by Ginger Scott
With one hand on her arm, I tug her tight to me and gather her hair within my other hand, pulling gently until her body submits and she bends her neck as an offering to my mouth. I suck gently, wanting to take more, but stop so I can kiss the next inch and the next as I let go of her hair to turn her body unhurriedly so she’s now facing my bed and the sweetness of her perfect back is before me.
My fingers move her purple waves over her shoulder as my right hand trails to her other shoulder, slipping the remaining sleeve to the curve of her arm until the weight of it falls to her elbows. I kiss the very center of her spine as I reach lower in front of me and slide down the small zipper at her hips. I leave my lips against her as I speak.
“You are so beautiful,” I whisper, and I feel her quiver against my touch.
My hands curve around her waist and glide up the sides of her body until I reach the top of her dress, now hanging heavily at the ends of her arms, and I push the rest of the fabric until it falls to the floor and her milky skin is cloaked in nothing but the sexiest copper lace I’ve ever seen.
I breathe in slowly, because I want to take my time, but so much of me is in a hurry. My hands still wrapped around her wrists lightly, I guide her arms behind her back until they rest along the small curve above her ass. Letting go briefly, I bring my fists to my mouth, squeezing them for strength, then flex my fingers as I lean into her. I love how her breath catches when she feels me against her neck.
“I want more of you,” I say, kissing against the arc of her shoulder. “I’m going to undress you now. Say yes, Murphy. Please say yes, because I want you naked.”
Her body shakes again, and her head nods.
“Yes,” she says, a soft whisper of a cry.
I grin against her smoothness and scratch her skin with the roughness of my chin before kissing it cool.
My body once again under my control, I squeeze harder around her wrists, her hands still along the base of her spine.
“These,” I say, tugging softly so she knows, “stay right here.”
She nods again.
My fingers loosen, but I keep my touch on her arms, gliding up her skin, using her own body as my map, following curves and letting it lead. My palms caress around each shoulder as I stand behind her, so close that I can feel her hands and back against my own chest and where my hard-on is aching to be inside of her. Her breath pauses when she feels me against her.
“Do you feel that, baby?” I say. She nods again and I kiss her neck, not able to stop myself this time from taking a small, tender bite. “I want you so bad. Can I have you, baby? Can I taste you? Can I fuck you?”
This time the shaking travels all the way through her, and I hear her lose control with a small cry as she says, “Yes.”
Yes.
Her next song needs to be this word.
My hands press against her biceps then slide around her body from her arms to her silky covered breasts, and I can feel how much she wants me, too. Her nipples are hard through the lace, and I run my thumbs over them again and again until she cries out with her ache and need.
“Please,” she begs, and I smile against the top of her head, letting my eyes fall to a close as I slip my thumbs inside the top of her bra, sliding it down over the swell of her tits until I feel the pure ecstasy that is her bare skin and the puckered sweetness of each nipple. I cup each peak in my hands and let my thumbs run roughly over her hardness until her head falls back against my chest and her back arches with want.
I let her fight against it, try to will it, for almost a minute while I slowly rub circles around the bright red peaks until I finally give her what I know she’s desperate for and squeeze each raw tip between my thumb and index finger. Her knees weaken and her body betrays her, wanting to fall to the bed, but I’m not ready yet. This torture—this sweet, sweet song—I’ve craved it for so long, and it’s still at the beginning.
I hold her to me, the pressure hard and her legs trembling as her weight falls into my front. I’m so hard against her I know she can feel me in her hands, so with her breasts under my complete control, I tell her what to do.
“Touch me. Feel it,” I say through gritted, sex-hungry teeth. “Grab my cock, baby. Take me in your hands.”
Her fingers are fast and her palm is like fire against me as she grabs me through my jeans. I groan at her touch and my hands open and cup her breasts entirely. I want to be free and in her. I need to be in her, but the waiting has never felt so fucking amazing.
“Let go,” I demand, and she obeys.
