The Stir of Echo

by Susan Gabriel

  He bit her nipple sharply as his hands reached behind her hips. Echo's feet left the ground as Flynn's hand supported her weight. His cock pushed against her slick opening and plunged into her pink pit of pleasure, nearly toppling her backward.

  Flynn's strong arm caught her. She quickly lifted her legs and cinched them around his waist, clamping herself tightly to him.

  At last she possessed him. His prick was trapped deep inside of her pussy prison and she wasn't about to release it.

  Flynn gripped her buttocks, his nails scratching her skin. She was suspended in midair, her arms bound behind her and her legs clutching his hips. The only thing keeping her from falling was his powerful prick spearing her to the bedpost. She braced herself for a good, hard drilling. Come on baby, show me who's the boss.

  Flynn held her hips and thrust his shaft into her. Her ravenous vice of love contracted on his prick. Throwing his head back, a long groan of pleasure croaked from his throat. If she had wanted this, he had wanted it more.

  Echo's breasts bounded to and fro as he bucked into her. He yearned to squeeze them in his hands and roll her tempting pink nubs between his fingers. But his hands needed to support her weight, so all he could do was watch her spectacular tits bouncing in rhythm with his thrusting, shaking and jiggling with the earthquake of his pounding. She was so fucking beautiful. He wanted to give her a screwing that she would never forget as long as she lived—even if she lived forever.

  The slap-slapping of their pelvises rang in his ears. The harder he hammered her, the more ferociously she clung to him. Her jaw was clenched tightly and Flynn could see the muscles of her neck, tense and throbbing.

  He was ramming her like a freight train, relishing in the scorching heat of her cunt; he had to slow himself down. His lungs heaving, and sweat seeping from his pores, Flynn took a moment to gather his senses. He withdrew his cock until just the head was still inside of her quivering slit. Echo squirmed and quaked, demanding the full length of his battering ram. Flynn teased her by gently pulsing his cock head in and out of her opening. She squeezed him with her legs, trying to force him into her, but Flynn resisted the tempting offer a few moments longer. He wanted to savor the joy of entering and re-entering her over and over again.

  Echo moaned and writhed. Flynn stilled his movements, trying to regain her focus. She seemed to have become lost in passion, squirming and panting like an animal in heat. He wanted to still her feral cravings, coax her back from the brink so she could really experience what was happening.

  He withdrew his prick, and slowly stroked her ass with his hands. “That's right, baby,” he soothed. “Don't be in such a hurry."

  Finally, her legs no longer tried to compel him into her. She was relaxing into the moment. Just when she had melted into a quiet state of bliss, Flynn rammed his prick into her, grinding his hips in a circular motion against her clit.

  "Who's your Master, now?” he grunted, his balls drawing tightly into his groin.

  Echo's head dropped backward between her outstretched arms, her hair skimming the floor. A tell-tale red flush blossomed on her breasts. Her abdomen muscles fluttered and twitched. Flynn held her onto his prick, cradling her body in his arms as he drew his rod from her in slow increments and then invaded her once again. Echo writhed and grunted like a wild beast. Her legs imprisoned his torso and her undulating cunt tortured his cock.

  His fingers tightened on her flesh as her cunt throbbed and strangled his cock with the forceful, rapid contractions of her orgasm.

  The pressure in his prick grew more urgent as she milked him to climax. He quickly extracted his pulsing phallus from her bruised lips. His balls pulled tightly against his groin. His body trembled from the volcano of cum that coursed its way up his engorged shaft. The agonizing intensity of release caused an unearthly howl to bellow forth from his throat as his red-hot load splashed over her neck and breasts, its glistening drops spattering on her pale flesh.

  Her body went limp and her legs hung loosely from her hips. Flynn deftly caught her weight in his arms, supporting her so that she did not crash to the floor.

  She was eerily quiet. All the color had drained from her face. Flynn patted her cheek, but she was unresponsive. His chest seized, and his pulse quickened. Something was wrong. Had he pulled out too late and sent her soaring out of her body? He reached to remove the handcuffs and then he remembered. The key! Sweet Jaysus, had she choked? His panicked heart pounded as his finger searched her mouth. With a sigh of relief, he felt the key tucked behind her lip. She was breathing heavily, but making no other movement. Flynn carefully but swiftly lowered her to the ground and freed her wrists.

