0 comments/ 13233 views/ 0 favorites A Month of Summer Ch. 1 By: Kelwynna_Douglas The room was filled with the soft murmur of conversation, the chime of glasses, a drift of soft music rising from the piano standing at the corner of the room near the doors to the terrace. He moved through the rooms, greeting and smiling, inserting himself into conversations, effecting introductions with casual energy. It was like a dance whose steps are so well known that partners could be acquired and lost without the pattern faltering - indeed, the discard became part of the pattern and between his solicitations for new companions he moved with thoughtless power through the weave of bodies. He stopped to claim a cold beer from one of the small bars scattered around and stood with it beside a clutch of potted trees, drinking and surveying the possibilities of the room. He heard a soft swarm of laughter next to him, his eyes caught a smooth coronet of auburn hair, a rush of black silk, she moved past him towards the bar and he heard her laughing protest to her companion. 'No, Jeffrey - really - just a small glass of wine! I don't dare have more than that, I'll be stumbling over my fingers!' and she took the glass smilingly proffered and sipped. The sounds of the room fell into an unimaginable distance, his fingers tightened around the slick coldness of the beer bottle and he was conscious that his heart had sped up. It couldn't be . . . he moved closer. Her voice was filled with laughter, teasing. The laughter sent an unmistakable shiver down his spine, he was suddenly sure. He watched, sipping at his beer, speculating. When she excused herself and stepped through the glass doors out onto the terrace, he followed. She stepped across the deck and leant upon the railing that separated it from the sea, slender form covered in light and shadow, long neck arched as she gazed at the tattered clouds racing across the moon. He moved closer. She heard him, turned. The breeze had torn tendrils from the smooth waves of her hair, tiny columns of curl twisted against her throat, her temples. She watched him calmly, her fingers toying with her wine glass. 'Hello there,' she said finally, as he came to stand beside her. The fitted lines of her dress clung to her in the face of the wind, he could feel the warm smoothness of her skin reaching out to him. He took a step closer, set his bottle down upon the railing, looked at her. She turned away slightly, nervous of his silence, his eyes over her. His fingers reached out, closed about her wrist. She started, looked up into his face, faltered. His eyes were intent on hers, his fingers slid down to lift her hand from the wood, rubbing gently over the long fingers. 'What are you doing here?' he asked finally, his voice a low inquiry, his hand raising her fingers towards his lips. She tried to pull away, but he held her hand in an inexorable grip. His lips brushed across the back of her hand, then his eyes rose to meet hers. They were wide, blue, incredulous. 'Margaret,' he said, and watched her eyes widen with sudden recognition. 'Carter?' she breathed at last, and he could see the sudden speed of her pulse against her throat. 'What are you doing here?' he asked unsteadily, mouth dry with the unexpectedness of her. 'How did you -?' He could not stop himself, both of his hands found on her shoulders and his body closed with hers until he could feel the warmth of her through his clothes. 'It was your voice . . . all those phone calls . . . your laugh . . . I don't know, I just knew. What are you doing here?' he repeated, his eyes on hers. Her hands flat against his chest, she looked up into his eyes, breath caught in her from tension. 'I'm working,' she said. 'The next month . . . I've got a job at the hotel, playing.' His heart pounded. 'Here?' 'Yes. Here.' 'Why didn't you tell me?' 'I was going to, after I'd settled in and - ' 'Where's your room?' he interrupted, very conscious of her, aware that they couldn't be alone much longer. 'I can't leave until after my next set,' she said, 'and even then, I think we should wait -' His fingers tightened, shook her, crushed her against him. 'I've waited. Which room?' '110,' she whispered, and he could feel her legs tremble. He ached with the need to touch her, but forced himself to pull away, recede from her. 'In an hour,' he said, his voice raw. 'I'll be there in an hour.' Against the pale light, he could see her nod, see the way her arms wrapped around herself. He left her while he could. Back in the hot room, too brightly lit for him, he circulated automatically. He became aware of something that plucked at him, called him, stopped for moment with his head turning to isolate the sound. The woman standing next to him caught his eye and nodded towards the piano. 'It's lovely, isn't it?' He slipped over to join the crowd around the piano. Her hair was still torn by wind, curling about her face, her fingers moved gracefully, surely across the keys. Delicate passion twined through the room, the music barely restrained. He could feel it surround him, stroked into being by her hands, her face dreaming, unaware. His hands clenched at his sides, aching to capture her. He forced himself away from the piano, to where the music still called but could not inflame him. Slowly the room cleared of people, he sensed her rise to close the piano, acknowledge compliments, moving through towards the door. She turned at the last to search for him, finding him at last and letting her eyes fall, a slight flush on her cheeks as she turned into the hallway and disappeared. His eyes followed her, then fell to his watch. Only a few moments. He forced himself to wait. When he stood outside her door, the sense of immanence was crushing. But she had been listening for him, and the door opened before he could raise his hand to knock. He came inside silently, pressing past her to stand in the center of her room. She closed the door and leant against it, watching him. She was still dressed for playing, the thin black silk of her dress setting her hair into flames in the dim room. 