by Unknown
Trembling with unsatisfied desire, she stood at the mirror, taking in her appearance. She automatically pulled out a lip gloss from her purse, and then stopped. It didn’t matter her makeup had worn away. Her looks didn’t need to be artificially enhanced. What mattered was how she sounded, her words and voice, how she felt to his touch, and how she smelled to him.
This dance of courtship—of seduction—was like no other. She couldn’t use her normal arsenal of feminine wiles. And she wanted, needed him to want her. She chewed her lip, considering her next move while starting to leave. But then inspiration hit. Amanda slid into a cubicle and locked the door. She could do something he might appreciate.
She slipped her lace panties off entirely and stuffed them in her small purse. Her legs felt heavy, languorous as she inched her skirt up. Her thighs tingled as she traced the satiny skin and parted them to allow access, dipping her fingers into the moist slit of her sex. Her body stiffened as she passed over the small sensitive nub of flesh nestled there. She withdrew her hand to rub her damp fingers along her neck, then behind her ears. Let’s just see how good his sense of smell really is.
She made her way back to the table. “I’m back,” Amanda said softly as she slid into the chair beside him.
“Is this better?” She leaned toward him as he inclined his head toward hers. As he breathed her in, she closed her eyes, tickled by his warm breath on her neck. His hands threaded into her hair convulsively and he chuckled low.
“You’re full of surprises,” he said. “I love the way you smell, Amanda. It’s a very interesting scent you’re wearing now. Intoxicating.”
Amanda’s face burned. Her titillation worked.
“Did you think I wouldn’t know?” His fingers traced her neck lazily while his lips brushed her ear. “Are you testing me? Did I pass?” He stroked her collarbone as he pulled away, smiling. “I said I would notice things other men don’t. I do. Do you believe that?”
Amanda swallowed hard, fighting for some control as the erotic web he cast tightened a little more around her. “Yes, I do.”
“I notice your breathing is heavier. I can feel your desire. What are you wearing?” Before she could respond, his fingers slid from where they rested below the base of her neck to touch the silky material of her top. “A blouse and…” his hand dropped under the cloak of the tablecloth to feel, “…a skirt. The material is so light. What color is it?”
“Blue.”
His fingers fondled the fabric, the heat of his touch on her bare thigh thrilling. “What’s your favorite song of mine Amanda?”
“Midnight in Harlem,” she answered breathlessly.
“Hmm…You like the slower stuff, don’t you? A slower tempo?” Donovan’s fingers trailed up her leg, skimming carefully as though waiting for permission. She didn’t impede his progress, didn’t want to stop this sexy stranger from doing wickedly wonderful things to her. Time slowed for Amanda as the rush of her blood drowned out surrounding noises of the club. “Women are like songs. Some are hard and fast…some are all night long.”
His hand reached the top of her thigh, toying with her need. She held her breath as he waited a beat, then cupped her bare mound. “Yes,” he said softly at discovering her nudity. “Good girl. Open to me,” he whispered.
Amanda hiked up her skirt, spreading her legs wider under the table. His hand stayed there as though testing the weight of her flesh, then slowly, almost imperceptibly, stroked the outer lips of her sex only. His teasing went on and on, as she shifted uncomfortably in her chair.
“Please,” she whispered urgently.
“I just want you to open to me.”
Amanda’s sex bloomed fully, heavy and swollen, as Donovan finally took a calloused finger and slipped it easily into her slick inner folds. He kept it there, motionless. Desperate, Amanda started to undulate against it.
Donovan smiled. “That’s it, show me your rhythm.”
He moved at last, rubbing the erect nub of flesh to her pace.
Amanda’s eyelids fluttered but she willed her gaze to stay on him. The hard pad of his thumb replaced his finger on her clitoris, as his fingers surged into her tight flesh. Amanda gasped. Donovan’s casual posture belied all his wicked erotic ministrations under the table. Her flesh grew tighter as his hand worked her.
