See Part One for Disclaimers and Author's Notes
Part Three: Benton and Nina
The first time I made love to her, the world changed.
We'd gone to see a friend of hers perform at a nightclub, and, listening to a husky contralto sing love-songs, my hand found hers and I succumbed to desire and stroked my fingers along the sensitive skin of her palm and the inside of her wrist. I could feel her pulse speed up as I did it, feel her shiver delicately as I moved my hand after a long while to the nape of her neck. I found out she was incredibly sensitive there and watched with an amused, and excited, smile as her eyes fluttered closed for a moment and she bit her lower lip. Then she turned her head slightly towards me and murmured, "If you don't stop that I won't be responsible for the consequences."
I smiled and whispered in her ear, "No, I will."
I traced a pattern on her skin and her hand clenched on my thigh. To have her touch me was so exciting that I had to stop myself from grabbing her out of her chair and taking her someplace dark and private. One thing Victoria had taught me was the value of drawing things out. I didn't realize until that moment, when I forced myself to stay still, to continue to draw delicate sworls on her so-sensitive skin, that I was intending to seduce her. The idea shocked me and thrilled me. I had never thought of myself as the type of man to plan out a woman's seduction, but as I let my fingers trail across her shoulder, I realized that we had been heading for this point for a long time. And we were both enjoying and wanting it.
I kept my gaze fixed on the singer, not wanting to appear quite that rude. She was very good, as was evidenced by the dramatic increase in our attentions to one another. For three weeks we had talked and laughed, had dinner and watched movies, exchanged stories about our pasts. We had comforted each other over the loss of loved ones, or betrayals that had torn our hearts apart. We had entwined ourselves about each other's souls, but we had never taken the final step, beyond a good night kiss. Those few kisses had been intoxicating on their own, but we had both restrained ourselves, somehow subconsciously arranging for those nights to be before work. Avoiding temptation. But not now. Now, we had taken that step, made that decision, silently, and in unison. And it felt right.
As I listened to the singer, I continued to caress her neck, and found her hand tracing echoes of those patterns on my thigh. I changed the pattern, to be sure, and she did as well, smiling slightly as I glanced at her. "You touch me, I touch you," she whispered. It was a challenge and an invitation. . .I took it.
***
I was slowly going out of my mind. His fingertips brushed my skin, leaving the nerve-endings on fire, as if his touch were electric. It astonished me that he was actually touching me that way . . .seducing me. He'd always been so proper, even when both our knees were buckling from a 'good-night' kiss. He'd wanted to wait, even if he hadn't said it aloud, and I had agreed. But now. . .now I wanted him so badly it physically hurt. I could feel myself getting more and more aroused and returned the favor.
I ran my hand lightly across his thigh, copying the patterns he was tracing on my neck and shoulder, and surprised myself by challenging him to do something more daring. He surprised me by accepting. His hand dropped slowly to my back, where the dress was scooped to show skin, then curved around to my side. If it hadn't felt so incredible, and surprised me so much, I would have giggled at the slight tickling. My hand froze on his thigh. He wasn't. . .was he?
His hand swept under my arm and smoothed down the side of my breast. I shivered and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. Benton leaned in to breathe into my ear, "I touch you. . ."
My heart jumped up another few beats a minute and I nodded slowly. Part of me was amazed that we were doing this in what was pretty much a public place, the rest of me didn't care. The backs of the chairs were high enough to hide us from the people behind us, and the table hid my caresses from anyone to our sides. So I trailed my hand further up his thigh, hearing his breath catch as I neared my goal. I went even slower then, teasing him as he stroked my breast with the backs of his fingers, finally reaching my destination to be greeted by a hard bulge. I was flattered to say the least.
I ran my hand across his crotch, stroking as slowly as he did, and smiled as a tiny groan escaped him. His hand went down my side and then slid over my thigh. My breath caught in anticipation, then released in a soft whimper as his fingers pressed down lightly on my pelvic bone and then went lower. I echoed his motion automatically, pressed a little harder and felt his muscles tense. His fingers pressed hard against where layers of cloth covered my clit, moving down to run over the part of me that was screaming for him. My inner muscles clenched in response and I cupped him in my hand and rubbed my thumb in a slow circle. If this went on much longer, we'd be running for a back-room. . .
Benton had the same thought; his hand left me to suddenly grab my wrist. I looked at him, smiling at the fevered glitter of his eyes, and raised my eyebrows in question. He glanced at my friend, who was finishing a song, and I smiled. "I think she'll understand," I murmured as the crowd started applauding. "After all, it's her own fault -- she's too good at those torch-songs."
