I ran my hands up his chest, scooped them under his neck and lifted his head before I kissed him. He finally turned back into the guy who had hauled me, soaking wet, up against the side of my building’s elevator.
He unhooked my bra, yanked it off and tossed it, holding his torso up with stomach muscle alone while he kissed and fondled my breasts and I shimmied out of my jeans. As soon as I was down to just my underwear he crushed my body to his. My hips worked against his of their own accord, the thin cotton of my panties sliding against the smooth lace of his.
He flipped us over, moving against me all the while, manic in his passion. His weight sunk on top of me. His hands gripped my thighs so tight it nearly hurt and he yanked my legs up behind his back, thrusting against me, rocking down into me so hard that my entire body moved with him. I grabbed his shoulders and held on. I could see the appeal of the panties now. There was just enough fabric between us to make the tease exciting, not nearly enough to deaden the sensation of him rubbing against me. I could feel the heat of him through the thin material, and the tightness of the lace held the ridge of his cock upright against me so that every thrust of his body against mine dragged the whole length of his thick cock over my clit until I was gasping.
He shuddered against me and stopped, breathing hard.
“Roxanne?” he grit out. “Roxanne, what do you want?”
I could pretty much come from a little bit more of this, his hot breath against my ear, his weight on me, his cock rubbing against me and sending shocks through my body, but I could feel my core starting to ache with emptiness. I rocked my hips up against him, unable to stop myself. He whined.
“I’m yours, I’m yours,” he panted.
I felt a surge of lust burst in my stomach, like a light bulb popping.
I did like a guy to be mine. That was something I’d only ever gotten from a couple of my suit and tie boys and even then… they’d been playing at it. Mocking me for it even, while they played along, mugging the whole thing.
But Dieter was salivating for me.
I raked my hand through his hair, letting my fingernails scratch against his scalp. He pushed up into my fingers.
“Get on your knees.”
He smiled, gratefully, not the coy smile I’d gotten from a lot of the guys that I’d told what to do. The ones that seemed to expect you to have a riding crop and a latex maid’s outfit hidden away just to turn them on.
But Dieter just wanted this. Hoped I’d give it to him. Trusted me with his secret.
I’d never really thought of myself as shallow like this—but it was way more fun to have this sort of eagerness to submit from a guy as handsome and as fit as Dieter.
He leaned back, took my hands in his and pulled me up so that I was sitting on his tensed thighs. I glanced down between his legs. He was so hard now that his cock was straining against the lace. I could see his cockhead, obscenely red against the midnight blue of the panties and the paleness of his skin. A spot of precome was glistening under the soft light in a way that gave me an idea for later.
But first thing was first.
Dieter brought my hands up to his mouth, kissing my fingers before moving me off of him. He wrapped his hands around my thighs and turned me so that I could lean against the back of the couch. He pressed forward into one more blazing kiss, then slid down onto the floor and knelt between my thighs. He looked up at me and I shivered when I realized that it was a request for permission.
I nodded, giving it to him.
He sighed, deeply, happily, and kissed one thigh, then the other. His fingertips danced up over my legs, up to the crux of me. He set his thumb to my clit, brushing across it calmly. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry.
His teeth came into play. He nibbled gently at the soft skin of my thighs, startling me. I bucked up into his thumb and he came up to kiss my stomach, fingers tucking into my underwear, his lips following in the wake of the waistband as he pulled it off. His hot tongue swiped over that sensitive button and I thrust up against his mouth. He groaned, knotted his fingers around my panties and slid them off.
I saw him reach for his cock as he leaned back and I grabbed his forearm. I wasn’t totally sure that I could push him like this for a first time. It wasn’t like we had talked about this at all.
But I had a hunch.
“Don’t touch yourself,” I whispered.
I saw the way his shoulders loosened—relief. I saw the way his eyes lit up—excitement. I remembered the way he had moaned when I’d grabbed him by the hair last week.
