by Vivien Sparx
Stone rose from the bed slowly, and the swell within his jeans was hard and thick. Lilley sank to the floor, instinctively lowered her head, as though somehow she knew it was expected. She moved her knees wide apart so that her body was on display, and all the while her heart was racing and the blood thrilled like a relentless drum against her temples.
As she lowered her head, Lilley’s hair fell forward in a veil across her face. Stone reached out, ran a gentle hand down her cheek, marveling in the softness of her skin and the heat of her body. Then he fisted a handful of her hair and tugged so that her head was jerked up, and her eyes blazed with something that was primitive and erotic and pure sexual arousal.
“You will obey me,” he said.
She nodded without hesitation.
“And you will do all I command.”
Lilley nodded again.
He lifted her to her feet and led her to the foot of the bed, bending her at the waist and positioning her with her feet side apart. “Grip the ironwork,” Stone said. Lilley did as he commanded.
He went around behind her, stood admiring her body once more, his eyes feasting on the round firm shape of her buttocks and the tantalizing shadow between her thighs. He scratched his fingernails down her back and she arched herself involuntarily and moaned. Then he ran his hands up the length of both thighs, starting at her knees and sliding them higher and higher until she was trembling and her body was pressing down, craving the moment of his touch. But it never came. Stone stopped, reached around her until he had the firm weight of one of her breasts in his hand. He squeezed her nipple until she winced.
“Open your mouth,” Stone said. “And keep it open.”
He stood back, slid out of his jeans and then knelt on the bed so that the thick length of him was thrusting between the wrought iron pattern – and just an inch from Lilley’s Pond’s open, waiting mouth.
He leaned forward and slid himself between her lips, feeling the softness of her tongue and the hot wetness of her mouth envelope him. He clenched his teeth, set his jaw, and took another fistful of her hair. “Keep your mouth open,” he hissed.
He used Lilley’s mouth for his pleasure, filling her completely until her nose was pressed against the flat muscle of his abdomen, and then withdrawing himself slowly until just the swollen throbbing head of his shaft was resting between her lips. Lilley gasped, tried desperately to suck in lungsful of air, as Stone worked himself deeper and deeper into her open mouth whilst all the while she held her body passive and pliant.
“Good girl,” Stone growled. He could feel the slippery slide of her tongue as she fluttered it along the underside of his shaft. He felt the sensations as she sucked, and new sensations as he grazed himself across her teeth. He felt himself swelling, pulsing and throbbing as his body responded to her willingness.
Finally he withdrew himself and she looked up expectantly.
“Come to me,” Stone said.
Lilley crawled onto the bed on her hands and knees, sleek and slowly, each move accentuating the sway of her hips and the swell of her perfect breasts. She waited until Stone positioned her with her head on the pillows and he slapped the cheek of her bottom with the palm of his hand. Lilley moaned again, thrust back eagerly, and he slapped her again so that the flesh turned red and he could see the imprint of his hand. Lilley made a sexy, aroused whimpering sound, muffled by the pillow.
“Brace yourself.”
Stone nudged Lilley’s legs wide apart and pressed the thickness of himself against the folds of her sex. She was wet, her body aroused beyond tolerance, so that Stone felt a warm rush of her juices coat his fingers. He slid himself across the swollen puffy folds of her opening, and when he felt her pressing back as if to capture him, he finally, slowly, eased himself deep inside her.
Lilley’s mouth fell open, her whole body gripped by a seizure of overwhelming pleasure. She clawed at the sheets, as Stone eased himself deeper and her body adjusted to the thickness and hardness of him. She lifted her head off the pillow, tossing her hair from side to side, pushing back onto him to feel the glorious fullness of him.
Stone grunted as their bodies became fully joined. He clamped his hands at her waist, deliberately digging his fingers into the firmness of her body, so that she felt totally pinned and vulnerable and restrained.
Sensations Lilley never experienced and never dreamed were possible began to surge through her body, coming from every nerve and fiber, detonating between her legs and behind her eyes. The thrill of being at Stone’s mercy was like a primal satisfaction that she had yearned for, yet never before understood. Now she did.
