0 comments/ 15714 views/ 0 favorites The Lustful Truth By: lise_johanneson These fucking heels. I feel so sexy in them, but trying to run over the grating on this Manhattan sidewalk is only making me later, not to mention sweaty. I look at my watch, slowing down a moment to read it, and sigh; only 10 minutes late. I see the entrance to the restaurant and stop, get a tissue out of my bag, and wipe my face down. I catch my breath, and try to control the nervous anticipation in my stomach. Christian and I haven't seen each other in months, since the last time we almost... But that's in the past. He's getting married in two days. I push open the door and am relieved to feel the coolness of the air conditioner on my face. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, but once they do, I immediately spot Chris sitting at a table in the back corner of the room. I smile at the maitre 'd and indicate my company. I ask for a glass of sauvignon blanc, some water with lemon, and make my way to him, to Christian, and I can feel every muscle in my stomach contract. Ten years of friendship and still my desire for him, to feel him, to taste him, has not abated. Thank God he's getting married. Thank God there is no longer a possibility. He stands as I approach the table and wraps his arms around me. Even now, I can feel the strength in his embrace, can feel the muscles in his back, his arms, can smell his sweet manly scent. He never wears cologne; it's just him, just his body, his heat that gives off this scent and it drives me wild. We talk and order, and talk some more, laughing and joking as we always do. We catch up on the past few months, talk about the big day, and I watch with keen interest as he seems to become less animated as he starts talking about his future wife, and his very soon-to-be future life. The food arrives and the silence that ensues is more than just hunger driven. Something's wrong. We continue ordering drinks, and as I become more lively, he becomes more withdrawn. Finally, when I can feel the buzzing in my head, I stop and pull his chin up so that he's looking me in the eye. "What is it?" I say. "What's wrong?" It happens so fast that even were I able to think straight, I wouldn't have been able to stop it. His right hand grabs my hand off his face as his left hand envelops the back of my head and pulls me to him. He pauses for just a moment to look me in the eye before his gaze falls to my lips and he gently presses his own against mine. His lips are soft, and I can feel his tongue graze delicately over my slightly open mouth. My tongue responds, it moves slowly and tenderly against his, and both my hands are now around the back of his head, feeling the softness of his short hair. His scent and his taste fill me up, and the way his tongue feels in my mouth make it almost impossible for me to breathe. I pull back and look at him. There's no inkling of humor, no hint of a smile or a laugh. He looks away to find our waiter and hands him a wad of money without even looking at a check. He says nothing as he grabs my hand and pulls me out of my seat, leading me out the door onto the busy street. He pulls me briskly along with him, and I curse these fucking heels one more time as I try and maneuver the sidewalk in my half drunken state. I don't say a word, don't ask where we're going because I can see on the opposite corner a glowing Manhattan hotel. We jog across the street, dodging angry cab drivers, because our need for each other is so great we cannot wait for the light to give us permission to be have one another. We slide into the revolving door together, forcing me to press my tits against his back, wrap my arms around his stomach; he pushes the door with his right hand and his left hand reaches back and grabs my ass. My pussy starts to ache. He speaks to the man at the desk about getting a room, no a suite now, and the man just smiles and complies, our lust palpable even to him. He hands us a key and we step into an elevator. He presses the button for the 54th floor, and turns to push me against the wall. His hands are in my hair, his body up against mine. I can feel how hard he is without even moving, can hear his shallow breath as he struggles to control himself. His brown eyes just stare into my blue ones and we say nothing as we go higher and higher up. No kissing, no touching. Just looking. The elevator opens and we make our way to a corner of the floor. The key clicks the door open and he guides me in before him, puts the do not disturb sign on the knob, and deadbolts the door. He turns and looks at me. His eyes take in every inch of my body, from those fucking heels, to my curvy hips, to my heaving breasts, to my messy hair. He stands there for what feels like forever, and as I watch him desiring me, I become more and more aroused. Finally he moves toward me and takes my face in his hands. He moves me toward the bed, and my hand goes to turn off the light. "No," he says. "No, I want to see every inch of you. I want to learn every inch of your body." He then skims his lips across mine, and does it again, this time with his tongue. He comes back a third time, this time diving into my mouth, both hard and soft at the same time, delving and exploring with his tongue, pulling back to bite my lips and then moving in again. I let out a small moan as his mouth moves to my neck, licking, sucking, biting. My hands go up the back of his shirt and I can feel his heat, his sweat, his muscles. My nails scratch into his skin, my rapid breathing making me lightheaded. He pulls back and his hands move to my sweater. He pulls it over my head and looks at my chest. My tits are big, round and soft and he lowers his mouth to them, gently kissing them and touching them with his hands. My hands are around his neck and I arch my head back and softly moan. I feel him stop and I look down at him. "You make me so fucking hot," he says. I lick my lips and pull his face to me and bite his lower lip. He pushes me down onto the bed and unbuttons his pants, letting his jeans drop to the floor. I can see how hard his cock is and become overwhelmed with my need to have it, to feel it in my hands, my mouth, my pussy. I sit up and look him in the eye as I feel him through his boxers, feel his balls, his girth, his length. I can feel it straining against the cotton, begging to be released. He watches me and I watch him back as I palm the tip, the shaft, then the tip again through his shorts. I can see his pleasure, can see his breathing become deeper. He closes his eyes and I lower his shorts and put my hand around his dick. I can feel it throbbing in my hand; my cunt is wet and aching, but I can wait, I can prolong feeling him inside me a little longer. I want to taste him. I run my tongue along the bottom of his dick and slowly roll it over the tip. I can see his stomach muscles flexing with the pleasure, and he puts his hands on my head. I look up at him as I grab the base of his cock and take the rest of him in my mouth. He watches me with his mouth open, unable to speak or move. Slowly, I take him in and out of my mouth, running my tongue along the bottom, savoring each time I get to the tip. His hands are pulling at my hair, and deep soft moans are escaping him as I start to move faster and faster, taking him in deeper each time. Finally he pulls me back, his body on the edge of cumming. He pushes me back on the bed and lowers himself on top of me, his dick pulsing into my thigh and I groan at the feel of it. He moves to one side a bit and starts rubbing my pussy over my jeans; I close my eyes. I can hardly breathe, can hardly wait to feel him feeling me, enjoying me. My breath is labored and shallow and he watches me as I become more and more desperate to have him. He unbuttons my pants and slowly moves the zipper down. He spreads my legs apart with his knee and skims just above my underwear with his fingertips. I am so hot, so wet, that all I can say is "please" in a hoarse whisper. He smiles and moves my pants down off my hips, then moves his finger down under my panties. My back arches as he runs his finger along my lips, not entering or rubbing, just teasing. I begin to whimper and finally I feel his finger in my wetness, around my hole, along my clit; I could cum in seconds. "Do you like the way I play with your pussy?" he asks. His fingers enter me and I