by Alexis Angel
Lucien
As I approach, I open my mouth to speak to her, except that I don't. Nothing comes out. I'm not sure why I don't just say what's on my mind—that something about her drives me wild, that I think she's the most beautiful woman I've ever fucking seen. No, I guess that's not true. I do know why I'm not saying these things; it's because this is the first time in years—or, maybe ever—that I've cared this much about a woman. Unbelievable, right? I don't know—I guess I feel like I need to protect her. From what? Besides the assholes in this place, I don't really know.
I can see it in her eyes. She feels something too. Maybe I should end it all now and do us both a favor. By getting involved with her, I am opening her up to all kinds of bullshit. All it takes is for someone to snitch this out to Billy and the gang—and believe me, word travels faster than you can blink—and they wouldn't hesitate to hunt her down. I don't want to put her in that kind of danger. From the looks of her journal, she's dealing with enough shit in her life. She doesn’t need to add more.
But all of these rational thoughts disappear when I step closer to her and breath in her scent. All of a sudden, I find that I can't shut the fuck up because she's so hot.
"Are you a camera?" I ask, and then almost kick myself for being so predictable, but it's too late; I've got to go with it.
"What are you talking about?"
"I just ask because darlin' every time I look at you I smile."
"Is that the best you've got?" she says.
"Oh believe me, I'm just getting started."
I can see that's making her smile, and it spurs me on.
"No wonder the sky is grey today because all of the blue is in your eyes."
"Are you in the habit of meeting women in dark alcoves and throwing your cheesiest pick up lines at them?"
"Nah, just one woman in particular."
I can see her blush for a moment, but then the look on her face grows serious and she says, "I'm glad you showed up."
I wait for her to say more but she doesn't. I keep my eyes locked on hers and for a moment there is just the two of us, and silence. I gently reach out and touch a curl of her hair and her cheek with my fingers. The tenderness of the moment makes me open up. "I had a life outside of here, you know. I wasn't always this person in an ugly khaki jumpsuit, believe it or not. I'm not saying I've ever been perfect—sure, I've fucked up plenty, and I've made more mistakes than I'd like to admit, but I want to be a better man. You make me want to be a better man. If I was half the saint you are—"
"Let me stop you right there. I'm not a saint."
"Oh sure, because normal people would stop and give their last hundred dollar bill to the homeless man sitting on the street corner? I don't think so."
"How did you know about that?"
"I read your journal—and look, before you yell at me about that—I get it. I never should've taken it from you. I'm sorry. See, I told you I've made mistakes, and that was one of them. That's why I brought it back."
"So, why exactly are you in this place?"
This question takes me by surprise. I wasn't expecting her to ask me about this—I thought maybe she'd go on about that private journal of hers and what an ass I am, but no, she's not, and I'm not sure how to answer her. She's throwing me in the deep end. I mean, what should I say—do I just come out and casually say, darlin' I'm in her for a double murder? I'm sure she'd take one last look at me and run the hell out of here. But I want to be honest. I lean against the wall, resigned to it all. I realize that I have to be honest because now is my chance, and I exhale deeply before continuing.
"I've said it before, but I'm innocent—not innocent of being a bad man at times—but innocent of the charge that has me in here for life. It was a setup. I was framed for murder, and there isn't a day that goes by that I don't wish I would've been in a different place that night. The sounds, the images, the people—it all haunts me. I never should've been involved with that gang, and I shouldn't have been in that apartment."
She reaches out and puts her hand on my arm. It's a soft touch, but for the first time, I feel like there might be a person in the world who believes me.
"Did you have a wife back then?"
"Never been married—was always too much of a coward to put a ring on anyone's finger."
"I see—well, maybe marriage isn't all that it's cracked up to be anyways. I've learned that the hard way with a man once."
"You've been married?"
"No, but almost. We were engaged—it was a mistake to say the least."
"And what happened?"
"Let's just say I came home and saw something I never imagined seeing before and that was it. It was over."
