She’s definitely not kidding. Just shy, so very shy and unsure, in her own maddeningly seductive way. We’re standing so close I can almost feel her heart race and her breath is shallow. If I didn’t know her better I would think she was afraid. She’s somewhere between fear and excitement, staying as still as she can so she won’t bolt. Shivering, her exposed skin erupts in a rash of goosebumps and I don’t think it’s because she’s soaked to the skin. Anticipation, we’ve both taken a huge step, and she’s waiting, waiting to see if I’m going to laugh or make a joke. If I’m playing with her.
Her eyes blaze darkly in the unlit room. I had wondered once, staring deep into the depths of them as we stood on the back porch in the rain, how they could get brighter and darker at the same time. Something about the rain. Sunlight brings out gold flecks that dance in her eyes, so breathtakingly beautiful that it’s hard to look away. In the rain, in the darkness, it’s something deeper, darker. Some animal sleek, lush and primeval. If want, lust and desire were a colour, they would be the blackest brown of her eyes. The rest of her so demure, until you hold her and really look.
Rainwater from her hair runs over my hands as I cup her face, so intent on her that I forgot everything else, as though nothing else existed. Looking at her, at the wild animal in her so close to the surface, I feel like I’ve been dead for so long. Not just the past year and a half, but my whole life, like I’ve been waiting all this time for her, just so I could breathe again.
I don’t hear the moan low in my throat as the light between our bodies vanishes, the heat of her beneath her soaked clothes burning my skin. Our mouths open to kiss before we’ve even reached each other, so eager to touch and taste that we couldn’t wait. That sweet coffee taste of her filling me as our tongues slid over one another, suckling and pulling, the passion instant and intoxicating.
I want more, so much more, and come up for air, holding her again. Her lips are wet and full, glistening in the low light from our kiss. I leap. A small leap, but still a leap, swallowing hard before I do it, afraid to let her go. If I let her go she’ll vanish like smoke and I’ll be left in this tiny motel room by myself. “I liked how that felt, Jeanette.” I’m not talking about the kiss and I don’t need to explain, she knows.
“No one’s ever done that before.” Her voice is shaking and a little deeper, trembling as she struggles to bring herself under control. I don’t need to touch her to know that if I were to slip my hand under her skirt she would be soaked. Next time. Next time that will be real.
“You’re freezing, ‘Nette.” Her skin is pale and cold, her wet clothes icy save for where our bodies touch.
Her breath huffs out, tightly controlled, in that deep purring way of hers. “I’m only cold on the outside.” That flicker of mercurial heat in her. I could chase that fire the rest of my life and never get tired of wanting it.
My eyes close as my fingertips trace the line down either side of her throat, resting in the hollow there. Her chin raises imperceptibly, exposing her throat fully in a signal as old as time. Submission, hers or mine I can’t tell, maybe both. It’s more than I can bear to think about. “Will you have a bath with me, Jeanette?”
She’s blushing almost shyly again, the heat rising in her cheeks as her head drops, nibbling her lip quickly before stopping herself. How can she be so sexy and not seem to know it? So shy, but not always. We separated, our hands leaving last, the fingertips trailing across shoulders, down arms. Our fingers knotted last and pulling, as though they willed us to stay together, even if our bodies froze to death in our soaked clothes. She padded over to close the curtains as I started to run hot water in the tub, a deep claw foot tub that just seemed made to have her lie in it.
“Can I take you to dinner tonight, you’ll have to pick the place….” My voice echoes in the small space, making me think of her singing this morning, her voice deep as it echoed, not just in the space of the small room, but across time. I fiddle aimlessly with the twisted telephone cord, my hip resting against the dresser, as she slowly strips unselfconsciously, draping her wet clothes over the radiator to dry. Before she’s done, she’s run through a couple of names of decent restaurants in the area but I’m having to struggle to keep them in mind. I settle on one before she turns around, the flush at her throat at seeing me standing so close nearly makes me forget what she’s said. She hadn’t known I was watching her.
