Chocolate Mousse Bunnies
I am lying stretched out on my hotel bed, bare feet touching the hardwood floor, smoking my third cigarette of the day. Considering it is five o'clock in the afternoon, I am actually quite proud of myself. I have lived off a hormonal haze today, that almost made me forget about satisfying my substantial nicotine dependence.
Almost.
I had my first one before breakfast, because it is the only cigarette my addicted body truly cannot do without, and I simply had to have one after lunch, because the fucking butterflies in my stomach just wouldn't stop fluttering. In fact, they are still fluttering, now that I remember her whispers in my ear, early this morning.
I aim a lungful of smoke at the ceiling and smile stupidly.
It had been a long day, with draining fight scene rehearsals and too much rain and Charlie throwing me funny stares and questioning looks all the time. He even felt the need to comment on the fact I was smoking so little. I just shrugged and made sure my face gave nothing away.
When he received her call and handed me his cell phone, however, he grinned like a Cheshire cat and winked a little too obvious to my liking. He immediately left me alone, though, making damn sure I could talk in private and even went so far as to prevent other people from disturbing me.
Charlie looked at me intently when I returned his phone, and invited me to have dinner with him and a few of the crew. When I declined, fighting a blush to stay away from my face, he laughed throatily and I guess by then he knew exactly what was going on.
Because I usually stick around on Friday evenings, to have a drink with him and the other guys, or grab something to eat together in London's Soho area, as I am often reluctant to retreat to a silent, empty hotel room.
Not tonight, though. Tonight I really just want to lie on my back in this unlit, quiet room, so that I can stare at the ceiling and think about last night. I drift off and let my eyes fall shut and a familiar, tingling sensation erupts in my stomach.
The combination of my vivid imagination and the sudden, much-anticipated burst of nicotine in my blood causes me to harden almost instantly, and I sigh, allowing my left hand to fumble with the buttons of my jeans, pushing denim and cotton out of the way.
Before I am well and truly aware of it, I have shifted the cigarette to my left hand and I am lazily stroking up and down my cock, growing harder still, eyes comfortably closed, slowly finishing my treasured clove. I hear myself moan softly, smiling inwardly when I realise once more how much I just love to keep myself on the edge, simply remembering her hands heavy on my chest, the way she balanced herself while she rode me the second time we fucked.
When I open my eyes, I see that ash is threatening to fall on either my t-shirt or the bed, so I groan loudly and drag myself into an upright position. I extinguish the remains of the clove in an ashtray on the nightstand and get up, heading for the bathroom, pulling my shirt over my head as I go.
I know it is no use. My whole body is throbbing by now, and I really need to push myself over that aching threshold, if I ever wish to lose that jittery, fluttery feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I turn on the tap in the shower and get out of my jeans and boxers, tossing them in the general direction of the growing pile of dirty clothes. When the spray is hard and blazing hot, I step under it, close the glass door and let the water pound on my head.
I briefly wonder when the usual tiredness will kick in, after all the rain and endless rehearsals we had today, but I am not really surprised to realise my body has other plans with me tonight. I lean against the tiles, head on my arm, and simply wrap my fingers around my cock, giving in, stroking, squeezing, moaning softly against the crook of my arm, already increasing pressure and pace.
I am always messy and greedy and impatient when I am flying solo, especially with an orgasm boiling just underneath the surface. I don't have to be tender or considerate with anyone, and within minutes I find myself roughly pumping into my own fist, grunting with the effort of each abrupt movement, cursing lewdly when the spasms of release finally claim my body and the traces of my come flow between my fingers and disappear down the drain.
After a good ten minutes I turn the water off and grab a towel, wrapping it around my waist and walking out of the spacious bathroom in search of my cigarettes. I find them still lying on the nightstand, so I pull one out and light up, throwing both packet and lighter on the bed, and move to stand in front of the large windows.
I watch the crowds that are lining London's busy streets, and the accumulating traffic jams now that the evening's rush hour is in full swing, and I anxiously wonder where she might be.