My hands fall away from her breasts at the same time, and she stands still in front of me, her hands resting along her lower back, her breath ragged and her shoulders shaking under the cool air of the room. I lick my lips and hold my right fist to my mouth, wanting to touch her more but forbidding myself until she asks for it. In silence, I stand there looking at her, seeing every curve from behind, where her arms lead to breasts I’ve touched but have barely seen. Time drags on, and I know she’s in this with me, and I begin to chuckle deep within my chest.
“You’re going to have to ask me, Murphy. Tell me. What do you want?” I ask, my hands ready to move on her word.
“Touch me,” she says.
“Where, baby?” I ask, my hand poised and ready at her neck.
“Everywhere,” she breathes, and with her permission, I lay my palm flat on her back and press until she bends forward.
I release her hands from behind her back and drag them slowly above her head as she crawls with one knee at a time to the edge of my bed, her body still facing away from me, and I slide my palm again up the small of her back to the center and coax her gently until she’s lying flat against my mattress, her purple hair loose and wild among my blankets and pillows—just like I dreamed every night this week.
“Everywhere,” I say, repeating the word she used so she knows what’s to come, so she can tell me no—but she doesn’t. She only nods as she twists her head to the side and opens her mouth against my bed as her eyes find mine and look at me with equal desire.
I drag both hands down to her hips, my eyes still locked with hers as I grip her firmly and drag her body down until she’s bent over the bed, completely submissive. I unclasp the bra, now loose around her waist, and pull it away, throwing it to the floor, before kneeling between her legs and caging her lower body between both of my arms as my chin falls to the small divot at the end of her tailbone.
“So goddamn sexy,” I say, my lips brushing against her back as I speak.
My tongue traces along the edge of her waistband as I let my hand drag roughly down the side of her body until I grip the side of her panties and pull the right edge down enough to expose her ass. She makes a noise as she breathes, and I pause to wait for her to stop this—to tell me this is far enough, when she does exactly the opposite and reaches her other hand down to find my left palm, still flat against the bed, and she moves it toward her body, lifting her hip as a guide.
“You want these off, baby?” I ask.
She nods against the bed.
Another “yes” falls from her lips.
I grab both sides and pull slowly, stopping at her thighs to take in the sight of her bare ass and swollen pussy ready for me. Wasting no time, I yank her panties to her knees and around her ankles, then spread her legs apart and run my palms up the back of each until my thumbs tickle along the edge of her. Warmth and softness opens, and I taste it with a slow drag of my tongue to the sound of her moans.
I thought her singing was perfection. I thought no other sound could compare, but when she pants for me and cries with pleasure, I come undone. I kiss her softness hard, sucking until she can no longer handle the pressure and writhes away from me. I grip her hips and force her to stay, to take every bit of my dirty kisses, until I can no longer wait.
Both of my hands work at my zipper as I kiss her pussy while she grips the pillow now covering her head. I stop only to kick away my jeans and boxers and toss my shirt to the floor.
I lean over her, letting her feel me hard and hot against her now soaking self.
“Don’t. Move,” I say, sliding small strands of hair away from her back while I press a kiss to each shoulder.
I step to my night table, pulling out a condom and sliding it on quickly, returning to her open legs and beautiful body.
“You want me to touch everything, Murphy?” I ask against her, letting her feel the tip of my cock against her swollen entrance, both throbbing and wanting to feel what each other has to give.
“Yes,” she says.
“Ask me, Murphy,” I grin, knowing she’ll say it—she’ll say anything I ask. And not because I’m dominating her and pushing her to the edge only to hold back, but because she wants it too. Because she wants to feel me inside of her as badly as I want to be there. Because Murphy Sullivan is that girl for me, my undoing and my discipline. She’s what my dreams are made of, and I want to taste her, consume her, and hold her hostage for all of time.
“Say it,” I whisper, my bottom lip propped open against the heat of her back as I hold myself at her entry. “Tell me to fuck you.”
