The King of Bourbon Street

by Thea de Salle

  “I see. And did that change in college?”

  “Somewhat? I met Theresa. She’s my best friend. She’s . . . very nice. Beautiful. The most beautiful girl I’ve ever met and somehow the nicest. I . . . ”

  “Did you ever touch her?”

  It wasn’t a real question, not one that would contribute much to his vast and varied knowledge of all things Arianna Barrington anyway, but one he wanted to see her react to—to see if she’d ever tested her sexual boundaries before meeting him.

  “No! Theresa’s straight. Very Catholic. I . . . nnnngh.” Rain shifted on the toy, the buzzing not unlike angry bees. He turned it up because he was comfortable with his dickishness. The corgi didn’t like the ensuing thrum so he picked up Squeaky Alligator and trotted off for apartment parts unknown, leaving Rain to her twitterpated condition.

  “Did you want to? Touch her?”

  “Well . . . there was that one party.”

  “Oh good! What happened at that one party?”

  “There was drinking involved.” Rain paused. “Theresa went to confession. We had the d-discussion that it could only happen once.”

  “Yes, but what could only happen once?”

  “We kissed.”

  “With tongues?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did it make you feel?”

  “Theresa’s very pretty, Sol. V-very pret— It’s hard to concentrate right now.”

  Her face was as rosy flush as his felt, her chest heaved, and he could smell her sex, sweet and musky and enticing, which made him cross his legs so she couldn’t see what she was doing to him. But oh, she was doing it to him. He tapped his foot to try to take his attention off his aching dick.

  “How did it make you feel, kitten?” he repeated.

  And then he turned the vibrations up again.

  “Oh my God I’m going to die.” She leaned forward, rubbing herself against the attachment on the vibrator, her hands flat on the floor, her legs spreading wider to plant herself more firmly on the nub. He could hear how wet she was as she slapped forward, over and over again. She dropped her head to her chest, hair spilling down over her shoulders as her fingers splayed. She gasped, and he could see her hips moving, rocking of their own volition, as she climbed closer and closer to her come.

  “Look at me, sweetheart.”

  She did, lifting her heart-shaped face to him. Sweat dappled her forehead and she couldn’t keep her eyes open for longer than a moment or two. She was so very close and they hadn’t even been at it long, which was a testament to how much passion was packed inside that short, solid frame.

  Well, that and the magic of the Sybian. The damned thing was a jackhammer.

  “What do you want, Arianna?” he demanded.

  “. . . questions are bullshit,” she croaked.

  “Agreed.” He put the remote aside and unfastened the top button of his slacks. He reached in to pull himself out, cock hard in his hand, and started pumping. There was no time for soft tugs or gentle strokes. He wanted to come, and he wanted her to watch him while he did. “Look at me, kitten. Watch me. You can go when I do, but not before. Understand?”

  “Y-yes. I . . . please hurry.” She arched her hips down at the machine, her gaze fixed on his dick, which just made him throb all the harder. It wouldn’t take him long with her shuddering and sweating before him, ample hips rocking back and forth. She moaned and he stiffened, feeling every nerve in his body furl. He wasn’t going to drag it out, not for her, not for him, but oh, after this, he was going to fuck her. And he’d love every second of it.

  His heart hammered inside his chest. His breath came faster. She moaned at him, eyes skipping from his cock to his face. Staring. Wanting.

  Imploring. She’s imploring me to finish for her.

  That’s all he needed. To know how much she was his in that moment. The sight of her. The smell of her. Her sounds. The combination forced a full-body spasm as he hit his peak, the world shrinking until he was incapable of doing anything other than riding out the hard pulses of his orgasm, white spurts dribbling over his hand and drizzling down, one after the other. She cooed, watching him finish, her expression full of awe.

  And heat.

  “Go, kitten. Come for me.”

  Her legs stretched wide, almost in a split, forcing all her weight onto the Sybian. Three heaves of her hips later, three wheezy, gurgled rasps, and she exploded in primal screams, her body collapsing in a twitching pile of girl pudding, her body slick with sweat, her fingers clawing at the floor.