Realising I can do nothing but wait, I turn my back on the window and lie down on the bed. I curl up slightly, tucking my left arm under my head and suck on my clove every now and then, this time keeping within arm's reach of an ashtray.
Realising she is probably going to be here in less than an hour, I look around the room as if I am seeing it for the first time again. I stare at the clothes, the books, the magazines and the apparently endless stacks of CDs that litter the tables and floor and I can't help but grin, wondering how I always manage to be so careless with my belongings.
After four weeks of filming, you could say I have personalised the room a bit. I went so far as to actually ask the maid not to bother too much with this room, just make the bed and transport my laundry to the hotel service downstairs every once in a while. She had offered me a shy smile while she nodded her agreement.
Two days later she had caught me still in bed, on a Saturday afternoon, after a blur of beer and dancing and me kissing Lexi too close to her mouth when I left. I hadn't had the presence of mind to hang the sign on the doorknob and she just walked in, assuming that at two o'clock in the afternoon, I would probably have abandoned my room for the more entertaning places that London has to offer.
I remember I almost gave her a heart attack because I wasn't wearing anything, and after her loud shriek, my frantic pulling at bedcovers and our combined embarrassed giggles, I explained to her that, after parties like the one I had attended the night before, I found my bed the most entertaining place in the world. She had smiled and left the room, blushing fiercely.
I have the distinct feeling that she peeks carefully around doors these days, after prolonged knocking, making sure I won't pull a stunt like that on her again.
I finish my cigarette and crush it out, contemplating if I should catch a nap, and then I am startled out of my thoughts by a knock on the door. All of a sudden I am nervous all over again, and I clumsily worm my way into a pair of faded jeans. Hearing another sharp knock, I pick up a t-shirt from the foot of the bed and pull it over my head, quickly making my way to the door, ignoring how my feet are bare and my hair is a total mess.
I open the door and all I can do is swallow, a goofy smile firmly in place, every nerve in my body crackling with electricity. I look at her and she smiles.
"Hey," she says and crosses the threshold. I close the door and lean my back against it, searching for reassurance all over again. For God's sake, the woman has seen me completely naked and in total abandon, and still I cannot get past my insecurities.
"Hey," I repeat her words, but it is barely more than a whisper. I guess the hesitation in my voice causes her to tilt her head and search my eyes, a soft smile playing around her lips. I manage a smile in return and suddenly she closes the gap between us. Her right hand finds its familiar place on my cheek, and when she strokes me I feel the heat of her body through the combination of her silky top and my t-shirt.
"Are you okay?" she asks softly, and removes her hand, sliding it down my neck and chest, eyes genuinely concerned. "If you need to talk..." I shake my head abruptly, not wanting to give her the impression I regret what we did last night. "You... you look beautiful," I say. It is the first thing that pops into my brain, but I realise I mean every word of it.
She has nonchalantly bunched her hair together in a thick, black elastic band at the back of her head with some loose strands and curls outlining her pretty face. She is wearing another flimsy, fluttering skirt, a black one this time, and a soft, silky top. The same black heels she wore yesterday are on her feet now and I spot a faded, rosy mark just above her ankle. She follows my gaze and smiles, looking up, catching my eyes.
"You did that," she informs me, quite redundantly, but the way she breathes those words turns me on nevertheless. I nod and grin and then, all of a sudden, I muster the courage to simply embrace her, pulling her body close to my own, welcoming her back into my arms, gently kissing the soft spot behind her ear.
"I missed you," I whisper against her hair and close my eyes when I feel her hands slide around my waist. They are warm and familiar when she slips them under my shirt, touching my bare skin, stroking the small of my back. She moans softly and presses her face against my cheek.
"Look at me," I order and she lifts her head, gracing me with one of her dazzling smiles. Before she can say anything or I can lose courage, I press my lips onto hers and I can feel them part under the pressure, quickly pushing my tongue into her mouth, tasting her all over again.
