Just the Sex: Erotica Shorts

by Alessandra Torre

  We are one combined machine, pistons pumping, lubed and swift, perfectly fitting as it should, no pause in our movements, no hitch in our step. He works his thumb in my ass, pushing and pulling, the tight fit glorious in its intensity. I am going to come again, the shaking of my body, the feel of two holes filled, the animalistic fever of Paul, a man unleashed, the level of his possession so fucking hot.

  “Tell me, Madd,” he gasps, the hand at my waist sliding down, gripping the sore skin of my ass and forcing me on and off his cock. “Tell me that you are mine.”

  I can’t. I can’t respond because my eyes are too tightly shut, my body racking underneath him, pushing harder, greedier against his skin, needing every stroke, every fuck, every inch of his thick cock as I come, a bundling outpour of muscles flexing and contracting, a scream coming from my throat, his hands loosening as I release the sound, my body growing rigid, his fucks continuing, his own climax close.

  When I come up for air, I tell him. I tell him how I have always loved him. How he has always had my heart. I look over my shoulder at him, at his beautiful face, hair mussed, eyes vulnerable as he meets my eyes, relief spilling into those blue depths of perfection. He suddenly slows his strokes, the moment changing, and rolls me over, pulling out long enough to lift me onto the bed and settle down above me. He takes my mouth, kissing me deeply, murmuring soft words of love as he spreads my legs with his knees, and enters me again, slower this time, fully thrusting in and then pulling out, his eyes on mine.

  I pull him to me, wrap my hands around his neck, lift my mouth to his. And I tell him, in between kisses, how deeply I love him. How I will never leave. How I am his for as long as he will have me.

  His breathing slows, his kisses deepen, then he closes his eyes, thrusts deep, and comes.

  my two loves.

  threesome.

  I awaken to the sound of my cell. It rings, the sound dulled by sheets and pillows, and it takes me a moment to place my surroundings, to identify the ring. I grope through the bed and answer the call, our conversation short, a few I love yous and then a goodbye, his voice muffled, the signal poor as Stewart boards the plane.

  I roll back over, the room dark, and wait for sleep to come. Minutes tick and I only grow more awake, frustration growing with each passing moment. Finally, my hands itching and legs squirming, I close my eyes and let my fingers move, traveling lightly over my body and slipping under my boxer shorts, the cotton band yielding easily to my hand, my fingers sliding along the thin strip of hair, moving more, my legs spreading, knees bending, my body quivering as I gently run my digits lightly, so lightly, over the lips of my sex. I keep my eyes closed and let my mind wander to my favorite fantasy, the one that takes me quickly to the edge and down the cliff that is my orgasm. It starts much as it normally does, with me on my knees, both of them before me.

  Stewart wipes his mouth, his eyes on mine, piercing blue that mirror the man to his right, the man that unbuckles his pants, slowly, his fierce gaze pulling my eyes, my stare traveling from one man to the other, from one possessive glower to a second. Paul’s belt buckle clinks as it is undone, and his zipper is pulled down, his hand reaching in and pulling the object of my desire out. He is beautiful, standing there, his t-shirt stretched tight over his muscular frame, his jeans low and unbuckled on his firm hips, his hand wrapped tight around his shaft.

  Stewart moves, walking slowly around my still frame, stopping behind me, his hand brushing the back of my neck as his fingers find the pull of my dress zipper. He unzips me slowly, my eyes held by Paul’s, as he strokes his cock and watches, his eyes dark.

  Stewart’s hands slide the loose straps of my dress down, and I am suddenly before them, my breasts swollen, my nipples hard against the rough lace of underwire cups, the cloth of my panties pleasurable when I squirm against them. Stewart pulls me back against him, his hands cupping my breasts, his firm fingers massaging and squeezing, Paul lets out a soft groan when Stewart’s mouth comes down on my neck and his fingers tug the lace of my bra down, exposing my breasts to Paul’s eyes.

