Hung

by Holly Hart

  I moaned as he pushed his palm down onto the thin white lace material, the only thing that stood in the way between his hot, hard fingers and the aching wet lips of my slit. He threaded a finger around the material and stroked the slippery pink skin, and my hips bucked involuntarily.

  "Good girl," he said, satisfied with my response. I only moaned back. He was barely doing anything, and even so, I was enthralled, enraptured, and almost ready to cum. The scenery flashed by on either side, and I noticed that we'd slowed ever so slightly now we were off the highway. It was hard to concentrate on it, but I knew one thing – we were nearly back to Clay's mansion, and that meant one thing – it wouldn't be long before I'd be able to feel Clay's hard cock inside me once more.

  "How far?" I begged, desperate for him to take me.

  "Two minutes," Clay replied, not breaking his attention away from either my pussy or the road.

  He was better than his words – we were back in under sixty seconds. The gate to the enclosed, private courtyard swung open unbidden at the command of some hidden sensor, and we sped in. Clay spun the elegant sports car to a halt, kicking little stones up to either side.

  He was out of his seat, leaving the keys and the engine on, quicker than I could comprehend, and then he was at mine, opening the door hungrily and pulling me out.

  He planted his mouth on mine, kissing me desperately and feeling me up, his hands roaming my body like an explorer. If I hadn't been so turned on, I would have found the sight of Clay with his unbelted pants hanging halfway down his thick, muscular thighs comical – but I was.

  He moaned with frustration, and I could almost see the gears ticking in his head – he wanted to fuck me right there, on the gravel, but he also wanted to last.

  "Inside, now!" he commanded me, and I was in no mood to resist. He pulled me by the hand and we half-walked, half-jogged towards the house. Suddenly, Clay stopped dead, and I almost careered into the back of him.

  "What is it?" I asked, terrified that there was something wrong – that there was something wrong with me, that he was going to put a stop to this. I didn't know if I'd be able to bear it.

  He looked at me hungrily, and I knew immediately that my fears wouldn't come to pass. This man wanted me more than life itself – more than food, more than water. He looked like an animal, sizing me up and making a decision. And then he acted. In one swift motion, Clay placed a hand on my dress, made a fist of silk, and then in a shocking display of brute, primal strength, he ripped it off. I was left there, almost naked, in just heels and a white lingerie bodysuit.

  I looked down at the scraps of silk at my feet and moaned with frustration, even if I was secretly delighted at his display of masculinity. "Clay, I loved that dress!"

  "I'll buy you another," he promised. "Hell, I'll buy you a whole wardrobe of them. I needed to see you, all of you."

  And then we were inside, up the stairs, in Clay's modern, tastefully decorated master bedroom. And I was on the bed, heels kicked off, with the most delicious man I'd ever seen standing over me with a proprietorial look on his face.

  "Fuck me, Clay," I begged. Clay's face twisted as though he were tussling with the most difficult problem he'd ever faced, as though his heart was at war with his cock. His heart won.

  "No, Alicia," he said, leaning over me. His face was so close to mine that I could feel the warmth of his breath on my cheeks. My pussy was on fire, I needed him inside me – I need him to fuck me, and I couldn't understand why he wouldn't.

  "What? Why not?" I replied, jumping the gun in my swiftness. I needed him inside me; it wasn't just a mere desire anymore. I felt like if Clay didn't enter me now, I might explode.

  "I don't want to fuck you, Liss," he replied, maintaining eye contact with me so that I felt I was being swallowed up in his deep, speckled, ice blue eyes. I could swim in them, float on them, or… drown in them, and I didn't know which it would be.

  "Please, Clay…" I whispered.

  Liss? That was new.

  Clay grabbed my hands from where I positioned them, resting on my belly, and held one of his huge hands across my wrists. With his other hand, he quickly pulled his suit jacket off one, then the next arm, quickly switching over the hand that was pinning me down.