Her hands work in knots in front of her as though she isn’t quite sure what to do with them. If she was wearing a shirt she would have popped stitches at the hem of it, just to keep from covering herself. Or from touching herself. Shy and seductive at the same time. My fingertips trail over the curve of her thigh when she’s close enough to touch, her skin shivering against my hand. I pull her close to whisper against her neck. “Go warm up, beloved, I’ll make reservations and be with you in a minute.” I kiss her neck knowing I’ll be lost if her lips touch mine, I want to wait for her, and I want to, need to, make love to her now. But I wait, watching the subtle sway of her rear as she pads silently to the bathroom. Testing the water with her hand, leaning over the edge of the tub, the heart shape as she bent over winking back at me. I call and make the reservations, looking at the phone like I’ve never seen one before, remembering to breath right before I speak. I want this night to last forever.
Jeanette has her hair pinned up on top of her head, tendrils hanging loose, tucked behind her ears. The light is too bright in the bathroom, it seems wrong somehow. “We should have brought some candles with us, ‘Nette.” Her face tilts, just a little, her smile somewhere between arousal and humour before she looks down again.
I strip quickly, hanging my clothes over the radiator to dry. The small lamps beside the bed cast a pale amber glow that will have to be a substitute for candlelight. I turn off the bathroom light, playing with the door to get just the right amount of light, before slipping into the tub behind her. Both of us sighing in contentment as our skin touches again.
My erection nestles against the cleft of her rear making her squirm back into me a little. “Easy, ‘Nette, I want to wait for you until later.” I hate myself for saying it, knowing I want her now, right now, but I have all night with her. All week with her, and her alone. I want to wait. That nearly purring sound can be felt through her back as she settles against me, her toes poking above the water on the other side of the tub. I had never really noticed what pretty feet she has, I suppose it never occurred to me, until all I could see were her small toes sticking up.
Her head rests back against my shoulder once she’s settled again, her breath coming out in small huffs as she fights to still herself and not fidget against my hips. Tendrils of her hair float across the surface of the water before clinging to my chest, as though even her hair wants to caress me.
“Will you sing for me, ‘Nette?” Her smile falters and her eyes widen as she turns a little to face me, nervous again.
“You…you want me to sing?” She sounds incredulous, the skin between her eyebrows bunching.
“I love your voice, sing for me. What you were singing this morning.” I kiss the skin of her neck where it meets her shoulder, being gentle, my hands stroking over her shoulders until she relaxes against me. Her voice trembles at first, timid and unsure, quiet. As though if she could she would whisper it. My hands caress a path over her shoulders, easing and stroking, as her voice begins to deepen, the rich sultry sound of it filling the room. Fitting. “Stormy Weather.” I loved the sound of it in my bathroom at home, but here? Here with the sound of the rain battering against the metal roof over the motel porch her voice sounds right. A voice torch songs were written for. The room seems less somehow when she stops. A moment of silence when she looks back at me, blushing at my appreciation, before she sings something else, and something else after that. Nothing hit me like that first song, and now every time I look at her it’s what I think of. Stormy weather.
“If you want to wait for me you’ll have to wait out there while I get ready.” Her smile is mischievous when we get out of the tub, the water grown almost cold as she sang for me.
Kissing her neck again, the sensitive spot at her throat where she loves to be touched. “Will you be long?” She grins up at me, shaking her head, collecting things from the bag at the foot of the bed, smoothing a wrinkle out of the dress she’s brought. She toes the door of the bathroom closed, making me miss her already.
I get dressed again, my hand absently playing with her engagement ring in my pocket. The motel has conveniently left a sheet by the phone with numbers for taxicabs and the like, and I call for a cab to pick us up in about a half an hour, before lying back on the bed to wait for Jeanette.