  Paul steps forward, his hand continuing its slow, steady movement, my eyes drawn down, and I focus on the delicious glimpses I receive, his hand exposing and then cover the rigid, stiff length of his cock. He bends slightly, his soft wet mouth taking an exposed nipple, his tongue lightly running over it before sucking it gently into his mouth. Stewart’s hands slide lower, over my panties, and he firmly grips my hips, rocking me back against his body, his arousal hard against my ass. I moan when I feel it, his breath catching against my neck.

  Paul releases his cock, it landing with a heavy thud against my stomach, both of his hands moving to my breasts, his hands reaching around and unclasping my bra, his fingers covering the area where Stewart’s just were. Then he kneels, his mouth making a wet trail down my stomach, his teeth grazing my skin, biting me gently as he moved.

  They switch places, Stewart’s hands returning to my upper half, his hands turning my face to the right, and he kisses me softly on the mouth as his hands strum lightly over my breasts, lifting and squeezing the skin, pressing them together, my nipples sensitive, each brush across their surface causing me to gasp, to quiver, my legs weak.

  Paul’s mouth is soft and hot, his fingers skimming my panties down, down my legs, the wet cloth leaving spots of arousal on my thighs, his mouth, his firm tongue, following the path of my hair. As soon as my feet lift and move, discarding my panties to the side, he lifts a leg over his shoulder, his breath on my delicate folds, his tongue following this path, dipping into my sex, flicking over my clit, his entire mouth taking my sex in one, delicious, cover.

  I sag, his shoulder supporting my weight, his hands holding me up while he buries his face into me, moaning, Stewart’s cock replacing his mouth, his hand tugging me down until I am bent forward, his hips thrusting into my mouth, the firm shaft moving thickly down my throat. I gag, and feel Paul’s hands tighten on my skin, holding me in place, the delicious strum of his mouth on my pussy making me lose all focus on Stewart’s cock, my movements sloppy as my body grips, an orgasm close, my eyes closing as all sensors in my body tune in to his mouth. Stewart pulls me up, his wet cock sliding out of my mouth, my eyes opening to find him looking at me, his cock in his hand, the possessive look on his face on I know well.

  It is the look he always gets when he thinks of Paul with me. When he thinks of another man’s hands on my skin, mouth on my sex, cock in my body. The incredible blend of want and arousal, competition and conquest, that burns through his eyes and causing him to unleash holy hell on my body. Hell that feels incredible, our sexual energy uncontainable, the combustion of two bodies moving in slick, perfect percussion. And now, in this fantasy, I finally have them both. At the same time, their possessions at peak points, directly competing to bring me pleasure.

  My fingers dip inside of me, cupping my sex, borrowing moisture and dragging it up to my clit, my fingers starting a steady circle around the pleasure point. I lift up slightly with my hips, my eyes opening and focusing on the dresser’s mirror, the dim reflection showing my open legs, my hand moving between them. I pull off my shirt, running my free hands gently over my breasts, imagining Stewart’s hands on them, the scruff of his cheeks scraping them.

  Stewart tilts my face up, stares into my eyes, and I struggle to maintain eye contact as Paul’s mouth takes me closer and closer to orgasm. My leg shudders around his neck, pulling his mouth closer, my pelvis beginning to thrust into his mouth as I grip his hair. “Come, baby. I want to see your face when you come. Come all over his face.”

  I whimper, squeezing my eyes shut, fighting the sensation, Stewart’s hand puts pressure on my chin, and my eyes burst open as it comes, a swelling surge of pleasure, my mouth making animal, guttural sounds as I come, arching my back and staring into Stewart’s face, his handsome smile curving in approval as he strokes his cock faster, And as soon as I finish, when my moans subside to heavy breaths, he guides his cock back to my mouth, and I work on h
is cock, sucking and pumping with my hands, as I feel Paul move my legs, putting me on all fours, and preparing for entrance at my rear.