Benton laughed and stood, a bit uneasily, and pulled my chair back for me. I gave Diane a flicker of a smile and a half-shrug, mouthing the words 'Your fault -- you're too good.' She laughed softly, and leaned down to speak to the pianist. As we made our way to the door of the club, the first bar of "At Last" started up. Benton and I looked at each other and grinned.
***
We decided to go to her apartment simply because it was closer. We walked there, but kept our hands entwined, the contact keeping the cold from taking any kind of edge off our desire. Not that we should have worried. As soon as the elevator doors closed in the lobby, I kissed her, and all sense of propriety nearly vanished. I pulled her close against me, every line of her body amazingly clear even through the layers of cloth between us, and I suddenly, very distinctly, did not want any cloth between us. I wanted to feel her skin under my fingers, needed to feel her.
My hands followed the thought without my conscious mind's permission, pushing up her coat and dress, cupping her thighs and bottom. Stroking, grabbing, while I tasted her, my mouth on her throat, down to the triangle of skin revealed as I opened the top of her coat. I ran my tongue along the line of her collarbone, nipping at the sensitive skin at the side of her neck, holding her close, wanting her, wanting her to feel how much I wanted her.
She let out a little moan, her hands working at the buttons of my coat, pushing the cloth away from my neck so that she could taste me as well. The feel of her kissing me like that, the feel of her tongue sliding against my skin, excited me so much that I was tempted to hit the emergency stop button and take her right there in the elevator. I dragged my mouth away from her and pulled away, caught her face in my hands and kissed her, thrusting my tongue into her mouth, showing her what I desperately wanted to do with my body.
She clung to me and responded just as fiercely, her hands sliding down my back to clench my buttocks, pulling me towards her as she pushed her hips forward, grinding against me. Exquisite torture, knowing I had to wait until we got to her apartment. Pulling apart as the elevator doors opened lest we shock a neighbor. . .then grabbing one another again when the hallway showed itself to be clear. Unable to resist, I shoved her up against the wall by her apartment door, my hands pulling at the buttons of her coat, then sliding up the fabric of her dress to her breasts, kneading them as I kissed her, wanting to know the taste of them.
Somehow she got the keys from her purse and I let her go long enough for her to turn and undo the lock. I waited while she flipped on the lights, and found myself pushed up against the door as I closed it. Her hands caught mine and pressed my arms back against the door as she kissed me, then moved her mouth down to my collar, biting just on the verge of real pain. Then she released me, her hands dropping to undo the rest of the buttons on my coat, then to my belt-buckle when that was accomplished. She pulled me up against her as she slipped the leather free, kissing me, and I pushed her coat down her shoulders, moving her backwards down the hall.
It occurred to me that I'd never been inside her home before, having always said good-bye at the lobby. Avoiding temptation. I'd often wondered what it looked like; now I didn't even spare it a glance, except to orient myself as we headed further inside. We knocked over a lamp and set a few paintings askew as she guided us towards the bedroom, shedding our clothes along the way, laughing as we nearly tripped over them on occasion. Until finally we were in her bedroom, and I saw her beauty in full for the first time. I paused and looked down at her, admiring, not feeling awkward in the least as she surveyed me in the same slow way.
"You're so beautiful," she whispered, and I smiled, my breath catching and my desire rising sharply as she reached out and ran her hands slowly across my chest. I don't think I've ever reacted so strongly to a woman's touch, even with Victoria. It was like she was made of fire, her fingers leaving trails of tingling heat as they moved across my skin. I watched her come closer to me, frozen in place as she bent her head forward and her mouth followed the path of her hands, a brand on my flesh, burning not nearly hot enough.
I whispered her name and wrapped a hand in the silken mass of her hair, cradling her head as her mouth moved to a nipple, consuming it, sending need arrowing straight into my groin. God, how I wanted her! And yet I couldn't move, too caught up in the web of sensation her gentle touches were creating. Not seducing, no. Admiring, exploring, worshipping. . .loving. That more than anything made my need for her unbearable, painful. "Nina," I said again, but this time I was pleading.
She lifted her head and my hand cupped the back of her head as she tilted it back to look up at me. Small, so small she was, her head just passing my shoulder. And yet she was in complete control at that moment. If she had denied me then, I think I would have died. Instead she smiled and lifted her hand to stroke my cheek, curving it behind my head as I did hers, her fingers caressing the nape of my neck as she pulled my head towards hers. She murmured my name and the spell broke.
