Southern Seduction

by Alcorn, N. A.

  So I stripped everything at once, thankful for the warm summer air on the expanse of my naked skin.

  Miller’s eyes traveled along my lower body, taking it all in and relishing every single image. His appreciation was unmistakable in every expression of his face. A small smile traded places with a look of heat-filled intensity, and I loved both of them with equal measure.

  Neither one made me feel insecure or unsure, just happy and sated and really justified in my judgement to take the evening with him to the next level.

  Whether it went anywhere or not, no humiliation would come to me at the hands of Miller Laughlin. That much was glaringly obvious.

  His eyes drifted up to meet mine, their moonlit brilliance enhancing my feelings of serenity. He reached into his back pocket, the worn and wrinkled leather of his wallet just barely visible as he took it out between us.

  I heard the crinkle of foil from a condom, and felt emboldened by the responsibility and respect he showed by being prepared. “Why are you carrying one of these around with you tonight? Do you and Penelope have a special kind of relationship I’m not aware of?” I teased, noticing that the sides of his eyes crinkled and a single crease formed asymmetrically between his eyebrows when he smiled.

  It gave his expression character and a realness that no “perfect” smile would ever have.

  “Why do you have to give Penelope a hard time like that, huh? What’d she ever do to you?” he joked effortlessly back.

  My laughter filled his mouth as I forced the connection, grabbing the back of his head and pulling him forward and down, his lips open and willing to participate as they met mine in a full on assault.

  I could feel him working the button of his jeans in between us, no belt to slow him down, the light grey t-shirt hanging from his shoulders obstructing any view.

  He sheathed himself with the condom easily, and then skimmed his hands faintly over the outside of my thighs and up, swirling in and lifting me by my bare bottom as soon as he reached it.

  My legs circled him automatically, and my skin managed to carry the pebble of a chill and the sheen of our heat at the same time. My breaths came in pants, my bottom lip trembling slowly as he connected our bodies physically.

  He moved slow, just barely working to seat himself inside of me, every inch of skin giving way to a deeper moment of intimacy. Green eyes locked on to my whiskey colored ones, each and every shaded fleck standing out in welcome.

  “Zo,” he whispered softly, just loud enough to ground me to him and the moment without scaring me back into the reality of the situation.

  A virtual stranger.

  A dirty alley.

  You know, silly stuff.

  We sat stagnant, his hard length seated fully inside of me, his strong arms around me, supporting me, and our lips skimming each other gently. I didn’t even want to move.

  Somehow this moment had turned into something major, something bigger than pleasure and orgasms---something I had never experienced before.

  It was a nonspiritual come to Jesus moment. A feeling of physical rightness, of being carved out perfectly for one another. It was a realization that fate had made our lives play out the way they had just to get us to this exact instant.

  The notion that this moment, a fluke-induced carnal expression in an alley, was destiny was ridiculous. I knew it. In fact, I think we both did.

  But realism did nothing to dull the feeling churning deep in my gut, gliding fearlessly across every cell of my skin, and shining starkly out of his beautiful, long-lashed eyes.

  My senses felt heightened, and I didn’t feel at one with my body. I felt like I had literally become one person with Miller, and his refusal to move suggested he was feeling the same way.

  “Never felt anything like this,” he breathed hoarsely.

  “You’ve got a lot of time and life left to live,” I said on a smirk, my nose flirting along the side of his. “I’m sure you’ll have this again.”

  “God, I hope so, Zo,” he muttered against my lips, the muscles of his ass flexing with his first slow stroke and his veiled reference to a repeat with me shining despite its subtlety.

  My teeth dug into my fleshy bottom lip as a throaty moan coated the back of my airway, skirting its way up my tongue and landing right on the tip of his.

  I had never smoked a cigarette in my life, but lost in the passion of sex, I had never sounded closer to emphysema. My moans were textured and rough, and I knew Miller could feel the vibration of each and every one.

  “Ah, God,” I breathed roughly, idiotically wishing I could feel the skin of him directly on the skin of me. Thankfully, I was smart enough to just think it.

  “Use me, Zo,” he ordered affectionately. “I’ll help you move, but you make it work for you. Pick the angle, the speed, whatever you need. I guarantee whatever you choose will work just fine for me,” he declared, giving me the freedom to open myself up completely and lose any lingering inhibitions.

  I did as I was told, using the leverage I could get on his shoulders to control my movements, grinding forward on every down stroke and keeping the speed set to slow.

  I could tell he needed it faster in order to get to the culmination, and frankly, so would I, but I didn’t want to get to the end. For once, this sexual encounter felt like it was much more about the journey.

  His fingertips dug into the fleshy part of my thighs hard enough that I could feel the ridges molding themselves to the contours of my skin and hoping to leave a mark.

  He was touching me because he wanted to, had to even, not because it was the thing to do. And I could feel the difference.

  I felt special. I had a face and a name, and both of them were the ones he wanted looking back at him.

  This was how a real man made love to a woman.

  When his eyes weren’t on mine, they followed the movement of our bodies, the sight of the two of us joined together, and mimicked the journey of his hands with such a realness that it felt like a physical caress.