The phone rings a couple of times before Alvarez picks up. “Hello, Alvarez.”
“Hey Vetter, you two have a fight or something? I didn’t think I’d hear back from you until limped back here half dead from exhaustion after your crazy week.” It’s odd how much I missed his voice. I can almost hear his leer over the phone.
“No fight.” I can’t even imagine fighting with her, just the thought of it makes me laugh out loud. “Just checking in I guess. Did you talk to Torres?” I rest my head back on my arm, closing my eyes, trying not to think about Jeanette in the other room.
“Holloway, actually. I’m staying so far out of this one, it’s like I’m not even there, Vetter. I talked to Holloway after I dropped you two off at the plane. The Torres kid might not be the pushover Douglas thought he would be. He picked up on Brubaker before Holloway even said anything to him about it.”
“I guess it’s just a matter of which way Douglas will go on this.” Will Douglas do the right thing, even if it means that he ends up being tied in with Brubaker? Or will he side with Brubaker?
“Something else happened that you might find interesting, Vetter. An anonymous article came out at the University student paper, dealing with the 1993 drug theft. Brubaker’s name came up.”
“Vega’s information got into the right hands I guess. You’re going to be careful aren’t you?” I pinch the bridge of my nose, instantly worried about him. He said he was going to stay out of it, that he could take care of himself, but it doesn’t lessen the fact that I’m still afraid for him.
I look up when the bathroom door opens and Jeanette steps out. “I……” I was about to say something and for the life of me I can’t remember what it was. She’s almost shy, as she takes a few small steps to lean against the dresser, the mirror reflecting the image of her back and her delicate neck. Making it appear as though there are two Jeanettes, standing back to back, waiting for me. A thought that makes me groan out loud.
“Vetter? You still there?”
“….um…yea…” My head fills with a high pitched whine, an incessant buzz that shuts out all rational thought. My voice squeaks out, breaking like a teenage boy’s, which is fitting, considering how I feel right now, looking at Jeanette. Sexy doesn’t even come close. There are no words that come close.
“….anything wrong?….Vetter?….” He sounds concerned, his voice tinny and distant. I try to breathe before I answer him.
“…could I call you back, Alvarez?”
“In a few minutes?” He sounds puzzled on the other side of the phone. I don’t blame him, I don’t think I’ve ever sounded so flustered.
“Better make it tomorrow…late tomorrow….” At least I can breathe again, even if I needed to tell myself I needed to. He’s laughing before I put the phone down, but I barely heard him.
“Jeanette..you’re beautiful.” It’s all I can manage. I call her ‘Nette. ‘Nette who pads through my house in cotton pajamas and bare feet, adorable ‘Nette curled up with me on the couch nibbling cookies. There’s nothing remotely cute about her right now.
My arms slip around her waist, my hand running over her hip brushing over the bottom hem of her tiny black dress. Heels, her hair swept up off her neck and pinned loosely, threads of it falling, to follow the graceful lines of her impossibly long throat. My fingertips trace over an unfamiliar line that some distant memory tells me is the lace top of her stockings, making a weight drop hard into my belly at the thought. Her lips are a darker red against her pale skin, she wears make up rarely, and what she wears now is light, but perfect, bringing out something within her that I only get to see right before she comes. That wild animal right under the surface. That she’s still so shy as I hold her only makes her that much sexier.
I lean in to kiss her throat, avoiding her lips at the last moment, she’s perfect, and might not want me making a mess of her, at least not yet. All bets are off later. I play with a strand of her hair that follows the line of her throat, dipping between her breasts. I’m at a loss for words.
The cab honks out front, breaking my train of thought. “Jeanette?” I nuzzle her neck before we move, just needing to keep touching her. The seductiveness of her is right at the surface, as she walks a step ahead of me, the sway of her hips less subtle, more sensual, in heels. Her rear brushes against me as we run through the rain to the cab, my jacket over her head to keep her dry. I couldn’t take my eyes off her when I told the cabbie where we were going. “It’s going to kill me not to touch you, beautiful.”