Well.
If that’s how he liked it I certainly wouldn’t object.
He lifted his hands up, showing me they were empty and I folded my noticeably smaller hands around his and pulled them toward me. I set them around my hips and spread my legs. I raised an eyebrow at him and he dove forward with a breathless, “Ahhh. Yes.”
I leaned back against the couch, stroking his hair as he rocked against me. His long hair tickled my hips and his tongue made me shake and gasp and wriggle against him.
Some woman had taught him this. Maybe it wasn’t just the lady’s underwear that had made him shy. Maybe he was a little bit kinky, a little bit subby and wasn’t sure how to ask a girl to make a few demands.
So we had both lucked out, because I could definitely do that.
His fingertips were going to leave bruises all over my ass, there was no getting around it now. He was bouncing a little on his knees, like he was trying to thrust into or against something but couldn’t because I’d told him not to.
I rubbed my thumb affectionately behind his ear.
“You are so good at this, baby,” I sighed.
He moaned and I tugged at his hair. His hips jerked against nothing.
“You are so good at this that I think if I let you use your fingers, I could come twice.”
He dropped his forehead to my right thigh, panting like a black haired dog in the sun. I pulled his hair again, just to hear the sound that he made when I did. “And I think once I do, I’ll be able to really concentrate on you.”
He looked up at me. “Okay,” he managed.
I probably could have come from that. His cheeks were red. His eyes were lust drunk. His voice was wrecked.
I pulled his hands from my hips and he flexed his fingers like they might be stiff before he reached between my legs and slid one finger easily into my hot, wet core. He curved it upwards and my toes curled as he brushed my g-spot. He pushed a little harder and my head dropped back, resting on the couch back.
“Roxanne?”
“Don’t make me push your head back down,” I replied, trying not to laugh at how faux sweet I sounded. We were playing a little domination game and even after only knowing each other for two weeks, we were both winning.
He brought his mouth back down to my crux. He pulled his finger out and slipped two back inside me. I groaned a little at the pressure. I was wet and ready and it wasn’t nearly enough. He was working expertly against my g-spot: thrusting into it, then brushing over it, thrusting inside me purposefully, but not ramrodding in like he was trying to break down a castle door during a siege. And on top of it, there was his tongue’s constant attention to my clit. He was going down on me like he didn’t even need air, gasping and squirming because he was turned on by getting me off, and unable to do anything to curb the feelings in his own body because I’d said so.
The tight warm feeling in my stomach was pulsing now, beating like a drum, running further and further through my body.
“Harder,” I ordered.
He gasped, thrust in harder and pressed his tongue tight to me. I rocked up into his mouth and worked myself down on his hand. I wrapped my hand around his neck, dug my fingers hard into his shoulder and came hard. I felt like my entire body had blown a fuse.
He whimpered and kept lapping at me.
I pushed him away and he looked up at me, wide eyed. “What about round two?”
“I changed my mind. Get up here.�
� I patted the spot next to me on the couch.
He sucked in air like he had just surfaced from the bottom of a lake and scrambled up next to me. He leaned in to kiss me and I set my hands at his hips and pushed him back down. He reached for the panties, then stopped and looked up at me. Again for permission.
Oh yeah. I was already thinking about keeping this one around.
I shook my head. He bucked against my hips at first, but forced himself to stand still.
“Sit,” I said softly. “Feet on the floor.”
He got off his knees, dropping his butt down onto the couch. He slid his legs out and dropped his feet onto my thick rug, digging his toes into the high pile.
I easily swung myself over him so that I was straddling him again. He gulped.
I took just a moment to appreciate the scene. His hands knotted in his own hair, head craned back, neck exposed. And me, naked, sweaty, flushed with the orgasm I’d already had, perched on his knees.
He was staring at me. Red-cheeked, half smiling, breathing hard, eyes glazed over in arousal.