Jack Stone made her feel like a woman.
Her first orgasm was simply too much, simply too intense to restrain. She couldn’t hold back. Every slow measured thrust and every sweaty press of their bodies against each other stoked a fire that became a blaze, and then a wildfire. She clenched her teeth, whimpered – and then suddenly she was crying out in joy and sobbing with emotion.
Stone was relentless. He felt Lilley’s body grip tightly around his shaft and begin to pulse, but still he drove himself into her open, writhing body. And still – somehow – she thrust back to meet every new plunge until at last he felt himself beginning to thrill.
He felt the tenseness low down in the pit of his stomach, and then the heat of Lilley’s body seemed to spark and ignite along the length of his shaft. He slowed, drawing out the sensations, only to be met by Lilley’s own urgent need that hurtled them both relentlessly towards oblivion.
“Cum with me!” Stone hissed.
“Yes. God, yes!”
He flexed the muscles in his thighs, felt the tension spreading across his shoulders and the muscles in his chest. Felt the whole of his body go rigid, like a bow that was stretched to the very point of impossible pressure.
And then Stone exploded, head thrown back to the ceiling, a cry of satisfaction like a roar in the back of his throat and the chords in his neck swollen and bulged. The eruption of his orgasm triggered Lilley’s own release a moment later so that she twisted and writhed against him until there was nothing left. Nothing at all except ache and satisfaction and exhaustion.
Afterwards, when the passion had burned through, Lilley lay peacefully wrapped around him, entangled in the sheets and their bodies still damp with sweat. She felt a strange sense of triumph and deep fulfillment, as though she had achieved something of importance. Something spiritual. Something mystical that went beyond the mere pleasure of her orgasm. She propped herself up on one elbow and traced the outline of a scar on Stone’s forehead with the delicate gentle touch of a fingertip and asked him softly, “How did you get this?”
Stone grunted. The scar ran in a semi-circle, starting at the bridge of his nose and arcing up over his eyebrow. It was a thin line of white flesh, faded over the years.
“Shooting incident,” he said.
Lilley was instantly intrigued. “When you were in the army?”
He shook his head and smiled. “No. When I was fifteen,” he said. “I went hunting in the woods with a friend. He was older than me, and he had rifles. We went shooting targets, and when it was my turn to fire, I put my eye too close to the telescopic sight. The recoil of the weapon kicked back and drove the rim of the sight into my forehead.”
Lilley blinked. “You’re lucky you weren’t blinded.”
Stone nodded. “I got a concussion, ten stitches and a black eye,” he said softly. “And I learned to respect a firearm – the hard way.”
Her fingertip drifted higher to the other scar on his forehead. It was about an inch long, a raised ridge. “And this one?”
“Bar fight,” Stone said. “I head-butted a guy in a bar in Chicago. When his nose broke, some of the shattered bone cut into my forehead.”
Lilley shuddered as if she were cold. She curled up close to him and touched his shoulder. “And the tattoo?”
“That’s the date my sister Susan was born,” Stone said, his voice suddenly gaining an edge
. “I got it to remind me every day why I am doing this, and how important it is to find her.”
There was a long silence. Lilley ran her fingers through the whorls of crisp curly hair across Stone’s chest, making a soft contented humming sound as she did. Stone closed his eyes – and then suddenly the sound of a phone ringing from somewhere in the house cut through the sexy silence.
Lilley sat upright and there was a split-second of confusion on her face as she went through the usual ‘I wonder who the hell is ringing me at this time of the night’ process. Then she glanced across at the bedside clock.
“Oh hell!” she said.
She scrambled naked from the bed and snatched at a silk dressing gown hanging on a hook behind the door. It was short, with a red and black oriental pattern printed into the fabric. Stone had a brief glimpse of Lilley’s perfectly shaped ass as she disappeared down the hallway.
Stone could hear Lilley’s voice as a murmur, but when she didn’t return to the bedroom after five minutes he pulled on his jeans and went to investigate.