  A groan fought its way free of his throat, his adam’s apple bobbing with the release. “Touch yourself, Zoey,” he demanded, and I thought it was because he lacked a free hand to do it himself.

  But I was wrong.

  His long fingers intertwined with mine, making it hard to tell whose hand was whose, and together, we surrounded the connection we created as he slid into the warmth of my arousal.

  “There’s no going back from this,” I whispered involuntarily, speaking thoughts aloud that I had meant to keep private. Having experienced both sides of the coin, I knew there was a flip side to sex where this feeling didn’t exist. Where all the motions were the same, all the right moves were made, but the pleasure never came.

  For a woman, I figured that was where emotion came into play. And maybe the same was true for a man, but I wouldn’t know because I wasn’t one.

  “I know,” Mill agreed, keeping pace and grinding the angle of his stroke to create friction for me so that I didn’t have to work as hard.

  He didn’t make me a promise verbally, but his eyes sought mine purposefully, and I knew when they reached their target that they were sending a message. He didn’t want this to be the end. He wanted more of me, and I wanted more of him. The rest of the story would only unfold with the aid of time and affection.

  Miller

  Heaven.

  The feeling of her surrounding me, her breath fanning across my face, and her ass in my hands was absolute, pure heaven.

  Not only did she feel better than any other woman I had ever been inside, she wanted it more. She worked for it, using my motion to add to both of our pleasure instead of fighting me in an effort to claim hers.

  I wanted to open her up, take off her top, and play with her magnificent tits, but I refused to leave her back exposed to the brick in order to do it. Insecurity had floated across her face when I denied her, and I made it my goal to personally guarantee she knew that no sane man would ever turn down any amount of time with her chest.
But it would have to wait.

  Okay, it would mostly have to wait.

  My right hand left her ass and skimmed up the side of her body, whispering over her ribs, and then enveloping the warmth of her breast in its palm. I was over the shirt, but she was turned on enough that I easily zoned in on her nipple, swiping the peak with my thumb at the same time that I lifted some of the mass with the outside edge of my palm.

  My hips pumped out the same rhythm, gradually adding speed as I went and making sure to give her the friction she had shown me she needed.

  I could feel a slow tingle starting at the base of my spine, and I knew that if I hadn’t been wearing a condom, I would have already embarrassed myself and robbed Zoey of her orgasm.

  Instead, I kept increasing speed, working my fingers over her clit, circling and swirling in time with her moans.

  Vibrations bounced off my skin as she started to shake with the effort to stave off her orgasm, trying to make it keep going, dismayed to lose the bond, which only served to push me closer to the edge.

  Knowing she was enjoying it, that she felt the same way I did, was a hell of a fucking turn on.

  And the feel of her hot, tight pussy wasn’t bad either.

  “Zoey,” I breathed in her ear, connecting it with the tail end of her last gasp and making our own special melody.

  It wasn’t long before the fog enveloped my brain, the power of my pleasure starting to wash away any and all awareness. But I fought it, keeping my eyes open and my chin high, my forehead resting on Zoey’s for support and giving me a front row seat to watch her orgasm wash over her.

  In the wake of her pleasure, she lost all pretenses, her snarky edge dulling and exposing the softer side of her features.

  It was enrapturing.

  The flutter of her eyelids matched the ones in her core, and the cupid’s bow of her upper lip seemed to soften, the column of her throat stretching and offering itself up to the ministrations of my mouth.

  Mentally, she was gone from the alley, surfing the high of her hormones and prolonging the pleasure. But her body was in tune with the moment, seeking closeness with mine instinctively and sucking all of the air out from between us.

  We stood there breathing heavily for several long moments, our limbs tangled into a jumble where beginnings and endings ceased to exist and my dick still sat deep inside of her.

  I knew I would need to pull out soon to maintain the integrity of the condom, but I just couldn’t talk myself into rushing it.

  Maybe I was crazy, maybe my brain was still short on blood from the sex, or maybe I just knew she was the kind of girl who would appreciate it, but I couldn’t stop myself from teasing her. “Oh, Penelope,” I groaned faintly into her ear, fighting so hard to keep the knowing smirk off of my face.

  She reacted about like I thought she would, jumping back violently and scrunching her face up into a look of true abhorrence.

  “I’m messing with you,” I told her through my laugh, hoping to coax her back into my arms and wipe the look of disgust off of her pretty face. “You should see your face,” I added, still chuckling as her eyebrow inched upwards at the same speed as the corner of her mouth.

  “You’re a sick bastard,” Zoey chastised me, but she moved right back into my arms and snuggled deep into my chest.

  Yeah, she was definitely my kind of girl. And she had taken care of the issue of disconnection for me like she was ripping off a bandaid. Swift and painless, with a little bit of distraction thrown in for good measure.

  I was just settling into the feel of her body cuddled into mine when she shoved me away again, scrambling around for her clothes and pulling them on with record speed.

  “The Penelope thing was a joke,” I explained again, thinking that was the only thing that could have spurred her into such a hasty retreat.

  That brought her up short, and she whipped around quickly, just one of her legs back in her pants and the other leg bunched up in the clutch of her hand.