Her voice drops a little when she answers, the corner of her mouth turned up in a sexy mischievous grin she’s trying to hide. “You did want to wait for me, Sean.” Our fingers interlace when she touches my thigh. She’s still my ‘Nette, playful as ever. It just kills me that she’s so damned sexy. I don’t know what I paid the cabdriver with, I wasn’t paying attention.
Several guys check her out when we walked in, I can’t blame them. “There isn’t a guy in here that doesn’t want to be me right now, Jeanette.” I’m not content to simply hold her hand, but stand behind her, whispering in her ear, touching as much of her as is decent in public.
My left hand spans her belly possessively as the maitre’d approaches to seat us, her own hand interlacing with my fingers there, our rings touching again. Mr and Mrs. Vetter, is how the desk clerk had referred to us. To everyone in here, we probably look like a very affectionate married couple. She’s mine. If neither of us said anything, no one here would even question that she was my wife, that she belonged to me. That thought alone has a small surge of possessive pride surge through me. Mine.
I don’t sit across from her when we slide into the circular booth near the window, but sit right beside her, so I don’t have to let go of her. She settles into the touch, completely relaxed against me as I hold her. The place is small enough, and dark enough, that my public display of affection, of possession, won’t embarrass her. I don’t think I could stop anyway, or that I’d want to.
It was hard to look away from her, to order wine, the dark red of it as she drinks slowly is even harder to look away from. She blushes as she watches me. I’m staring, and I don’t stop staring even when she notices.
“Sean?” Her voice is innocent and shy again, so completely at odds with the lush heat coming off her.
I polish off the glass of wine before leaning in to kiss her neck. “I’m sorry Jeanette, you’re so sexy and it’s driving me crazy that I can’t have you right here.” I would give anything to be back on my porch with her, where I could lay her back and make love to her and it wouldn’t matter.
Her breath huffs out as she kisses me back, her hand stroking over my neck, my racing pulse hard to hide. The waiter kept refilling our glasses; I have no idea how much we had to drink. I didn’t care; I was lost in her, my hand tracing patterns on her thigh, slipping under the hem of her dress, running over the ribbon of lace at the top of her stockings. We ate, but I couldn’t tell you what I had. I remember feeding her prawns with my hands, like I fed her spaghetti and meatballs once before.
“I like this red on you, Jeanette.” I hold her wine glass against her cleavage for a moment, the red of it making me moan deep in my chest. I couldn’t stop kissing her, suckling against the skin of her throat. “Can we find something that colour of red for our bed when we get back?” My nose is tingling, and I take her wineglass carefully, holding it to her lips to finish, before slowly putting it on the table. I probably should have stopped two, or could it have been three, glasses ago. I can’t remember. Every time I turned to look the glass was full again. Even half cut, I realize, too late to stop myself, that I’ve said ‘our’ bed, even though she hasn’t moved in with me yet. “I mean, if you still are moving in with me, ‘Nette?”
Her lashes flutter closed in a slow blink. “I love you. I don’t want to be anywhere else. If you want me on a red bedspread, then you can have me on a red bedspread.” She edges a little closer to me, just a subtle shift of her hips, and my hand is caressing over the lace top of her stocking again. My fingertips keep moving from the lace to her thigh and back again in maddening circles.
“You’ll move in with me for sure when we get back? You’ll be mine?” Her lips are fuller, swollen, from kissing her through dinner.
“I’m already yours, Sean.” The black fans of her lashes flutter half closed as she leans in to kiss me, her hand on my thigh. “We should go.”
“Let me call a cab. I’ll be right back.” I kiss her hard, not caring who notices. She’s mine. I turn to watch her from across the room, her pale skin glowing softly in the candlelight from the table. Something else we’ll have to pick up before this week is over. The rain hits the window behind her, making her turn for a moment, her face and throat in profile, before she turns back.