“Fuck me, Casey. Please,” she moans. “I want to be fucked so bad.”
My eyes close at my beautiful girl’s dirty words, and I give her her wish.
“Yes, baby girl. I’ll fuck you,” I smile, sliding into her in one slow, exquisitely painful stroke until I can go no further.
She cries out a yes, and her fists pound against the bed, tossing my pillow to the side.
“Again,” she says, and I obey, pulling out slowly, completely, and waiting at the very edge of her until she pushes back into me, and I enter her again with the same deep, slow penetration of before.
“Yes,” she says again, fists grabbing this time, pulling my sheet from my bed and biting at it with her teeth.
“Again, baby?” I ask, wanting to move harder and faster, but knowing if I’m not careful, it will be over.
She nods with a whimper, so I repeat every step, pushing into her hard enough that her body burrows into my bed.
Her back begins to sweat, and the heat starts to take over our actions as I move rougher and more often, letting go of myself so I can rest my body against her back completely, running my hands up her arms and threading my fingers with hers as I push into her over and over.
Still inside her, I stop and pull her against me to the edge of the bed where I lift her with me to a stand so I can feel her breasts with every breath that she takes while I move insider her. Her fingers reach around my neck and grab my hair as I kiss over her shoulder and pull at her nipples while my cock strokes her from behind.
I have never had sex so good in my life, and I know the end is near. My cock is swollen and I’m going to come in any second, but I need to see her—I need to memorize every angle and every face she makes when she takes all of me. I pull out from her and spin her so she’s facing me, then push her back against the mattress where I fall on top of her and enter quickly, her legs wrapping around my waist and her center hungry for me, missing me when I’m gone.
“I could watch you take me all night, Murphy. I love the way you look with me inside, so hot, so wet,” I say, my hips pushing forward, hers circling with my motion.
“Harder,” she says, the word coming out broken and needy. “Please, Casey. Fuck me harder,” she says, and I can’t believe her dirty mouth—the same lips that kiss so sweet and sing so strong. I lean forward and claim her lips as mine, pushing into her repeatedly, holding on until I feel her release, forbidding my own pleasure until I know she’s completely spent.
I feel her clench and her arms and legs wrap around me tightly, her breath held and her head tilted back as far as her neck will allow. I reach with one hand between us, my thumb pressing in firm circles just above where I am entering her, everything slick and warm with our sex, and then suddenly she cries out and her insides clench around me in waves.
“Oh god, Casey. Yes!” she screams, and I press my mouth into the side of her neck and push again and again, draining her of every single moan, cry and whimper until I’m no longer able to hold on and I come hard, my body collapsing into her, my nerves losing control and my muscles giving way to the purest pleasure I’ve ever felt.
We lay silent for several minutes, our bodies still connected as I hold her to me and dust away long, purple curls now straightened and damp from sex. And when my hands can no longer wait, I trail them lower against her smooth belly, and lower between her legs, pressing against what I want again, what I don’t think I can wait for, and to my surprise, her hand covers mine and presses even harder, and she whispers “Again. Fuck me again.”
Chapter 15
Murphy
My body is sore and my cheeks are red. The only thing keeping me grounded is the warm hand running up and down my back and the pair of dark, round eyes staring back into me. I never slept. I only pretended to sleep. When Casey woke an hour ago, I shut my eyes quickly and faked it for longer, because the woman I was in his room when the sun went down is not the one with stage fright and reservations in the light.
I couldn’t not look, though, after a while. This sweetness—it’s real. He hasn’t said a word, other than “good morning.” When I bashfully tucked my face into his pillow, he tugged on my chin, lifting me out so he could kiss my nose.
Shame is nonexistent in Casey’s world. I must remember that, because the pleasure was more than anything I’d ever had.
“It’s Saturday,” he says, finally. I think he’s smirking, though it’s hard to tell with both of our cheeks pressed against his sheets.