She has lowered her hands down to my ass and is kneading the sensitive flesh in slow, rhythmic circles, causing me to grind against her and grow harder and harder. I know I am on the verge of losing my cool and I decide to break the kiss, out of breath, her blue-green eyes locked onto mine, silently questioning my decision to stop.
"I want you," I pant, trying to catch my breath. "But not on the doorstep." She giggles and removes herself from my grasp, taking my hand and pulling me into the sitting area of the hotel suite. She turns around, her back to me, and for the first time really admires the two spacious rooms and the breathtaking view, fifteen floors above the city.
"Not bad," she smiles and looks at me again. "And such a great view." She keeps looking at me, though, and I grin mischievously, dropping her hand and clearing the couch. She takes an actual look at the room and notices the mess. But instead of commenting like I thought she would, she simply picks up a pile of CDs and starts scanning the titles, sitting down on the arm of the couch, kicking off her heels.
"Have you had dinner?" I ask because I haven't and she looks up from reading the inlay of the latest Squarepusher. She shakes her head and drops her hand in her lap. "Do you want to go out, or eat in?" I ask again and I am really amazed at the string of coherent, ordered thoughts that I seem capable of producing tonight. She rises from her uncomfortable seat on the side of the couch and wraps her arms around my neck.
"If it's all the same to you, I think I'd like to stay in," she says, all soft and seductive, and I doubt I will be able to eat a single bite with her looking at me like I am dinner. I nod and kiss her some more, taking care not to ignite so violently again, but still unable to keep my tongue from licking the pale expanse of her neck and the shell of her ear. Her body responds under my tiny licks, and as I grind against her hips slightly, I wonder if we should just skip dinner and fuck each other senseless straight away.
But no, she unlocks her hands from behind my neck and gives me a final kiss, placing her hands on her hips and looks around, searching.
"What are you looking for?" I ask and adjust my raging hard-on as soon as she turns her back on me. "Room service menu," she states simply and begins to lift random magazines from the table. I grin and help her search.
We're sitting cross-legged on the floor in the sitting room, several plates of food in between us on the glass coffee table, and I am rather deftly opening a bottle of red wine. She keeps re-arranging the items of food on the table, and, when she is satisfied with the way things are displayed, she tears off a piece of bread and picks up a knife.
"You care for butter on this?" she asks, and waggles the knife over her plate. I nod, pulling the cork out with a decent 'pop' and pour her a glass. She covers the crust and puts it down on my plate across the table. I pick it up, while filling my own glass, and place the bottle in between us, consciously creating some necessary distance.
She looks like she could actually eat some of this, whereas I am still trying to keep my cool, not helped much by the fact that my erection refuses to subside. I decide alcohol has to be my ally and I take a big swig from my rather full glass. I look up and watch the tip of her fork disappear into her mouth, her red lips sucking the green asparagus between her teeth, and I know I am staring at her again, but frankly, I don't give a damn.
I watch her chew and swallow and I drink more wine, needing something to hide behind. She notices the fevered look in my eyes and smiles. "Aren't you going to eat anything, Elijah?" she asks, and again I love how my full name rolls off her lips, causing my stomach to flutter and tumble even worse.
I shrug and smile, shy all over again. "Don't think so," I say and she giggles, popping the tip of another asparagus into her mouth.
"You're distracting me again, you know," I continue accusingly and I watch how she scoops more oriental stir-fry veggies onto her plate. She picks up her fork again and spears a dark mushroom that is still steaming hot and shiny with residual sesame oil.
"Open," she orders and extends her arm across the table. "I'll feed you if I have to." I put my glass down and wonder if I should play along with this. "I'm not a baby, you know," I start and immediately kick myself for allowing that old hag to enter my life again. She gets up on her knees and crawls around the edge of the table until she is squatting next to me.
"I am very well aware of that, Lij," she says, almost whispering. "And I can understand why you might think I am not," she still holds the fork up in front of me. "But all I'd like to see is that pretty mouth of yours around this mushroom, slipping it off my fork and greasing your gorgeous lips with its slick oil."