  He watched all of it from beneath heavy-lidded eyes.

  My kitten. My sweet, sweet kitten girl.

  TWENTY-TWO

  HE SHUT IT off.

  That’s nice.

  I might feel my vagina again one day.

  She was facedown on the floor, legs akimbo, crotch resting against the dormant Sybian. The vibrations had been so intense she was numb from belly button to knees. Every few seconds, another spasm shredded through her cunt, aftershocks that had her panting like a dog. She crawled forward, off the toy, to sprawl flat on her belly, her heart hammering in her chest, her mouth dry from wheezing so much.

  That was incredible.

  She could have slept right there, bare assed and all, but Sol came to stand in front of her. Lifting her head was far too much work so she examined the tips of his shoes. Very shiny. Very black. Very expensive. Laced up and tied smartly. She traced a finger over the stitching, her back hunching when another pleasure ripple coursed through her.

  “Up, kitten. We’re not done yet.”

  But. But. But.

  She pushed herself up despite the lead in her limbs. The moment she found her feet, Sol scooped her up, cradling her to his chest. He was a thin man, yes, but he managed to carry her from the living room into his bedroom without effort, depositing her gently on the bed and promptly rolling her onto her stomach.

  “On your knees.” The instruction came punctuated by a harsh slap to her ass, directly on the thickest part, the bite of the strike lessened by her ampleness. She scrambled to obey, foisting her body and presenting, her hands gripping the headboard. He stripped beside the bed, tugging off his belt, the leather hissing through the loops. She craned her head to watch, enjoying the hasty reveal of skin and long, lean muscle. The shirt and pants and shorts puddled on the floor before he circled the bed, eyeing her back end and licking his lips.

  “Your ass,” he said.

  “What about it?”

  “I want it.”

  Don’t you already have it?

  She glanced back at him. He was staring, intent and fixed on her exposed hole. Holes.

  “Look at the wall, kitten. Straight ahead.”

  She did, adjusting her position, her breasts mashed to the mattress, her fingers grasping the finely carved wooden rungs before her face. Weight behind her, Sol approaching from the foot of the bed. His hands manacled her ankles, gently squeezing, before his palms traveled over her smooth calves. He paused at the crease behind her knees, stroking there. Back and forth, left to right, delicate touches that were ticklish enough to make her smile.

  The hands went higher, over the backs of her thighs, letting her know that the numbness of the Sybian had worn off, and just in time, too. His thumbs slid over her pussy lips, nestling in, and slowly parted her folds, the wet pooling there and waiting to slither down her legs.

  “Sol,” she murmured, eager for whatever came next, which proved to be a tongue. She yelped at the contact, his hotness against hers, her breath catching as he lapped at her center. He sucked at her juices with a rude slurping noise, moaning into her, smearing his face in her as his tongue delved deep, swirling, tasting, owning. She pursed her lips, but remembering his instruction that her sounds were his, she allowed a low, appreciative groan to escape, which only served to spur him onward. The tongu
e slid into her and then slithered out, back and forth, rekindling her body. She was hyperfocused on her cunt, and that only grew worse when he dragged his tongue away from her tunnel and down to her clit, flicking at it, worrying it back and forth in a way that spoke of extensive practice.

  It was just enough pressure. Just enough speed. She didn’t want to think about how he’d acquired the skill, but at the same time, she wanted to shake the hand of every single one of his former women for turning him into the salacious, unseemly specimen he was today.

  I love this.

  I just . . . yes. Yes, yes, yes.

  His tongue lashed up, over her slit, and then danced up to her ass, flicking over her in a way that made her eyes bulge and her toes curl. She’d never imagined anyone doing anything so licentious, yet she wanted him to do it again and again, the sensitive nerves responding to every lap and swish. She heaved her body back at his face, greedy for more, and he obliged, teasing her, his tongue sweeping along the cleft of her ass and swirling over her hole.

