drive me off toward who-knows-where on our very first date?
Usually I was much more cautious than this. But with Simon, I was throwing caution to the wind. I loved the way my legs felt around his ass and how right it felt to tuck my head against his shoulder. We were one creature on that bike, speeding into the night together. Simon pushed his Kawasaki faster than I thought possible. As he sped through the streets of downtown, I gripped his waist and buried my face in his shoulder. Lights streaked by. His engine purred. My pussy was still aching from him; I was wet again, already. And he hadn’t even said a word.
His apartment was over a posh restaurant. He parked at the curb, grabbed my hand, and rushed me up the narrow stairwell. But even though we rushed up the stairwell together, I knew that this wasn’t some cutesy romantic comedy. This was something else entirely, something heady and serious and wild. And maybe a little fucked-up, too. I reached out and grabbed his cock through his jeans as he unlocked the door. It hardened beneath the tight denim. Then I stroked him up and down his shaft. He closed his eyes, letting out a hot breath of desire. But then I saw his jaw set. He turned to me, eyes dark and serious.
“Not here,” he growled. “You need to wait.”
“Why?” I asked, my eyes flashing at him as I gave him a squeeze. There was only the slightest hint of a smile on the corners of his mouth.
“Because I’m going to take you exactly where I want you.”
I drew my hand away and stuffed it down into my pocket. It was hard not to caress him again, harder, or not to touch my own body and relieve the pressure that was building inside. But I waited.
He threw open the door and tossed his keys down on a steel side table. Meanwhile, I looked around. He lived in a loft space, distressed hardwood floors and exposed beams. There was a kitchen at the back. More steel and gleaming marble. And a king-sized bed in the middle draped in black silk sheets. I was shocked. I was used to little boys who could barely run a vacuum, much less keep their kitchens under control. The whole place was spotless. There was no sign of a video game system and no potato chip dust on the floor and no pot-smoking roommate lurking in the shadows. It was masculine, clean, solitary and undoubtedly expensive.
“So . . .” I began slowly, all while he undid his shirt. “What do you do for a living?”
“We’re not going to talk about that,” he said. His hands drifted to his jeans, guiding them off with ease as I held my breath.
“Wow” I said, not caring how ridiculous I sounded. He was wearing a black sleeveless undershirt and matching boxer briefs, but I could see how his entire torso was traced in colorful tattoo work. There were dragons and phoenixes and mermaid pin-up girls and swallows, too. But mostly there were peacocks, two huge ones, just like his screen name. Dozens of feathers. I stepped closer. For some reason, I felt incredibly nervous as I reached out to brush the ink on his arm.
“Can you tell me about your tattoos?” I asked as my fingers caressed the surface of his bicep. Something hardened behind his eyes. Simon pulled his arm away.
“I don’t want to talk about that, either,” he said. I let my hand fall
But then I pushed away that small, fleeting feeling of rejection. This was for the bet, after all. I let my own gaze go hard, too.
“What do you want to talk about then?” I challenged him. He arched an eyebrow. Beneath it, his eyes were undeniably hungry as they moved across my body. My spirits lifted, and my hopes.
“Take off your pants and top,” he said, his voice a confident growl. “But keep your panties on. I want you to lie down on the bed and wait for me.”
Wait? Hadn't I done enough of that?
I did as I was told, easing my jeans over the curve of my ass until they pooled at the floor by my feet. After a moment, my green halter joined them. I was wearing nothing but my panties. My nipples firmed in the cool air. I arched my back, giving him a show. At first it seemed like he
was hardly watching me, but then his eyes flashed, giving me an appreciative glance. Relishing the attention, I went to the bed, sitting perched on the end. Waiting for him.
My heart worked overtime as he stepped closer through the darkness. Somehow, I felt certain that his heart was racing too. His body was carved out of stone, and every muscle seemed to quietly pulse with desire for me. I wanted him, and I knew that he wanted me, too.
But though he smiled, his tone was serious.
“I told you to lie down,” he said. “Don’t talk and don’t move.”