My eyes are locked solid onto hers all through her little speech and I swallow hard. Her eyes have shifted to my mouth and involuntarily, I part my lips. "That's it, honey," she whispers and her own mouth mimics my movements when my lips close around the dark mushroom, pulling it away from her fork. I chew and swallow, and her thumb rubs gently across my lips.
"God," she breathes, deep in her throat, and quickly reaches across the table to spear another piece of vegetable on her fork. A disc of carrot returns to my face and she has already opened her own mouth. I smirk and part my lips for her again, waiting patiently until the fork is close enough. Her lips close around thin air while I take the slice in between my teeth, sucking it into my mouth, then chewing and swallowing once more.
"Jesus, Lij," she gasps, looking at me, and blindly drops the fork on the table. Her hand has travelled down to my groin and she is softly squeezing my erection through the fabric, causing me to moan and swear under my faltering breath, feeling like all my nerve endings are short-circuiting at the same time.
"One more," she pants and the fingers of her free hand dig impatiently into the contents on her plate, returning to my face with an asparagus. I close my lips around the narrow stem and she inhales loudly. I quickly suck the rest of the green little thing into my mouth and try to concentrate on chewing it, as her hand keeps rubbing my erection, carefully squeezing my balls, her lips pressing down hard on my own as soon as I have swallowed.
She pushes me on my back and stradles me, her hands resting on the floor next to my head. "Fuck dinner," she grins and crashes her mouth wetly on mine again, sucking my tongue in, lowering her body enough for me to lift my hips and find the necessary friction. I grab her top and push it up, sliding my hands to her front and pawing at her breasts, breaking the kiss.
"Off," I mutter and push her back into an upright position. She pulls the top over her head, and I sit up as well, tearing impatiently at her bra - the same little black number - fastening my mouth around a nipple, sucking fiercely at it, and blindly pinching the neglected one until it's stiff and rough under my fingers.
"You too," she gasps and I guess that is fair, so I take it off and suddenly feel her fingers wrestling with the buttons on my jeans. With my t-shirt still bunched around my wrists I lie back down, my arms above my head, and watch how her fingers fumble frantically. I grin and lift my hips erratically, just to tease her.
"My God, Lij, do you ever bother with underwear?" she cries out as she stares at my cock that is straining to get away from its confinement, reaching out her hand and brushing the sensitive tip. I squirm as the sensation is almost too much to handle. She scoots back and pulls the jeans away completely, leaving me naked under her hands and scrutiny.
"You are so fucking beautiful, Lij," she says, her eyes never leaving my body as she worms out of her skirt, throwing it aside with an impatient gesture and moving to lie on top of me. I shiver when I feel her soft stomach brush against my cock, and I hook my arms around her waist, hoisting her up so that her mouth is only inches away from my own.
"Kiss me," I say, and she licks my lips gently before she pushes her tongue roughly inside my mouth. I slide both my hands down her smooth back and stop when I feel the flimsy fabric of her panties stretching across her pert ass, prying my right hand inside and stretching as far as I can in search of the warm wetness that I know is there.
She moans into my mouth and breaks the kiss, watching me intently and brushing her lips against mine occasionally. I slip a finger inside of her and her tongue flicks into my mouth. When I withdraw, so does she. We repeat the game a couple of times and I can't help but grin.
"Couch," I mutter, and try to sit up with her still in my arms. "Come on." She moves and backs away, plopping onto the couch, a huge smile gracing her face. I crawl towards her on all fours, kneeling in front of her, pulling her underwear down her legs. As soon as the tiny thing is gone she spreads her legs wide enough to extend her invitation, and I sit up slightly, grabbing her hips, keeping her in place, hesitating.
"I haven't done this in a while, you know," I say softly, and move to rest my cheek on her silky stomach, blowing my warm breath across a small patch of tiny dark curls. "So tell me when I'm doing something you don't like, okay?"
One of her hands disappears in my hair and she tugs gently. "I doubt there will be a problem, baby," I hear her whisper and she drags her fingers over my scalp, nudging me down as subtly as she can. "Don't worry..."