“Your wife is a very beautiful woman. You’re a lucky man.”
My wife. Mrs. Sean Vetter. Do I correct the maitre’d and say she’s not my wife? Not a chance. For tonight, she’s my wife, even if I haven’t had the guts to ask her yet, and no one here knows any different. I thank him, not trusting myself to say anything else. I can’t keep my hands off her as we walk through the restaurant to wait out front for the taxicab. She stands close to me, under the overhang, our moan shared as we kiss hard, our bodies demanding.
Separating for a brief moment when the cab pulled up, just long enough to get in and tell the driver where we’re going, and we’re necking again. Her fingertips run in a maddening line down the side of my neck, down my shirt, before skimming over a nipple. Her hand fans out, every finger brushing over the stiffening pebble until I’m nearly ready to pull her dress up and ravish her right here.
Her desire is a needy insistent sound in her throat, her body leaning in, her thigh brushing mine. I watch the driver for a moment, but he reaches out and flicks the rearview mirror up, he’s not watching, and has probably seen worse. My hand runs up her thigh as our kiss grows hotter, more ardent. My mind can’t get past the lace at the top of her stockings, the very feel of them making me moan deeply. My tongue pulled greedily at hers, the cabdriver forgotten, all that existed was Jeanette, and the sound of the windshield wipers keeping a slow time that made me at least try to keep a level head.
One fingertip tucks just inside the band of lace, following the curve of her thigh inward to the small hollow at the back. My whole hand tracing the line of her rear, a moment of crystal clarity as my fingers skate along the lines of her cleft. I hadn’t realized how attractive I thought her rear was. I never would have considered myself an “ass-man” before this, I think it’s just her. Seeing her on her knees drove me crazy, maybe that’s why. A flutter of silk over her rear, and without looking I know it’s black, the one I had picked out for her. “You’re wearing that black teddy.”
“I wore it just for you.”
I look up one last time at the driver, who is making a point of not paying attention, before slipping a fingertip under the silk of her teddy. We both pull back, our lips just touching, enough to feel the fan of her breath over me in small pants. The streetlights made patterns of dark and light across her face, broken and rippled by the reflection of rainwater on the window, neither of us moving for a moment, seeking permission. The spark of desire in her eyes told me that she wanted me to touch her even before her hips shifted, settling my hand against her perineum. A slow caress across the most sensitive skin on her body, the slickness at her entrance wetting the tips of my fingers. Easing back the short distance across her perineum, to anus, pressing gently, and back, the heat in her building with every slow pass. Not just her either, I would never have thought I would like this. And if I hadn’t had so much to drink, I probably wouldn’t have done it at all. Maybe I would have dreamt about it, but I wouldn’t have done it.
When we pulled into the motel, I sucked her wetness off my fingers after adjusting her dress back over her thigh. A soft moan escaped her as she watched me. I lean in to kiss her, letting her tongue pull the taste of her from me. I paid enough attention to paying the driver to make sure I left him a decent tip as he stopped in front of number seven, our room, pulling close enough so we wouldn’t get soaked.
I pull her to me when we’re free of the cab, cupping her rear again before lifting her easily, her legs wrapping around my waist. “Fuck Jeanette, you make me want you so fucking bad.” Her back pressed hard against the door of our room while I fish out the motel key, her hands pull at my jaw, forcing me to watch her. She’s as hot as I am, her throat already flushed, the heat between her thighs making a wet spot over the bulge in my pants. “Am I making you crazy, ‘Nette?”
“You have since before we left the motel, and every second since then.” Her legs tighten at my waist, pulling me even closer and grinding her wetness hard against me. Her voice drops to that low sultry whisper as her lips brush over the skin of my neck. “I need you to fuck me, Sean.”