  My eyes flip open, my legs shaking, and I watch my body twitching, my toes curling, the reflection showing my face, flushed and panting. I forgo my clit and thrust fingers, in and out, fucking fast, my pelvis lifting off the bed as I finger fuck myself to orgasm. It is strong, racking my body, and I clench every muscle I have, the thought of Paul fucking me onto Stewart’s cock stretching out my orgasm… the waves of pleasure making me moan and thrash in the sheets until there was nothing left to hold onto. I still, spent, my fingers wet and sticky, Stewart’s scent on the sheets all around me. I roll over, pressing a button on the wall, the fan starting to spin about me, pushing cool air on my naked skin, a sudden chill coming over me. Reaching down, I pull the thick down comforter up, over my chest, and relax back against the mattress.

  Thirty seconds later, pleasure aftershocks still flickering through my body, I am asleep.

  I didn’t know what I was getting into with Brad De Luca.

  Didn’t realize that I was stepping into a sexual world I wouldn’t want to return from.

  The following scenes were taken from End of the Innocence, a full-length erotic romance.

  “He understands that a ring on your finger doesn’t exclude him from the party.”

  I leaned over the bar and scanned the bartenders, trying to catch someone’s attention so I could order a drink. It was a futile effort, everyone else seeming to capture their attention easily. I began waving my arms like an idiot, a twenty-dollar bill in my hand.

  “Come on.” Brad’s voice was in my ear, and I turned, my arms still moving. “I’ve got us a table.

  “With a waitress?” I raised my eyebrows, not wanting to lose the headway I may or may not be making in the ‘get the bartender’s attention’ foot race.

  “Yes. Come on.” He tugged on my waist, his large hands encircling it and pulling. I gave one final look at the oblivious bartenders and then turned to follow him. We moved through the dark club, bodies everywhere, the hum of voices and music creating a blanket of energy.

  New York truly was a city that didn’t sleep. Two-thirty in the morning, and the club showed no signs of slowing, the energy around us ramping up with each additional song pumping through the speakers. My mind wandered to our hotel room, six skyscrapers over, to the weekend bag already alongside expensive new purchases. Forty-eight hours in this city seemed enough time to spend a fortune and party our asses off.

  I grinned down at Brad, who relaxed back on a leather loveseat, a table before him with a chilled bottle on ice. “Looks like you had better luck than me.” I carefully navigated around the table until I was settled in next to him on the leather seat.

  “Don’t be too impressed. I had a little help.” His head tilted to the left and I turned, my gaze pulled upward.

  Dark blue eyes stared out from a gorgeous face, beautiful lips curving into a smile. A black suit, paired with a black shirt, hid a body that was no doubt perfect. I felt the stranger’s hand tug gently on mine, and he leaned over and placed a soft kiss on my knuckles.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Julia. My name is Marc.” He gently returned my hand, and I struggled to speak.

  “Nice to meet you.” My words came out raspy; I swallowed and tried to regain my composure. Smiling politely at him, I turned back to Brad, a question in my eyes.

  He chuckled. “Julia, Marc and I have a long history. He was the prior owner of Saffire, but was generous enough to part with it.”

  There was a deep laugh behind me, and I turned to see a perfect white smile split Marc’s face. “Generous? Your offer gave me little choice, my friend. But you have done very well with it, and I applaud you for that.” His eyes twinkled at me. “Have you been to Saffire?”

  I blushed. “Yes. It is impressive. You did a wonderful job.”

  He scowled good-naturedly. “It’s taken a few steps upward since my name was on the title. But Rain, this is my baby.” He spread his arms to indicate the club. “Unless …” he said with a sly look to Brad, “you intend on adding it to your list of assets.”

  Brad laughed, curving his arm around my waist. “No, Marc. I don’t have the time for anything but this woman right now.”

  “Yes, I was admiring your ring, it is beautiful,” Marc said, his eyes dipping to my left hand. “Congratulations seem to be in order. You must be quite a woman if you tied down this stallion.” He sat on the closest chair, his eyes returning to mine, a knowing smile playing over his features.