And although the hesitation has not completely left my brain yet, her scent is driving me fucking wild and I lift my head, moving in between her legs, venturing a few experimental little licks against her swollen, rosy lips. I hear how her breathing is becoming louder, and I lick some more, tasting my way to her essence.
My eyes fall shut and I revel in the way her other hand has come to rest in my hair as well, both gently massaging my head in slow, lazy circles. I move my hands down her waist to stroke the insides of her thighs, sliding all the way down towards her feet, but stopping at her ankles and closing my fingers firmly around them. I lap wetly between her lips, searching and finding the top of her clit, while my hands lift her legs.
Suddenly, I hear her gasp loudly and I realise my thumb is probably squeezing the bruise on her ankle a bit too roughly. I suckle her clit for a while and continue to very gently brush my thumb against the sensitive spot on her leg, teasingly adding the slightest hint of pain.
I feel a sticky bead of precum drip onto my thigh and become painfully aware of how much I would like to be inside of her. But I also notice how her breathing has become laboured and erratic and I decide to get her off first, relishing the thought of how warm and wet she will be for me afterwards.
I suck her clit more forcefully and it causes her hands to roughly tug at my hair. The flashes of pain always turn me on, and I suck a bit harder, eliciting loud moans from her, sliding my hands back up the inside of her thighs again and keeping them apart. Once I start stabbing my tongue inside of her repeatedly, it is a done deal, and as she spasms and shudders against me, I keep suckling her clit gently until it becomes too sensitive and she nudges me away.
I let go of her legs and she sits up, smiling at me through the haze of her retreating orgasm, and I kiss her hard. "Turn around," I say, and she does, kneeling on the couch, resting her arms on the back of it, pressing her stomach against the cushions.
As I crawl closer, I habitually slick the sticky string of precum across my aching shaft, groaning with the effort. Grateful to remember life's necessities just in time, I reach out and yank my jeans off the floor, silently praying my wallet's in it.
No. Such. Luck.
"Fuck!" I curse harshly and she turns around, a questioning look in her eyes. "Hang on," I pant and get up from the floor, only to notice she has slid off the couch as well and is following me into the bedroom.
"So much more comfortable here," she muses, and I smile, watching her get on the bed on all fours. I pull another condom out of my wallet, and roll this one on myself.
"Grab something," is the last coherent phrase that leaves my mouth and she crawls closer to the headboard. I steady her hips with my hands and position my cock, sliding into her in one long thrust, accompanied by a primal grunt, because it feels so fucking good.
Like the wank under the shower, this fuck can be messy and greedy and impatient, because she tells me to move harder and faster, and not bother with her needs. "This is just you, Lij," she breathes erratically, as I slam into her forcefully. "I want to feel you come."
Each thrust forces a groan out of me, and her repeated plea to come hard and long inside of her, has me on that coveted edge faster than I thought possible. When she moans my name, I finally feel my balls drawing up and uncoiling within me, wrenching harsh cries from my lungs, coming again and again, until I am almost in tears with the effort.
I open my eyes when I feel something sticky on my stomach. She sits across my legs with a bowl in her hand, smiling when she notices my curious stares in her direction. "What are you doing?" I ask, and raise my head to look down at the brownish mess on my belly.
"Chocolate mousse," she giggles and when she pulls her fingers from the bowl she smears it across my body and draws little circles. I let my head fall back on the pillow, rolling my eyes, grinning. "Jesus," is all I can utter, still completely spent.
"I am drawing bunnies, Lij," she giggles once more, and I crane my neck to see her artwork, but I am too tired, so I just laugh and simply close my eyes again. "Whatever," I say and feel how she moves on the bed, stopping when her face is really close to mine.
"Get some rest, honey," she whispers, and kisses me softly. "You are so going to need it." I process that information while tasting the chocolate on her lips and I open my eyes. "Are you going to clean that up?" I want to know, pointing at my stomach, grinning again.
"Of course, silly," she smiles, and I give her a confused stare.
"You will be my dessert."
The Yank-Shoot Stories Index
Main Index