cry out "fuck". He brings his mouth to mine and devours me as his fingers move deeper and faster inside me. He moves to my clit and I explode, moaning and writhing under his touch as he makes me cum. My fingers are digging into his ass and I pull him into me as my body keeps pulsing with orgasm. He slows his hand and pulls back to sit me up. He undoes my bra and grabs my full tits with his hands as his mouth moves to my nipple. He flicks it with his tongue, then nibbles it. Then he pulls on it with his teeth and I moan. He moves one hand to one tit and the other to my pussy as his mouth continues to play with my other nipple. I cry out as he makes me cum again, this time stronger and harder, my whole body shaking with pleasure and release. He moves himself directly over me. "Look at me," he says. "I want to see your face when I go inside you." I look at him and feel the tip of him resting, waiting to enter me. I hold my breath and look into his eyes as his big hard cock slowly moves into me. I take him in and lose my breath at the feeling. His face is stilled with the shocking pleasure of how fucking incredible this feels. He moves out slowly, and in again, and I can feel how his huge dick fills me up like no one else ever has. "How does it feel? How does it feel to have my cock inside you?" he whispers. I moan. "You feel incredible. So big, so hard..." He pulls back and thrusts into me with force and I cry out with pleasure. "Fuck me" I moan, hoarsely. "Fuck me, please, fuck me" and he drives his hips down, his cock going deeper and deeper into me every time. I feel my body building with orgasm, and as if he senses that I'm about to go he says "Look at me, I want to see your face when you cum. I want to see your face and cum with you." I look up at him and struggle to keep my eyes open as my body gets higher and deeper into orgasm, until I burst. We look at each other the whole time as I cry out and he moans, as I feel his cock pulsing, simultaneously exploding with me as I cum. I feel his heat pouring into me and I keep climaxing until he slows. We keep looking at each other as our movement stops and our breathing is all that's left to hear. He stays inside me as we stare at each other, satisfied for the moment, wondering about the future. This can't be undone. And it can no longer be ignored. He leans down and kisses me, still looking in my eyes. "I love you," he says. "I want you. That's what's wrong." The Lustful Truth Ch. 02 I can barely open my eyes. I see something glowing beside me, but it's fuzzy, blurry. I rub my right eye, open it, and squeeze closed my left. It's a clock. It's 4am. Where the hell am I? Oh shit. Oh shit, you have to be kidding... I pick my head up and look around the room. I'm still here, in the hotel room. It's very, very quiet. I turn my head to look at the person right beside me and... he's not there. I get up, rub my eyes again and stumble to open the bathroom door. Nothing, no one. Christian is gone. I put my back to the wall and slide down it until my ass is sitting on the floor. What the fuck did I do? What the fuck did we do? He's getting married tomorrow. Shit. I get my stuff together, find no note in the room and no messages on my phone. The bill is paid at the counter, so I leave and walk the seven blocks back to Penn station in these fucking heels. I get on the train to Bayshore and feel sick; too much wine. Too much fucking an almost married man. Too much kissing the man that I... Too much. He said love. He said he loves me, he said that's what's been wrong with him. He loves me and wants to be with me. Where is he? I get off the train and into my car and drive to the ferries that'll take me over to Fire Island. Where the wedding is. Where I'm staying at a friend's summerhouse while these festivities take place. It's early June, and the weather today is slightly cooler than the rest of the week has been. I stare at the water for the whole ride, thinking about almost nothing except how water and boats do nothing for hangovers or guilt. Finally we're at Atlantique. I get inside the house, find my beautiful border collie Reef well taken care of, sit outside with him for a half an hour, then lie down and sleep. By the time I wake up, it's mid-afternoon. The sun is shining, the air is perfect and I can hear the waves crashing just down the walkway. I'm supposed to be at Matthew's Restaurant in twenty minutes for the rehearsal dinner; it's in Ocean Beach fifteen minutes away. I don't care. I ruffle through the bag I had my friend Jessica drop off for me and pull out some shorts, a sports bra, a t-shirt and some socks. I drink a glass of water, and find my running shoes on the floor near the door. I see a note that Jessica left me saying how she'd see me on the mainland in a few days. I have the house to myself. I grab Reef's leash, and throw it over my shoulder; he doesn't need it, but just incase I get stopped it'd be better to have it. We walk out the door to the beach and start jogging. He stays right beside me. I feel better and better with each step, and can feel my legs working extra hard in the sand. Reef just trots along, running through the water, running in circles around me, and all I do is laugh. By the time I make it to Ocean Beach, I feel great. I'm thoroughly exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. I turn around and begin the jog back, and start walking when I'm a little out from the edge of Atlantique again. I take my shirt, shoes and socks off and jump in the water real quick to cool down. I'm just getting out of the water when Reef takes off running to the house. I start yelling and running after him, hastily grabbing my stuff off the beach. I get up towards the house and can't hear him anymore; I start to panic. I round the corner of the house and see Reef. Jumping. On Christian. I stand there, speechless. It takes a minute for him to look up, and takes even longer for his gaze to make it to my eyes. I'm half naked and soaking wet. He smiles, looking almost like he's smiling despite himself. He looks restrained. "I thought I should see you before the restaurant. I didn't want to leave it to chance, how I would react to seeing you," he grimaces. "And I wanted to see if you actually made it. If you decided to come at all." "I'm here," I say, "I came." "I see that." I stand there staring at him. I can feel the wind begin to move and shudder from the chill. I'm mortified to feel my nipples start to tighten, standing in my sports bra, so close to being exposed. I cross my arms. "Why don't we go inside," I begin to say, "or do you have to go? It's late, you should be at the restaurant already." "My Aunt Mary's flight got in late. Everyone's just hanging out at Matthew's, the party isn't really starting now until four." He shuffles his feet, shifts his gaze. "I can stay for a bit." I move past him, calling for Reef, and open the door. I tell Christian to head upstairs, that I'd be up in a second. I walk to the end of the hallway and go into my room. I'm about to take my sports bra off when I feel him looking at me. "Excuse me," I say, the discomfort in my voice obvious to both of us. "What? You weren't so modest last night," he chuckles. "Not funny," I respond. "We were drunk. We weren't thinking clearly." "Really?" he asks. I stare at him. "Really," he sighs. He backs out into the hallway; I can hear his flip-flops on the stairs. I pull my sports bra off and throw on a t-shirt. And a sweatshirt. Just to be safe. I evaluate myself in the mirror. Of all times and places, after all the running on beaches and jumping in oceans I've done in my life, this is the time he chooses to show up and see me in the aftermath. The night after fucking, the night before getting married to another woman. It's slightly humorous. Slightly. I leave myself as is. I get upstairs to the kitchen where he's sitting at a stool against the counter and see that he's helped himself to a beer. He's got a second one in his hand that he opens and hands to me. I take it and barely mumble a thank you. "Bells..." he starts saying. I laugh. Bells is what my grandfather had shortened my nickname to when I was a teenager. From Bella to Bells. Only a grandfather would shorten a short nickname. Only a grandfather would give you a nickname that had no relation to your real one. Only Christian knew why I was called that. "Bells, stop. You