***
I looked up at him, running my fingers through that wonderful thick hair, cropped so short in back, and pulled him down to me. "Benton," I said softly, kissing him, and his arms wrapped around me almost roughly. Before I knew it, he had picked me up and in two long strides had reached the bed and laid me down on it, gently. So gentle, so beautiful, my Benton. It hit me then that he was 'my Benton'. He was going to make love to me, and I to him, together. . . Then his mouth touched my skin and I could barely breathe, let alone think.
Sweet and soft, but rough at the same time, demanding, and I answered in the only way I could. My back arched and I pressed up into his mouth, burning up from his touch, desperately wanting more. He lavished the same attention on my breasts as I had given his nipples, licking and nipping, tugging gently with his teeth, bringing broken moans from me at every new touch.
One of his hands went behind me to cup my bottom, sliding down to pull my thigh up against his side, opening me to him, and his other hand slid between us. I could feel him against me, hard, so hard, and I wanted to bring him home, into me, where he belonged. His fingers found my core, and I felt him smile as he felt how wet I was, then he drew that wetness up, sliding easily against my clit. I let out a low cry, arching my hips up, wanting more, wanting him, so much it hurt. I whimpered his name as his fingers stroked hard and slow against me, his other hand on my thigh as I wrapped my leg over his hips.
I put my hands on his shoulders, ran them down his back and then up again, digging my nails in lightly as I did. His rhythm increased, and suddenly a finger, then two, slid into me and I gasped. He felt so good, and I wanted more. I needed more. . . "Benton, please!"
He lifted his head from my breasts and smiled down at me. "Tell me what you want," he whispered.
His voice was alive, sliding over my body as surely as his hands had, but going deeper, touching my soul. I shuddered and my eyes locked with his. "I want you inside me," I whispered back, unable to make my voice any louder than that.
"I am inside you," he answered, smiling, and pushed his fingers hard into me to prove it.
I moaned and arched up into him, then slid one hand down his side, to where I could feel him throbbing against me. "No," I said, and wrapped my hand around him, "you're not." I smiled up at him and stroked, pressing hard enough to bring a sharp moan from him. He bit off the sound and lowered his head to kiss me; I stroked him again, and again, setting up a rhythm almost steady enough, but not quite. Just like he was doing with me.
After a moment, his breath was coming in pants, echoing my own as his fingers matched my hand's rhythm. I couldn't stand it anymore. I was close, very close, but I wanted him inside me when I came. I wanted to feel him, clench around him, have him pound into me as he climaxed. . .
Oh damn!
"Wait, wait!" I gasped. He raised his head to frown at me, his breathing harsh, then understood and nodded, letting me go so that I could run into the bathroom. I came back with the whole box. "No more side trips," I told him with a chuckle, and he smiled.
I tore open the packet and pushed him onto his back on the bed. He leaned on his elbows to watch me as I laid soft kisses down his belly until I reached the nest of soft curls at his base. I stroked him gently, laying an open-mouthed kiss on the tip, my tongue darting out to taste the moisture there. His breath caught in a groan and I looked at him. His eyes were bluer than I had ever seen them, shining from wanting me, making my heart feel like it was about to burst.
I rolled the condom over him slowly, delighting in the fevered gleam of his gaze as he watched me, his mouth slightly parted. His tongue darted out to wet his lips and desire crashed into me as if his hand had never left me. "Benton," I whispered, sliding back up his body until I could kiss him. "Now. . .please. . ."
He smiled and wrapped his arms around me, captured my mouth roughly as he turned us so that his weight settled on top of me. . ..then into me. . .
***
So hot and tight. Welcoming me, inviting me, driving me further as she clenched around me.
Her name was on my lips, and I kissed her as deeply as I could, trying to rival my body. Her mouth was as sweet as her soul, her tongue dancing against mine, her voice whispering my name as I pulled away for a bit to kiss her shoulder.
***
So hard, so slow and sweet and gentle. . .Begging him, loving him, needing him. . .
***
Yesss. . . Ooh god. . .dear god. . .
***
More. Harder. Please. . .
***
Moving inside her, held safe in her arms, brought home from exile with every thrust deep inside her.
***
Filling me and then leaving me empty. . .
***
Heaven, Valhalla, promises never to be broken. . .
***
Oooh god, god, Benton, I love you. . .
***
My love, my Nina. . .
***
Yes. . .harder, yes. . . please . . .oh please, yes!!
***
Oh god. . .oh yes. . .yes, god yes!!!
***
Again, and again, until we both cried out, our climaxes spilling over on top of each other. . .
***
Shaking us loose from reality until we lay shaking in each other's arms, drifting back slowly to the sound of our heartbeats, sounding like one heart. . .
***
And maybe. . .
***
Maybe. . .
***
They were.
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