Lilley was standing in the living room, holding a cordless phone to her ear. She was gesturing with her other hand – waving it around and tracing random shapes in the air as she spoke.
“Yes, mom,” she said. “I know it’s aunty Pearl’s birthday next week. Of course I’ll phone her.”
Stone went to the kitchen and stood by the table, watching Lilley. He watched the way she moved, and the slow sway of her hips under the shiny material. She caught sight of him and rolled her eyes. Then she held the phone away from her ear, gave him a look of despair, and smiled. Stone smiled back.
“Yes mom,” she spoke into the phone again. “I had a good day. In fact I had a very, very good day,” she said, putting emphasis on her words in all the right places and then coming towards where Stone stood, arching her eyebrows at him and licking her lips provocatively. She was standing disconcertingly close to him, enveloping him with her scent and her sensual unaffected beauty.
Stone let out a sudden growl and reached out for her. Lilley’s face registered a flash of horrified surprise and she tried to step away, but Stone’s hand clutched at her wrist and pulled her close to him. Lilley gave a breathless little gasp, and then hurried an explanation to her mother, while Stone’s hands were suddenly tugging at the cord around her waist, pulling open the gown and sliding it down off her shoulders so her breasts were exposed.
Lilley shuddered. She tried to pull away again, but one of Stone’s hands wrapped around her waist as he lowered his mouth to her breast. Her flesh was hot and silky, and he felt her nipple harden and pucker between his tugging lips. She continued to struggle unconvincingly, and then her whole body seemed to soften like wax as she began to melt into his arms.
“Oh, God!” Lilley sighed, a soft ragged groan of pleasure – and then said louder into the phone, “No, mom. I wasn’t talking to you. There was something on the news.”
Stone sucked and teased her nipple, then moved his mouth across to the other breast. Lilley changed the phone into her other hand, and clutched him to her, lacing her fingers into his hair. She felt herself beginning to tremble. She threw back her head and surrendered to his touch. Stone backed her up against the edge of the table and his cunning fingers began to explore beneath the short hem of the gown.
“Mom, I have to go!” Lilley said, strained to keep her voice emotionless and monotone whilst Stone’s hands and mouth ravaged her. “I think I’ll go to bed. I’m feeling kind of tired.”
Stone’s free hand slid down between her legs, and Lilley had no way to avoid the jolt of erotic sensations that his touch sparked. She could feel the edge of the table against the back of her thighs, and so she held her breath and tried to stifle the sobs of pleasure as one of Stone’s fingers slipped deep within the slick moistness of her sex.
Lilley thumped the phone to end the call. Her hands were shaking. The phone fell from her grip, clattered to the floor. She didn’t even notice.
“God!” she sighed, the sounds in the back of her throat a husky growl. “God yes, Jack!”
Stone slid a second finger inside Lilley, and they stood face to face so he could see the wild desperate look in her eyes as she bucked her hips and thrust herself down hard to feel the fullness of his touch. She bit her bottom lip between her teeth. She groaned, and then slumped her head against his shoulder, her breath coming in short little gasps as the rising sensations between her parted thighs turned her knees to jelly.
Stone turned Lilley around and planted one of his hands in the middle of her back, forcing her to bend over the table. She folded at the waist obedient and willing, shuffling her legs wider apart and turning her head to press her cheek against the cold timber surface of the table. Stone held her down with enough pressure for her to feel the sense of being restrained. He fumbled with the button of his jeans with his free hand, and guided the swelling length of himself between her thighs.
“Don’t move,” Stone hissed.
He eased himself inside her. She was already wet, and accustomed to his size now. He slid within her until their bodies were pressed together and then froze for long moments to enjoy the vibrations of Lilley’s body gripping and clutching and pulsing around his length.
Stone clamped his hands on Lilley’s shoulders, leaning over her to apply pressure – pinning her helplessly to the table. She sighed, reveling in the overpowering thrill of fullness and submission. And then Stone began to plunge himself in and out of Lilley’s wet and willing body, driving hard with his hips. The aching knot in the pit of her stomach became a bloom of searing heat, and a new wonderful sensation overwhelmed her.
