by Vremont, Ann
Not skipping a beat, she sucked harder, her mouth descending lower and lower as she angled her head to accept more of his thick cock.
Walt was dying looking at her, at her voracious appetite, her appreciation of his cock, at the strands of her silky hair rubbing against his thighs while her lips grew redder and wetter with the pleasure of bringing him to climax. There was no time to warn her again as he released the nightstand and took her head between his hands. Arching into the sweet center of her mouth, he cried her name once and came.
Chapter Eight
Having finally surrendered her hold on the delicious red knob of his cock head, Bryce fell onto her back and watched Diaz collapse into the chair. He was breathing through his mouth and looked more than a little dazed. Seeing him vulnerable like that, she wanted to descend on him once more, but licked her lips instead. She still tasted his cum and the slightly sharp taste surprised her. She had read that its substance was mostly sugar.
“I didn’t realize it was that nice,” she said, her body relaxed and sleepy.
“Hmmmm?”
Bryce pressed her eyes shut, horrified she’d said it aloud. She felt a blush warm her skin. Damn, what would he think if he realized she was a total newb when it came to actually having a partner during sex?
“Bryce, baby, what did you just say?”
She cleared her throat, not opening her eyes when she answered. “I said that was nice.”
“That wasn’t quite what you said.”
His tender and curious tone practically demanded that she look at him. She turned her head, her quick gaze noting that, even without the erection, his cock was solidly plump and long. Pulling her gaze up to his equally handsome face, she gave a tentative smile before confessing. “I just hadn’t done that before.”
“Ah,” he said and nodded, but then his apparent satisfaction with her answer evaporated and his expression twisted with a new confusion. “Uhm…what part of ‘that’ do you mean? I mean, all of it…or just the last bit?”
“All of it.” And more, she thought. Everything was new—his kissing her…
And that other kiss. She sighed inwardly as she remembered his mouth moving lower, and how his kisses there had left her shaking and with stars dancing behind her shut eyelids.
“Oh, god, Bryce, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize—wouldn’t have…” He fell silent, his body pressed hard against the back of his chair as if he were trying to run or hide.
She rolled until she was on her side and facing him. “Don’t be sorry,” she said, and lightly touched his knee. “I’m not really much of an innocent—just my mouth was a virgin.”
Diaz let out a shaky breath and nodded. She couldn’t tell if he was relieved or disappointed or somewhere in between. What would he think if he knew the whole truth?
Leaning forward, he clasped her hand and brought it to his lips. He smiled as he kissed the back of her fingers. “Didn’t mean to spaz on you,” he said. “Just the thought that maybe you hadn’t been with another man—that I should have gone much slower…”
Unable to keep the pretense up, she dropped her gaze. His grip on her hand tightened but she refused to look up. She couldn’t look at him.
Damn, why did she have to start crying now?
“Brycie, you have been with another man, right?” Diaz moved to the bed. Laying beside her, he tried to cradle her but she kept twisting away. Reaching an arm across her, he scooped up part of the bedspread and pulled until she was trapped flat against his chest. “Brycie, have you?”
She shook her head “no”. It felt good to have his arms around her, but that only made her want to cry more and she shook her head again. It would only take a few more questions and he’d realize he’d let a freak into his apartment.
“Bryce, has a man been with you?”
She had to stop and think about the change in a question she had already answered. “No, nothing like that, who would want—”
“I want you, dammit.” His voice sounded a little angry and frustrated as all hell.
Too bad all that passion would evaporate Sunday at midnight, when the extended ball was over and she turned back into a fat little pumpkin.
“So you—you took care of it yourself?” Diaz rolled Bryce onto her back, holding the sides of her face so that she would have been looking at him if she wasn’t still refusing to open her eyes.
Bryce nodded, chewing at her bottom lip while she waited for whatever muse-created spell that held him to snap and break.
“How old were you?”
“Tw-twenty three.” Damn, why did he insist on prolonging this!