He took a sip of his scotch, then sucked an ice cube from the glass and slipped it into his hand. Cold fire lit through Amanda as he touched the ice to her heated flesh. “Out of all my senses, perhaps this one is the most heightened for me,” he said softly, as he brought the rapidly melting cube back to his lips. Opening his mouth to taste, Amanda watched his tongue roll over the cube slowly as though savoring the flavor of her. “It’s certainly my favorite.”
Her legs shook from his abrupt physical withdrawal as much as the sexy image Donovan had created.
He leaned into her then, kissing her. The bite of scotch and her essence mingled on his tongue. His kiss consumed her, dominating in its intensity, as he explored the moist recesses of her mouth. She grasped his curls in her hands, pulling him in closer.
Donovan broke off slowly, his breath ragged. “I think we need to get out of here.”
Amanda struggled to compose herself, straightening her skirt under the table.
He pulled out his wallet and deftly took out some bills. Amanda noticed they were all folded differently depending on the denomination. So that’s how he knows what currency it is, she thought wonderingly.
“We’ll go to my place. I’m close by.”
Amanda led the way for them both, but it was Donovan who supported her as she walked, her body still humming with need for release.
He unlocked the door and led her into a small apartment. “Would you like a drink?”
She mutely shook her head, then realized what she was doing. “No, I’m fine actually.” She was awkward now, their recent intimacy in the club receding.
His bed lay directly on the floor, next to instruments and a large sound system. “I am sorry for the poor decorating here. It’s meant to appeal to me I guess. Lots of music. From everywhere.” His fingers trailed through a stack of records in a measured fashion, flicking through them slowly until he reached the one he wanted. “I’m old school. The sound is warmer to me.” Blues filled the room with a slow driving, seductive beat.
He picked a small drum up. “I’m not that good at playing all of these, but it helps me hear the song in my head when I’m writing.” He thumped the drum softly. Amanda watched his hands rhythmically beat to the tempo on the record. “Do you want to play?” he asked, stopping.
“No, I don’t know how.”
He reached his hand toward her, pulled her to him, and placed the drum in front of her. Amanda felt a bit ridiculous. She didn’t know what she was doing. He settled directly behind her on the floor.
“Just feel the song.” Donovan picked up her hands, and holding them, moved them to the music. She listened to the song as he deftly moved her palms to its rhythm. His loose grasp slipped away as she was keeping the beat herself. “Keep playing,” he whispered. His hands dropped to cradle her wrists, exploring her skin gently. He trailed his fingers up her arms, lightly drawing his nails under her forearms. The softest part of a women’s body. She shivered with sensation, as all her attention riveted to an area of her body no one bothered to touch before. Her eyes closed as the music and his fingers glided over her, her flesh stippling with goose bumps. She gasped as he found her breasts, sensitive and full. Amanda had ceased her drumming.
“You’ve stopped playing,” he admonished. He moved back, flicking some switches with the sound system.
“I can’t…please.”
His lips grazed her neck. “I’m recording this, are you okay with that?”
Seeming to sense Amanda’s confusion, Donovan leaned close into her ear. “I want to listen to us later.” Heat bloomed in her cheeks, aroused at the thought of him reliving their lovemaking afterward.
He undid her blouse, but
ton by button, sliding his hands under the silky fabric. Tracing the patterned lace of her bra, he inched slowly, as though memorizing her. Kissing her shoulder, he finally released her breasts from their constraints. He played with their curves and swells, the sloping undersides with the lightest touch, always on the periphery. Her nipples drew taut as though begging for his attention while Donovan’s hands moved onto her ribcage instead. He teased her collar bone, shifting lower to circle inward with patient fingers. When he finally reached the tight buds of her nipples, she moaned softly. She laid her head and shoulders against his chest weakly, as she arched her back to press her flesh toward his elusive fingers.
“More.”
He chuckled. “You are impatient.”
Grasping her full hips, he hiked the material of her skirt up slowly to her waist. He leaned into her, reaching his arms down to trail over her outer thighs, moving around to slide her legs apart. He placed his hands over hers once more. “If you make me play that drum again now, I will kill you.” She felt his smile against her neck.