  "I should say," he continued slowly, picking every word with care, "I don't just want to fuck you, Liss – I want you, I want to be in you, I want to be with you. Properly, now."

  And with that, not waiting for my response, he confidently moved forward, planting his mouth on mine. I did what came naturally – I succumbed to his kiss. Every rational thought, every possible cause for concern, left my brain and I realized that I only wanted one thing – Clay. And for whatever crazy reason, he wanted me too.

  Experimentally, I tried moving one of my hands. I wanted to cradle his beautiful face between my fingers and pull him in. I wanted to run the back of my hand across the very first shoots of his stubble. I wanted to entangle my hands in his hair and entwine it so that I could never let go.

  He released me without question, swiftly moving his hands to my thick, plump breasts that were pushed together under the white butterfly-patterned lace. I held his face, held it next to mine and kissed him like I'd never get the chance again. But I would. Clay was mine, and he was mine forever.

  "Now, Clay," I whispered, drinking in his cold blue eyes that warmed only for me, "now."

  It was all I needed to say, and Clay couldn't hold himself back any longer. He kicked off his pants, which by now were hanging by his ankles, and they fell somewhere out of sight. He managed to prise his hands away from my breasts for what felt like an eternity, but could only have been a second, and ripped off his slim white shirt. The buttons fell on my chocolate skin like hail, and he brushed them off me tenderly. Then he was naked, his cock perpendicular and standing at attention. On either side, veins popped as they poured blood into the hard tissue, and I eyed him hungrily.

  He looked me up and down, drinking in the tight white lace bodysuit that he'd so cunningly had me wear. I knew he didn't want to take it off, knew that if he had his way, he'd have me in it forever, but equally I could tell that he wanted nothing more than to toss it aside. It was fastened by a length of silk ribbon which was laced from side to side in a complex geometric pattern, and I watched in fascination as he gently touched his hands to the bow and pulled it loose, then wound it free of the lace prison that held it. He took his time, never hurrying, much as I wanted him to. I felt like I couldn't break his concentration, so I just watched and waited, all the while feeling the sexual tension build within me like a rain-swept dam ready to burst.

  And then it was loose, my huge breasts spilling out, their puffy nipples begging for someone to suckle on them.

  Clay lowered his head to my right breast and took the nipple in it tenderly, rolling around his tongue. A spark of pure electricity shot to the slit between my legs, and I couldn't help but move my hand to meet it. I rubbed my clit hard, riding my fingers as Clay took his time with my breasts. He pulled the white lace bodysuit off me slowly, forced me to wait, and pulled my hands away from where they were furiously sending me to the brink. He kissed me, bit down on my lip – and entered me.

  I gasped, whispered his name, and let my eyes roll back into my head. He cupped the back of my neck softly, his thick bicep bulging, and pulled himself inside me, thrusting in and out with long, tender strokes.

  "Alicia, Liss, I want you, no – I need you to know something," he whispered, not stopping the long, hard strokes with his hips.

  I could barely talk, barely even function, but I choked out a reply. "Tell me, Clay," I begged. I'd never felt closer to him, never felt so close to anyone before than I did to him in that moment.

  "I think I'm beginning to fall in love with you, Liss. No, scratch that," he said – and my heart sank, making me aware for the first time of how much I wanted him to say it, "I do – I do love you."

  The sheer, brutal, unadulterated honesty of his statement was written on his face
.

  I replied in the only way I knew how.

  "Come in me, Clay…"

  He looked at me with a delighted but questioning stare. "Please…" I whispered. I knew there was no chance of my request ever resulting in a baby, knew that because of my infertility, I'd never be able to have a baby – the true purpose of the act of lovemaking, and the thought almost threatened to rip my heart in half. But this was the closest I could come to experiencing that joy, and I needed it now more than I ever had.