  "Echo, Echo, Jaysus, girl, please wake up,” he called, trying to rouse her.

  Flynn pushed the blindfold above her eyes. Echo blinked, her green eyes adjusting to the light. Someone was calling her name. For a moment she glimpsed Flynn's face. He looked terrified. She couldn't imagine what he might be so afraid of. She felt better than she ever had in her entire life. She managed a smile, closed her eyes and the darkness claimed her once more.

  * * * *

  Echo awoke wrapped in Flynn's secure embrace. The first light of day had not yet broken through the blue-black sky. She spooned nearer to him, snuggling into the billowy featherbed. His arms tightened around her, offering the joy of skin on skin.

  "It's still early, lass. Return to dreamland if you want."

  "Mmmm, “she mumbled, “its cold in here."

  Flynn held her tighter still and pulled a scarlet coverlet over her shoulder.

  "Better?"

  "Much ... Flynn, are you still angry with me for being late?"

  Flynn thought back. His anger was a dim memory. He had lain awake all night, petrified that he had hurt her.

  "Ah, lass, you needed some discipline. It's sometimes my heartbreaking role to provide that for you. I was never really all that angry with you. How can I stay angry with mo chuisle?"

  "Muh-what?"

  "Mo chuisle. Say it after me. Muh ... kwish ... la.” He pronounced the word from deep in his throat.

  "Muh ... kwish ... la?” she repeated.

  "It means, ‘my pulse'. Haven't you guessed it? You are my pulse."

  His pulse ... what did that mean? A pulse pumps blood. Blood is the substance that keeps creatures alive. Was he trying to say that she was his reason for living?

  Tears welled up in Echo's eyes. “Flynn, that is the most beautiful thing that anyone has ever said to me.” “It is truer than you know. My heart beats because of you. Rest awhile now mo chuisle.” Echo turned the phrase over and over in her mind like a lullaby ... mo chuisle.... mo chuisle ... mo chuisle.

  A Cold Wind

  The sound of running water roused Echo from her slumber. She pushed herself up, sitting against the massive headboard, rubbing her eyes. No sign of the previous night's activities remained. Her clothing and shoes were gone. At the foot of the bed perched a satin box topped with a white bow. Echo removed the lid and lifted out a flowing dressing gown made of fine Irish lace. A note card fell from the folds of the gown.

  Your bath is waiting.

  xxxx

  Flynn

  Was he for real? Echo laid her head on the pillow where Flynn had slept. His scent lingered on the linens and she filled her lungs with the aroma until it swam in her head. She tried to piece together her memories of the night before. She wanted to capture each detail and impress it into her memory before it flitted away.

  The fierceness with which they had made love was more than lust—at least for her it was. She wanted to possess Flynn and to be possessed by him. She had never before felt so deeply connected to another person.

  But how connected could they be? She hadn't shared her secret with him. She needed to do that, and soon. The thought filled her with terror. She knew it was the fear of losing him that had kept her quiet, yet she knew she couldn't allow much more time to pass before she spilled the beans. They were both wading in too deep of waters. She w
ould just have to find the right time.

  Echo lifted her head from the pillow. She was a little woozy, as if she had drunk too much the night before. Funny, she couldn't really recall what happened after her orgasm. There was a moment, when he was buried deep inside of her, when she felt drenched in a sublime euphoria.

  Echo squeezed her eyes tightly, trying to jar the memory loose. She wondered if it was a hallucination, but she distinctly remembered being out of her body, floating above herself, connected by a long silvery rope which emerged from her navel. Flashes of green, the sounds of their lovemaking in the distance, a weightless, peaceful feeling, like a dream she couldn't quite recall, but that haunted her long after she had awakened.

  Whatever had occurred, Echo felt electrified and energetic this morning. A nice hot bath sounded very appealing.