My pulse went mad. For some reason, the tone in Simon’s voice had me shifting with a rush of lust. I was naked, vulnerable, and it was hot as hell. It was like his body was calling to me through the dark apartment, even though both of us had fallen silent. What was happening to me? I lay back in his bed, feeling the cool caress of silk, torn between fear and anticipation.
He drew his tongue along the sole of my foot—I squeaked and jumped. I’d never felt anything quite like it before. It tickled, but it also sent goose bumps up and down my legs. It was like the points that he was touching with his mouth somehow connected directly to my cunt. Desire swelled inside me. But self-consciousness, too.
What if he was some weird fetishist? His profile on Perfect Click had told me all about his love for bikes and nature walks and post-rock girl bands, but it hadn’t said a word about feet.
“I don’t know if I like—” I started.
But he drew his mouth away from my skin just long enough to say, “Shut up.”
Anger flared brightly inside me. Who was this guy? And who did he think he was, anyway? But before I could muster a response, his tongue touched my flesh again. And like I was under the work of a magical spell, I let out a low, long moan.
Suddenly, ferociously, he began to run his mouth up along the inside of my leg. I felt his teeth graze me, felt the strong, firm pressure of his lips. Then he switched sides and began to work his magic on my other leg. He licked the backs of my knees. I’d never been kissed like that before, not there, not so savagely. It was as though I was a fine piece of meat and he was starving for me. He bit into the toned flesh of my thighs. My legs were bucking, and he hadn’t even touched my pussy yet. I was itching with arousal, as fidgety as someone with too much caffeine
But he wanted to torture me a while longer yet. With the tip of his tongue, he caressed my hips and belly, licking a line along those fine, invisible hairs that usually made me feel so self-conscious. Not tonight. Tonight, all I felt was my pleasure building. I let out another low moan, and this time, he didn’t tell me to shut up.
“Please, taste me,” I begged. His mouth made another line across my belly. I think Simon could tell exactly how wild he was driving me. I mean, it couldn’t have been more obvious. My back was arched, my legs spread, my pussy slick with my own juices.
I heard him chuckle as he shoved my panties aside and dipped his fingers into me. It wasn’t enough. I wanted his cock, wanted it to scrape at my G-spot, filling me up. That’s when I felt his tongue straining the lacy fabric of my thong, dipping deep into me.
His tongue was flicking hard against my clit. This was too direct, too much. I was panting and groaning and close, so close, that it almost hurt. He dipped his tongue into me again, and I let out a moan, my muscles all tightening like guitar strings. Simon was the musician who knew how to tune me. In a second, I would come, and it would all be over.
But that’s when he drew his face away. I glanced down uncertainly, aching with need for him.
“What’s going on?” I finally panted. My clit throbbed impatiently. But Simon didn’t answer. His grin was wicked and playful. He spread my legs wide, and let his skillful tongue lick the tight knot of my asshole.
Every muscle tensed in pleasure. I'd never had someone do that—it made me feel strange. But he was so skillful, without hesitation or disgust; I found myself spreading my legs wider. His tongue plunged into me, caressing that taut bit of skin, and I wanted it, even as I desperately wanted my pussy to get some relief, too.
“Fuck!” I sighed, as his tongue moved inside me. There was a part of me that wasn’t sure that I wanted this, but that part was not my body. In fact, waves of pleasure were surging inside me. With dim awareness, I felt his hand edge up my thigh to find my clit, swollen with desire. His tongue was still pulsing between my cheeks, but his fingers began to rub circles around the tiny fingertip of flesh. He was good at this. He was very good.
It was exactly the way I touched myself when I was alone and bored and tense. Part of me wondered how he could have known all of this, if he had somehow read my mind on exactly the way I wanted to be caressed. But that was absurd. Simon was a stranger. And yet at first his fingers moved slowly, then with mounting speed, then slowly again, just the way I liked it.
Tingles grew in my belly. I was coming close again—and as though he could sense it, both tongue and fingers slowed. But they didn’t stop. They both kept moving with just enough speed to keep me teetering on the edge of orgasm. Then, without warning, he sped up again. I moaned, tightening my legs around his head. The circles of his fingers made my clit feel raw and huge.