look miserable." I glance up at him. "Stop it, don't do that. I don't want to see you like this. Let's talk..." "About what?" I say. "Let's talk about what? About last night? About me, about you? Your fiancée? Or the party for the two of you that I now have," I look at the clock "officially twenty-four minutes to get ready for?" He looks down at the floor. I can see that he's squeezing his beer. "There's nothing to talk about, Chris," I say. "Just go. I'll see you at Matthew's." "I don't want it to be like this, I don't want you thinking..." "You have no idea what I'm thinking," I say. "None at all. Everything's fine, really. I'll see you in a little while." He looks at me, first puzzled, then resigned. He looks as if he's about to say something, then stops himself. He takes his beer, kisses me on the cheek as he passes, and walks out the door. I breathe. I make it to Matthew's only twenty minutes late. Considering the wait for the water taxi, I have reason to be proud. I walk around the bar, greeting, hugging, kissing familiar faces hello. There are people here who have been drinking for hours now. I waste no time getting myself involved. I see Christian and his fiancée in the corner of the restaurant, smiling, laughing and nodding their heads as people stream by to congratulate them. My level of nausea reaches new heights as she turns his head to kiss him for a picture. I want to hit her. We sit for dinner, talking more and more loudly as more and more alcohol is served. Within an hour, I feel I've made significant headway catching up to the people who have been here longer. An old friend, Matt, sits himself beside me, takes my hand and kisses it. "I haven't seen you in a long, long time Bella." "Hello there, Matthew. How've you been?" I giggle, his hands still holding mine. He smirks and gives me a once over. "Apparently not as good as you, but I've been okay." I look down at the floor and blush. Matt is a hot guy, and I am drunk at Christian's rehearsal dinner. I give him the once over back and say, "It looks like you're doing very well from what I can see." He smiles and kisses my hand again. I laugh to the floor and look up in time to see Christian glaring at me from across the room. I turn to Matt, continuing the conversation. He's on Wall Street now, involved in his fathers investment firm. He attended Columbia after high school, and I'm relatively sure after a large, charitable monetary donation from his parents, and was considering Harvard law after that, but changed his mind. I'm thinking bullshit the whole time. Matt Powers spelt his last name wrong on the SAT's. Incase you're wondering, you learn how to spell power in second grade. Harvard law was bullshit. I tell him about my own career, as a professional get-byer. I have no idea what I really want to do, so I get by by just being really good at whatever it is that's in front of me. He laughs. He smells good. I order another drink as he continues talking about what else he's been up to since high school. I can feel Christian's eyes on me as I continue to laugh and flirt, continue to let Matt put his hand on my arm, my leg. He talks about an upcoming trip to Spain and how he's considering tagging Italy on for the fun of it. I ask if it's a business trip. "No, no. No business there. Just relaxation. Fun. Good food and no work. Have you ever been overseas, Bell?" "Nope. Not a good flyer" I laugh, embarrassed. "I panic on planes." "Well that's no good. Maybe I can ease your mind," he says. I look at him, puzzled. "And how would you do that?" I ask, smiling. "Maybe you could come with me." I blink and begin laughing. "Matthew Powers, I haven't seen you in ten years and now you're asking me to go away with you? Overseas? Are you crazy?" "No, not crazy," he laughs. "Just an idea. There's a whole villa in Spain, you'd have your own room and everything. And if we go to Italy, you can have your own room there too." He smiles. "I like your company, Bella." You like my ass is what I'm thinking. I excuse myself to go to the restroom. As I stand up, Matt puts his hands around my hips and tells me to hurry back. His hands move around to grab my ass and he pulls me towards his face before letting me go. I smile. As I walk away I see Christian staring. I get to the bathroom, splash my face with water and look in the mirror; I'm flushed and starting to get very tipsy. I do the drunken laugh into my reflection, wipe my face and go back out. A hand grabs my wrist and pulls me out the door of the restaurant. "What the f...." I begin to say, trying to pry the fingers off my wrist. It's Christian. "What the hell do you think you're doing in there?" he demands. "What am I doing in there?" I sputter. "You're asking me what I'm doing in there?" I stare at him, open mouthed. "I'm enjoying the night before your wedding, Christian. I'm enjoying your party. Taking it all in." He's fuming. "Matthew fucking Powers, Bell? Matthew fucking Powers?" His face is red. I can see a vein bulging out of his neck. "What fucking difference does it make who it is? It's none of your business who I talk to in a bar, Christian, especially not this night at this bar. Most especially not after last night." He stares at me, grabbing my wrist even harder. "I don't give a shit what you think happened between us last night, Bella. I will not sit around watching Matt Powers think that he's taking your ass to his hotel room tonight to have you. It's not fucking happening." "I am at your rehearsal dinner Christian," I whisper furiously. "You are getting married tomorrow. I don't think anything happened between us last night. It's obvious by you being here, going through with this that nothing happened." "You think last night was nothing? Really, Bella? Nothing?" I look in his eyes, and I see a solid mixture of anger and hurt. I open my mouth to speak, but he suddenly throws my arm back down to my side and walks away. "Whatever you want. Do whatever the fuck you want." I stand there for a few seconds, speechless. I spend a few minutes collecting myself, then go back inside. Christian's planted himself next to his bride-to-be. I plant myself back next to Matt. "What took you so long, gorgeous? Thought you might have left." I laughed. "No, just stepped outside for a minute. Where were we?" Matt and I sit there laughing and flirting for what seems like hours as I watch Christian out of the corner of my eye. Finally, him and his fiancée stand to go. "Goodnight, everyone," she says with bright, shining teeth. "Thank you all so much for coming tonight. Christian and I have an early day tomorrow, so we're going our separate ways tonight to get some rest. See you all in the afternoon!" she exclaimed excitedly as people started clapping and yelling. I watch, frozen, as Christian nods his head to the room and walks out the door. The rest of us mill about the bar for another hour or so, slowing down the drinking as our speech gets slower with it. Finally I yawn and break the news to Matt that I am going home. He tries to get me to stay with him; I politely decline, but promise to spend time with him tomorrow at the wedding. It's obvious from his face that he had anticipated spending a different kind of time with me tonight. I just smile back and say goodnight. I decide to walk the beach back instead of take a water taxi. I have too much to think about, and had too much to drink. Motion via water would not be good right now. I go to the edge of the ocean and make my way back west. I have no idea what to do. Christian is getting married...today. I won't see him again until he's about to say his vows. My chest hurts with the thought of it, the pressure and constriction overwhelming me and I begin to cry. Involuntarily, uncontrollably crying, then sobbing. Somewhere inside me, I can feel a breaking, a splintering of something. I crouch to the ground, wrap my arms around my knees, tuck my head down and cry. I'm losing him. I'm losing someone I never had. Just when I think I can't take it anymore, I smell him, then feel his arms around me. He sits in front of me, wrapping his arms and legs around my body, putting his face in my hair, whispering to me that it's okay, that everything is going to be okay. My body keeps shaking as I cry, and it almost hurts more to hear him whispering such empty promises. I fight for what seems like forever to gain control of my