  Shaking off the images that shadowed her mind, she slid her legs off the side of the bed, and skipped towards the sound of running water. A shiny, brass, door handle in the shape of a swan announced the entrance to the bath. Echo stepped into the room. Tiny soap bubbles rose from a cavernous soaking tub, and then disappeared into the perfumed air. A steamy waterfall gushed from a silver spout. Echo spied a covered serving tray and a single white rose placed near the tub. Passing by a gilt-framed mirror, she caught a glimpse of herself. Her hair was wild like a lioness, and her face was aglow. Blushing, Echo lowered herself into the warm suds.

  "Well lass, you look like you have been rode hard and put away wet.” said Flynn, shaking his head and clucking as he entered the room.

  "Don't let me stop you from enjoying your breakfast. Go on girl; dig in before all of my culinary efforts grow cold and tasteless.” Flynn moved the tray toward her and whisking the gleaming dome from it.

  "Blueberry pancakes! My favorite! How did you know?” Echo exclaimed. Not waiting for his answer, she dove into the sticky stack of pancakes.

  "MMMM ... isth goot,” mumbled Echo, giving Flynn the ‘thumbs up’ sign.

  "Do you like the gift?"

  "Oh, yes, Flynn,” Echo replied, shoveling forkfuls of pancakes into her mouth. “I love it, I really do."

  "Good, I'm glad.” Flynn knelt down beside the bathtub, turning off the faucet.

  Echo laid her fork down with finality, and wiped her mouth with a white linen napkin, placing the tray on the floor beside the tub.

  Flynn dipped a large sea sponge into the water. He held the sodden sponge above her back, soothing droplets cascaded down her spine. No one had ever pampered her like this before. She felt truly loved and protected.

  Flynn sat on a small bench near the tub, wearing only his striped pajama bottoms. He had become very quiet. He dripped scented oil in the center of the sponge. The scent of lemongrass and citrus wafted through the air. Echo, feeling tranquil and full of blueberry pancakes, slid deeper into the water, closing her eyes.

  Flynn loved to watch her enjoyment. It gave him tremendous pleasure to make her happy. He picked up her arm, her hand hung languidly from her wrist. Soapy rivulets coursed their way down her skin. He massaged the silky sponge over each of her fingers, down her arm and over her breast.

  For a moment last night, he was terrified that he had lost her. He needed to be more careful. He'd better wear a condom until...

  "Why don't you join me?” Echo interrupted his reverie.

  "Would you like that?” Flynn asked.

  "I think it would be grand, just grand.” Echo giggled trying to imitate Flynn's accent.

  Flynn took the imitation as flattery and beamed at her. She was cute as a bug this morning and in a wonderful, playful mood. This might be a good time to confess what he had been yearning to tell her. It was a manipulation, he knew, but if he could put her on the defensive ... coax her to confess her on-line indiscretion, which he would generously forgive, then perhaps opening those lines of communication could open the door for him to reveal his secret. It was a gamble, but worth a try.

  Flynn undressed and eased into the water behind her, his legs wrapping around her narrow hips. Her thin frame looked so tiny next to his, with her pale, smooth skin contrasting against the dark hairs of his muscled legs. She was all undulating curves, while he was hard surfaces and sharp angles. She was the most beautiful creature his eyes had ever beheld.

  Echo scooted forward, leaning her head back to rest on his chest. It was a small thing, but it warmed Flynn to the core. It communicated that she was in his care, bonding to him in more than a sexual way.

  Flynn wrapped his arms around her chest, his hands on her shoulders, and held her snugly against his body. They fitted together like two pieces of a puzzle. He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her more tightly. It was as if he couldn't be close enough to her.

  He knew that he was spoiling her, but he couldn't help himself. She was a woman that was born to be spoiled. She was so soft and feminine but with a fire that burned so fiercely it had scorched lesser men than him.

  Flynn pushed her shoulders down until her head was floating in the water. Her hair drifted like a million strands of shimmering silk upon the surface, reminding him of a sunset over Loughrea Lake.

  Flynn tipped her chin back with his hand and brought her up from the water. Filling his palms with shampoo, he washed the suds into her hair. She appeared at ease, and Flynn hoped, receptive. He decided to take the first tentative steps.