  His hand clapped down to spank her as he sucked on her, learning her textures. She squealed and pulled on the headboard, growling with delight at his hedonism. At the maelstrom of sensation he forced upon her that she never could have imagined possible. Not in all those awkward tumbles in the dark she’d had in college. Not during the groping grunt-fests of her previous sexual encounters.

  His mouth pulled away from her with a wet smack.

  “Can I have it, kitten? This?”

  His fingers, wet with her, abandoned her pussy to grope the meat of her ass. She’d never considered letting anyone inside her that way, but she’d also never before considered getting tied up, spanked, or interrogated atop a superpowered vibrator, either.

  I’ve come this far . . .

  “Y-yes. Anything. Yours.”

  “Mine.”

  He kissed up over the swell of her ass cheek, to her spine, licking at it as he murmured things beneath his breath. Adoring things that were so at odds with the lewdness of their acts, and yet seemed totally appropriate, too. Things like she was perfect. Like she was a sweet thing. Like he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.

  She closed her eyes, blanketing herself in his encouragement. He shifted behind her and the drawer of the nightstand opened. She glanced over only to see him pull out a bottle of lube, his thumb popping up the red plastic top.

  “Eyes forward, kitten.”

  “I’m sorry,” she rasped. He maneuvered behind her and she heard the squirt and hiss of the bottle as the air was forced from it. Another click, a wet sound, and his hand delved back toward her, dipping to find her clit and rub slowly. She shivered, her cheek dropping to rest against her forearm, attention never leaving the paisley-printed wallpaper in front of her, not even when his other hand, slick and cold with lube, slithered over her ass. She gasped as he gently rubbed at her, applying a liberal coat to the outside before easing his finger in and opening her up.

  Rain gasped at the newness of the sensation. She spread her knees wider, lifting for him, and he pushed in up to the knuckle. His other hand worried her clit with a steady, slow motion, not to force her into a come but to keep her invested. Stimulated. The finger in her ass probed deeper. He worked it carefully, seesawing it back and forth in preparation for his second finger.

  When that came, it, too, was inserted gradually—tip to knuckle and up to the base with an easy, constant pressure.

  “Breathe, and when you’re ready, push back at me. The more stretching we do, the better. Slow. Slow.” It took a few minutes for her to relax enough that she felt like she could move without discomfort. She rocked against his hand and he murmured his approval, clearly pleased that she was inviting him in, allowing him dominion over her last piece of virginity. Her ass ached, not in a pained way, but a full way, and his ministrations to her clit intensified as she picked up the pace, forcing his fingers in and out.

  “F-fuck,” she gasped, her head dipping forward, her teeth biting her lower lip. She hadn’t planned to like it, but it was so very dirty, and he kept saying the nicest things every time she humped his hand.

  “Good girl. Darling. Sweet thing.”

  And, finally, “my little ass whore.”

  That one’s distinctly less nice.

  I’m soaking wet.

  She whined and bucked at him, lubed up and stretched out, taking both of his long fingers deep, without resistance. Sol’s other hand played in her wet, making sloppy sounds as he frigged and frigged, driving her up, up, up and toward another explosive release. Except as she approached that pinnacle he retracted his fingers, both sets, leaving her sodden and wanting and feeling abandoned. She let out a plaintive wail, and he laughed before there was another click of the lube bottle opening, another wet squirt, and a creak of bed springs as he inched closer to her.

  “Just relax.” And he was there, back, behind her. She groaned as she felt it—him—pushing at her backside, a hot, thick presence demanding entrance. His hands stroked her back, tracing up her spine and then down, over her ass cheeks and grabbing her hips. He hadn’t penetrated yet, instead choosing to nestle up against her, angled and ready. He pushed forward, his tip poking but not yet inside.

  Her hole opened for him. Accepted him.

  “You come to me, kitten. Back into it. That way you’ll never take too much.” His hands roved over her, thrilling her, and she rocked back on that hard dick so eager for her ass.