emotions, stumbling a few more times over sobs before I feel like I can look up and see his face. I pick my head up, look into his eyes. There are tears. I put one hand on his face, both hands on his face. I don't care where we were, I don't care who sees us, I don't care what it will do to me tomorrow. Tonight, I have to have him; I have to be with him tonight. He puts his hands in my hair and we stare into each other's eyes for a moment before we pull ourselves together, his soft lips touching mine. It's slow and soft, and feels like it lasts forever. He pulls back to look at me, my eyes, then my mouth, and I can see his tongue imagining what it wants from me. I stare at him, my tears still wet on my cheeks. He wipes them away with his thumbs, then brings his mouth back to mine. His hands in my hair feel as if they want to pull me through him, as if they're trying to bring me closer to what's inside of him. My tongue skims his lips, then the inside of his mouth. I hear a deep growl from inside his chest and lose my breath at his excitement. We hear voices coming down the beach, and we both freeze, terrified of who it could be. They pass, some young teenagers, laughing as we watch them swagger on by. Christian looks at me. "Not here," is all he says. I nod my head and he helps me up. We hold hands as we walk the short distance to Jessica's house, and at one point, he pulls me tight under his arm and buries his face in my hair; I can hear him breathing me in. I smile. He moves me in front of him as we approach the door to the house. He puts his hands under my shirt, and slightly into my pants. They grab onto my hipbones and he pulls himself into me; I can feel his dick against my ass and lose my breath for a second. I put the key into the door with my right hand, and with my left hand reach behind me to feel his dick. I hear him lose his breath this time, and he brings his mouth to my neck and bites me. I cry out slightly and he does it again, so I grab his dick tighter and he bites me harder. He quickly turns me around and pushes me against the door. He grabs my wrists and pins them above my head and stares at me. His gaze falls to my mouth as he speaks. "The best part about last night," he says, putting both of my wrists under his left hand and moving his right hand under my shirt and into my pants, "was watching your face...every time..." he moves a finger to my clit and rubs, "I did something to you." I gasp and close my eyes, then exhale, strongly, loudly, trying to feel my legs, my whole body un-centered by the feel of his fingers and the smell of his body. I open my eyes and see him grinning, the look of lust in his eyes so strong it makes me ache. "The best part about last night," I struggle to say, "was watching you watch me." I run my tongue along my lips, his eyes catching the movement, and he moves his mouth to mine and bites my lower lip. I try and pull my hands down but he holds them, effortlessly, above my head and laughs softly at my struggle. "You are mine." He moves his mouth next to my face and I can feel his breath in my ear, "You belong to me. You can't stop me from doing..." he whispers as he moves a finger inside me, "anything." I struggle to breathe as his mouth moves to my neck and his fingers move back to my clit. I arch my back and he presses his mouth to mine, my head hard against the door. I bite his lip and he pushes harder into me, his dick pressing up against the side of my stomach. I moan softly and feel him smile. He lets go of my wrists and I bring them down and brace myself against the door with one arm, the other trying to get the door open. He's kissing me, framing the doorway with his hands when I finally feel the door give way. I move myself backwards, still kissing him and he follows without moving his mouth away from mine. He closes the door behind him, and Reef is at our feet, jumping and licking at us and we break apart and laugh. I pick up a bone and throw it down the hallway, watching that Reef chases it. I turn around and Christian is staring at me, not laughing, not smiling. "Tell me," he says quietly, moving across the hallway to where I am, wrapping his arms around my waist and putting his face in my neck, "when did you get so fucking sexy? How did I miss this for all this time?" He bites my neck softly and I moan. I turn my mouth to him and lick his lips softly, looking him in the eye as I back away. He looks from my eyes to my mouth, where I leave the tip of my tongue resting on my bottom lip. His fingers grab onto my back and I can feel his dick pressing against his pants with my leg. He grabs my ass and lifts me up, wrapping my legs around his waist, furiously kissing my mouth, biting licking, sucking. One hand is grabbing my full ass, the other is tangled in my hair, gripping and pulling me back so he can kiss my neck and my chest. I pant and moan as the sweetness of his tongue is mixed with the sharpness of his biting. He moves himself into the bedroom and kicks the door closed behind him. The sliding glass doors to the deck are open and we can hear and smell the ocean. He kneels onto the bed and slowly lowers me down underneath him. My hands find his belt, then his button, then his zipper and he moves himself to help me get him undressed. I pull his boxers off next and even in the darkness am still taken by how big his dick is. The Lustful Truth Ch. 03 I hear a whispering in my ear and feel a hand moving up and down the side of my body as I lay, just woken, eyes still closed, on the bed. I feel his body behind me, my mouth curves to a smile, and I feel the intensity of the moment increase. Strong hands are holding my hips from behind, and soft words are filling my mind with happiness. "I love you. I love you," he says. "Forever." I reach behind my head and put my hand in his hair. I feel his face slide into the curve of my neck, smell his sweet breath on my face, feel the heat of his body up against mine. The stillness of the room makes me think I can hear his heart beat, the electricity between our bodies makes me think I can keep my eyes closed and become part of him. I hear a whispered song from the radio and let the words hit my heart, word after word... "Spent enough time in your arms to know... just where I wanna be..." I smile wider. "Been with you enough to know... just why I need you... Baby I'm right beside you... All I need is a little more of you..." My fingers come away from his head and take his hand off my hip, caressing, intertwining, feeling. I feel his lips kissing my neck, my shoulder, my back. Soft kisses, peppered with soft words and a soft tongue. The happiness in my chest fills me so completely that I think I could explode, and as I think more and more about that feeling, it feels harder and harder to breathe. As my body stiffens, I shift uncomfortably. He senses my sudden change and I sense his immediate response. My hands are grasping for him now, my breath ragged, my mind unsure. I feel him simultaneously pull away from me while pushing me away from behind. I fight to keep my mind together, to keep his hands on me, to keep my hands on him. But I can't turn around. I go to cry out and nothing comes but tears and pained pieces of words. I am sweating when I wake. Sweating and shaking, struggling to breathe. I look next to me and see the person there. It's not the person from my dreams. I get out of bed. It's been almost a year since I've seen him. Since he whispered "Shit" while looking at the sunrise with me, since walking out of the door, and down the aisle with somebody else. I spent months trying to piece myself back together, and even more time than that trying to keep myself that way. It was all gone. Everything but the nightmares. I never went to the wedding. I couldn't bring myself to see him, feigning, or worse – meaning – happiness, with her. I couldn't look her in the eye, couldn't look my friends in the eye, because I knew I had the look of someone eternally changed and different. People would ask, and even without my answer, people would know. So I left that morning, citing a death in the family to the first person I saw, handing over an envelope with money and lost words. The last day of my happiness was the first legal day of theirs. Even now, I put my hand to my stomach to slow my breathing. There had been men since him. Every one of them attractive, some of them