by C. C. Morian
But she had touched none of his most private parts with her mouth or even her hand.
Was this the line?
Melissa moved her lips to his other thigh, just the hint of a touch on his cock, so fleeting it might have been a mistake, like someone brushing her breasts on a crowded bus.
Her tongue snaked out, tasting him, a whole new wave of sensations firing off inside her.
Melissa pulled back her head, caught up in the wonder of it all, feeling her wetness, her desire, on the edge of something daunting and thrilling and sinful all wrapped together.
For a dozen heartbeats Melissa held that position, out of control in her stillness.
Then Marcus’s hands were on the back of her head, hands so large she felt lost in them. She expected him to push, to force her onto his cock, or to hold her while he thrust into her.
But he just held her like that, his cock quivering.
Melissa waited as long as she could, fighting the longing for his cock in her mouth, to taste it, to suck on it.
To jump over the line.
Just as she thought she could resist no longer, Marcus growled, “Enough of that. Do it.”
Melissa smiled, contented with his voiced desire. She opened her mouth and slipped her tongue against the head, sliding it around, kissing it, trying to prolong the pent up craving, but it was too much, she succumbed, and hungrily reached for him with her lips, using them to pull him into her mouth, deeper and deeper. Even after she could go no farther she wanted more of him.
Marcus pulled her toward him, his fingers wrapped in her hair. “All of it,” he said, a hint of want in his voice that no one but Melissa would have noticed.
Melissa knew how to deep throat, she’d done it with other men, but never with Marcus, she never could.
Still, she tried now, Marcus wanted it and she wanted it too, she wanted as much of him as she could get, and though her body was screaming with tension she fought to relax her throat, to take him all the way.
Melissa felt the head of his cock against the back of her throat, pushing, and her hands automatically came up to grip his shaft, to slow him down, and her entire hand fit easily around the part of his cock still not in her mouth, he wasn’t even close to being all the way in.
Still she tried, feeling him deeper than any man had ever been in her, a welcomed assault on her mouth, and for a moment she thought she’d be able to do it, she’d take all of him, but then she gagged, losing it, her throat tightening, and she pulled back, gasping.
“I can’t,” she sputtered.
Melissa felt his hands on her head loosen slightly. “Of course not,” he said. For anyone else, a boast, for Marcus, a statement of fact. And letting Melissa know that he was still in charge, that he had something she wanted, and making it clear he knew she wanted to give it to him.
If any other guy had said something like that, Melissa would have rolled her eyes.
Still, she wondered what Marcus meant. That she couldn’t, or she didn’t have the guts to really try? Or that no one could do it? It made her mad, thinking of all the other woman who had probably tried with him; she should have been mad at him, he was a man slut, but instead it only made her want to try harder, to be the one who was different.
Marcus let her head go, waiting again, and now Melissa began stroking him, amazed at how small even her long fingers looked as they tried to wrap around his cock. She slowly slid her hand down all the way to the bottom of his shaft, and then back up, and on the next stroke she kissed the head, her tongue flitting out to widen his opening. She pushed her tongue forward, as if she could thrust it into that slit, as if she could crawl inside him.
Without taking her hands away from his shaft Melissa moved her head forward again, feeling him pass through her hair, this time not stopping at his thighs but stretching forward until her lips were touching his balls, feeling a gush of wetness as she felt how full they were. She kissed them, pulling ever so slightly with her lips, just at the edge of what would be painful.
She held out her tongue, letting it rub across the roughness, reaching back as far as she could, tantalizing him as her tongue fell just shy of his ass. She felt him shift position, his hips coming forward, and she smiled inwardly again, knowing for Marcus that slight movement was his way of yelling out in ecstasy.
Melissa gave him one last flick of her tongue, and then dragged it back, across his balls and shaft, and in one motion took him back into her mouth.
She had lost track of how many lines she had crossed.
Now she sucked on him in earnest, her hand running up and down his shaft, and she realized she was moaning, sensing him getting closer. She squeezed her legs together, feeling her clit swell, if she were in just a slightly different position she might even come, she was that aroused.
There was no turning back now, Melissa didn’t want to turn back, and she gripped him tighter, her mouth working with her hands, her tongue sliding around. She tasted the first hint of his precum, and she moaned again, and she could feel him respond, both to her mouth on him and to her excitement.
She felt him stiffen, and even this she remembered, the precipice, knowing, as she always had with Marcus, exactly when he was going to come, she wanted to make it last, but she lost control, and worked her fingers down on his cock all the way to the base, tightening his skin against his shaft, trying to make it feel like he was fully enclosed, fully surrounded, totally wanted.
Marcus groaned, his fingers reaching into her hair, not with control but for a connection, and even though Melissa was ready for it his first spasm almost overwhelmed her, his hot ejaculate slamming into the back of her throat. She wanted to savor it, to taste it, but it was so powerful it was down her throat before she could react, and then came another spurt, and another, and now her mouth was full of him, his essence, and she held it there long after his spasms subsided.