"That man's an idiot to lose someone like you."
She laughs. "I guess he didn't get that memo."
Despite her laughter, I see the sadness in her eyes, and everything I thought about walking away from this woman goes out the door. I want her, no doubt about it. I slide my hand to the nape of her neck, and lightly grab onto her hair and pull her close. "Your lips are looking kind of lonely," I say.
She is so close to me now that I can breathe in the floral scent of her perfume. It's light and airy and reminds me of summer—of times spent outside of these four concrete walls—of never ending blue skies and open roads. Her hair is brushing against my face and all of my senses are heightened. My lips are now near her perfectly kissable mouth, but I'm hovering a couple of inches away. I can feel her anticipating my next move and I whisper, "Would they like to meet mine?"
But before she can answer, I don't hesitate and I press my lips to hers. She opens her mouth, allowing me in, and my tongue urgently finds hers. I feel her run her hands through my hair, softly raking her nails against my scalp, and it sends goose bumps down my arms. My heart is thumping like a bird finding the door of his cage open and I find my hands roaming down her back, exploring her shoulders and the slight curve of her lower back until I reach her hips. I grab onto them, pulling her into me, and I reach down into the waistband of her pants and feel the edge of her panties. Desire is coursing through my body and I continue to kiss her, our tongues, warm and wet, pressed against each other.
Kerri
One kiss—that’s all it takes. The moment our lips touch, I know I’m doomed. All self-control, all thoughts of right and wrong… It all goes out the window with one simple kiss.
Lucien presses his body against mine, pushing me back against the wall. His hands go to my waist, his long fingers over the small patch of skin between my shirt and pants. There’s no fighting this. How could I? After spending so much time thinking of him, imagining his naked body against mine, my sentence is set in stone.
I let out a small sigh as his lips go to my neck, desire rippling through me as his full lips explore my skin. My nipples are already hardening, straining against the fabric of my bra and pleading for his touch.
I know I should put an end to this. My job, my whole career—all that is in jeopardy right now. But, somehow, my brain can’t process any of that. With each passing second the real world becomes just a distant nuisance, like the echoed memory of some long forgotten dream. Only his touch matters to me now… His lips, his hands. His muscular chest pressed tight against mine.
My eyes are closed, but I don’t need to see. I let my hands guide me, my fingertips going up his neck as I explore the hard features of his square jaw line and high cheekbones. I go up to his hair, running my fingers through and disheveling it, my heart beating faster than ever. How many times have I dreamed of this? Too many to count. And now, fantasy has become reality, and it couldn’t be any better.
A shiver goes through my spine as he slides his hands up the side of my body, running them up to my hair. There, he hooks his fingers in it, yanking and forcing me to throw my head back and expose my neck. His slightly parted lips give way to a row of perfect white teeth, and he nibbles at the tender skin on my neck, all of me surrendering to Lucien Stone.
Still gripping my h
air, he lets one hand fall down to my waist and then, burying his fingers on my exposed flesh, forces me to turn on my heels. I offer no resistance, my hands going to the cold wall as I turn to face it. He laces my waist with his arm and I jut my ass back, immediately feeling the bulging inside his pants squeezing itself against my buttocks.
I lean forward against the wall, my forehead pressed against it while he takes both his hands to my waist and, grabbing my pants, pushes them down to my knees. My skin prickles as I feel the cool air lapping at it, and I can’t help but bite down on my lower lip as I imagine Lucien’s eyes tracing the contour of my ass, my small black thong the only barrier between me and him.
Placing the back of his hand behind my knee, he slides his fingers up my leg, only his knuckles brushing against my skin. He goes up to my buttocks and then starts to trace the contour of my thong, going all the way to my groin. Another sigh leaves my lips as his fingertips go back and forth, my pussy growing wetter by the second.