'Come here,' he said hoarsely. And she stepped towards him, slowly, until untouching they stood face to face. He had intended tenderness, but his hands were rough on her as he pulled her to him, crushed her body against his and groped for her mouth with his own. She resisted him, twisting slightly in his arms, until his mouth locked on hers and he kissed her with a passion that left her dizzy, defenseless. Inside of himself a heat that would not wait, a desire he could not master. His hands slid beneath the skirt of her dress, sliding up over the cool silk of her stockings to the warm smoothness of her bare thighs to where he could feel the warmth of her through the lace of her panties. He groaned low in his throat and his fingers bunched in the thin fabric, pulling until the lace shredded, tore, came away in his hands. Without warning, his fingers plunged into her, found her wet, her flesh hot. He heard her moan, try to marshal her body to pull away from his sudden invasion, but he was too strong to let her escape. Back onto the bed he pressed her, his mouth still locked on hers, his fingers plunging between her legs with a desperate violence. He ignored her wordless protests, with his free hand he undid the belt at his waist, then the button, then the slow rush of the zipper. He kicked the trousers free of his legs and grabbed one of her hands, forcing the fingers around his cock. He saw her eyes leap open as she felt him, then he was in between her legs, his body forcing her knees apart. He was nearly dizzy with the heat of her. He arched himself, then in one swift thrust he was inside of her at last. Dimly he could hear her cry out as he entered her, but she was so hot around him that he lost all control. Gone was any thought of slow, of tender, of teasing. Desperate with the need of her, he took her, plunging into her shuddering body again and again, merciless. Took her with his hands hard on her, took her until he could feel her body arch, twist, rise beneath him as she gasped helplessly at her climax. Into her, sinking, losing himself until he felt the tight clutch of heat begin to dissolve through him and he impaled her on his cock, holding her still, grinding into her and then filling her with the hot explosion of his orgasm. He fell forward against her, gasping for breath, hearing her soft moans beneath him as her heart slowed. After the longest moment, he was able to look into her face, kiss her slowly. Her eyes were wide, dark, astonished, but her arms slid around him, pulled him towards her. Her lips beneath his were filled with promises. A Month of Summer Ch. 2 Carter watched Margaret sleep with a curious tenderness, his fingertip tracing lightly the contours of cheekbone and brow-line until she murmured smilingly in her dreams. The pale rose-gray of dawn sifted through the thin curtains, and he could hear the whisper of the eternal sea calling to him from across the beach outside the window. After a glance at the clock, he bent to kiss her forehead before rising lightly from the tumbled bed. He closed the bathroom door quietly before he turned on the light. In the wide mirror over the sink, he examined himself, noting the shallow half-circles her fingernails had left in his forearms where she'd clutched at him as her body shuddered and writhed beneath his. He stretched, cat-like, a strong thrum of returning desire vibrating through him as he was reminded of her uninhibited responses. He could feel his cock hardening again, and with a small groan he turned on the shower. The water pulsed hotly over his skin; he lathered his skin with the slim bar of soap and stroked himself idly, his cock stinging deliciously against his fingers. He thought of her lying there, abandoned to sleep and dreaming, her pale skinned body flushed with heat, just waiting to be teased into wakefulness. He thought about how late he was going to be if he went back in to her and touched her. He thought about not giving a damn, and his fingers curled around the hard length of his shaft as his body jerked at the thought of making love to her again. With sudden decision, he shut off the water, wrapped a swift towel around his waist and went back into the bedroom. He stopped in surprise, blinking at the sight of the empty bed, the warm sheets chilling rapidly beneath the breeze from the open window. "Margaret?" he called, his voice puzzled as he looked around the room, searching for her. There was nothing to show where she had gone, but on the dresser he spied the card-shaped room key propped against the lamp. Biting back a snarl of frustration, he dressed quickly and tucked the key into his wallet before leaving the room. It was an effort not to search for her, to ask at the front desk, but he managed to restrain himself. Besides, what could he say? "Excuse me, but have you seen the piano player?" For some reason, the office was even more frustrating than usual. Carter dealt with the sheaf of problems on his desk, dispatching repairmen and maintenance staff to his various rental properties with the ease of long practice. His assistant, Jill, fielded phone calls and, after her first glance at her boss's face, provided a steady stream of coffee. He had to fight to keep his mind on work, catching himself more than once drifting off into a reverie that found his hand