Dance of the Rogue

by Cris Anson

  So? You’ll never see him again. Let nature take its course, a voice whispered inside her fevered brain. He’s here, he’s hot, he’s arousing you. So what’s the problem?

  With her dilemma resolved, Fantine rolled onto her side to face him.

  “Uh-uh. I told you not to move.” He pushed her onto her belly and smacked her ass so hard he probably left a handprint on her skin.

  O-o-o-kay. He wanted to play with her until she begged for mercy, was that it? For sure that spoiled brat would capitulate first. She relaxed with her cheek pillowed against the mattress, watching him, and waited.

  “This has got to go.”

  She felt Don’s hands grip her waist and slide her bikini panties down past her hips, her legs, her slave-strapped sandals, then lifted the garment to his face and inhaled deeply. “Mmmm, essence of woman. I might just keep these.”

  Tossing the lacy item to the side of the bed, he grabbed her knee and positioned her so her leg dropped to the floor. He stepped to the corner of the bed and knelt on the mattress within the wide vee he’d made of her legs. Fantine felt her pussy clench. She was open and vulnerable to him—and turned-on in spite of her resolve.

  He cupped the supple mounds of her buttocks in his strong hands then slowly pulled the cheeks apart until she could feel cool air gliding across the slit he’d revealed. The cool air, she realized, was his soft breath as he blew puffs of air at unpredictable intervals, interspersed with strokes of his wet tongue along her crack. But somehow, dammit, he never touched her labia and she found herself lifting her ass again in invitation.

  A soft chuckle floated from behind her, his grip on her ass relaxed, and he plunged two fingers into her pussy. “You’re as wet as a waterfall,” he murmured, sliding in and out of her slippery passage.

  Oh God, she was turned-on and he knew it. She concentrated on keeping her hips still, but she couldn’t stop her juices from flowing onto his hand.

  “I’ll have to do something about that.” When he withdrew his fingers, she almost cried her indignation, but a moment later she felt the fullness of—Grant?—inside her pussy and his juice-coated fingers circling the rosebud of her anus.

  Fantine held her breath. She’d used a small butt plug occasionally, but never both toys together. Slowly, carefully, he pressed a finger into her anus, twisting the digit to lubricate the opening. Moved the finger back and forth to relax her ring muscle. Set up a slow rhythm of stroking, the dildo in her pussy and his finger in her anus in sync. Stroking, stroking. Building her level of sensation, of need. Scorching heat suffused her, spreading from the center of her sex up to her breasts, her mouth, her arms, and down her thighs all the way to her toes. Her breath coming shorter, she lifted her ass in counterpoint to his thrusting as his strokes continued with more force.

  So close to coming, she fervently wished he had a third hand so he could touch her clit, then decided to ignore his “don’t move” command and do it herself. She slid her hands beneath her hipbones. With one hand she drew the skin of her pubis upward to expose her clit. With the other hand she smeared two fingers with the juices flowing out of her pussy and touched the hard, throbbing bud to lubricate—

  “Bad girl!” Suddenly Don withdrew both the dildo and his finger. “I told you not to move.” He tucked his hands under one of her shoulders and the leg he’d earlier pushed over the side of the bed, and flipped her onto her back. “I’m going to punish you now. You’d better lie absolutely still or it’ll be even worse.”

  Chest heaving with her arousal, inhaling the primal scent of the juices flowing from her naked pussy between her splayed legs, exquisitely aware of her tingling breasts shaped and mounded by the underwire bra she still wore, Fantine dug her fingers into the coverlet. She wanted to scream at the interruption, to castigate him as a bumbling adolescent, but she knew better. No way was he a “little boy”. With that thoroughly masculine gleam in his eye, he wanted her to be the one to cry “Uncle” and she was determined that he’d buckle first.

  This was a contest she’d enjoy whether she won or lost.

  Shifting her body subtly, she arched her back, took a deep breath to raise her breasts to him, tightened her stomach muscles, and watched him beneath lowered lashes. His hot gaze raked every inch of her, and she could swear she felt a laser beam zap straight into her open pussy from his molten chocolate eyes.