He remained poised over her, his body feeling to her as if it was locked in thought. She couldn’t open her eyes to see if his expression held any trace of what he was thinking. She would, if she had to, walk from the room with her eyes closed. Seeing his face twist with the reality of the day would kill her.
“Brycie, that’s an awful lot of time to make up for,” he said at last. “And you’re only giving me the weekend to do it?”
She would give him forever, if that’s what he wanted. But, instead of telling him that, she lied. “Yes.”
When Diaz was quiet for a long while, she finally opened her eyes.
“You will recant, Miss Schoene,” he said, his sumptuous mouth erupting in a broad grin. He moved down her body, kissing and sucking. Light bruises flushed her skin, marking his path. When he reached the line of hair she hadn’t finished shaving, he stopped and pulled lightly at it with his lips and then warned her, “Because the kid gloves are off as of right now.”
Cock erect once more, Diaz ordered Bryce back onto the towel with her body horizontally across the bed. He knelt on the floor in front of her spread legs and dispensed a small puff of shaving cream into his hand. He lathered the cream onto the still unshaven lips of her pussy and picked up the razor. His strokes were soft and short, but diligent. He interrupted his work with frequent kisses to her thighs and calves.
When he was all done, he wiped the shaving cream residue away and left to get fresh water. He cleaned her a second time. She could feel him making her skin all pink and fresh, from the newly shaven mound to the inner folds of her labia. But every stroke of the washcloth only seemed to make her slicker.
Diaz wrapped the razor and shaving cream into the spare towel and picked up the bowl. Bryce lifted up to pull the second towel from beneath her, but he shook his head.
“Leave it, Brycie,” he warned. “I’m not done yet.”
He left the room and she waited, her body tense while she guessed at the origin of the sounds coming from the other side of the apartment. She could hear the refrigerator door opening, the sound of ice cubes bouncing in glasses and the solid “thunk” of a knife hitting the flat surface of a wooden cutting board over and over. There was the faint pop of a cork and liquid sloshing against the glass and ice. He returned to the room a few seconds later, using the cutting board as an impromptu tray.
Bryce pushed up onto her elbows. Glasses and a cut lemon. The two short glasses held a rich amber brown liquid on the rocks. Diaz passed her one and she knew from the smell what it was.
Courvoisier.
She’d only had it once before, at a friend’s divorce celebration—a large portion of the first month’s alimony check blown on three bottles consumed over the weekend by half a dozen very drunk young women.
She dipped just the tip of her tongue into the glass and then ran it over her lips. Fruity, orange with a taste of apricot and pear. More flavors teased her as the first impression faded. A hint of chocolate and vanilla, and sweet spices that she couldn’t name from a baker’s rack.
“You can savor the next glass,” Diaz said and tossed his back with one sacrilegious swallow. “The first one’s just a brace.”
“A brace?” The question shook a little as it left her and she held the glass more firmly.
He nodded and picked up the cut lemon. When he ran it over his lips, Bryce followed his earlier example
and downed the rest of her drink.
She’d never seen a gaze so wicked or hot.
Feeling the slow burn of the cognac as it traveled down her throat, she gave a little puff. “You’re not a nice man,” she said. But then a purely nice man would not have shouldered his way past all her defenses—muse or no muse.
Taking Bryce’s glass, he fished an ice cube out and sank on his knees in front of her—one hand holding the lemon, the other the Courvoisier-covered ice cube. Starting at the top of her freshly shaven mound, he slid the lemon over her skin.
Hell! She took a deep breath, wanting to squeal at the sharp burn of citrus. But then Diaz blew on the area and followed it with the ice cube. The heat that followed was different. The Courvoisier mellowed it. And then his tongue, licking at the melt water, soothed the last of the hurt. She relaxed and he repeated the pattern, moving over the full expanse of her mound. She arched to meet his mouth each time he blew or ran his tongue over her to erase the sting of liquor and lemon.