“No,” he said slowly. He shifted his weight to lie down, with her still on top of him. His rigid desire pressed hard into her back as he brought her hands to her thighs. “I want you to show me your rhythm.” Amanda realized at once his meaning.
“No, I can’t.”
Embarrassed, she started to pull away, but he stilled her gently.
“I need to know.” He guided her hands, placing them on her mound. Amanda’s mind swirled as she bit her lip. A dull ache filled her slit now, so long denied its release. She hesitated only briefly.
Her fingers moved easily into her own creamy depths as his hand learned her secrets. Then his fingers replaced her own. Awash in sensation as his thick digits explored her, Amanda’s pleasure coiled higher. “Come for me. Don’t hold back. I need to hear you. Let yourself go.”
His free thumb pushed into her slick walls, as his finger picked up speed, coaxing her. She ground her hips to his movements, teasing him at the same time. The curve of her buttocks drew on the length of his cock with each flick and rotation. Amanda’s legs shook as she simultaneously ran hot and cold. Guttural cries flew from her throat as her body contracted, juices running freely on his hands until she finally stilled.
Unable to catch her breath, she hung limp as a ragdoll. Donovan cradled her, crooning softly in her ear. He picked her up easily and moved her to his mattress on the floor. She watched him peel off his clothes, taking in the ridges of his abdomen, his thick cock jutting from his thighs. His sunglasses were gone now, although his eyes were shut. His hand reached out, feeling around by the bed to retrieve a foil packet. He sheathed himself quickly.
Feeling for her, he grasped her ankles and licked her instep before nibbling up her calf and swooping around her knee. Nudging her wet thighs apart, he braced himself between them. With nostrils flaring, he inhaled her musky scent greedily, breath fanning lightly against her skin. Donovan’s lips teased the flesh of her legs, moving to the seam of her swollen lips to trace them before darting inside, the tip of his tongue spearing into her. None of his movements mirrored the tentative, halfhearted attempts at oral sex Amanda experienced with past lovers. His tongue was strong and sure, exploring her wet heat with confident ease as she pressed helplessly toward the skilled ministrations of his mouth. With each probing flick gliding along her inner folds, her hands fisted harder into the covers. His lips covered her small bundle of nerves, creating a shallow vacuum as his tongue swirled enticingly around it. The pulse between her legs intensified as he suckled gently, making colors explode once again.
As she arched against him, Amanda heard his deep voice rumble against her flesh. “Come for me, let me taste you.”
His fingers slid inside her entrance, pressing circles against the front wall in rhythm to the dance of his tongue, coaxing her pleasure higher, not letting up until she was quaking against him and crying out. The last throb of her second orgasm hit as Donovan withdrew and guided himself to the mouth of her hot sex.
Amanda gasped at his urgent entry and then moaned as he took the opportunity to devour her mouth. After kissing the breath out of her, he lay motionless for a moment, giving her time to welcome him. Amanda began to move restlessly against him, enjoying his sudden invasion, trying to draw him deeper into the tight clutch of her flesh. “You’re killing me baby,” he whispered.
He began to move slowly. She matched his measured thrusts with rolling hips. “You’re killing me too,” she said, gasping. The thick heat of him within her, the feel of total possession, caused her womb to contract. He laughed low, plunging in deeper and harder. They were both sweating now, their bodies fierce and kinetic. Amanda climbed higher, crying out as Donovan murmured encouragement in her ear, to vocalize each feeling, not to hide it. She twined her legs around his waist to clasp him even tighter as she started to shatter.
The fluttering grip of her wet sex around his cock must have been Donovan’s undoing. Muscles corded on his neck as he groaned. Amanda dimly felt the answering throb of his cock as her whole body rippled around him, wringing a final cry out of her. “Donovan!”
He gathered her in his arms, rolling to bring Amanda on top of him. She laughed breathlessly as the moisture from their bodies glued them together briefly. Lifting her head off his chest to gaze up at him in wonder, she saw dark stubble on his chin. He wiped the sweat from his face and she finally saw his eyes—milky and unfocused, like a newborn. Somehow this seemed even more intimate than their sex, this level of trust.