“You like to be told what to do, don’t you, Dieter,” I said. I pressed my mouth to his ear as I spoke. I felt him shiver against me.
“I do,” he panted. “When it’s like this. When we’re together like this.”
I grinned and kissed him, dropping my hand between us. I ran my thumb along the hard line of his cock and felt his whole body spasm underneath me.
“Are you going to blow me now?” he asked, smiling and breathy. I feathered my fingers back down his length and I could feel the tremors that the teasing touch caused to run down his body.
“I’m gonna get there,” I told him. He shivered. I like watching him like this. Liked the thought of making him shake and mutter underneath me. Liked the thought of having him practically in thrall to me. I stopped teasing and squeezed his cock hard in my fist. He bucked up so hard he nearly knocked me off of him.
“Really need this, don’t you?”
His answer wasn’t so much words as it was spluttering.
I took pity.
I worked my way down to the floor, aware that there was no way of really making the move graceful or sexy.
Dieter obviously didn’t care. He looked like he was in genuine danger of biting his bottom lip off. His arms were shaking behind his head.
I kissed my way up his thighs. The hair sprinkled across them was just like the hair on his chest: dark and wiry. It made the fact that he was shaved clean underneath the panties even more odd. His hips were working up into the air as I kissed my way to the prize, pushing his knees further apart as I moved my tongue out against the sensitive skin just to feel him shiver.
He groaned when I reached the fold of his leg. I touched the tip of my tongue just outside the pretty lace trim of the leg hole and he pulled his hands out of his hair and dropped them around my shoulders. I put my mouth to the base of his cock. The fabric was bizarrely smooth on my lips and I almost laughed as I slid my mouth up the shaft and he started swearing under his breath.
I placed my mouth over where the tip was straining against the fabric and he made a terrible noise—like a lion being squashed by a falling building halfway through its roar.
I smiled around his lace wrapped cockhead.
I felt powerful.
He was shaking and gasping and digging his fingers into my shoulder so hard that I could feel the crescent moon outlines of his fingernails in the skin around my scapula. I sucked gently. He hissed breath out through his teeth. It made me feel just a little bad about what I was planning to do to him.
I cupped his balls in my hands, rubbing and rolling them gently as I started to use my tongue. I was going to get everything wet first. Between my working mouth and his dribbling cock, his panties were as wet as I wanted them to be in minutes. His thighs were shaking under my hands and he was trying to stroke my hair but his hands kept spasming, grabbing my hair at the roots.
I was a little shocked at how far this had gone. A blowie on a second date was hardly scandalous, but we were playing, bruising, hair pulling and I was about to pull a pretty… well…dommy move.
But I felt totally confident that it would go over just fine.
I’d been planning to sleep with him, because it had been a while and he was good looking, hung, and sweet, but now things had gotten intense. Playing submission with no conversation on a second date? There was a thrill factor there that was going to be very hard to explain to Hailey and Noah of normal-quiet-and-marriedville.
Dieter was keening with want now, and I was loving every second of it. The way I wanted him when I peeled the blue lace away from his body was sinful and the sound he made when I wrapped my lips around his cock was absolution.
The smell of him here was thick, concentrated, still clean and soapy, but with a headier concentration of that part of the smell that just seemed to be coming from him. It was a warm, nearly spicy scent that overwhelmed my senses as I carefully opened my jaw to take him further into my mouth.
I was moving slow. A little bit because it had been a while, a little bit because Dieter was not small in the pants department.
Mostly to hear him gasp and swear.
“Fuuuuhhhccckkkk,” he moaned when I started running my tongue over the head of his cock while I moved the tight ring of my mouth up and down his cock. “Fuck, you are good at this.”
I fought down the urge to laugh, decided not to bother. I pulled up to the tip of his cock, kept my lips around just the head, and pressed them in just under the thick ridge of his glans while I ran my tongue back and forth over the slit, tasting the salty, bitter fluid that covered it.