  Her giggles mixed with her words as she placated, “Whoops, sorry. This isn’t about the cow-fetish thing, this is about the whole prank-night-is-timed-thing,” before plopping a deep wet kiss on my lips as consolation.

  Glancing down at her watch, she elaborated, “We have approximately two hours of time left, and a whole hell of a lot to do. We can snuggle later.”

  With that, she hopped her way into the rest of her pants, doing the standard shimmy to get them over the beautiful curve of her hips.

  It took her yelling, “Button your pants, Mill!” at me to realize that I was standing there staring, with my dick hanging out, instead of matching her efforts to get ready.

  Yanking the condom off and tossing it in the conveniently located dumpster, about twenty feet back at the end of the alley, I tucked myself back inside and made quick work of my zipper and the lone button at the waist of my jeans.

  Meanwhile, Zoey was still trying to sort herself out, reaching into her pants in order to situate her panties and twisting the legs of her skinny jeans so that they fell in a straight path down her legs. She still had to put her boots back on, and her hair looked like she’d just been fucked against a dark, back alley wall.

  It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that it was easier to be a guy.

  Zipper, button, and a swipe of my hand through my hair had me ready to go.

  Watching her hop on one foot, straightening her sock in order to get it ready to sit nicely in her boot, I made my way over to her and offered a shoulder for support.

  “I promise not to complain when it takes you forever and ever to get ready,” I pledged when she took it, leaning what little weight she had into me.

  “What?” she asked, confused.

  After all, she wasn’t inside of my head.

  “I just realized that you’re not sitting around knitting sweaters or making some sort of statement while we wait patiently at the bottom of the stairs. You women have a lot to adjust and straighten and more body parts to cover than we men do. So I promise to remember, later on down the line, when I’m waiting for you to be ready for our fifteenth date, to be patient.”

  Happiness seeped from her pores, taking on its own living, breathing entity, and I knew I had said the right thing.

  I expected her to make a joke, maybe even play it off completely, but she reached for my hand, intertwining our fingers, and then moved up onto her toes to press a soft kiss to the very corner of my lips.

  My chest got tight, but I knew it was because I was happy, not because I was following in my father’s heart health footsteps.

  “Thanks, Mill.”

  Making use of the gift I had been given, I kept her hand in mine and steered the pair of us back out of the alley, looking both ways at the end to make sure no one was straggling around in the immediate vicinity.

  I guess it would be good if no one had heard us have sex for the first time, but it was a little late to be thinking about that, so I focused on making sure no one saw us do what I had planned next instead.

  “Come on,” I prompted, trying to get her to move faster, picking up the pace to a jog as I said it.

  Her legs churned faster than mine, and our joined arms swung forward and back between us. We had made it about a block through town when she started to sound like I was working her too hard.

  “You know,” she breathed out in between gulps from working her legs double time to keep up with me. “When you said we needed a piece of wood, I had no idea you meant your penis.”

  “How long have you been sitting on that one?” I asked on a chuckle, knowing by the slight miss in comedic timing that she had been wanting to say it for a while.

  “Shit. I knew I should have said it earlier.”

  My chuckle turned into a full-fledged laugh while she defended, “I was distracted when it was actually relevant!”

  “But you still said it?”

  “I figured I’d never get another opportunity,” she explained on a shrug as I pulled her to a stop in fron
t of Knicks and Knacks, her dad’s hardware store. Her nose scrunched up into a more button-like shape, and a crinkle formed the shape of a star in the outside corner of her right eye.

  She hadn’t noticed where we were yet, and I’d be lying if I said that didn’t boost my ego just a little bit.

  I couldn’t stop a smug grin from bringing my lips off of my teeth, and the change in my face gave me away.

  Her head snapped to the side suddenly as she studied her surroundings and put things together pretty quickly. “You want to get the stuff from my dad’s store?”

  “Uh, yeah,” I confirmed with a shake of my head. “It is a hardware store, and we need wood and rope. Seemed to make sense from me.”

  “I’m not stealing from my dad!” she shouty-whispered, her hands flying out of my grasp and settling onto her hips in the standard pose for attitude.

  I shook my head, bit my lip, and leaned in close, my hands working their way onto her hips and forcing her hands to fall to her sides again.

  “Yeah, I agree. We’re going to pay for it.”

  She was geared up to give me hell, angry about the location and the fact that I denied her stance filled with attitude, but at the realization of my intentions, she deflated like a popped balloon.

  “Oh.” Her lips pursed minutely and then released. “Okay.”

  She stepped free of my grasp again, sidled up to the face of the building, and then input the security code into the pad next to the door of the store. The sounds of the locks disengaging was faint but noticeable, and I felt my eyebrows raise in question.

  “I know,” Zoey said, picking up on my body language without even having to be prompted, her shoulders lifting in a half shrug just before she turned back to the building in order to open the door. “It’s weird. A store for all of these old fashion mechanical methods and fixes, and my dad’s obsessed with unnecessary technology. Go figure.”

  I wasn’t looking a gift horse in the mouth. It made getting inside a hell of a lot easier, since I had just strip searched her without turning up a key, and I wasn’t really looking to do any damage breaking into the place.