  The first inch popped in and she gasped, head lifting from her arms. It was thicker than his fingers had been, but not by so much that she couldn’t handle it. She breathed deep, allowing her insides to bloom before she pushed back and took a second inch, again stilling so her body could accommodate the foreign girth. Sol’s fingers tickled along her spine, forcing her to arch down, and a third inch sank in with almost no effort on her part.

  And then a fourth.

  The whole shaft followed. She was impaled on him, her ass nestled against his front, concave and convex doing what they did best. She was hot all over, like she’d been doused with boiling water, and oh, she ached, but in the best way possible. Sol certainly seemed to like it; he grunted the moment she’d taken him to the hilt, pushing at her before remembering she was still adjusting. His hands swept up to her hair. He twined it around his fingers and then around his fist, tugging it and forcing her head back, up off her forearms.

  “How does it feel?”

  “Full,” she whispered. “So full.”

  “Any pain?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” He gave her hair another jerk and his hips pulled back. She felt him glide out of her, not all the way but half, before he gave a shove, fucking his cock back into her well-greased hole. “And that?”

  “F-fine.” Talking was getting hard. Concentrating was impossible. Earlier, she’d been unable to think about anything other than her cunt. He’d forced her focus elsewhere, to her stretched ass, and she wasn’t sure what it said about her or Sol or what they were doing, but it was no less intense and, in its own way, no less pleasurable.

  “Touch yourself, kitten. I want you to enjoy this.”

  He pulled her hair again as he eased out of her, only to push back in, harder, his leanness colliding with her softness. Her hand slid down, into the wet mess of her crotch, two of her fingers finding her hood and slithering over it. Sol upped the tempo. More pressure on her scalp. More urgency to his thrusts. She grunted as he smacked against her, again and again, her sounds different—lower, like by getting fucked in the ass she’d reached a new level of debauchery and, along with it, adopted a new, more animalistic soundtrack.

  Sol bent over her back, his hand tightening in her hair. He breathed harder, faster, pumping her full over and over again, each slap of her body and his followed by a wet, slurping withdrawal.

  “Do you like that, sweetheart? Do you?�
�

  Smack. Smack. Smack.

  “Y-yes. Yesss,” she moaned, her fingers pummeling her sweet spot.

  “Do you want to come?”

  “Y-yes. Yes, please.”

  He snarled and let her hair go only to push her shoulders down to the bed, pinning her so he could pound into her. She trembled beneath him, her body primed and ready for release, her pussy dripping trails of wet that curled glossy tendrils over her thighs. Sol grunted, keeping up the pace, never relenting, even as he started to pant. Even as the sweat from his body dripped onto her and they careened toward orgasm.

  “Ask me to come in your ass. Ask me, my little fuckpet.”

  Oh God.

  Yes, yes, yes.

  “P-please. Come in m-my ass. Sol, pl— Oh fuck!”

  The last was screamed because she broke early, before he could tell her to, her body convulsing with hard, wet pulses. Sol yelped behind her, shuddering, and she could feel him spurt, blast after blast shooting into her, hot and thick and there was so much, even after all the sex they’d already had. It was too much sensation all at once, the pleasure of her peak, the sensation of his, and her legs gave out, her body collapsing to the bed as she screamed into a pillow.

  TWENTY-THREE

  A NAP. A hot shower. A barrage of kisses and soft words as he dragged her back to bed, his chin resting on top of her head, the smell of herbal shampoo filling his nostrils. She was extra cuddly, her softness a warm, squishy comfort against his chest. His hand stroked down her back, fingers swirling over the divot where her spine curved in before the flare of marvelous, bountiful ass.

  It looked so good in front of me.

  Around me.

  Rippling for me.

  He nuzzled her, rubbing his cheek against her still-wet hair. She sighed and slung her leg over his, entwining their bodies even further.

  “You’re all right, kitten?”

  “Mmm-hmmm.” She sounded drowsy again, and he would have been content to pass out with her for another hour, but she pulled back to peer at him, looking flushed and happy, her smile birthing a shallow dimple in her left cheek.