When he reached her pussy lips, he put the lemon aside and scooped a fresh cube from the glass. He was moving sinfully slow, igniting the burn and then fueling it with soft puffs of air before he licked it away. Burning hot, ice cold, wet licks, he hadn’t even reached her inner folds and his erotic torment had her on the verge of coming.
When he parted her lips, she was sure she would pass out. He ran the cube over her clit, his tongue thrusting into her cunt as he did so. Spooning her juices with his tongue, he laved them over her clit and then sucked them off before swiping the ice cube along the stiff line of her pussy once more. Another tongue-full of cream and then he was sucking at her clit.
Pulling away, he rocked back on his heels, one hand holding her open while he teased the ring of her pussy with the ice. “Brycie, you’re drenched, baby.”
And only getting wetter.
She moaned, thrusting with her hips until the cube and his two fingers penetrated. It was cold and melting fast. She could feel him V-ing her open with his fingers and using his tongue to push the ice cube deeper into her cunt. Then he fucked her like that, his tongue and fingers pushing and stretching into the tight walls of her pussy while the spreading chill from the cube made her clamp down and push back.
She felt the melt water leave her, trickling down her perineum and teasing her ass. The cold made her tighter, made everything about her harder. Her nipples were at full attention, aching from the soft flow of air through the room.
His tongue flicking inside her and around the trembling circle of her cunt provided a warm contrast. Tight but sloppy wet, cold but warm, the sensations collided against one another—shattered along her nerves.
Bryce spread her legs in a silent demand for more. He had been two fingers thick inside her, now he was three wide, maybe four, as he finger fucked her. He worked deeper into her cunt, his mouth moving up to tease her clit with a sustained and hard sucking. She rode him, her thrusts feral. Panting and squeezing down on his fingers, she held his head tight to her pussy with one hand while she bit into the palm of the other. But when she came, she couldn’t stop the scream.
Chapter Nine
Diaz rose to his feet. His not-so-little soldier stood at attention, so rigid and ready for service she half expected it to salute her. Diaz, on the other hand, had a slightly wild look to him and he ran a shaking hand across his smooth face. He looked at the nightstand’s single drawer but shook his head in dismissal. And then a “Eureka!” expression came over his face and he spun around to the double sliding-door closet. He pulled the left door to the side and Bryce saw that the top shelf was stacked with boxes and he had a column of them running against the side wall. Words like “bedroom” and “misc” were scrawled on them in red marker.
The sight of his muscled ass and back teased her as he stretched to pull the first box of miscellany down. He tore the top flaps back, rummaged through the contents and then plopped the box down and reached for a second one. More pawing was followed by an excited “yes!”. He fished a smaller package out and shoved the box back on the top shelf.
He turned and Bryce saw that he had an unopened box of condoms. She felt her jaw go slack. Not only did it mean that he was intent on filling her with that glorious cock, but that box had—most likely—been there since he’d moved in. Did that mean he’d been celibate for the last seven months?
The thought that she wasn’t the only one with a lot of lost time to make up for had her reaching for him as he approached the bed.
She wanted to take him in her mouth again and tease him with the cubes the same way he had teased her. She pictured running the ice around the tip of his cock and down its length. Then she’d lick him until he came in her mouth once more. But he seemed thoroughly intent on having something else right now. He had left Bryce placed across the width of the bed and he took the towel from beneath her bottom. Tearing open the condom’s wrapper, he gestured with his head for her to move back up the bed.
He unrolled the latex sheath onto his cock and then climbed onto the mattress. He pushed Bryce’s legs wider apart, but didn’t plunge straight into her. Instead, he dipped two fingers into her center, coating them in the rich cream that flowed from her cunt. He rubbed his fingers over her clit, fast and then slow, then fast again. Slowing once more, he took the swollen hood of her clit between his knuckles and rolled it while his thumb teased the raw slit below. Only once her hips were rolling with him did he bring the head of his cock to rest against the entrance to her pussy.