Before this, every time I thought of Lucien I became wet, my body pleading to be close to him, but now that he’s on me, the state I’m in doesn’t even compare. Everything in me is burning, desire like an anchor on my mind, pushing it down into a sea of forbidden lust. And it feels amazing.
I hold my breath as his lips travel from my neck to my ear, and then he whispers.
“Spread your legs,” he says, a commanding tone in each of his words. The moment I hear him, I move, my body reacting on instinct. There’s something about him—something wild and primal—that leaves no space for defiance. Whatever he tells me to do, I know I’ll do it.
As soon as I spread my legs, he grabs my thong and pulls it against the side of my thigh. I grit my teeth as he stretches the fabric, only stopping after the sound of it ripping reaches my eardrums. He throws it to the side like a used rag, and I suddenly feel exposed, my cheeks flushing as I imagine him looking at my naked ass.
There’s no time for being coy, though. I breathe out sharply as he smacks my right buttock, the open palm of his hand hitting me with enough strength to leave a mark. He does it again, this time on the left side, and a trembling moan leaves my lips. Just the sound of it is enough to drive me crazy; it’s dry and firm, like a gunshot, and it tells me that being with him will be unlike anything I've ever done.
I tremble with anticipation as he places one finger on my inner thigh, moving it upward toward my pussy. He takes his time, brushing his fingertip against me before going for it… but the moment he touches me there, it’s Heaven.
His touch is gentle and patient, his finger barely touching my labia as he moves it along the length of my pussy, toward my clitoris. When he reaches it, he presses slightly down and all hell breaks loose inside of me. I close my eyes, my breathing growing ragged as the whip of desire lashes at me. My heart drumming hard inside my chest, I move my hips back, desperately trying to make him slide his fingers in me.
“Don’t move,” he whispers against my ear again. His words are soft, but there’s no room for doubt: I will obey him.
“I won’t,” I tell him, willing my legs to remain still as I submit to his torture of anticipation: I’m dripping wet right now, and still he keeps teasing me, moving his finger back and forth over my labia. Breathing out slowly, I try to keep my composure, but it gets harder any time his finger brushes against my clit. He applies perfect pressure—not too much, not too little—leaving his finger there for just enough time to leave me wanting more.
When he pushes past my labia, his finger sliding just an inch in, I brace myself for an explosion of pleasure. But it doesn’t come; instead of sliding his finger in all the way, he only prods, moving it back and forth and driving me completely insane. I have to resist the urge to push my hips back against him, my insides shouting for more.
“Be patient,” he tells me, his finger circling the opening between my labia. I try to respond, to say that I can’t be patient, but the only thing that leaves my throat is a small groan. I can’t think straight, let alone form a coherent sentence.
Then, perhaps feeling my desperation, he flicks his wrist and slides his finger all the way in. I hold my breath as I feel him inside of me, just a taste of what’s to come—yes, somehow I know that there’s a lot more to come. The shackles of self-control have fallen off my mind, and now there’s no going back.
He holds his position, his finger deep inside me, pressed hard against my inner sweet spot. Only when he starts to slowly slide his finger out do I breathe again, my brain suddenly remembering that I need to do it in order to keep alive; it’s easy to forget about these things when the only thing your body wants is pleasure.
There’s a smooth cadence to my breathing now, one that matches the rhythm of his finger. He moves it in hard, and then slowly back out, taking his time with me. The more he does it, the more I ache to really feel him inside of me. Memories of his hard cock flash behind my closed eyelids, and I feel my mouth going dry at the thought of being with someone like him—after all, a member that size is something very new to me. I can’t help but wonder if it’s going to hurt… But then again, what if it hurts? It will be worth it, every second of it. And how do I know this? I don’t; I feel it deep inside of me, much in the same way I know the sun rises in the morning and sets in the evening.
He starts to go faster, my breathing growing harsher each time I feel him deep inside of me. A moan climbs up from my throat to my lips as he slides one more finger inside, pushing it all the way in with one single movement. I press my forehead against the wall, my eyes shut as tension spreads from my pussy to all of my limbs. Like the calm before the storm, I know one is brewing deep inside me.
