The dark fall of his hair over his forehead shades his eyes but I can still see the deep sapphire glow.
“I’ll kiss you, darlin’, when I’m good and ready to kiss you. I’m in charge here. You’re gonna need to trust me. I say when.” I smile a little then. Because immediately after his macho-man pronouncement, he does kiss me, like he can’t resist me another second longer. “And how.” His dark look is touched by that almost-smile that melts me. “And where.” But in his kiss I can feel his surrender, his total commitment to taking care of me, in every possible way. Physically, he’s in total control, we both know that. But I have a power, too, and I can feel it. A feminine allure that’s so strong and so enticing to him, I can sense the limits of his control. That’s why he’ll dominate me, and set the pace. So he can hold on, and come only when he’s fully inside me.
Knowing this makes me want to tempt him even more. He’s still gripping my wrists and I struggle a little, wanting to touch him, to hold his big cock and tease him. Test him. See if I can make him come.
But Elias won’t let me budge. His grip tightens and he deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue into my mouth. I suck his tongue invitingly, arching my body up to him and letting my knees fall apart, so I’m fully open to him, vulnerable and ready for his dominance.
He makes a low, savage sound, kissing me again. A hot, deep kiss I feel to the fluttering wetness of my core. I want him there, so much, but he holds me down and kisses me until I’m flushed and lust-drunk. My whole body feels slippery and nubile. I relax into my obedience then, knowing that he won’t give me what I want until I obey him and stop trying to fight him or provoke him. He can feel my surrender and loosens his grip, kissing along my jaw, biting the soft flesh of my earlobe gently between his teeth. His hands wander along the skin of my neck and my shoulders, to my breasts. I stay still, praying he’ll continue. I’m breathing more heavily now and my breasts rise and fall as though beckoning him. I’m so wet I can feel a trickle of moisture.
“Please, Elias,” I hear myself murmur. “Please put your mouth on me.”
For that he’ll make me wait. He smooths my hair, then his hands brush along my stomach, teasing me, tickling me lightly, returning to my breasts only after he feels he’s tortured me enough. He’s watching my face, challenging me. And when I make no sound, he rewards me. His rough fingers trace slow circles around my nipples, drawing closer. And closer. My nipples are so taut and so sensitive that when he does touch me, I gasp and arch towards his hands. He allows this, taking my nipples between his fingers, twirling and squeezing gently until I’m moaning and my pussy is rippling along with each rhythmic pull.
Then – oh, God, he leans down and takes one of my nipples into the hot fire of his mouth. And when his teeth gently bite into my soft flesh as his fingers play, I come, just like that. With only the touch of his mouth and his fingers on my breasts, sensation feeding the soft spasms that start low in my belly and surge in luscious, clenching bursts.
Elias feasts on my breasts, one then the other, prolonging the swell, until I feel like I’m riding some kind of orgasmic high. He kisses a line down my stomach, licking into my navel, which makes me squirm, then lower. I can feel his hot breath on my humid flesh and I know he can see how ready I am. I want him to see. Carefully, I lace my fingers through his hair, not to pull him closer but just to touch him. His hair is thick and soft.
“My Sadie,” he says. “You’re so wet for me. I’m just gonna eat that sweet pussy, until you come again. You want me to kiss you, baby?”
My Sadie. He’s asked me the question so I think it must be okay to answer him. I whisper my reply. “Yes. Elias. Yes.”
But he doesn’t kiss me right away. With his fingers, he traces along the lips of my sex, opening me, dipping his fingers easily into my saturated core. He continues his gliding caress, circling my clit. When his thumb skates over the hyper-sensitive bud, my inner muscles begin to spasm lightly. It’s a rise that holds and swells but doesn’t yet break. I’m almost coming again, but he’s playing me, making me wait. I can’t help it: my hips gyrate a little. I want him to do something, anything. To put any part of himself on me, in me, anything.
I want to beg him! I want to climb onto him and make him touch me. But I know he’ll make me wait longer if I try to rush him.