“It is,” I agree, blushing at the very fresh memories of last night.
“I have to check in at my parents’ house, but other than that, my day is completely free. I’m all yours,” he says, his lips still askew as if he’s up to something.
“Okay,” I say, sucking in my bottom lip and looking to the bed and ceiling in an attempt to avoid his stare.
“Is there…maybe…something you have to do? Like…some plans you have or…I don’t know,” he says, coyly.
I blush hard at his suggestion.
“Again? Already?” I ask.
He holds my stare, but his smile grows as he chuckles.
“I mean, well…sure. I’m definitely up for more of that, but I meant the birthday party your brother keeps texting you about, asking where you’ve been and what kind of cake you want your mom to make,” he laughs, and my breath rushes away.
“Oh, shit!” I yell, covering my mouth. “I completely forgot!”
“You forgot your own birthday?” he laughs, slipping my phone from behind his back. I take it quickly and begin typing a message to my mom, requesting chocolate, and then apologizing for being out late. I delete that last part though because I’m not late—I never came home. But I’m an adult, and this should be normal. I need my own place. And oh my god my brother is wondering where I am. I’m typing feverishly, deleting like mad because my thumbs are massive and I’m the queen of typos, and I just wrote smurf for no reason.
“Murphy,” Casey whispers. I keep typing, and he says my name again, a little louder with a laugh. His hands cover mine and he makes me put down the phone.
“It’s your birthday,” he says, his head lifted slightly and his eyes soft. Oh man, he’s going to think I’m weird when I explain this.
“Actually,” I say, my face bunching with humiliation because I’m a twenty-two-year-old still obsessed with birthday parties. “It’s not really my birthday. It’s my half birthday.”
“Your…half birthday,” he repeats.
I grab my phone and continue to text my mom, making sure I get the chocolate order in at the very least.
“Yes,” I say, now sitting, sheets wrapped around my waist and one of his old T-shirts over my body.
He wraps his hands around mine to force me to pause again, but I shake him loose.
“Just let me send this last one, and I’ll explain,” I say, my tongue
out on the side while I type quickly with my movie request, and a warning that I might be late, and I may bring Casey with me. I hit SEND rapidly, but instantly want to take the message back when I realize that the sequence of my texts pretty much lets them know I spent the night here with him, but then I just give in and drop the phone to my lap because fuck it, I’m an adult. My father will want to punch Casey, but he won’t really do it—he’ll just look at him with those threatening eyes that say “I’m not so old I can’t whoop your ass.”
“Half birthday?” Casey questions, bringing me out of my manic state.
I take in a full breath to reset my nerves and look into his smiling eyes.
“My real birthday is on Christmas Day, and I hated that. I used to complain a lot when I was little, so my parents instituted the half-birthday plan. We’ve been doing it this way for so long, it’s kind of become this tradition. I didn’t think we were going to this year, but then the other day, my mom asked me if there was anything I wanted, and I got kind of excited,” I admit. I pull my thumbnail to my mouth and scrunch my eyes, ready for how this is going to sound. “I really like presents.”
“Awww, baby likes presents,” Casey teases, tugging me to his lap and wrapping my legs around his waist. My emotions switch gears at the feel of him against me.
“I do,” I say, as he nuzzles his nose against mine.
“Do I get to come to this party?” he asks.
“Uh huh,” I breathe, my eyes now closed, because his hands have sunk down to my thighs and are working their way up the curve of my ass, pulling me forward even harder.
“Do you…do you want your present from me?” he teases, but I don’t laugh because now, right now, yes. I do want my present. I want this present. And I no longer care about the chocolate cake or a party or…
“I am fairly fond of your birthday suit,” he jokes as his thumbs lift up the bottom of the T-shirt I’m wearing, dragging it up my body, but stopping when my arms are above my head and my eyes are covered with cotton. His mouth covers one breast, sucking me hard while his hand falls behind my back and pulls me into him.