I nearly drop the key, growling, as I pressed her hard against the door. We’re both mindless for the space of I don’t know how many minutes, my erection grinding against her, as I pinned her to the door. The square motel room key is forgotten in my hand as we kiss and suck and bite at each other, lost. Unable to stop the whimper as I pulled my hips back from her, trying to clear my head long enough to get the key in the door and then close it behind us again. It’s the second time I’ve carried her through that door today.
“Wait…wait, ah fuck Jeanette wait.” Her hands were pulling at me the second the door was locked behind us. She stills, panting against my neck, waiting for me to tell her what I want. “I want this to last all night.” I don’t even know if I CAN last all night, I haven’t done that since I was a kid. I do know that if I make love to her right now, which is what I want to do, that there’s no way I’ll last at all.
I walk over to the couch, not so much letting her drop as letting her body slide over mine, every inch of her front slipping over my painful erection on the way down. “Stay right here. Don’t move. Wait for me, Jeanette.” This has gone beyond arousal, the both of us breathing hard, watching each other’s every move. Keeping her in sight I wet a small facecloth, leaving it on the arm of the couch, watching her as she watches me, curious. I leave one of the small lamps by the bed turned on, the pale amber glow barely lighting the room, it’ll have to do. Pulling off the bedspread, flicking it out over the couch behind her as she watches me through narrowed, almost feline eyes.
My hands shake as I stand in front of her, so nervous now I’m nearly sober. Her nipples poke against the fabric of her tiny black dress when my hands stroke down the front, tightening the fabric across them. “I’ve never wanted anyone in the way I’ve wanted you, Jeanette. Anyone.” My hands cup her face, the thumbs caressing over her jawline, willing her to understand how deeply I mean it, that it’s only her now.
“I love you, Sean. I’m yours, fully, in every way.” The flicker of desire is a bold fire in her eyes, brazen and powerful, pulling me into her fire like a moth to a flame. “In any way you want me.” Her body trembles, arousal, fear, and lust. And love, love most of all.
I fumbled with her zipper, my hands still shaking slightly, but managing to undo it, the tiny ripping of the teeth the only sound in the room. She looks down at it pooled at her ankles, looking to me first, to see if I want her to step free of it. Asking permission silently, giving herself over to what I want so completely. The black teddy is strikingly beautiful against the pale light of her skin, skin reflecting the pale glow of the lamp, a week substitute for candlelight, but it’s all I have. My thumbs slip under the straps of the teddy, pushing them off her shoulders. The silk whispers across the skin of her breasts, her belly, her hips, before fluttering to the floor to join her dress. She stands perfectly still, all but naked, in her heels and stockings. Her skin bursts into goosebumps at a touch, the back of my hand brushing over the lines of her arms, her fingers knotted in each other as she stands nearly naked before me.
“Sit, beautiful Jeanette, right at the very edge for me…please…” I sink to my knees in front of her, trailing my hands over the black silken curve of her stockinged legs, lingering at her calves. Our eyes haven’t left each other once, the fire in her all I can see. On my knees in front of her, all I can see is that one shining question, the one I will ask her next week, pleading her to be mine. But not tonight. Tonight she IS my wife, Jeanette Vetter, even if only in my heart. Her breast is so close, beckoning, but I rest my hand over her heart, my words from this morning come back to me. “I will love you forever, Jeanette.”
“Forever, Sean.” An oath more personal, more powerful and intimate than ‘I do’.
She leans back, reclining against the bedspread I draped over the couch. Her breasts shift, her nipples casting the tiniest of shadows as the pale amber light washes over them. I lift first one ankle, and then the other, spreading her legs and catching her heels against the very edge of the couch. Cupping her rear, my hands massage briefly, before pulling her a little closer to the edge. Still she watches me, the fluttering of the muscles of her belly and her racing heart belying the calm of her face. Her knees fall wider, exposing herself fully, as I kneel between her spread thighs. An offering, for me. I am hers as well.