  “More than you know,” Brad said, squeezing my side gently and passing me a flute of champagne.

  I smiled without comment, taking a sip of the cool bubbly.

  A man appeared, bending over to speak rapidly in Marc’s ear. His gaze on me, I saw the moment when his eyes changed, urgency darkening their blue depths. He nodded and the man stood, taking a few steps back.

  “I apologize, but something needs my attention.” Marc stood with an apologetic smile. “Please enjoy the champagne. I should wrap up this issue in the next hour or so. Brad, if you both are interested, I often entertain in the upstairs suite. I would love to share a few drinks with you later.”

  Brad nodded, reaching out to grasp his hand. “As always, it is great to see you.”

  I extended my hand, but Marc moved closer, planting a soft kiss on my cheek. “It has been a pleasure,” he said softly, the scent of his cologne lingering as he withdrew.

  “Thank you for the table.”

  He flashed that perfect smile and then left, the strange man in his ear, quick words speaking urgently as they disappeared into the crowd. I leaned back into the crook of Brad’s arm and sipped the champagne, glancing around the club, a sea of sequins, flirtations, and sexuality.

  “What’d you think of Marc?” Brad’s eyes held a hint of mischief.

  “He’s a little intense. Working hard that Rico Suave vibe he’s got going on.” I took a sip of champagne and looked out at the crowd.

  “Did it work?” Brad’s voice was low and dangerous, and I turned to see him watching me closely, a hint of a smile playing over his mouth.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He wants to fuck you,” Brad said matter-of-factly, leaning back in the seat and tipping his glass back, his eyes on mine.

  “What? No he doesn’t.”

  “I assure you, he does. You didn’t see his face when you walked up. How his eyes drank in every inch of you.”

  I shrugged, fighting the shot of pleasure that traveled through me. “Whatever.”

  “You don’t understand.” Brad lowered his voice, moving his mouth to my ear, taking a soft bite of my neck, then playing his tongue lightly over the spot. “It isn’t just a desire of his. It is a possibility. One that he recognizes. He is like me, Julia. He goes after what he wants. And he understands that a ring on your finger doesn’t exclude him from the party.”

  My mouth dropped, and I leaned back, putting distance between Brad and myself. “You told him? About what we’ve done?” I narrowed my eyes and Brad laughed.

  “Easy, princess. I haven’t told him anything. But I’ve known Marc for over ten years. We have run in similar circles, have shared women several times, sometimes several women.” I felt a small bit of jealousy at his words, at their past, which didn’t, in any way, include me.

  “You’ve … seen him fuck?”

  “Yes.” He took a swig of champagne.

  “And?”

  “And … what?” His eyes danced with humor.

  I groaned. “Don’t make me spell it out. Is he … good at what he does?” I leaned closer, giving permission, and felt his hand return, sliding around my waist and pulling me tightly to him.

  “He is very good at what he does.”

  “Better than you?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe you should find out.” His hand grew rougher, squeezing my skin possessively, the change catching me off guard, a sharp
intake of arousal stealing all breath from my body.

  I bit my lower lip, and stared into the flute of champagne, remembering Marc’s lips against my hand, and the intensity of those dark blue eyes. “Well,” I said, swirling the flute gently between my fingers, “then maybe we should head upstairs.” Then I tilted the glass back, letting the bubbles of champagne pop and slide down my throat.

  ***

  An hour later, I straddled Brad’s body, and he leaned back into the sectional, his eyes drugged with arousal, watching me, the line of his mouth barely affected by the smile that lay there. He ran his hands freely over the front of my dress, dipping inside my low and loose neckline and cupping each breast in turn. “God, you are beautiful.”

  I said nothing, only gently moved against him, feeling a slight vibration run through us as the bass rocked a particularly loud note. I could feel the energy of the club, the muted hum of music, of a thousand bodies of barely-contained madness—dancing, kissing, falling in love—underneath us.