I was strangling him but he kept going, with tongue and fingers both. My body made a shape, a sharp C. A groan started deep in my belly, low and guttural. He didn’t stop. That’s when my whole body was flooded in waves of ecstasy.
I came, gripping the silk sheets in my hands, my knees locked around his head. And yet, he didn’t relent. His tongue circled my ass over and over again as my orgasms crashed into each other. It felt like my whole body was flooded. I screamed, but my ears were so overwhelmed by the sound of my pulse that I couldn’t hear it. I was a mass of pleasure, ass and clit and pussy, pulsing over and over again.
“Oh my god,” I breathed, as he finally tore his body away from mine. The night felt so cold without his skin on me. I tugged the sheets upwards. “Simon?”
It was then that I heard him rummage through the nightstand for a condom. There was the sound of tearing, and then the sound of rubber snapping down his shaft. My body was still twitching in aftershocks. I wasn’t sure my pussy could take anymore. But then he turned my spent, exhausted body over, and slowly moved his rock hard cock deep inside me. My lips tightened, then opened to him.
I wasn’t sure if I could take him all in after what had happened, how hypersensitive my pussy was. And yet, with a wave of satisfaction, he worked himself as deeply inside me as he could go. I was jelly and pleasure and softness. He was hard, hot burning desire. He plowed himself in and out of me; my ass rising up off the bed to meet his cock. I wanted him in me all the way to his root. Simon obliged.
Hot pricks of delirious pleasure attacked me. I drew my hand down between my legs, finding my clit, all swollen and spent and yet still throbbing. With Simon moving in and out of me, I knew it wouldn’t take much to make myself come. He was fucking me faster and faster, and I loved it, the inner walls of my body stretching to fit his rock hard cock.
I started to rub circles around my clit. Three little strokes—three more pumps of that enormous cock inside me—and my body clenched with delight. I heard Simon let out a strangled cry as my body tightened around him like a vise. Instantly he came, twitching through the latex. His orgasm seemed to go on and on.
Thank god for condoms, I thought, as the clenching in my pussy finally faded and Simon slowly pulled out. The bed springs squeaked from his weight as he shifted off of me. I was breathing heavy, distantly aware that he'd left. Water ran nearby; he was cleaning himself. Then he returned, naked and beautiful in the moonlight.
He lay down beside me. I was enduring the aftershocks of my orgasm. My body was satisfied. My mind was electric and blank. I’d never come so hard before, had never felt anything like that, as though I was play-doh in a man’s hands.
Exhaustion was demanding I sleep. It couldn't be very late in the day, but it didn't matter—I was drained. Simon, this gorgeous stranger who was supposed to
be nothing but my road to a prize, he'd swept me into his home and left me ruined.
Next to me, he made a small noise. I rolled over enough to look on him, his arms folded neatly behind his head, his dark eyes fixed on me. The feathered birds colored his hard muscles green and orange and blue.
“Now,” I said softly, drawing my index finger along his bicep. “Will you tell me about your tattoos?”
Simon didn't blink. All he did was turn away, smiling in the darkness. Perfect lips spread, his voice soft and flat. “No.”
The light through Simon’s picture windows in the morning was incredibly bright. It was early; couldn’t have been much past five, so I was surprised when I turned my head to the side and caught Simon, awake beside me in bed, watching me.
I startled. He did too, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I was—” he started.
I sat up, grinning at him. He could play tough and impenetrable, but maybe there was a decent guy inside that tattooed exterior after all?.
“You were watching me sleep,” I said.
Simon scoffed. For a second, it was like I could read his thoughts. He wasn’t some schmuck from a romance novel who gazed longingly at the heroine. He was supposed to be tough as nails. So he stood up, hustling off to the bathroom. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he mumbled as he went.
“What did you say?” I demanded, suddenly hot and prickly. There was something maddening about a man who defied my every expectation.
As I peered in on him in the bathroom, peeling his clothes off, I had to admit that there was something intriguing about it, too. People always struck me as very simple. Their goals basic.
Money.
Sex.
Power.
When you realized that, life was predictable. Simon was anything but.
He didn't answer me. Standing in front of the shower, he twisted the faucet on, filling the room with steam. Rolling his boxers down, he exposed his cock. It was soft, but still impressive,