Marcus let go of her head. He didn’t tell her to swallow it. He expected it.
And she did, relishing it as the thick fluid caressed her throat, her tongue running over her lips, spreading his scent.
They stayed like that, Melissa on her knees, Marcus standing over her. Her breathing was fast and shallow, like she had just finished a hard run. Her knees should have hurt, she should have been stiff from her awkward position, but none of that registered, she was so enmeshed in what she had done, she was paralyzed by his musk.
She could still taste him.
She might have stayed like that, for who knows how long, but Marcus reached down and lifted her up, not giving her a chance to either savor it or regret it.
Marcus put his hands on her waist, and Melissa thought he was going to embrace her, but he tightened his grip and lifted her up, her ass against the wall, higher and higher, effortlessly, until her head almost touched the ceiling.
She flailed helplessly, reaching out with her legs but there was nothing to stand on. She reached out with her arms and was barely able to reach his shoulders.
“Marcus—”
He cut her off, his voice commanding, fully in control now. “Lift up your skirt.”
“What? How—”
“Lift up your skirt. Don’t make me say it again.”
Melissa bent over at the waist, reaching down as far as she could, grasping the very top of her skirt and straightening back up. Her heels slipped from her feet, hitting the floor. She rolled her skirt in her fingers, gathering it up, struggling to obey yet at the same time aware of her precarious situation, her almost weightlessness.
“More,” he said.
Melissa grabbed at the fabric, bunching it together, and Marcus dipped his head and slipped underneath her skirt, his teeth on her, tearing at her underwear.
Melissa spread her legs, surrendering, thrusting her hips forward, not caring if she fell, but knowing that Marcus wouldn’t let her fall. Then somehow his tongue had reached her labia, either through or around her panties, and he tore into her, roughly, his chin scraping across her clit, his tongue dart
ing inside, and she cried out. She let go her hands, collapsing back onto the wall, her arms spread, held in place by his strong hands and his head, pinning her pelvis to the wall.
His tongue drove in and out, his neck muscles so strong she felt she was being fucked with his tongue, in and out, every pass sweeping past her clit, touching it, but so fast that the sensations all merged together, it was like her clit was being licked and she was being fucked at the same time.
Her breath grew ragged, and with every intake the taste of his come in her mouth made her think about his cock, the feeling of it in her mouth, how she had made him come, and she wanted it in her again, she wanted it in her pussy.
But Marcus wasn’t going to give it to her, he was giving her his tongue, and it was so good Melissa couldn’t think straight, her entire being was focused on his mouth and his tongue, and then he let go his arms, and she panicked, thinking she would certainly fall, but the pressure of his face on her was enough to keep her pinned to the wall, and she was utterly powerless.
Melissa had never felt so vulnerable, so defenseless.
She began to shake in a sudden fear, fear of falling, fear of becoming addicted to this sensation, this utter lack of control.
And just as she had known when Marcus would climax, so too he remembered, he sensed it, she knew why he slowed briefly and then sped up his thrusts, his tongue driving deep into her, then pressing up against her clit, hard. Melissa’s juices began to flow, and now she was shaking not in fear but in ecstasy as her orgasm shook her entire body, her head slamming back against the wall, but she felt nothing but pleasure, her body so light she thought she would have stayed aloft, floating, even if Marcus hadn’t been supporting her.
It lasted longer than any orgasm she had ever remembered, the spasms mixing with her shaking body, until she could feel everything and nothing at the same time, as if her nerves and sensory perception had been used up.
She barely felt it when Marcus slid her to the floor.
Melissa lay there, her skirt crumpled around her legs, caught between shock and elation. Marcus calmly pulled up his slacks and did his belt, never taking his eyes off her. When he was finished he stood there, like a living statue, a slight rise and fall in his chest. A small muscle in his face twitched, halfway between a smile and a frown, Melissa couldn’t get a handle on it, couldn’t tell if he was pleased with himself or angry.
He held her there with nothing more than his gaze, and she felt so small, so vulnerable, her limbs and clothing askew, almost dumped on the floor.
“I hope you got your answer,” he said, a little scornfully, with just a hint of sadness. Then he turned, took two steps to the door, and was gone.
Melissa shook her head, dazed and stunned, her mind yelling at her to be angry, to feel used, cheated.
Marcus hadn’t said an endearing word to her all night. He hadn’t even kissed her.
Was this what she had wanted?
She was crazy thinking that she could have it both ways, with Marcus, with anyone. That she could have the warmth and love along with the wild sex, the uncontrolled passion.
Whatever she had expected, this wasn’t it.
Had she done something wrong? Should she have told Marcus more of what this was all about, what she needed to discover? That it was about him? Would that have made any difference? She stared at the door, belatedly thinking of all the things she should have said.
Had it been anything more than sex for him? Had it ever been anything more than sex for him?
She should have felt like a cheap whore, but for some reason her mind would not go there. Instead she luxuriated in the bliss of the physical connection, the connection she still felt even though Marcus was gone.