Then, just when I think I can’t handle a single second more, he does it. He licks me, and I moan for him. He’s teasing me with small, careful flicks of his tongue. Dipping, circling. The swell is building. Promising an impossible high. When it breaks, I wonder if there’ll be anything left of me.
His mouth sucks on me, but he’s carefully avoiding the little nub except for gentle nips that purposely evade a rhythm I might be able to hold onto. And then, with his teeth, he gently squeezes my clit between the folds of my sex, biting softly.
“Oh, God, Elias. Oh.”
It’s coming. I’m so close. I’m so close. My hips are swaying of their own accord in an arching search. I need to get there. I need to reach that peak so I can … oh, damn him! His mouth is gone!
But then I feel his touch again. He’s crouched over me and he’s holding his huge, hard cock, guiding it. Oh, God, he’s touching the broad crown to me, pushing inside, so my folds barely encase him.
“Sweet Jesus,” he groans and his words are half-slurred with lust. “Sadie, honey. You feel so damn good.”
I try to arch against him but he’s still holding me down. His cock slides further into the silky tightness. He forces my legs further apart. Then he guides the tip of his cock up a little, to press against my clit. Oh, it feels so good. He’s so good at this. He plays in this crazily intimate way, then he glides the tip of his shaft back into my snug entrance, this time pushing deeper. The zinging pressure is dazzling, the thick glide like nothing I’ve ever felt in my life. “Elias.”
“You ready, sweetheart?”
“Yes. Yes.”
He does it again. This time, with circular pressure, he swirls his thumb in a light, steady press against my clit, and with each press, he pushes his cock deeper into me, only to draw out, then push back in, gaining entry, wetting his big cock with my juices. I can feel myself starting to stretch as he enters me and there’s a light burn but also a sweet ache that feels so damn good I tilt my hips up to him, inviting him inside.
“Fuck, Sadie. You’re so tight. You’re so fucking gorgeous.”
“Elias. Oh, God. Oh, God.” The glide of his thick, silky shaft inside me is doing crazy things to me. I’m almost there. I’m so close.
His thumb skates against my clit and the orgasm rises and crashes through me like a high-voltage pleasure-surge. Wave after wave of it, shattering me with thick jolts of ecstasy. My pussy clenches around him in voluptuous, tugging pulls and he thrusts into me with one thick, skewering drive until he’s deep, deep inside me.
I cry out and Elias holds himself still. His weight on me is heavy. I’m pinned under him, impaled by him. He kisses my mouth, pushing his cock even deeper into me with a brutal plunge. He does it again. And again. With each thrust, I grip him tighter. He swears and his head drops a little like he’s fighting for control. I know he’s all the way inside me, as deep as I can take him. My inner muscles are rippling around him in secret, fluttering caresses.
His mouth is close to my ear. “You all right, darlin’?”
“Almost,” I say.
He exhales a small breath of laughter that’s laced with something close to agony. I get the feeling he understands what I mean. I want to come again. With him. I want him to fill me with hot bursts of his cum.
Each flutter of my inner muscles around his huge bulk fuels a primal satisfaction and triggers a slow rush. This feeling, of being so thoroughly possessed, is strangely amazing. He’s mine. He’s in me. I don’t ever want him to pull away. I want to keep him.
So I wrap my arms and legs around him. I dig my fingers into the muscles of his back and his backside as I try to pull him closer, a
nd deeper.
“Oh, hell, Sadie,” he groans, and when he thrusts again, I feel the curling heat of another climax beckoning. “Come with me. Come with me, darlin’.”
“I am,” I breathe. “I am.”
He kisses me, dipping his tongue into my mouth in time with the measured, aggressive drives of his big, thick cock. There are little shards of pain but they’re drowning in pleasure. Each thrust forces me higher, closer. And when I start to come, the small compressions of my inner muscles milk him softly until I can feel the warm jets of his own climax filling me, spilling, until we’re spent and entangled and perfectly in tune.