probably more so than he was; but none of them smelt the same or spoke the same. None of them looked at me that way, none of them felt like he did. As imperfect as the situation surrounding us was, it wasn't until those two nights that I knew what right felt like. And now that I knew, wrong felt almost violating. The man sleeping in my bed now was beautiful. He was tall and strong, sculpted in the form of some beautiful Greek hero. His name was Kostas, but everyone called him Jon and he was the eldest son of my current boss, Greek shipping god Stavros Niarchos. We'd met at a company party after he'd moved to America, and after months of little appetite following the abandoned wedding, I apparently looked good enough for the beautiful John to sleep with. At first he didn't understand my quietness, my reservation, my distance when we were in bed. But after some time, I told him about Christian and he understood. After that, things felt better to me. Jon would knowingly give me a smile as I stared blankly at the wall during their weekly management meetings, or put his hand on my back in a way that let me know that he was there for me. On the rare occasion that we went to a social event together, I could almost feel a protectiveness about him. We became closer and closer as friends, and eventually as lovers, and I felt a comfort in being with him I hadn't felt since that day last June with Christian. I stare into the bathroom mirror, marveling that such a disheveled and hideously sad looking person could ever attract another human being, especially one so attractive as Jon. Even if he didn't have the looks that I imagine could have rivaled Eros, he had the bank account to warrant significant attention from every female you've ever heard of in a years worth of any women's magazine. Perhaps that's what kept me on the ground with him: looking in the mirror as I brush my teeth. My hair is a knotted mess on the top of my head, my remaining eyeliner is making it look as though I have blackish-blue bruises along my lower eyelids and I'm naked with the exception of my underwear. I laugh a little, silent laugh, wipe the makeup off my eyes and bend over to spit into the sink when I feel his big, strong hands on my ass. My body trembles as I shiver from their warmth. "I should be lucky enough to see you this way every morning," he says in his deep, raspy, accented voice. I feel his warm, wet lips kiss my back, just above my underwear. I pick my head up, wipe my mouth on a towel and look back into the mirror. I catch the fading of his smile, and see his black eyes settle on my mouth. He brushes his teeth as I reassess myself. "I would agree with you and insert a joke here, but" I look back at myself, "this isn't very funny..." He wipes his mouth with the towel, tosses it aside and I see his eyes travel from my reflection in the mirror to my shoulders and down my back to my ass. He looks back up at me, pats the hair on the top of my head and says "I would call you cute right now but," his left hand comes in front of my body and feels my tit as his right hand and his eyes move to my ass, "there's too much hot here." I roll my eyes, half smiling, moving out of the way of the sink for him, but not before his arms wrap around my body, his hands caressing my stomach, and his mouth catching me on the throat; I feel his hot tongue for a split second. He feels my shiver with his hands and I look into the mirror to catch him watching my reaction. My smile disappears as he stares at me, looking me in the eye as he slowly and softly runs his lips and tongue up my neck to my jaw line and then back down again. I reach up behind me and put my hand in his hair, running my fingers through, then pulling a little. He pulls away from me a little, first looking at the front of my body from the mirror, then holding my hips with both hands and looking at me from the back. "Oraios," he whispers, his deep, scratchy voice barely making the word discernable from a breath. I smile, not looking at him, having found out the meaning of this word a few months ago from his brother Thano. "Oraios. Bella." Thano said, his accent heavier than Jon's. "Yes, that's what I'm asking, what does it mean?" I laughed, restating the question. "No, no, Bella. Oraios. It means beautiful. In Greek. Just like your name in Italian." "Oh," I said, not knowing how to respond. Jon had taken to calling me this whenever he saw me, never bothering to call me Bella anymore. I should have put it together. "Where did you hear this?" he asked me. I looked at him, hesitating for a moment before saying that I'd heard it somewhere in a conversation and didn't know what it meant. Just as the last word was out of my mouth, Jon walked into the office. "Thano. Oraios, good morning," he said winking at me and walking past us down the hall. My face turned bright red as I glanced at Thano, who had now crossed his arms and was leaning up against the wall, smiling at me. "A conversation? Perhaps this conversation was taking place outside of the office, ha, Bella? In, let's say, your apartment, or perhaps, Jon's?" I covered my eyes and walked away, listening to Thano laugh under his breath. Now, in my bathroom, I can't help but smile as Jon kisses me again and again on my back, his hands slowly and softly feeling every inch of my body as he whispers over and over "Oraios... oraios..." I can feel his fingers hook into my underwear to slowly move them down my hips, then his whole hands wrapping around my ass to push them off. They fall around my ankles and I move my feet to kick them away. My breath catches as I feel his right hand reach around the front of my body, his long, strong fingers stroking the lips of my pussy, which has gotten wet and achy within the last minute. His mouth and tongue are grazing my shoulders and I look up to see him watching me in the mirror. He smiles at me mid-kiss and I feel his fingers move to my clit and start to move. I struggle to keep my eyes on his and all traces of his smile disappear as he focuses on my body and how it's reacting to his touch. Just as I'm about to cum, he pulls his hand away. He spreads his legs and bends his knees so that his tall body is low enough to get his dick inside me. I lean my head back onto his shoulder and try to breathe as I feel the head of his cock waiting to enter me. "Oraios," his raspy voice whispers, "Oraios, look at me." And I look into those black eyes reflecting in the mirror as I feel his huge, throbbing cock push inside me. No words escape my mouth as he moves in and out little by little, until he fills me up. Unlike most other men I'd been with, Jon is able to maintain complete control of himself while watching me get more and more excited. He moves slowly in and out of me, savoring the feel of each slide, enjoying every second that my pussy is wrapped around his dick. His hands take my hands and his fingers caress my fingers as we cum at the same time, our bodies trembling with the release of such pleasure. "I should be lucky enough to see you this way every morning," he says into my ear, as he pulls out of me, turning my head to kiss me as he looks me in the eye. He gives me a soft smile, resting his forehead against mine for a moment before moving to get into the shower. Later that day I meet my friend Anna for lunch at Sette on Seventh Avenue in Chelsea. We bullshit for a while about work and family, and then, as always, she asks about Jon. "Just tell me anything else about him you can think of... anything at all that the general public doesn't know..." "Oh God, Anna, like what?" I say, laughing. "His favorite color? Or his favorite baseball team? Or his eyes? Tell me what you think of when you look into his eyes..." "His eyes? What do I think of? I think of how I can always never tell if they really are black or not, that's how dark they are. And he watches soccer, not baseball. And his favorite color is black." "Like yours," she says. "Like mine," I say, pausing for a second, then smiling. "You're smiling," she says, quizzically squinting her eyes as she tilts her head to the side. "And...? What's wrong with smiling?" "Well, we've been talking about Jon for nine months, and this is the first time you've smiled." "I always smile when you ask me about Jon. You're crazy and your crazy questions make me laugh." "I know they make you laugh and I know you smile when I ask