stroking lightly across his lap. He called Margaret's room more than once, but there was never any answer. Just before noon, Jill stuck her head into his office. "We've got a problem over at the West Avenue property - that elevator is out of service again." "Damn," Carter muttered, leafing through papers. "And all the maintenance guys are out on other calls. I'll have to take it - and I'll grab some lunch while I'm out." She nodded and went back to her desk as he headed out the door. He didn't notice that Margaret was in the car until he'd closed the door and started the engine. It was the dim fragrance of her perfume that alerted him, that and the salt-musk smell of her skin. In the rear-view mirror, he saw her smiling at him. "I've been waiting for you," she said, her voice teasing. Carter turned in his seat to look at her in disbelief. "Where'd you disappear to this morning?" he demanded, his foot unconsciously gunning the engine. Her smile was mysterious. "Oh, somewhere," she replied sweetly. "I didn't want to make you late for work." Her eyes met his in the mirror. "Why don't you pull out of this oh-so-public parking lot?" He took a deep breath, backed the car out of the space and turned onto the street. Margaret slipped lithely between the two front seats, sank down into the passenger's seat and reclined it slightly. "You don't know how relieved I am that you don't drive a stick shift," she murmured. "And why is that?" Carter asked. She reached across and took his hand, stroking his fingers with an almost electric lightness. "Because you don't have to give your full attention to driving," Margaret's voice whispered as she put his hand on the bare skin of her thigh and guided it beneath the hem of her skirt. Heat seemed to shimmer off her flesh against his fingers, she arched slightly in her seat until he brushed against the damp triangle of curls between her legs. "Jesus, Margaret!" he gasped, the car weaving slightly. With a soft laugh, her hand reached down to press his fingers against her. "I was waiting for you an awfully long time, Carter," she said huskily. "It got me thinking . . . " "About what?" he managed, his fingers circling around the hard flicker of her clitoris until she moaned. "About how much I want you." And with this, one of her hands moved across to stroke the growing swell of his cock. All of his hard-won restraint was lost in the face of this reminder, he was afire at once under the knowing pleasure of her touch. With a savage twist, he turned the car abruptly down a side street and slammed to a stop in a secluded parking lot at the end of it. He reached down and pulled at the seat release, shoved the seat back on its carriage and reclined it simultaneously. Her hand cupped him still, thumb stroking slow circles against the line of his stiff prick. Carter looked over at her, saw her run the tip of a pink tongue across the generous curve of her lips. "Shall I show you?" she asked softly, before he could speak, and she turned in her seat to undo his pants and take out his cock. It was hot and hard in her hands, and her fingers drifted agonizingly across the taut skin until he gasped, his hips thrusting up in a convulsive shudder. "I think you want me to show you, don't you, Carter?" She did not wait for him to reply, but bent her head over his lap, her fingers gently caressing him as she pulled him towards her lips. He could feel the wet hunger of her tongue lapping at him, gliding over every inch of exposed skin. Her breath was warm against him and he groaned involuntarily. Margaret lifted her head slightly to look at him, the veins pulsing in high relief, glistening where her mouth had made him wet. "Please!" he found himself begging, wanting her hot mouth tight around him. She did not make him wait, lowering her head, she took the swollen head of his cock into her mouth and tightened around it, her fingers stroking his shaft, curling around it as her tongue swirled around and around. He heard her groan very low in her throat, the vibrations rippling across his nerves. His hands found her hair and tightened in it, pressing her down onto him. Margaret took him slowly, resisting his attempts at haste, slowly deeper and deeper until he was engulfed by the warm passion of her mouth. With a muffled gasp, he arched up from the seat and felt her fingers slide beneath the waistband of his trousers, easing them down from his hips. He was dimly aware of her hands squeezing and stroking his balls as her mouth moved in ever-faster spirals around him. Carter started to shake, and then he lost all control and bucked up hard and harder into that hot mouth that had suddenly become everything in his world. He could hear her moaning as he started to explode into her mouth, into her throat, and he pinned her down against his hips, forcing her to swallow desperately as his cum jetted into her again and again. A dizzying time later, he felt her raise her head from his lap and he opened his eyes to look at her. There was an almost feline smile of satisfaction on her face as her tongue slid around her lips, and she sat back into her seat, watching him. "My God, Margaret," he managed finally, reaching with shaking fingers to pull his trousers back up. She leant back in her seat and pulled his hand down between her legs. "Take me somewhere, Carter. Take me somewhere you can spread me open and taste me." "I had no idea you were this . . . " he couldn't finish the thought. "This what?" she asked softly. "This . . . wanton," he said at last. "Don't you like it?" she wondered mischievously. "It's what you do to me, Carter. All those months talking on the phone and you didn't know how hot you make me?" His fingers pressed