Laura Blaurosen
She kisses him hard and he immediately damns himself for being male. Is this what he wants? She tastes like smoke and wine, like the first woman he ever kissed. The bed is so near and all he wants right now is to feel better, to feel more than the bitterness.
She walks into him, forcing him to walk backward into his bedroom, and he feels like he's floating in there. He knows the room, but right now he feels like it isn't his. Like this whole place doesn't belong to him.
When she pushes him back, forcing him to lie down in his bed, he's overwhelmed with need. For her in particular? Perhaps. He's not exactly sure.
He lies there and lets her undress him. She has a smug grin on her face once her task is complete, but he doesn't care one bit. He's only half there and he's only waiting.
My turn.
He thinks that's what she says, or asks, he can't quite hear her. He does hear voices in his head. Not voices of a madman, rather those one imposes on himself. For penance, maybe. Voices from his so-called friends, sounds of disgust, distaste. It doesn't phase him.
By God, but she is a lovely creature.
Perhaps that in itself makes this all right. Sort of an "art for art's sake" scenario. Here stands a goddess of a human being, how can one not partake of her?
But, you realize, HE wants her dead.
She thinks he's never done this sort of thing before, and she is more than wrong. He's had plenty of nights such as this. He knows she believes this is going to change his loyalties. But for him, it really is nothing more than what it is.
Slowly she crawls naked across the bed on all fours. He watches her breasts sway and he draws in a long breath, savoring her scent.
He had planned that the next time he would be doing this it would be with a much different woman. A girl this woman's complete opposite. Naive, gentle, kind.
A girl that he knows this woman's never been, and never could be.
When she lifts her lean and defined leg to straddle him, he grabs her by the shoulders and overpowers her. She gasps, but never flinches, and smiles at him once she's on her back.
He grabs her by the wrists and moves them outward, pushing them into the bed. She feigns a minor struggle, smiling all the while. She's daring him to squeeze her harder, to bruise her. She wants reminders, proof. He doesn't have that much desire.
He lays his stubbled cheek on her chest and runs it lightly down her torso. He can hear her breath catching in her throat and when he devours a breast, she wails as if in pain. She swallows and moans again as he sucks as hard as he can.
She writhes beneath him, lifting her pelvis toward his body, blindly seeking contact of any sort. She growls and whimpers and tells him exactly how it's making her feel.
Oh, yes, suck me dry!
As if it were possible.
After awhile he realizes she's begun to touch herself. He rips her hand away and moves himself back. He wants to know how it tastes. He plunges his tongue between her folds and drinks freely.
She growls like a woman possessed and unapologetically circles her hips into his face. She's talking, still telling him in deep detail just how good she feels. It annoys him. He wished she'd not speak at all.
Wesley, let me, she begs, tugging on his hair.
But he doesn't want that, even though it would prevent her from speaking. He just wants it over with now.
He raises himself, draping over her. She reaches for his dick, but he grabs her hand before she can grasp him.
What? Why? She wants to know.
He takes hold of her hands once again and presses them into the pillows on either side of her head. She's smiling.
Gonna give it to me, Wes? She asks.
He lowers his head and kisses her, diving into her below. She's soft and moist and warm and this time her mouth tastes sweet. Sweet like strawberries and whipped cream. Her growling turns to soft whimpers and her muscular figure is small now. She smells like gardenias.
He's gentle with her, thrusting long and slow and enjoying being in her. She grunts and rips her face away from his.
Ahhhh, Wes, I can't breathe. But it feels so damn good, she laughs.
Shut up, damned trollop.
Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me!
He speeds up his thrusts so that he can't hear her anymore. He hears nothing, sees no one.
Not her, and not even the other one.
Oh, God, come on.
Finish. Finish. Finish.
End
Fiction