  He pulled the hem of his T-shirt out of his waistband, yanked it over his head and tossed it aside, then unbuttoned each button in the placket of his jeans, his fingers seeming to tremble as he did.

  Her eyes followed his every move, widening slightly when she saw only skin underneath the denim. She licked her lips as he tugged down his jeans, slowly like a teasing stripper on stage, until his cock sprang free. He left the jeans clinging to his thighs as though tacitly inviting her to pull the garment down all the way. Inviting her to move so he’d have to slap her ass again in punishment.

  She stayed motionless, mesmerized by the sight. He was every bit as big as she’d imagined, and then some. From a nest of black pubic hair his thick cock jutted straight out at her. Its huge purple head glistened with a pearly drop of pre-cum. The vein running the length of him throbbed with his lifeblood. It was all she could do not to jump him and either impale herself on that trophy cock or capture said weapon in her mouth and suck him dry.

  “Don’t move,” Rolf ordered, his voice not quite as commanding as he’d have liked. The way she was looking at his Magnum, like he was a bottle of cool water and she’d just spent a week in the desert, made him wonder if he could pull off this big-boy shit and not come until he’d given her a few O’s first. Hell, could it be that for the first time in his life, he was thinking about giving instead of taking?

  He quickly discarded his sneakers and socks then stepped out of his jeans. Her pussy gleamed wetly in the slanting afternoon light as he climbed onto the bed between her outstretched legs. She looked seductive as hell with that gorgeous fall of hair fanning out on the bedspread around her head. He was right. It had a hundred shades of brown and red and gold shot through it.

  Bending forward, weight resting on his elbows and knees, he hovered over her lace-covered breasts, watching them rise and fall with each shaky breath she took, and gently captured one nipple between his teeth. With a soft moan, she arched her back and he felt her thigh brush against his cock. The skin-to-skin contact blasted through him like a bolt of lightning and he abandoned any pretense of teasing. Grabbing his painfully erect cock by its base, he guided it to the opening of her slick pussy, rubbing the head of it between her folds as he coated it with her moisture. “Is this what you want?”

  Their eyes met, held. She licked her lips. Her face and throat were rosy and sheened with sweat, her half-closed eyes looked sexy as hell, the musky scent of her sex permeated the space between them, but she didn’t answer.

  “Yes or no,” he rasped out, every muscle straining to plunge into her. “If you want my cock inside you, I’ll need to get a condom.”

  She made a little sound of distress. “Hurry and get one then!”

  With a fervent oath, Rolf scrambled for the foil packet in his discarded jeans and quickly covered himself. As soon as he was back between her thighs and poised to plunge into her, she grabbed his ass with both hands and pulled hard, thrusting his cock deep into her hot channel.

  “Jesus,” Rolf whispered. “You feel so good.” Instinctively he started pumping his hips, sinking deep inside, withdrawing almost all the way then plunging back in again. His breath became choppy, irregular, as she matched him thrust for thrust. He reared up to capture one of her plump breasts in his mouth, feeling the hard nipple through the smooth lace of her red bra as he suckled.

  She wrapped her legs around his hips, her stilettos scraping his skin before she locked her ankles for a tighter grip. This made him stab even deeper into her welcoming cunt, so deep that he forgot he was in a power play. His balls slapped hard against her ass, his belly was slick with sweat. His control
slipping away, he tried to stop his hips from pumping, to wait for her to catch up to him, but she squeezed her inner muscles around his cock, squeezed her legs even tighter around his hips, and he passed the point of no return. With a primeval groan, he shot into her, wave after wave of hot cum, and without conscious thought he clamped his teeth into her shoulder to mark her as his own.

  With a final shudder, he floated down from nirvana and became aware of his surroundings, of the fact that Fantine’s pussy was spasming around his cock. He lifted his head to see her eyes were tightly closed, her luscious mouth open to emit a low, guttural moan.

  He watched, the brunt of his weight on his elbows, as she came back down to earth. Her eyelashes fluttered—like butterfly wings, he thought. They were so thick and long, if she sucked his cock he’d feel them brushing his skin.