He pushed in, changed the angle of his approach with a slide of his hips, and pushed deeper. With their chests pressed together, Diaz buried his face in the bend of her neck.
“I can’t wait for the day you let me in uncovered, Brycie.” He punctuated his words with deep, hip-rocking strokes.
Splaying her fingers, Bryce covered his ass cheeks, holding on for dear life as his muscles flexed, twisted and rolled beneath her hand. Every little movement brought him deeper inside her. His cock head was kneading the bulb of nerves high up in her cunt, each new press making her curl tighter around him. She moaned and tried for a few fractions of a second to imagine how it could possibly feel any better.
He was all the way in her now, and he was so thick. Unimaginably tight with her own need, she could feel every layer of their love making. The condom barely moved inside her despite the deep strokes he took. Beneath that layer, the veined sheath slid back and forth. Even deeper, more at his center, the full glory of his erection moved.
The ample head traveled beneath condom and foreskin, creating ripples within ripples. Each time the head passed beneath one of the thick veins, massaging that knot of pleasure, Bryce moaned and ground harder against him.
Diaz lifted off her, just enough that he could increase the pressure of his strokes and knead one of her swollen breasts. His hand covered her completely, the fingers cupping and squeezing the breast’s ripe hardness. He pulled the nipple taut, stretching it tighter and tighter until she arched up, her climax slamming through her in one long shudder.
She collapsed against the bed and he fell with her, just as he had promised. Wrapping his arms around her, he hugged her tightly to him. He kept thrusting—continued filling and fucking her until he went completely motionless. She heard him grind his teeth and then felt the first jerk of his cock as he started to come. A second and a third thrust and ripple followed as he filled the condom. Bryce gasped, the sensation of his climax and the fierce way he held on triggering another orgasm within her.
Diaz pulled out and rolled to the edge of the bed. He held his hand against his chest in an apparent attempt to restart his heart or slow his breathing. She couldn’t tell which. After a few more seconds, he moved onto his side, his back to her, and she heard the scrape of him dragging the small garbage can next to the nightstand closer. He threw the spent condom away, clicked the floor lamp off and then rolled back to Bryce. In one final motion, he pulled the bedspread across both their bodies and trapped her in his arms.
She lifted her head enough to see the clock and know that the time was closing in on midnight. That gave her just forty-eight more hours. But she felt too sleepy and content to worry about the quickly dwindling time she had with him.
She put her hand on one of his sculpted biceps and stroked it with her thumb. “You didn’t get much sketching done,” she said.
“Bryce, I’m going to remember everything about you for the rest of my life,” he answered, the sound of his voice telling her he was just as fatigued and relaxed. “I’ve got years to paint you—but only this weekend to love you.”
Bryce stopped stroking his arm, her body motionless within its circle. Had he just said he only had the weekend to “love” her? Surely that was just a turn of phrase--a pretty euphemism for fucking. It’s not like he’d said he was in love with her.
“Walt?” She said his name quietly.
He answered her with the soft whistle of a snore.
*****
At six in the morning, Bryce finally gave up on trying to fall asleep for more than twenty minutes at a time and climbed from Diaz’s bed. Getting out of it without waking him wasn’t easy. He’d spent the night spooned against her, an arm across her shoulder or around her waist, his body slightly curled so that his lips were pressed against her neck or shoulder.
The way he held her like that felt a little possessive. She found it both slightly annoying and completely wonderful. Any annoyance she’d felt disappeared once she’d finally extracted herself from his sleeping embrace. Watching him from the end of the bed, she felt a small pang of need and was tempted to crawl back under the covers and feel his strong arms wrap instantly around her.
Instead of returning to bed, she retrieved the lovely outfit and gold strapped sandals Erato had forced on her. She headed into Diaz’s bathroom to change before going home. She would, she decided, borrow his keys while he slept and slip next door for a shower, fresh clothes and some makeup. He certainly couldn’t see her like she was, she thought, opening the bathroom door and flipping the light switch on.