For Lilley, there was no high and no low. No modulation to her heightened sense of enduring thrill. It was like the crescendo of a piece of classical music – an endless climax that was driven by the steady rhythmic thrust of Stone’s body against hers. She writhed and twisted against him. Her hands turned to tensed claws that scrabbled at the edge of the table. Her heart began to race and she lost all control – all sense of awareness beyond the feelings that engulfed her.
They came together – a single blinding moment of release that seized their bodies in tensed rigid relief so that time seemed frozen and everything around them stopped. A heartbeat, maybe two, and then Stone was breathing again, and Lilley was sobbing and trembling beneath him.
For a long time afterwards neither of them spoke. It was as if the air had been sucked from the room, vaporized by the intensity of their passion.
Lilley stood, weak as a kitten, and fell into Stone’s waiting arms. He kissed her, this time with slow, lingering passion as he slid his lips across hers and cupped her face within the palms of his hands.
“I have to go,” Stone said softly.
Lilley opened her eyes with reluctance.
“It’s past nine,” he explained. “I need to get to Hank Dodd’s property and try to find those two girls.”
Twenty.
Lilley had a flashlight stored under her kitchen sink. Stone threw it onto the passenger seat and put the car in gear.
He turned left onto Main Street and drove slowly, his eyes scanning the parked up cars along the curb. He saw the glowing red and green neon sign in the window of ‘Stan’s Bar’. Then he saw the blue SUV. It was parked on Main Street, out front of the laundromat. He grinned mirthlessly, and nosed the Chevy into a space nearby.
Main Street was dark. The stores were closed. There was only ambient light from a slice of moon and the dull yellow glow of a couple of street lights.
Stone got out of the Chevy and went to the SUV. The doors were locked, the windows all wound up tight. He put his palm on the hood. The engine was stone cold, meaning the two out-of-towners were probably still in the bar, and had been there all afternoon.
Stone went down on one knee, let the air out of the two front tires. Did the same to the rear tires. Smiled to himself, not from the act, but from what it meant. It meant the two guys weren’t going anywhere in a hurry. It meant
they would still be around when Stone got back from Hank Dodd’s property.
That was good.
He slid back behind the wheel, gunned the engine, and blew past the outer limits of Windswept before he realized he didn’t know what to do with the Chevy.
Dodd had a property with a long dirt driveway that branched off the two-lane. Where did Stone park? He remembered seeing distant buildings well back from the road as he had driven to Rapture, so each property was at the end of a mile-long dirt trail. If he drove down the track to Dodd’s property and there was someone waiting, he would be spotted immediately. But if he parked up on the roadside and Dodd came home from the bar early, he might get suspicious.
In the end, he saw the mailbox Lilley had described and drove on for another mile. Eased the car off the road so two wheels were still on tarmac, and two on the roadside gravel out front of the next mailbox north. It was an old iron drum, painted green set on top of a treated timber post. Across the barrel hand-painted in careful lettering was the name ‘Cartwright’. Stone frowned, puzzled. Searched his memory for a moment. Then he locked the car and walked grimly back to the turnoff. If Dodd came home early, he was unlikely to drive a mile past his own turnoff. He was unlikely to see the Chevy.
It was dark. Overhead, clouds were building up from the west, blocking out stars, scudding across the moon. There was enough light to see a few feet ahead of him, no more. He carried the flashlight in his left hand and started down the dirt track that led to Hank Dodd’s house, boots crunching loudly on the loose gravel.
Shapes began to loom out of the night. Not really shapes, but areas of black that were somehow denser and darker than the black of the night. Big shapes on his right, and he slowed as he got closer, instinct telling him it was time for stealth.
Stone crouched down and let his eyes adjust. He had good night vision, and he concentrated on the building. Gradually the blackness took on indistinct detail. The structure was high, shaped like a wedge. A sprawling shape with other lower structures around it. He crept closer, stepping off the track onto soft sand and scrub.