His hands tightened in my hair again and he pulled my head back, not hard, not suddenly, but irresistibly. My head had been pulled back far enough that I was looking him in the eye, but not far enough that my mouth wasn’t still around his cock. I was wet and panting too, at the sudden slight shift in the balance of control.
“Roxanne…” Dieter gasped. “Roxanne, please, please.”
I sucked. He groaned. I pulled off with a pop. “Are you close?”
His hands tightened even further in my hair.
“Yeah,” He answered breathlessly.
“You ready to come?” I asked again, flicking my tongue over his cock again, one quick tease of flesh on flesh. He hissed again and tugged me back from his groin by my hair, hard enough that it hurt this time.
“Yeah,” he repeated. I tried to move my head down, his hand in my hair holding me back for a moment before he let me go. And then I threw all my best moves out at once. I pumped my mouth over his cock, massaged his balls and just as I felt his body start to really wrench tight I pulled off.
He groaned. I tucked his wet, red, throbbing cock back into the panties and pushed his tight balls up into his body.
He muttered a long loud string of garbled nonsense punctuated by the occasional “shit”.
Thick, white come pumped through the holes in the dark blue lace, shocking white against the deep blue, like the first morning you wake up to a snow-covered landscape and suddenly everything is just white, white, white.
We’d known each other for two weeks and I’d just let him pull me around by my hair, and then forced him to a ruined orgasm in his panties. And he was staring at me like I was a miracle.
“I think I’m ready for that second time at bat now,” I told him, sitting up and dropping back into my previous spot on the couch. He was still gaping at me a little bit and I felt just an edge of fear that I’d pushed over a line that we hadn’t even taken the time to set. He nodded. Gulped.
“I’m… my…I’m wet and covered in come,” he managed.
“Then you better get me off again before it gets cold,” I answered. The deep huskiness of my whisper surprised me, but Dieter practically growled as he sunk back to the floor, threw my legs apart and went to work. I came just as hard again, then sent him to the bathroom to clean up a little while I kicked the couch down into the bed. Dieter ca
me back to bed totally naked. I blew him for real, while he knotted his hands in my hair and rubbed his fingers in little circles on my scalp. We collapsed into bed, spent and satisfied. I tucked myself against his chest and he pulled my blankets around us.
I felt warm and content and tired. And just a little concerned about how easily and quickly we’d clicked. The last time I had been… dommy with a guy like this had been with Isaiah, and there had been a long involved conversation about limits beforehand.
This had just happened. And for all the 50 Shades shit out there, that’s not really how it was supposed to work.
His hands were back in my hair, stroking and massaging my scalp. Gentle and calm again. I was tracing nonsense shapes across his bare chest, stopping every once in a while to trace the lines of his tattoo.
I was very close to falling asleep when he finally said “So…” softly.
“So…” I mimicked.
“The underwear thing. You… didn’t actually say that you were okay with that. Not in so many words.”
Dammit. Why did I have to have a thing for the smart ones?
“Why do you wear it?” I asked.
“Umm…” His hands carded through my hair. He pressed a kiss to my temple. I sighed and nuzzled my cheek against his firm chest. “A lot of reasons. And kind of a weird story.”
“I’m listening.”
“Okay.”
He didn’t say anything for a while. Just kept playing with my hair. Adjusted the covers around us. Settled his hand around my waist differently. “Well. For one I get a killer discount at work.”
I snorted against his chest.
“I… umm. I like the way they feel. I like the fabric more than guy’s underwear. I like the fit. Finding a bikini cut in men’s underwear is like searching for some kind of Holy Grail.” He breathed deeply. My body rose and fell with his. “I like the way I look in them. I used to be… sort of scrawny. The gym body is new. And…umm…” he breathed deeply again, and I could hear his heart beat starting to drum against my ear. “It’s a little bit because… I was… I was in this really, really, abusive relationship. For… way too long.”
The Promise of Lace Page 6