  "Please…"

  I didn't need to ask him again. He didn't change the pace, nor the speed of his long, industrious thrusts between my legs, but he did alter the power and the desperation with which he made them. I felt his huge cock stretching me, almost splitting me, and bottoming out. I felt stars begin to build behind my eyes, and where my fingers were intertwined with his hair, I dug my nails into his scalp. He panted, kissed me, pushing his face into my mouth, and groaned.

  I felt it before he did, the subtle contraction of his pelvic floor as he prepared to come inside me. He looked to me one last time for approval, and I nodded and clenched my pussy hard, locking his cock in a vice-like grip as I bit down on his shoulder and my orgasm crashed into me like waves in a storm.

  Clay gasped, panted, and then, finally, I felt the heat grow between my thighs. From somewhere, even through the delirious waves of my orgasm, I felt a moment of brilliant clarity.

  "I love you too, Clay…"

  17

  Clay

  I knew I loved Alicia, maybe had from the moment I first saw her, but I wasn't so blinded by love that I was unable to notice that there was something off about her. It wasn't a weirdness – as far as I was concerned, she was perfect, but Alicia undeniably carried a sadness about her that was unmistakable, at least once you got to know her.

  I felt that declaring my love for her definitely counted as getting to know her. I wanted to know why she sometimes felt and acted older than her years, and definitely much older than her tight, youthful looks.

  I woke with Alicia’s limbs twined around my body, and felt refreshed – it was the best night's sleep I'd had in years. Alicia had a calmness about her that was catching – but I needed to get to the bottom of why she carried herself at a distance, and why she didn't seem to want to let anyone in.

  I thought I had the answer – or at least a clue.

  I knew I shouldn't have pried, but I'd followed the sound of her singing while she unpacked on her first day living with me, and I couldn't help but join her in the Jack and Jill bathroom. I snuck in quietly, hoping to surprise her and join in with her song, but just as I entered, she left in a hurry, her door swinging closed behind her with a clatter.

  I'd shrugged, muttered to myself about crazy women, and almost thought nothing more of it when I noticed she'd left the right-hand closet door open. Seeing women's beauty products in there was a novelty – I'd had many women stay at the mansion, but very few had ever lasted long enough for me to even consider offering them space in my bathroom. I leafed through, picking out makeup bottles at random – but nothing was particularly exciting.

  I was just about to close the door when something caught my eye – four small, neatly stacked boxes of a drug called Clomid. I didn't know why the name had suddenly sprung to my mind, but it had apparently lodged there, waiting to spring out when I needed it. And after an evening of sexual bliss, followed by a night of the best sleep I'd had in forever, my brain decided to fixate on the little pills.

  Whatever they are, maybe they'll explain why she carries herself like she does? I thought. And I knew I had to find out what exactly they did.

  I gently, quietly extricated myself from Alicia's vice-like sleeping grip on my body and crept out of the bedroom, only stopping to pick up a silk Japanese bathrobe from the back of my bedroom door. Even I would admit, the thing looked pretty feminine, but it was comfy – and I liked it. Anyway, one of the perks of being an internationally renowned pop star was that, more or less, I got to do what I liked. And I liked wearing my girly Japanese bathrobe.

  I found my MacBook lying on one of the many couches that littered the first floor of the mansion and fired it up. No sooner had the black screen given way to light, than I saw an open web page with the Google search bar ready for my query. The only thing missing from the scene, I thought to myself chuckling, was a blinking cursor.

  I typed in ‘C-l-o’, and the search bar began populating with suggestions. The second on the list was the one I was looking for – Clomid. I clicked. As soon as the results flashed up, I regretted my decision. I realized that I'd made a terrible mistake – I was prying into matters that I had no right to know about, and I didn't know if Alicia would be able to forgive me. And yet, with a terrible, sick fascination, I couldn't stop myself reading on.

  "Clomid (Clomiphene Citrate) is a leading anti-infertility drug, currently available in more than one hundred and fifty countries under several brand names. The drug activates several hormonal pathways and stimulates the production of—"

  "Hey sexy," I heard Alicia say from just a few feet away, "what are you looking at? I woke up and you were gone." I looked at her guiltily, slamming the lid of the laptop closed like a teen caught looking at porn.