She touched his cheek and his eyes snapped closed.
“Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t shut them, please.”
He turned away to put his sunglasses on, then shoved his hand over the side of the bed to fish out a cigarette and a lighter. He quickly lit up. Dragging the smoke deep in his lungs, he suddenly seemed distant and remote. A veil dropped sharply over any vulnerability. Amanda sensed she’d crossed a line for him.
“I’ve met girls like you, enchanted with the music, maybe a little frightened but also intrigued with a man with no sight. They want to know what it would be like to sleep with a blind man. Like a visit to some exotic place. But nobody stays there—it’s a trip for them. Don’t make this more than it was.”
Amanda stiffened in shock. Donovan described her perfectly. His lack of sight overwhelmed—even frightened—her initially. And then it drew her in, like a neat party trick. She obviously wasn’t the first. Amanda’s shame deepened.
Yet everything about Donovan drew her to him, like a moth to a flame. She no longer saw his blindness as a disability, but as an integral part of him. Donovan wasn’t less of a man because of his lack of sight, but more of one. As for her, given some of her responses, she wasn’t as much of woman as she imagined.
She licked her dry lips. “Donovan, I can’t say that wasn’t true. I was intrigued by you, but firstly from the music. I wasn’t just looking to sleep with a blind man. I wanted to sleep with you. At first, I didn’t even know you were blind.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Amanda wanted to take them back. Donovan’s jaw clenched tightly.
“So when you approached me, you didn’t know I was blind? Would you have even bothered if you had?”
At her pause, he blew out a breath.
“So, you’re not a blind groupie. You just didn’t know.”
Amanda was lost at words to explain the meaning of tonight for her. Donovan had given her the most erotic experience of her life, and yet there was so much more she wanted from him, needed from him. As much as his music touched her soul, and his body satisfied her, it was the way he experienced the world, and most importantly, how he experienced her that dazzled her. “I was a little thrown at first,” she admitted. “That was my problem, not yours. I think you’re one of the most amazing men I have ever met, and whatever this started out as, for you or for me, I want to see you again—I want to spend time with you. Find out where this goes.”
Donovan’s hand groped for an ashtray and s
tabbed his cigarette out. “That’s just the orgasms talking. You’ll get over it.”
His words were like a cold glass of water thrown over her. How could he think that about the intimacies they shared?
“No, it’s more. I want you.”
“You had me, kid. Now it’s time to go.”
Amanda blinked at being so summarily dismissed, and tears blurred her eyes as she looked around for her clothes. Finding them, she struggled to yank her underwear on first. This was his schtick clearly, his seduction was down to a routine, and she fell for it. A quiet anger filled her. “You know Donovan, I found out a few things about myself I don’t like tonight. Maybe calling me a kid isn’t that far off on some things. I have a little growing up to do. Maybe a lot. But your problem isn’t you’re blind, or even my reaction to it. You’re scared. Of me. The way you held me and touched me wasn’t casual. Maybe it’s not that no one wants more, maybe you’re just not willing to offer it. And that makes you a coward.” Her hands shook from her emotion so hard that she couldn’t tug the zipper of her skirt up. She pulled her blouse out to cover it, backing up toward the door. “I hope you enjoy our recording, one of many apparently.”
She grabbed her purse and reached for the doorknob.
Lightning fast, Donovan closed the distance between them and leaned his weight on the doorframe. Breathing heavily, his hand reached out tentatively, encountering her back. He rested his palm on her.
“Don-don’t go.” He cleared his throat. “Wow. I guess we really called each other out on our shit. I don’t know the last time someone’s done that to me. You’re right. Maybe I don’t give anyone a chance to prove me wrong.”
Amanda turned to him, running her finger down his cheek.
“Maybe we can both prove each other wrong about some things,” she said softly. He encircled her waist. She leaned into him, thinking how right it felt to be in his arms.
“So,” he said awkwardly, “what do we do now?”
“For me, I call into work.”
He chuckled. “I guess we both need some sleep. You can, uh, crash here if you want.”