It takes a while to come down from all that. I feel dazed, and peaceful. He’s still on top of me, still inside me. When I open my eyes, he’s watching my face, and he smiles down at me. He’s so handsome, with his dark eyes and perfect lips and the shadow of his stubble across his jaw.
It’s the strangest thing, to just gaze into another person’s eyes. So incredibly connective. For the first time, I really wonder about it: what it might be like to keep him, somehow, as I follow my path. He has a house in Nashville. Maybe we really could meet up sometimes. Maybe we could see each other on weekends, if we have time.
“You feel like heaven when you come,” he says softly.
I can’t help but blush, and smile back at him. “So do you,” I whisper.
He kisses me and it’s amazing: a whole-body kiss I can feel everywhere. In every cell. Inside me, where we’re still moistly locked.
Elias rolls us over, so I’m lying on top of him. I’m reminded again of how strong he is. How muscular, and big. He kisses me again. “Sing me a song,” he says.
“I wrote some new ones,” I tell him. “For you.”
I can tell he’s pleased by this. “You did?”
“Yeah.”
“I want to hear them.”
I sit up a little, and I can feel his shaft start to swell again, inside me. I’m sore, but it’s not a painful soreness, just one that reminds me of everything that’s happened. As I sit up a little more, a trickle of milky liquid wets my thighs and I see that there’s blood there, too.
I feel different. And I like knowing that no matter what happens to us, I’ll always share this bond with Elias Hayes. A bond of blood and beauty.
“Go on.” He’s waiting for me to sing but I hesitate for a second. What if he doesn’t like it?
His hands are on my hips, his thumbs barely touching the center of me.
It seems weirdly natural, this intimacy. Maybe because the very first time we saw each other, the experience was so raw and so hot, it sort of blistered through the usual barriers. There’s nothing awkward about this stark closeness. It just feels right.
He’s lazily swirling the wetness of our lovemaking, playing me in a way that makes me insanely happy: like I’m his. I think he might be fully hard again. I’m straddling him, sitting up. He’s filling me completely, like he’s a part of who I am. Little flicks of pleasure outline his immense bulk inside me. I know that if I start to move, I could come again very easily. But I want to wait. First I want to see if he likes the song I wrote for him.
The way he’s touching me distracts me for a second, but I think through the notes, remembering the lyrics. And I start to sing.
I’m in love, that’s all there is to it.
Sadie’s singing to me and making love to me at the same time and it’s almost more than I can take. It’s like my senses are being bombarded with ten types of beauty so intense I’m having trouble processing it all. She’s swaying along to her own song and the effect of her doing this while she’s riding my cock is somewhat mind-blowing, to say the least. The tips of her long, flaxen hair sweep lightly across the skin of my stomach. Her breasts bounce a little as she moves and she’s just so damn lovely. Her eyes close when she sings certain notes and I can feel her emotion not just through the music but through this channel of our hot, wet physical connection. I’m so close to coming it’s taking everything I have to hold on. I don’t want to come yet. I want this to last. I want to ride this high forever, just watching and listening and feeling her.
As for the song, I don’t even know what to say about that right now except that she’s some kind of goddamn genius. Her voice has this clarity which is simultaneously husked with a colorful edge that’s hard to describe. Like she’s singing more than one single note at a time. The tune itself is memorable and original, but I can also pick her influences. Weirdly, I might be one of them. My song that’s currently number one on the charts is somehow featuring, very subtly, in the harmonies.
That she’s looking into my eyes as she sings and sways and clenches around my almost-bursting cock is making the whole experience not just physical but somehow spiritual. Like we’re connecting on every possible level. Like our minds and our souls and our bodies are all entwining at the same time.
She starts the final chorus and I hold her hips as I start to thrust gently, at first, into her. I pinch her clit lightly, drawing on her pleasure, insisting. I can feel her tightening around me and she’s sliding herself up, then sitting down onto me as she squeezes herself around me. Her song is finished and she’s exhaling a soft moan as I meet her descent with a heavy thrust. She does it again, and so do I. She’s riding me and oh, fuck squeezing me and she’s coming – and those beautiful spasms grip me so fucking tightly I think I’m gonna lose my oooh, fuck the orgasm rockets out of me in excruciatingly intense bursts that go on and on. I’m filling her with my hot cum. I own her and she owns me. I am so addicted to how this girl feels, it hurts my heart.