  "Nothing," I half-squeaked, half-croaked back. She looked at me with lidded eyes and padded over. "I don't believe you." She grinned, leaning forward and grabbing the laptop. I felt powerless to stop her, a deer caught in the headlights. I was watching a car crash happen in slow motion, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. "I can't believe that you're down here looking at porn after last night. Are you addicted to sex or something?"

  She flicked the lid up, and I saw her face fall.

  Alicia looked up at me, her face full not of recrimination as I'd expected, but regret.

  "I'm sorry," she gasped, looking as though her stomach was contorting with pain. "I promise—" she gulped. "I promise you I wasn't trying to trap you with a kid; it's nothing like that…"

  What the hell is she talking about? Why is she apologizing to me? I'm the one who's fucked up!

  For once in my life, I knew that I had to take responsibility for what I'd done. This was an easy out – even if I didn't understand why she was so broken up, I could have accepted her apology and moved on like I always did. But for once my life, I cared about the girl in front of me and I knew I couldn't.

  "Liss," I began, using the nickname I'd coined for her the previous night, "why the hell are you apologizing to me?"

  She gave me a funny look. "How much did you read?" she asked breathlessly, as though she was fighting off tears. By looking at her, I could tell she was.

  "Not much," I admitted. "I'm not the quickest reader…"

  "I'll explain it for you. There's not a lot I don't know, trust me on that." The pained, beaten down look on Alicia's face left me in no doubt that that was the case.

  "Sure…" I agreed, still completely confused. There was one thing I knew, though, I wasn't just going to shirk responsibility for what I'd been doing. This was one thing I was going to own up to.

  "Clomid," Alicia said tonelessly, "is an anti-infertility drug that stimulates the production of eggs in the ovaries."

  Infertility?

  "You use it for about six months, and you get one shot. If you don't conceive, then that's it, you're done. I'm in month five." She said it with a broken, defeated air on her face – the look of a woman who wanted nothing more than to have a child, but whose own body was betraying her.

  I finally, completely, understood why she carried such an air of sadness around with her. Hell, if she'd just retreated into a bedroom and locked herself away to grieve, I'd have understood it. Alicia, my Alicia – if she still was, was a hell of a woman, I thought, and this revelation only increased my respect for her. After all, she was out there every day working to build a better future for herself, when many others would simply have given up.

  "Is it working?" I asked, knowing the answer before I'd even ask
ed the question.

  She sat down next to me. "No," she admitted. "I've been going to the sperm bank since the second month of the course. Nothing. I've got the next two months, and then one last month following the course of drugs, but once that's over, then I'm done."

  She said it with such a sense of finality that my heart broke with hers. But I had the smallest inkling of an idea.

  "The sperm bank?" I asked. "Why not a guy?"

  She looked at me like I was stupid, and I realized that I kinda was. "How many guys do you think are going to jump into bed with me when I tell them on the first date that I'm looking for a kid – and no, they don't have time to get to know me, because I need it now…"

  "Not many," I said slowly. "Isn't that expensive?"

  "Why do you think I live in a tiny apartment, Clay? I've sold everything I had for sperm. God, I'm like a crackwhore – but it's the other way round! Would you believe that they charge more for the good stuff? I've paid the extra, though a fat lot of good it's done…"

  "But, Clay, seriously," she continued, "I need you to know that I'm taking those drugs because medically, I'm infertile. I'm not trying to make you my baby daddy, and even if I was, I'm pretty sure I can't get pregnant anyway."

  I reached over, grabbing one of her hands and squeezing it. "Liss, you've got nothing to apologize for. I was being nosy; I was snooping while you were sleeping – it's me who should be apologizing to you, not the other way around."

  She looked at me. "Clay, with something like this, you had a right to look." Again, she said so sadly that I wanted to hug her and make all her problems go away. But for this, I didn't have a magic wand – only an idea.