you about him, but this was different." "How?" I ask, laughing some more. "You weren't talking about him when you smiled. You were thinking about him." My laugh stops mid-flow and my smile fades. "Oh shit," she says. "Oh shit," I say. Neither one of us brings it up again before we part ways, and I'm deep in thought as I'm walking to the subway, when I get a text message on my phone. The number looks vaguely familiar, but I can't place it. It says "I miss you." I feel sick as the numbers connect to a name in my head. I write back "Who is this?" I wait holding my breath for what seems like hours before I get "It's been a long time since I've seen that beautiful smile and heard that beautiful laugh, Bells." Then, "It's Christian. I'm across the street." I swallow my rising panic and look in every direction across from me until I see him. He stares at me, standing stock still in the middle of Manhattan traffic, and I stare back, not knowing if I should run or scream or bend over and throw up. I can feel my heart beating out of my chest and my face turning red as tears start welling up in my eyes. I am so angry I could die. I opt to run. I turn and run as fast as I can in high heels down a Manhattan sidewalk. The subway is two blocks away and as long as the lights stay in my favor, I can get there without him being able to cross the street. I push past people and around gratings as I desperately try and get to the stairs. A few steps before they start, I feel him grab me. He turns my body around and pushes me up against the window of a nail salon. I brush his hands off me and push him back. He grabs at my hands and I can do nothing to free myself from his strength. "Don't fucking touch me," I say, crying, struggling to twist my hands free. He lets them go and I wipe my eyes and my nose, unable to look at him, not knowing what to do. I'm covering my eyes with my hands and trying to catch my breath when I feel his hand in my hair, on the back of my head. I grab onto his wrist, and for a moment, I just let myself feel him before pulling him away and throwing his hand back at him. He goes to move closer and I put my hands up in front of me. "Don't. Please don't," I say, still crying, my breath swallowing some of my words. "Don't what Bells?" "Don't fucking call me Bells," I sob, "and don't fucking touch me. Please." He steps back and for the first time, I look at him. He's swallowing his own tears, struggling with his own words. I want to kiss him, I want to punch him. I want to leave. "What the fuck?" I say. He looks at me. "I was walking down the street and there you were, sitting down eating with Anna. I couldn't believe it. I've wanted to call you for months, but I didn't know how or what to say. I saw you sitting there and I couldn't stop myself, I had to talk to you." For the first time I stop crying. "You make me sick," I say and I turn and go down the subway stairs. He doesn't follow. . .. I call work and tell them I'm not feeling well and that I'm not coming back for the day. They ask if I'm okay and I say that I'm fine, I just have a bad headache and need to lie down. I get a sincere "Feel better" and hang up. I'm sitting on the couch, facing my window view of the city in my apartment when I hear a key in the door. It opens, and I turn to see Jon walking in, flowers in his hand. "I know you don't like flowers," his deep voice says as he moves closer to me, "but chocolate is bad for headaches." He smiles and bends down to kiss me on the forehead. "How is my oraios?" he asks. I look up at him, and my red puffy eyes fill with tears again. I feel my face crumple as I lower my head and bring a tissue to my nose. "Oh moro, moro, ti layos?" he says getting down onto his knees in front of me. "I know I work for your family," I sputter out, "but I'm not Greek. I speak German." He laughs and repeats himself. "Baby, what's wrong?" I look into his eyes, the sun shining through the window, and for the first time, I can really see. Brown. His eyes are the deepest brown I've ever seen. I wrap my arms around his neck and breathe him in. His long, strong arms wrap around my body and I feel like a vice is being unscrewed from around my chest. I'm happy and sad and utterly, totally confused. How did Jon get so close to me? "I saw Christian today," I say, and feel Jon's body stiffen and pull away. I feel the vice again. "The Christian?" he asks. I nod my head. "Oh," he says, standing up and walking a few steps away, his teeth biting his lower lip. His eyebrows are furrowed and he looks deep in thought. He catches my eye, sees the look on my face and quickly comes back over to me. "Are you okay?" he says, sounding strained. I look at his face, puzzled. "I wasn't," I say, "I'm not, but I'm feeling a little better. I'm just shocked I think." He asks what happened and I tell him. He looks far away when I ask if he's okay. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just worried about you, that's all." He smiles. "I'm fine, Bella." I feel my heart sink. I haven't heard him call me that in months. The Lustful Truth Ch. 04 By Wednesday night, I knew something was wrong. Jon hadn't stayed over since Thursday, and now, almost a week later, I knew that something wasn't right. Whenever I tried to talk to him though, he would kiss me on the forehead and tell me he'd talk to me later. Later turned into hours later, then days. "Jon, I need to talk to you." His back is to me as he files through some papers in a filing cabinet. "Uh, yes Bella, just give me a little while." He doesn't look at me, he continues searching, his deep, raspy, Greek laced voice the only thing familiar about him now. "I'll talk to you later, I'm very busy right now." I consider turning to walk away, but stop mid turn, and move closer to him. "Turn around and look at me." "Ha?" he says, not looking up. "Turn around and fucking look at me." He catches the edge in my voice, and turns his head to me. He looks tired. "I need to talk to you." I stare into his eyes, trying to keep myself composed. He stares back at me, having never seen me angry, and he struggles between his own thoughts and the look on my face. He exhales in a way that sounds like he's been holding his breath for days. "What can I do for you?" I take a step back, almost flinching at the acidity of the question. I see his jaw clench and feel my heart start racing. I look down at the ground, processing his words. "Nothing," I say, "Nothing apparently." I turn to walk away when he grabs my wrist and pulls me back. My face is expressionless as I continue staring at the floor. "Fuck, Bella," he whispers. I stand there, stunned, finding no words. I can't look at him. I can't speak to him. I can't walk away from him. I stand there waiting for words that I don't want to hear to strike me. Instead, he moves his face to mine, puts his lips on the side of my face, close enough to my ear that his breath is tickles me, and says, "Not here." He grabs my face with one hand on either side; as a tear starts rolling down my cheek, he slowly pulls his lips to mine, closes his eyes, and kisses me, very, very softly. I feel a hint of his tongue for just a second and then he moves away. When he opens his eyes, they're glistening. "Not here." I say nothing as I turn around and walk away from him, nothing as I pick up my bag and leave the office for the day. I don't turn around, not even for a second. . . . When Anna sees me approaching the table, she reaches out for the waiter and I can hear her asking for him to change her order of two glasses of wine to a bottle. She puts out her hand to me as I sit down and I take it and squeeze. "This is not good." She's got that look on her face, the one that people make when you're telling them a story and they imitate the look on your own face as you're telling it. Her eyebrows are furrowed and her mouth is in a very strained frown. "Tell me what's going on." I force a laugh. "If I only knew what was going on. That would be so much easier…" "Tell me what's going on with you. Not with them, with you. What are you thinking?" She squeezes my hand again and let's go as the waiter comes back to the table with our beautiful bottle of Santa Margherita Pinto Grigio and pours us each a glass. We order our food and as the waiter is walking away, I tell him to get another bottle of wine ready. I exhale. "I don't know what I'm thinking." I sip