into her suddenly, and he heard her gasp. "Oh, I like it," he said, taking his hand away to start the car, conscious of the rich fragrance of her rising wet from his fingers. "I just wonder if you know what it does to me when you're like this." She turned her head and looked him directly in the eyes. "I'm looking forward to finding out. We've got a whole month." As he turned the car around, Carter realized that a month might not be enough for all the thoughts whirling through his mind. The West Avenue property was one of his flagship condominium developments, so none of the resident staff was at all surprised to see the boss checking out the malfunctioning elevator. "Go to lunch, guys," Carter said cheerfully. "If I can't fix it, I'll get my regular repair guy over here later. G'wan, scram!" and they dispersed happily, probably off to some disreputable beach bar for lunch. Margaret watched him with a soft smile playing about her lips. "Mr. Fix-It, are you? I had no idea." He grinned at her and pulled her into the elevator car, jabbing at a button with his finger until the doors closed. "Oh, I can fix nearly anything," he said in a low voice against her neck. "Got anything needs fixing, honey?" Her laughter purred against his ear. "Well, I've got this terrible problem . . . " He stopped her voice with his mouth, his tongue darting playfully between her lips, flickering against her teeth. After a long searching kiss, he pulled away from her to look down at the soft flush on her cheeks. "You said something about wanting my mouth on you earlier, you know." Her arms slid up around his neck and locked behind his head. "I remember," she acknowledged dreamily. His lips brushed over her neck, he cupped her full breasts in his hands and teased the nipples erect against his fingers. He tilted his head and flicked his tongue over the hard jut of her left nipple, and felt a sting of lust through him at her started gasp. He tongued her nipples through the fabric until her whole body was a twist of clinging heat. Margaret moaned and closed her eyes, her fingers digging into his shoulders. Carter cupped his hand over her pubic mound and felt her begin to writhe against it, he pressed harder, rubbing her through the thin cotton of her skirt. He felt the fabric get wet against his fingers, waited until her voice joined the plaint of her body before he moved to touch her bare flesh. She lifted the skirt with her own hands, pulling it out of his way in her desire. "Lean back against the railing," he whispered to her, and pressed her bare hips against the cool metal, and he saw her fingers grab at the brass rail and cling. His fingers delved slowly through the wet folds of her pussy, found the aching throb of her clitoris and began to stroke it. "Not going to take you very long, is it?" he teased, dotting kisses along the taut line of her throat. Her hips writhed against his fingers, her breathing wild. She did not see him reach for the control panel and press a button, didn't notice as the car began to rise slowly through the shaft. Only when the sudden stab of sunlight through clouds hit her closed eyes did she seem to realize what was happening. "Carter!" The glass walls of the elevator offered a 180-degree view of the ocean, the beach, and all the people on it. With her legs spread wide and her back arched against the railing, Margaret attracted a few stares and then concentrated attention from a crowd of teenaged boys in the parking lot below. Carter twined two of his fingers together and plunged them suddenly into her hot cunt. She stiffened and cried out, her hands clutching at him tightly as her body spasmed and exploded in pleasure. At the top of the building the elevator stopped and he slid down onto his knees in front of her, his hands beneath her thighs, lifting her unresisting to his mouth. He raked his tongue along the lips of her dripping pussy, then spread them with his fingers and probed her wildly until she cried out again. His lips tightened around her clit and he sucked on it hard, his tongue darting against it over and over again. He could feel the muscles in her thighs strain as she tried to grind herself harder against his hungry mouth. She was sweet and salty and tart and so hot that he was dizzy with the scent of her. He could feel the explosion building in her again, and he was relentless, faster and faster he licked, flickered, sucked at her until she screamed with the force of it and it went on and on and on . . . He rose to his feet, pulling her shaking body against him and reaching for her lips with his. His hands caressed her back, stroked across the fervent throb of her heart, she melted against him, her legs trembling. He reached across the car to press another button and the car began to descend. Carter felt the beginnings of laughter begin to froth through her and he stroked her hair. "You're evil," she informed him, flushing scarlet as she noticed the crowd of attentive young men in the parking lot who were now applauding. The car sank into the depths of the building, hiding them from view. His hands gently smoothed her tumbled skirt back down as he leant back to grin at her a little wickedly. "But you love it," he said softly. "Maybe next time I'll do more than put my mouth on you in an elevator. Maybe next time, I'll let the doors open while your skirt's hiked up . . . " The elevator doors hissed open with a pneumatic whisper and they emerged into the basement. Margaret was still a little shaky on her feet, he slid an arm around her waist and kissed her again. "Have I told you," he whispered, "how very, very glad I am that you're here at last?" "Tell me again," she challenged him, teasing. "Tell me again!"