She collapses onto me and we lay there like that, panting and dazed.
After a few minutes, she lifts herself off me, wincing a little. I almost feel like crying when I slip out of her body. Her thighs are stained with cum and blood. There’s a sheen of sweat on her skin and her hair’s messy. And I have never seen anything more exquisite in my pathetic goddamn life.
I gently scoop her up and carry her to the shower.
When I get the water temperature just right I carefully set her down and she leans on me as I wash her everywhere. I can’t remember ever being this gentle before, or wanting to be.
“Did you like the song?” she smiles.
“I fucking loved the song,” I tell her. I mean it, too. What I don’t quite tell her is so close to the surface I have to make an effort to hold it back. Is she ready? Am I ready? These are three words I haven’t spoken since the day my mother died, and they meant something a whole lot different then than they do here and now.
An idea comes to me, and it’s a crazy one. Crazy and necessary. I decide I absolutely have to make it happen and I’m already formulating a plan in my head.
Fuck.
How did this happen?
I love her.
“Come to Nashville with me,” he says.
“What, right now?” I say, laughing a little. I’m sure he’s joking.
But then he says, “Yeah. Right now. I want to show you some things.”
“What things?” I’m still not sure if he’s being serious or not.
“My apartment. My life. All of it. I have a show tonight and I want you to come.”
He definitely sounds serious. “What kind of show?”
Elias turns off the shower and towels me off. Sure, he’s got an amazing voice and a fancy guitar … and an obviously-expensive house sitting on a thousand-acre piece of land. I assumed he was successful at whatever it was that he did, and it now seems weird that I have no idea exactly what it is that he does. Especially after all that’s happened over the past few hours. “I’m a singer,” he says. “And a songwriter. I’ll show you everything.” He’s toweling off his hair and it’s sticking up. “Come with me.”
“Elias,” I say. How could this not have come up? How do I not know that he’s a performer? One that has a show? “You’re a musician? That’s what you do? Why didn’t you tell me?”
H
e’s all blasé about it but I’m starting to get the feeling I’ve missed something. Something big, and important. “Well, I did, sort of. I showed you. I came to your house and sang to you.”
He’s glancing out the window and I notice it then, too: daylight is starting to fade. It’s later than I thought. He seems to be thinking the same thing.
“Shit,” he says. “It’s getting late.”
He walks into his bedroom. I pull my dress on and step into my sandals and I follow him. He’s pulling a pair of jeans out of the open suitcase sitting on the floor, and a t-shirt.
“I’m supposed to be on stage at nine. Vaughn’ll go apeshit.”
“Who’s Vaughn?”
“Someone I want you to meet.” He grabs his boots and pulls them on. He stands up. “You ready?”
I’m about to tell him I can’t come with him. My mother would never let me go to Nashville. Especially with him. I told her I got a job cleaning for the new neighbor but I didn’t describe what he looked like. All I’d said was that he lived there part-time and was hardly ever home.
Then I remember: I’m eighteen now. I’ve graduated and … well, I’m no longer even a virgin. It’s time for me to follow my own road, and not let opportunities pass me by purely because I’m feeling the effects of some arbitrary rules that no longer apply.
Because I’ve already decided I am going with him. I want to see who he really is. In Nashville. Of course I’m going. “Can I just make a quick phone call first?”
He slings his arm around me, pulling me along with him. “My phone’s in the car. You can make it on the way, darlin’. We gotta hit the road.”
Before I know it, I’m driving along in Elias’s extremely fancy car at almost a hundred miles an hour. Towards Nashville. “What kind of car is this?” I can’t help asking. I’m not really a car person but I like this one.
Hot Summer Lust Page 8