some wine, then gulp some wine. "I don't know what I was ever thinking. On the one hand, I never should have gotten involved with Christian, especially not two days before his wedding. And on the other hand, I don't know what fucking planet I was living on thinking that Kostas fucking Niarchos, gazillionaire-Greek-fucking-god would ever be able to give a shit about me anyway. I mean, I know he cares, but it's not like he really fucking cares." I gulp some more wine. Anna puts her hand to her mouth and tentatively nods in agreement. "I say fuck a lot." Anna laughs. "You do, yes." She sits back in her chair, staring at me, sizing either me or her thoughts up. She leans forward and I know it's me she's going after. "Why is it not possible that he really c – sorry - really fucking cares?" I stare at her. "He's got more numbers in his bank account than I do in my social security number," I chuckle out, taking another gulp, "and by numbers I mean actual digits, first of all, that's first of all…" I pour myself more wine. "Second of all, I've heard rumors that he's up for People's sexiest man of the year, and who won that last year? George Clooney? Brad Pitt? I don't know, it slipped my mind which A-list celebrity won last year. I have never had plastic surgery and don't intend to, I curse and apparently drink like a sailor, which reminds me," and I take another drink from my glass, "and I'm just not… I'm just not…" Anna shakes her head, searching my face for my next word. "Just not what?" "Equal," I finally say. "I'm just not fucking equal." She stays silent for a moment, considering this word. "I understand that this is an intimidating scenario. I don't know how I would feel were I in your position…" "Unworthy…" I mutter. "…but have you ever considered that maybe that's why he likes you? Because you're not the same breed of bullshit he's been surrounded by since he was born? Did you ever consider how very, very easy it would be for him to walk out onto the street and find himself a manicured, well spoken, trust-fund hoecake to decorate his arm every day?" I smile at her. "It would be wonderful to consider that it's a possibility that he really cares. Truly it would, but I don't think that's the case, Anna, I really don't." "Then why's he so upset about Christian? Why hasn't he spent the night or even spoken to you since that fuckbag popped his stupid face back into your life? If Jon was just fucking you and didn't care, then he wouldn't give a shit about any of this Christian nonsense." I drink more wine. I remember I haven't eaten. I drink again anyway. "And then there's this Christian nonsense…" "You're changing the subject, but okay. What about this Christian nonsense? You haven't seen or spoken to him in a year, since you fucked him – I'm sorry to be so blunt – but since you fucked him and he walked down the aisle with Teeth McGee. You were best friends for ten years and he waits until two days before his wedding to tell you he loves you?" Her voice starts to escalate, and I push her wine glass towards her. She takes it and drinks. "I'm sorry, Bella, really I am, but that's bullshit. What a selfish fuck." The waiter brings over our food, and we eat for a few minutes, pondering what part of this situation needs the most attention, which man deserves our fading, drunken energy. Anna wants to talk about Jon. I want to talk about Jon, but I need to talk about Christian. "I would've died to talk to him a year ago. Nine months ago, maybe even six months ago. I still have nightmares, Anna, I still wake up sometimes expecting him to be the one in bed with me. I know what happened is fucked up, but I still think somewhere that he really wanted to be with me and just didn't know how to get out of getting married." She shakes her head no as I drink the last of the bottle and I shake my head back. "I know you don't agree, I don't even know if I agree. But I should talk to him. I should find out what the fuck happened." "You're going to hurt yourself. Whatever you have to do, Bells, but you're going to hurt yourself one way or the other." The waiter brings the other bottle of wine and while he's pouring and diverting Anna's attention, I text Christian under the table and ask him to meet me at the seaport in an hour. He immediately responds with an okay. I feel uneasy. But more than that, I feel drunk. Anna and I sit and eat and finish the other bottle of wine, and I kiss her goodbye and tell her I'll call her later, that I'm just going to walk for a little and think. She knows I'm full of shit, but she lets me go anyway. "You be careful," she says, before squeezing my hand and walking off. I head for the subway. . . . It's almost eight by the time I get there, and it's a warm night, a little muggy, a little breezy, but perfect for being on the river. I'm standing at the railing staring at Jersey City when I feel someone's hand move along my lower back. I see Christian move up next to me. He's looking at the city too at first, then he turns his head to face me. "I'm drunk," I say. He laughs. "Me too." He puts his hand on my cheek and runs his finger up and down for a moment before pulling back. "I was at Limerick with the guys. Wing night," he mumbles. "Fucking meat eaters," I laugh. We stand there for a few minutes, staring across the water, silent, before he speaks. "So why'd you wanna meet, Bells? What changed your mind?" I feel his hand on the back of my neck, his fingers running up into my hair. I have chills all over my body. "I had questions," I hoarsely say, "but I don't know what they were anymore, and I'm pretty sure I don't want to know the answers right now anyway." He puts his head down, then moves his hand out of my hair and down to my hand. He squeezes. "Okay. How bout we don't ask any questions tonight? How bout we just walk for a while?" He takes my hand and pulls me away from the railing. And we walk; a right here, a left there, a few blocks uptown, a few blocks across, not speaking, just walking, hand in hand, for what seems like hours. As I'm about to step off a corner into the street, Christian pulls me back because of oncoming traffic and as he does, I look up and see it - that glowing Manhattan hotel, the one that Christian and I went to that first night. I look over at him, and he sees it too. He turns to me and our eyes lock and I know that he's about to spend another four hundred dollars just to feel me on his dick and hear me say his name. He smirks at me as he pulls me across the street, and I press my tits against his back again as we go through the door. While I stand there waiting for him to get us a room, I am aware of how different this feels from the last time, but I can't exactly say how or why. He puts his arms around my waist as he guides me towards the elevator and once we're inside, he turns me towards him and presses me against the wall with a hand. He stares at me, first in my eyes, then my mouth, then my shoulders and chest, my stomach, my hips, then back up to my eyes. I blink slowly. He puts his hand in my hair and pulls me towards him and kisses me once while looking me in the eye. I breathe him in, reveling in the heat of his hand on my head, the soft pressure of his lips on mine, the strong pressure of his muscle up against my softer body. The elevator opens but he stands there for just a second more looking me in the eye. Then he backs up, taking both of my hands in his, pulling me away from the wall and down the hallway to the room. He opens the door, guides me in, and leans himself against it as he closes it. I walk, not turning to face him, to the leather chair in the corner of the room where I sit down, lean back and run my fingers through my hair. He watches me, then speaks. "Come here." His voice is husky with ideas of sex. I tilt my head and look at him. "No," I say. "You come here." He considers this for a moment, then slowly pushes himself away from the door and across the room. By the time he's standing in front of me, I can see his dick pushing at his jeans. I stand up very close to him and turn him around by guiding him with my body until he's in front of the chair. I raise my right hand and push him down into it and he leans himself back and rests his arms on the sides. I glance out the window and smile; how amusing to think someone might be watching this. I leave the curtains open, my body lit up from behind