I come the moment he slides his two fingers in, curling them upwards like a hook against my G-spot. I moan, the sound bouncing off the walls and filling the room, and he presses harder against me. He keeps still as waves of pleasure make my muscles twitch, my chin trembling as I struggle to keep breathing.
“This is just the start,” he whispers, breathing deeply over my neck and taking my scent in. I purr as he slides his fingers out, and then my lips curl into a smile as he wipes his fingers off my juices on my buttocks. My body still twitching, I let my hand dart behind me and against his chest. Without seeing what I’m doing, I let my fingers go down the front of his shirt, and I only stop when I find what I’m looking for: a hard bulge between his legs, one that holds promises of unspeakable delight. I curl my fingers around it, electricity shocking my brain as I think of the possibilities.
I move my hand up and down, stroking him over his trousers, but I can’t do it for long; I need to feel him on me, inside me, not just on my hand. Letting go, I let my fingers go over to his waist, and then I hook them on his pants; I tug them down hurriedly, his cock brushing against the back of my hand. It feels as if my heart is going to burst from anxiety, my body desperately craving him inside me.
Before I can push his cock down and between my legs, he grabs me by the wrist. He pins it against the wall harshly, restraining me, and then presses his body against mine. His length between my ass cheeks, he presses even harder, my body close to the boiling point. It’s hard to be patient when he’s so close, and when I can feel his unbridled desire for me… But, fighting against all of my instincts, I do it, even though what my body demands is for me to turn around and guide him home.
I rock my body against him, moving it in waves as the warmness of his cock seeps into my skin. Time seems to dilate as I stroke him like that, eternity blanketing my mind. Please, I almost pray to the Heavens, let this last forever.
With a sudden movement, he pulls back, his cock no longer against my body. But then he yanks on my hair again, forcing my head back as, with his other hand, he guides his cock between my thighs. I gasp as his glans brushes against my labia, my mind suddenly capable of producing one simple though: yes, yes, yes.
“You want this, don’t you?” he asks me, slowly sliding his cock in. There’s only one inch inside of me, if that, but I can already feel
the flames of delight burning under my skin.
“Yes... “ I mutter, trying hard to find the words inside my barely functioning brain. “Yes… I want it…”
Slowly, he lets one more inch inside of me, my labia molding around his shaft. I try to push my hips back, but his hand on my waist keeps me still. I feel his body tensing up and I close my eyes for his thrust, but he does the opposite—he pulls his cock out, and then leans into me.
“You’ll have it… But not yet.” This is torture, plain and simple. To show me pleasure just to snatch it away at the last second… It just makes me want him more. It makes me delirious for him, my mind functioning with one sole purpose: to have him in me. “Turn around.”
I obey, turning on my heels to face him. He looks at me with the hint of a smile on his lips, and then he pulls his shirt over his head. I purse my lips, my eyes wandering over the narrow valleys between his abs. It doesn’t matter how many times I see his muscles, I can’t help myself from marveling at his sculpted body. My eyes follow the motion of his arms as he pulls his shirt off, the muscles in his chest and shoulders working in tandem like the perfect piece of human engineering they are. Throwing his shirt to the floor, he kicks off his shoes and, pushing down his pants and boxer briefs, steps out of them. I can’t take my eyes off of him as he undresses, his perfection almost too much for me to bear.
Standing in front of me, he makes me feel small and helpless. He could just as easily unleash ecstasy on my body as he could pick me up and break me in half. And although Lucien Stone is a criminal, a violent one at that, I feel safer than ever.
“Take it off,” he tells me, looking at me with his bottomless eyes. I stare back, the sound of my heartbeat like a machine gun against my eardrums. Lost in his eyes, my mind sails away from all sanity. Without even being aware of it, I grab my shirt by the hemline and pull it over my head. I throw it on the floor, on top of his, and then step out of my trousers.