I look away for a moment, to move her dress, her teddy, and to undo my fly, so hard I hurt, too hard to be comfortable if I stay on my knees for her. My hands travel the longest path, from her raised knees down, skipping across the lace band of her stockings. To the delicate skin of her upper thigh, avoiding the weeping inviting wetness of her pink flower, my thumbs resting along either side, stroking over the petal lips of her.
I had played with her as she woke one morning, her hands moving through her curls as she murmured in her sleep, aroused. I’ve wanted to ask her all this time if she would ever let me watch. I reach out for her hand, my eyes holding hers. I’m so drunk and I still don’t know how to ask her to do something for me. Letting out a deep ragged sigh, I hold the tips of her fingers against her curls, looking up to her at last. Still watching me, waiting for me. Jeanette. Not a date. Not a girlfriend. Tonight, in my heart, she’s my wife. Mine. There’s nothing we can’t share, if I only ask her. “Let me watch you, Jeanette.”
Her face flushes pink, her tongue flicking over her lip and pulling it in to nibble it. For a moment I thought she would refuse, that maybe I had gone too far, or that she would be upset that I had asked her. Her hands moved in mine, as I watched her face. Settling back between her thighs, my hands resting against the curve of her rear, I tore myself away from watching her eyes, as her fingertips slipped across the sensitive skin of her clitoris.
We both moan at the same time, a sound resonant with want, as her fingertips circle again, skilled and precise in her own body. The first fingertip pulling back her hood, the second sweeping in a slow arc across the darker pink glans of her clitoris, stiffening under the pressure, the third pulling wetness from her slick entrance, coating everything in her glistening juices. Only to circle again and again, repeating the motion, quicker and more practiced as her back starts to arch. “Touch me, Sean.”
Her voice is deep and breathless, she doesn’t wait for me to answer, but lessens the arc across her clitoris, shorter, and faster, to give me space to touch her. My fingers trace the outside of her entrance, soaked quickly in the thin river of her come, before sliding one, then two, fingers deep, pressing along the ridged upperside to her g-spot. Crying out, her lashes flutter, never quite closing, as she watches me, stroking deep inside her to help get her off, her back arching, her inner muscles clenching against my fingers.
Her hand slows, reversing direction, pressing and holding her hood back over her clitoris as though the exposure is too much to bear. I follow her lead, my own hand slowing, stroking slowly in and out of her, my hand slick and wet now from her orgasm. I shift my hips before adjusting my straining erection, the sight of both of our hands slipping over her and within her almost more than I can bear.
I nuzzle her fingers out of the way, sucking them for a moment. “Put your hands behind your head, Jeanette.” Our eyes lock for a moment so charged with desire that we both groan out loud, only looking away when her head rests against her hands, her elbows, like her knees, flung out to either side, completely exposed and vulnerable. Surrender.
Gently, my tongue presses against her already extremely sensitive clitoris, even the light pressure enough to make her back arch. Everything about this is now gentle, guiding her to the edge rather than pushing her over mercilessly. My hand strokes within her, only enough to brush lightly against her g-spot, before pulling back. Pulling out, running my soaked slick fingers across her perineum, following the thread of her come, pooling in the shallow indent of her anus before soaking the bedspread beneath her.
I’ve never touched her like this before, haven’t touched any woman in that way for a long time. Another question I don’t think I’m drunk enough to ask. I look up to catch her eyes, my fingers pressed against her anus, seeking permission. The slightest of nods before her body relaxes completely in my hands. The flat of my tongue pulls her hood back, pressing and suckling at her clitoris until her back arches, the muscles of her thighs trembling.
My fingertips stroke over the puckered sensitive skin of her anus, the small puddle of her come, and my own soaked fingers, making her give in a little easier. With every pass I nudge a little farther, the tight ring of muscle easing and tensing reflexively. Pressing forward and back, never rushing, fighting my own rising lust the entire time, until the ring of muscle eases enough to let me slip one finger deep, followed more easily by the second. Easing slowly back and forth until I’m knuckle deep within her, slicked anew at every stroke by the steady stream of her come running in a thin line down her perineum and over my hands.