by the light near the door and from the front by the glow of the city outside. I take my hands and push my long hair behind my shoulders and out of my face. As I begin to unbutton my pants, Christian shifts slightly in the chair, settling deeper into it, breathing a little heavier. I unzip them and shift my hips until they fall to the floor, my black lace underwear showing off my hips and, from behind, my ass. I pinch at the edge of the bottom of my shirt and slowly I begin to lift. I see Christian shift in the chair again and I stop. His hands are gripping the arm rests but he's trying to look relaxed. "You can touch me," I whisper. "Not yet," he whispers back and I hear him exhale. I half smile in the half dark and continue lifting up my shirt until it comes up and over my head, my long hair messy around my face. I throw my shirt behind me and go to take my heels off. "Leave them," he says, and I stop. I can see, even in the shadows, him looking at every square inch of my body. I must look very different to him now, still curvy in all the right places, but thinner, hints of a ribcage, my hipbones. Not thin, but more fit, more toned. He sits there, looking me up and down for what feels like forever. A year ago, I would have shifted uncomfortably at this, but now, after all I'd been through, I stand there, arms hanging at my sides, hands caressing the top of my thighs, my inner thighs, around my pussy, my ass and hips and stomach. I bring them up to my tits, still round and curvy, their fullness accentuated by the black lace bra holding them. Again I push my hair back and I see Christian glance up at me, his lips slightly parted, his tongue sliding across his lips. He reaches one hand towards me and with one finger, he traces the right side of my body, from breast to ribs to waist to hip to thigh. I shiver at the sensation and I know he feels it. He pauses for a second before taking his finger and hooking it into my underwear at my cunt and pulling me gently forward. He brings his face forward and while his mouth and tongue start loving my stomach, his hands run themselves up my sides and behind my back to unhook my bra. He slowly pulls the straps down and away from me and once it's off, his tongue and lips and teeth are at my nipples, playing, pulling, teasing. My breath shallows; I put my fingers on his head, his short hair tickling my palms. He pulls me into him and for a moment, I think he's just breathing me in. After a moment, he pulls away, sitting himself back in the chair. I get on my knees, staring into his eyes as I feel his cock through his pants, then unbutton and unzip them. He inhales deeply through his nose as I take his hard dick in my small, soft hand, slowly and softly moving it out of his pants. He watches me as I lick my lips and start to bend forward, glancing down to look at his throbbing dick and smiling for a second before looking back up at him, seeing the strain of the coming pleasure on his face. His eyes are on my eyes then on my tongue as I slide it out of my mouth and let the tip of it barely touch his head. From where one of my hands is placed, I can feel his stomach contract with the feeling, and I go forward again, running the width of my tongue along the whole length of his cock. He leans his head back and breaths audibly; I take his whole head in my mouth and suck for a moment, hearing the leather of the chair as his hands tighten on the arm rests again. I wrap my hand around the base and start moving him in and out of my mouth, my tongue running up and down the bottom with each movement. I pull him out and again run my tongue along the shaft, around the head, and back down. He grabs my hair and pulls himself back into me; I feel his dick hit the back of my throat and I dig my nails into the skin on his stomach with uncomfortable pleasure. He does it again and I dig in deeper. Once, twice, three times more and he sits back, releasing my hair, staring at the ceiling, trying to compose himself. Fuck that, I think. I pull at his pants, tugging til he lifts his ass off the chair. I follow up with his underwear, and after I'm done pulling them off his body, I run my tongue along his dick one more time before I tuck one of my knee's between his leg and the chair on the right side and then do the same on the left. He looks up at me, as if to tell me to wait a second, but I have not the patience. He's kept me waiting for a fucking year. I kneel on top of him and watch him watch me as I shift my underwear to one side and slowly run my fingers along my wetness. Then I take his cock in my other hand and position his head just barely inside my cunt. "Tell me what you want," I say hoarsely. He stares at me, his breathing heavy and uneven. He looks almost confused. "Tell me what you want," I say again, my sex-laced voice heavy and dark, yet barely audible. "I want to feel you. I want to feel my dick in you." I tilt my head and look at him quizzically. I say and do nothing. "I want to feel your cunt on my dick. I want to feel you feeling me," he says, his hands grabbing my ass, squeezing my soft curves, then feeling them. I bend forward and put my mouth not even a centimeter from his. I stare at his lips and make to move for them, then pull back as he moves forward. I look him in the eye. He stares at my mouth. I stare back down at his. He moves forward again, and again I pull away. He looks poised to come for me one more time when I move his cock inside me. The sensation of the wet and heat and tightness almost overtakes him and he pulls me down onto him until he's all the way inside me; I can tell that if I move just an inch he'll cum, so I sit very still, smiling my half smile in the dark. His eyes are closed, his big strong hands are firmly holding my hips down and his breathing is slowly becoming normal again. I lean forward very slowly and graze my lips against his neck. I do this a few times before using my lips, and then finally, my teeth. As I bite him, his fingers dig into my ass and he opens his eyes; with one hand still on my ass, he takes the other and grabs the back of my neck, pulling me forward. I put my hands on his chest and try to push him back, try to resist, but his strength is no match for me. He finally pushes his mouth to mine and what ensues is a violently pleasurable meeting of our mouths; biting, playing, soft then hard, long then short. He keeps his eyes on mine, moves his hands to my lower back, and slowly I start to move on top of him. His breathing changes, his kissing changes, all his thoughts moving to my cunt wrapped around his cock and trying not to cum. I get all the way up on my knees, my tits in his face, his mouth on me, his hands on me; I move my own fingers to my clit and start to rub myself. He pulls back to watch and he starts moving faster and faster, his dick filling me up every time, my breathing becoming more shallow, my soft moans growing louder and louder with each slide of his dick. "Cum. Cum baby, I want you to make yourself cum," he whispers. He wills me to look down at him, down at those soft brown eyes and watch him as I orgasm, and I do, my pussy pulsing with each wave, his dick feeling bigger and bigger inside me as my cunt contracts over and over again. He watches me until I'm done, then puts his hands under my ass and lifts me off the chair, slowly laying me down on the bed, his dick never leaving me. He grins at me as he starts fucking me, slowly at first, then harder and harder, his body slapping my body as his thrusts his whole cock into me. I feel my orgasm building again and I dig my nails into his ass. "I love fucking you," he says. My mind pauses as he continues to fuck me, but I let myself go into the orgasm I'm about to have. His thrusting becomes more desperate and finally I feel him pour himself into me at the same time I cum. He kisses me, uneven, unfocused kisses, torn between the sensation in his dick and the pleasure of his mouth on my mouth. He slows his body little by little, eventually stopping as our lips and tongues continue to intertwine, all soft now, all gentle and slow. He pulls himself out of me and rolls himself over, lying next to me. Our breathing slows and I push myself on my side, kiss him, and head to the bathroom. By the time I get out, Christian is dressed and waiting on the bed. I pull my underwear on and start to get dressed as he starts to speak.