  The thought of that ripe, full mouth around his cock sent a surge of blood into it. He would be ready for another round in a few minutes.

  Her eyes opened, connected with his. Her smile was lazy, smug, like a cat who’d found the cream. “Oh, Don. I’d say that was a draw. Wouldn’t you?”

  Anger, hot and sharp, swept through Rolf. She couldn’t even remember his name?

  Then he remembered.

  He hadn’t told her.

  Chapter Five

  “Not bad for an appetizer,” Fantine murmured, her palms brushing lazily over his shoulders and down his arms.

  Rolf blinked. Then chuckled. “What are you, a ball-buster?”

  “No. I’d rather cup them, squeeze them.”

  “Suck them?”

  Her long eyelashes dipped then fluttered back upward. Her eyes were the color of fresh spring grass, the purest green he’d ever seen. “I could. Maybe work my way down from the tip of Mount Everest there…”

  Rolf could feel the blood start to move south again. Reluctantly he eased his cock out. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” He pushed himself off the bed and dashed to the tiny bathroom he’d noticed earlier. It was a masterful use of space, all the essentials squeezed into an area he eyeballed at a mere four feet by six.

  He shucked the condom, grabbed a folded blue washcloth and held it under the faucet after the water turned warm. As he brought it to his sticky cock, the thought struck him to offer it to her. He grinned at his reflection in the wall mirror. That would be another first.

  Fantine hadn’t moved. She lay with her legs still splayed, one arm raised over her head, her plump tits spilling out of the top of the bra he hadn’t gotten around to removing, her hair fanned out on the pillow like a shimmering dark cloud.

  And those red high-heeled sandals with the straps crisscrossing her ankles. They made her look even sexier, like a high-class call girl awaiting her lover. Or a woman posing for his private calendar.

  His cock swelled.

  “Hold still,” he said, bending down and stroking the cloth across her slit, her thighs.

  She smiled up at him then held out her hand. “May I return the favor?”

  He gave her his bad-boy grin as he edged up to the head of the bed. Fantine sat up and leaned forward, making her cleavage more pronounced. Jesus, he wanted to fuck her tits.

  But when she draped the cloth around his Magnum and began stroking from tip to base, he concentrated on the pleasure at hand. A moment later the cloth disappeared. Her fingers enveloped the base of his cock and she guided the head into her mouth. Her lips closed around him, drew him in. She wrapped her tongue around him. Cupped his balls with one hand while fisting the other around his length. Varied the strength of the suction until his toes curled. A look of ecstasy suffused her face as she tugged and sucked, stroked and squeezed.

  Rolf had lost count of the number of girls who’d gone down on him. But he knew not one of them was like Fantine. She was all wrong—too old, too fat, too independent, too intelligent, too different. Yet none had ever looked like they were enjoying it as much as this woman. Her breathing became choppy, her face and shoulders rosy, her whole body tense with anticipation, as though sucking his cock was the most important thing in the world to her at that moment.

  And maybe it was, said the tiny part of his brain that wasn’t concentrating on his cock. He could remember the look of utter pleasure on her face as she tasted that specialty beer. The intensity of her gaze on that tiger butterfly. Her joy in splashing through the puddles in the bar parking lot.

  “Holy shit!” One hundred percent of his concentration zeroed in on his balls—she’d captured one in her mouth and was tugging and tonguing it while her hands molded his cock. He fisted his hands in her glorious hair, holding her close and then closer to his crotch so he could—

  “No!” he gasped. “Take my cock in your mouth! Quick!” His balls gathered tight, his cock started to pulsate, and in seconds he reached the point of no return again as she closed that hot cavern around him, just in time, thank you God. He spurted wave after wave of cum into her welcoming mouth, pumping his hips mindlessly, until his knees gave way and he lurched a step sideways for balance.

  “My God, woman,” he muttered when he could catch his breath again. “Where the hell did you learn that?”

  She shrugged, her mouth still milking him of whatever fugitive drops were left inside him. “I think I caught it from you.”