Her hands are lowered, balling the bedspread beside her, her fists opening and closing reflexively with every stroke inside her. I’ve never felt anything this tight before, the ring of muscle squeezing my hand as she starts to come again. I touch her hand, not needing to guide her, pulling back to watch her make more frantic circles over her clitoris, on the crest of a more powerful orgasm. My fingers plunge deep within her, twisting against her now very slippery anus. It’s harder to be gentle, watching now. Deeply aroused at the thought of touching her this way, that she would let me. That she would like it. My hand drops to the agonizing bulge in my pants as she comes hard, her second so far. I don’t think I can play much longer.
She winces a little when I ease out of her slowly, washing my hand on the wet facecloth I left on the side of the couch, before touching her again, cleaning her as well. She giggles, silly, when I pull her heels off and help her lower her legs again. This isn’t going to last, no matter how much I wanted it to. She’s too hot, too sexy, and I’m amazed that I lasted as long as I have without coming just watching her. I strip quickly as she watches me, groaning at my finally freed erection. “Turn around, ‘Nette.”
Her legs are shaky and so are mine, and I have to hold her still as she kneels on the edge of the couch, her knees wide, her hands braced on the back. Reaching out I pull her hair free from the last of the clips she had used to pin it up, letting it fall free around her shoulders, sticking in sweaty tendrils to her neck and back. I swore to myself I would go slow, but she looked at me over her shoulder, her eyes heavy lidded with lust and her rear end up in the air and I’m lost.
Sliding deep in one thrust. My hands brush over the lace of her stockings when I hold her hip, driving me wild, snapping my hips hard into her until we’re both screaming. My hand caressing over her rear with a seeming mind of its own, burying my thumb deep into her still slick anus, making her buck wildly underneath me at the penetration. Her orgasm slams into her with shuddering force, no gentle crest, no breaking wave, but a violent explosion, everything in her entire body clenching and spasming uncontrolled. Screaming my name over and over, her voice deep and ragged, before breaking at the end, her whole body tense, gripping me forcefully as my hips buck hard into her. Everything in me is a burning white fire, Jeanette the centre of my world, my sun. My knees weaken, barely able to hold me and still I buck into her, pressed hard against her, barely withdrawing. Coming hard, filling her, the muscles within her squeezing hard, pulling me deeper.
Dizzy, I reach out, falling across her back, catching myself on the back of the couch at the last moment before I crush her. Jeanette is shaking and sobbing softly beneath me. I know she’s not hurt, she just can’t help it, it’s too much. Too intense. I stroke her back and kiss her neck, where it meets her shoulder, still buried deep within her, until she stills, and our breathing evens out.
The moment of separation is nearly more intimate than making love to her. Our bodies in constant contact, touching her everywhere, with as much of my body as I can. My hands stroking over her sweat slicked sides, caressing over her trembling thighs. Grabbing the washcloth before I help get her into bed. Our bodies pull close together again with a will of their own once we lie down, once strength isn’t needed simply to stand or move. I clean my hand before touching her, leaning in to cup her face, kissing her as though she would break. Everything in us gentle and soft, our souls still connected to each other, even after we’ve separated. “Wait, beautiful, I’ll be back in a minute.”
She’s nearly asleep, exhausted, when I get back from the bathroom, with a clean warm wet cloth and the bedspread. Cleaning her gently, easing her stockings off, and covering her with the bedspread still warm from our bodies. “I love you, Sean. No one’s ever made me feel the way you make me feel.” Her voice is soft and sleepy, my cute ‘Nette again, curled against my chest. I whisper that I love her, I lost count how often, nuzzling over the skin of her neck until she fell asleep.
“Good night, Mrs. Vetter.”
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