Now, all she wanted was more.
And what was worse, she may have just lost her only chance.
Chapter 15
After a long time Melissa dragged herself to her feet. Her body was totally beat, it was as if every bit of energy had been given up, as if Marcus had sucked more than her wetness out of her.
She padded to the bathroom. In the harsh light she studied herself in the mirror. Her hair was wild, her face flushed.
Had she just changed? Who was this woman?
Here she was, foolishly trying to regain her youth, to take the path not taken. The dangerous path. Who was she kidding?
But the face in the mirror was bright and alive. More alive than she had remembered being in a long time, replacing the face which had started to slip into resignation. The sex had done that, it had reinvigorated her.
Marcus had done that.
But he was gone, and nothing had changed, really. She still had her doubts, about her marriage, about where Marcus fit in. If he would even be willing to do anything beyond what he had just done.
About whether she would grow tired of even this wild sex, about whether she would be pining instead for the stability of a good man, of Richard.
All her doubts welling up, like a devil trying to ruin the blissfulness of her body.
Melissa turned out the light and threw herself on the bed, curling into a ball, more than ever in her life wishing she wasn’t alone, that there would be someone to hold her.
The problem was, who did she want? Richard or Marcus?
She lay there a long time, alternating between feeling and thinking. Her mind kept saying Richard, or asking questions about Marcus, nagging her.
But her body kept calling for Marcus, and Melissa let herself rationalize, arguing with herself that there were still unanswered questions about both of them.
Part of her desperately wanted Richard to call, to say it had all been a mistake, to beg for her to come home. She might have given in to that, it might have tipped the balance.
But that wouldn’t be Richard. Just as he couldn’t turn into Marcus, he also couldn’t turn into an insecure control freak, with her on a leash, or even worse, become a passive aggressive.
And part of her kept listening for a knock, the signal of Marcus returning, which would have pushed her the other way.
But that wouldn’t be Marcus either.
She had come all this way, she had crossed so many lines, she had experienced the best sex she had had in years, better than anything with Richard, better than might ever be possible with Richard. The thought made her feel wretched, sex with someone you loved should have been different, should have seemed something more, and it did, but it was nothing like what she had with Marcus.
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t convince herself that it was or be sure that it could be.
She tried to look at it another way, to think about Marcus and Richard, and how they were feeling. After a brief moment she gave up on Marcus, even she had no idea what was going through his mind. She had reached something in him, she knew that, even the slight break in his rock hard control was a lot, she didn’t need anything more than that. She’d ever expect Marcus to scream her name, she didn’t want that.
What Melissa didn’t know was whether any other woman could do to Marcus what she was able to do, to make him, even for a moment, lose control. Is that why he had stayed with her years ago? If that was the case, why had he let her go?
Or had Marcus found plenty of other women since then who had taken her place, who gave him what he wanted whenever he wanted it?
That wouldn’t explain why he had come to see her tonight. He certainly hadn’t been there for the reunion.
The bed had been turned down, and she pulled the sheets around her as she turned her thoughts to Richard. She couldn’t imagine what Marcus was thinking, but she had a very good idea about Richard. He’d be stressed right now, so bothersome for him, so out of character, as he worried about her, about their marriage, probably imagining the worst of what she and Marcus might be doing.
And not even in his wildest imagination might he consider how totally sated she felt, yet how she now craved Marcus even more.
She felt sorry for Richard, and guilty, wondering how she would re
act when she saw him again. How would she explain what had happened, not just the act, but her response?
The act might excite him, but Melissa’s response to Marcus, if she could even communicate it, if she even shared it, might crush Richard.
She got up from the bed, pulling the blanket and wrapping it around her as she retrieved her purse. She paused with her hand over the keyboard, trying to decide what to text. What could she say in a short text, without lying, that would give Richard a little comfort?
Her tongue moved unconsciously over her lips, and the taste of Marcus crashed over her. She shook off the blanket and rushed to the bathroom, driven to brush her teeth. It took her two rinses to finally clear the taste. For some reason it was important that she did that before contacting Richard.
She slipped out of her clothes, letting them fall on the floor. Her underwear were ruined, ripped and still wet. She used a wet washcloth and pulled on some sweatpants, suddenly feeling anything but sexy.
But that would be the right mood to be in. She crawled into bed, pulling the covers tight, lying on her side, the only light in the room the glow from her phone.
The only thing Melissa could think to write was what she was thinking. ‘Richard? Are you okay?’
As before, the reply came back almost immediately. She should have known that he’d be waiting by his phone.
‘As good as I can be, given the situation. And you?’
‘The same.’
‘Did you see him?’
So many things she could say. Having Richard thinking she might see Marcus was one thing, having it a reality would be something else, something absolute. She carefully typed: ‘He just left.’ Hoping that her admission would also give Richard just the smallest amount of relief, that Marcus was gone, that for at least one night more, she was still Richard’s.
There was a long pause, and Melissa wondered if Richard was having as much trouble deciding what to say, or not say, as she was.