  Now that he’d come down from a powerhouse climax, his brain cleared enough to turn his attention to her. Specifically, to watch his cock still disappearing into her mouth and reappearing again, slick and shiny with her spit and his cum. Her thick lashes cast spiky shadows on her cheeks. Her hair spilled long and shiny around her shoulders in a dozen shades. And her nipples poked out against the lace of her bra.

  Gently he tucked her hair behind her ears, cupped her face while easing the slowly deflating cock out of her mouth. He bent forward, kissed her lightly on the mouth. “Thank you. That was a doozy.”

  “The pleasure was all mine.”

  “And speaking of doozies,” he continued. As she sat with her legs dangling over the side of the mattress, he spread her knees apart and knelt between them. “Here’s a pair of them. I’ve just got to see what color your nipples are.”

  With a practiced hand Rolf reached for the front clasp and unhooked the red bra holding her breasts hostage. Then muttered a curse that sounded more like a prayer. He moved the cups aside and slipped the straps down to expose nipples that were large, long and hard, with wide areolas. “Bronze. Brown is too ordinary a word for them.”

  He laved one taut nipple then the other, feeling their pebbled texture against his tongue. He hefted the soft-firm weight of the globes in his hands, squeezed them together, separated them, buried his face between them, inhaling the scent of her skin, musky and spicy.

  “They’re real,” he pronounced, no small amount of wonder in his voice as he massaged, squeezed, poked and prodded. “These tits have never seen the inside of a plastic surgeon’s office.”

  Fantine’s laugh washed over him like sunshine. “What you see is what you get. And you’re right, by the way. You’re not a little boy.”

  Unaccountably pleased, Rolf gave her his little-boy look anyway, provoking another delighted laugh from Fantine.

  “I’ll make sure you don’t ever forget it. Just give me a few minutes. I’m going to put my cock right…” he squeezed her breasts together, “there. But for now, I see some other delights that need exploring.” He stood up, swept her legs into his arms then repositioned her on the bed and crawled between her legs. “I have an urgent need to taste you.”

  And he did.

  * * * * *

  Fantine couldn’t believe Don was still there. Couldn’t believe she hadn’t kicked him out, couldn’t believe he hadn’t left of his own volition. They were so unsuited. Ships passing in the night—boy, did the cliché fit. He was too young, too cocky, too gorgeous. Too…she wasn’t sure what word to use…shallow, maybe. But for a one-night stand, who was she to complain about shallow when he satisfied her so thoroughly?

  After he�
�d made love to her pussy with his mouth, bringing her to two or three more orgasms, he’d indeed rubbed his cock between her breasts until she thought he’d shoot all over her throat. But he proved again that he wasn’t a little boy by managing to hold himself in check while he did the condom thing then positioned her on her hands and knees to take her from behind.

  All told, a totally enjoyable and memorable afternoon.

  Don had wanted to brush her hair—in fact, he seemed to have a long-hair fetish—and it had felt delightful to have someone fuss over her that way. She’d acquiesced to his request to leave it down, but used a clippie on either side to keep the hair out of her face—and out of the quickie dinner she was preparing for both of them.

  She’d more or less had to invite him, since he heard the loud rumbling as they were dressing, she in a sleeveless wraparound dress that tied to one side, he slipping into his jeans, commando-style, both of them staying barefoot. Unembarrassed about it, she’d laughed and said, “My stomach tells me it’s time for dinner.” Glancing at the clock on a shelf, she’d added, “It’s after seven. No wonder I’m hungry. You’re welcome to stay for potluck. I don’t have much food here in the RV, only the basics, since every inch counts.”

  She should have expected his sly response, “Did you count every inch?” as he nuzzled the spot where her neck and shoulder met. Without her red heels, he was about five or six inches taller than she. A perfect fit.

  “No, but I will admit that you have a million-dollar butt,” she said primly.

  “Well, that’s something, anyway.” He couldn’t quite pull off the hurt-little-boy pose, since his smug smile got in the way.

  Now, as she diced a mélange of green pepper, Roma tomato and leftover potato chunks for omelets, Fantine heard the slap of Don’s bare feet as he came into the kitchen and felt a surge of nostalgia for the time when she was first married, the happy time when she looked forward to seeing her husband at the end of the day.