  "Echo,” he began, “Have you told anyone about us ... about me?"

  Echo became very quiet. Why was she hesitating?

  "What do you mean?” she hedged.

  "Just wondering ... have you mentioned or talked about me to anyone?"

  Flynn dipped her head back into the water and rinsed the soap from her hair. She was stalling for time, he could feel it. He wasn't trying to be tricky. He wanted to give her a chance to tell him on her own. He didn't want to thrust the evidence in her face and rain accusations down upon her.

  "No,” she answered. “I haven't told anyone."

  "No one? You're certain?"

  Echo reached her hand behind her back and stroked his cock. “I don't want to talk right now, Flynn. Let's make love instead."

  She was playing him, using her feminine wiles to distract him, again. This wasn't going as planned. He had an agenda, and she was throwing him off. If she would just admit what she had done, it would be simpler. In his mind he had the scene worked out. He could tell her that's it's okay and he really isn't all that upset. She would be so grateful for his understanding that when he admitted to having a confession of his own, she might not be so quick to pass judgment and would listen quietly and give him a chance to explain.

  "Not now, Echo. I don't feel like it. I'd really like to talk about something with you."

  "I bet I can make you feel like it.” She turned around, rubbing her wet breasts against him.

  Flynn turned his head from her advances. His frustration at the way she used sex to distract him started to seethe in his chest. He had given her the opportunity to be honest with him, but she was clearly doing everything she could to avoid it. “Come on, Echo. Not right now."

  She stroked her soapy hands along the length of his prick. It swelled and grew turgid despite his protestations.

  "See, you do want to fuck."

  "Echo, no ... can't we just talk for awhile? There are some things I want to discuss with you.” Flynn tried to push her hands away, but she only gripped him more tightly, a hungry look in her eyes.

  "Fuck me Flynn—right here, right now. Fuck me.” She breathed.

  Normally he wouldn't be insulted at an invitation for a healthy fuck, but something in the way she used it to manipulate him gripped at his heart. It made him think she didn't respect him as a person and it made him feel like nothing more than a stud service. Was that all he was to her—a good fuck? He must have misread her signals. When she told him that she loved him that night in the hotel room, what had she meant ... that she loved his mouth, his cock, his flesh, but not him?

  He thought of the instant m
essages he had read ... she was in control ... she was the one with all the power. He remembered the words she had spoken to him on her sofa. Fuck ‘em and forget ‘em. A sad realization dawned on him. He was nothing but a boy-toy to her ... something to brag about to her girlfriends. He had given everything to her and was prepared to give more. He had played her game, indulged her fantasy, and wracked his brain to figure out what made her happy and what didn't.

  Had she ever asked, even once, what she could do for him? Seeing his plan dissipate was frustrating, but the sense that he was being used was even more deflating.

  He willingly performed the role of her Master, but he would not be her whore!

  "Fuck you? You want me to fuck you? I clothe you. I feed you, I wash you, and I bend to your will much too often for your own good. I even deny myself my own pleasure to increase yours, and now you tell me when and where to fuck you!” Flynn sputtered, rising out of the bathtub. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he stood in front of Echo, his prick poking out from the folds.

  He could feel the blood rising in his veins and he knew he was rocketing towards an emotional explosion, but he was helpless to curtail it. A lethal mixture of humiliation, frustration and anger boiled in his being. He felt it ascending from his core, blasting through his chest, and the words spewed from his mouth.

  "Is this what you want?” He held his cock with one hand and taunted her with it. “Where do you want my big prick today, you wicked tart; jammed down your gullet, drilling your pussy till you scream; or would you prefer I stick it up your tight little ass?"

  Echo's eyes grew wide, the color draining from her cheeks. He saw her shock but had little sympathy for her at this moment. He wanted her to feel half the hurt he was feeling. This woman, this mortal, thought she could play with him, use him and abuse him. He had been nothing but generous with her and yet she hadn't given him the courtesy of a conversation since the first moment he had awakened her sexual beast. From the start she had gotten what she wanted and his needs be damned.

  Flynn's hand stroked his shaft. “I suppose you also want me to lick your cunt as well, you unappreciative girl!"