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Chapter 5
DARA
As soon as he parks his dark gray Lexus in my townhouse parking lot, he turns to me. Strokes one small piece of hair out of my face. Whispers, “I’m not reading too much into this, am I?”
I lean in. “No.”
And I kiss him. His kiss is tentative at first; a gentle exploring of my lips, as his hand traces my cheek and then my eyebrow. And then it goes deeper, or I pull him deeper, and the kiss goes from sweet to spicy. Lips and tongues dance together. Hands in each other’s hair. Hands on each other’s shoulders. My hand unbuttoning his shirt, and his soft gasp as I touch his muscular stomach, hard under the soft skin and light dusting of hair.
I want him.
“Let’s go in,” I urge.
He’s circumspect on the walk inside. Chivalrous, touching my lower back while I unlock the door.
Just inside, I say, “I don’t do this kind of thing a lot. You should know—I never do this. But it’s you. And I trust you.”
Then we stop being polite. He kisses me like I’m sustenance and he’s starved for it. I kiss him back the same way.
We leave the lights off. I walk him down the hall to my bedroom, dropping shoes and socks and his shirt as we go. I let him pull my flounced green top off over my head, and I hear his soft intake of breath. “You’re so beautiful, Dara.”
“You can touch,” I say, and unbutton his jeans.
My cigarette pants hit the floor, and he catches his breath again. (I’m grateful I picked matching bra and panties.) I unzip his pants. Unbutton his sage-green shirt. Tug those worn jeans down over his hips, and feast my eyes on the exquisite bulge revealed by the open crotch. I press my hand over it, feeling it flex under my fingers, and it’s my turn to catch my breath.
That’s an impressive bulge. I squeeze gently.
I had no idea it would make him take the initiative. Or how much I would fucking love it.
He swings me up into his arms and drops me on the bed, joining me there and taking off the rest of his clothes. When he pulls down his boxers, my mouth starts watering at the sight of his cock, all long and thick and hard for me, weeping a drop of desire at the tip.
My underwear is soaked through, and it feels like my nipples are poking holes in the satin of my bra. I do not care. I glory in it.
I reach for that beautiful cock, and watch his eyes roll back in ecstasy. I taste the drop of precum, then swirl my tongue around the crown of his thick staff, and I swear my pussy gets wetter. I can’t stand it. I take the whole thing in my mouth, slow and steady, relaxing my jaw to take the full length, and I stroke it slowly in rhythm with my mouth, hearing his guttural moans.
“Dara,” he pants. “Slow down. Slow down, sweetheart, or your gorgeous mouth is gonna make me explode.”
“I want you to explode,” I say, taking my mouth off him. “Inside me.”
“I didn’t bring a condom,” he says, frowning. Squeezing his penis in his big, long-fingered hand.
“I’m on birth control,” I explain. “Just in case. And I’m really glad of that right now.”
“Your turn,” he says suddenly, and topples me onto my back on the bed. My front-hook bra is unfastened gently, drawn off my arms gently. It leaves my breasts exposed and aching to be touched, my nipples tight.
Those long fingers of his feel good on my soft curves. On my hard nipples. I gasp, another little spurt of wetness coating my underwear. His mouth is warm and wet, pulling at my nipples one by one, and I moan with desire. I slip my own underwear off, hearing his gasp. “Dara. Dara. Fuck, you’re so wet.”
“I want you so much.”
It’s true. I want him. I can’t stop touching him—the soft skin of his neck, those sharp cheekbones under his face. The hard planes of his chest and abs, under that sexy dusting masculine chest hair. I am so fucking turned on.
“I might need some guidance,” he says, kneeling between my thighs. “Can I touch you here?” His voice goes dark and husky, and the sound alone makes me moan. “Can I lick this beautiful pink pussy? I might die unless I get my mouth on you.”
“Please,” I gasp on a breath. I reach down with both hands and spread my folds open. “Please, here.” I stroke over my clit lightly. It’s swollen and sensitive, and I can’t think of anything better than this man’s touch.
His hair is silky against my thighs, his tongue even silkier on my little bud. I moan again.
“Faster, slower, harder, sof—”
“Faster,” I beg, my hips pumping up involuntarily. “More. Don’t fucking stop.” I stroke my own folds again as he dives back in, gently licking my clit in a quick motion that has me soaring higher and higher and higher, until I fall off that cliff, my inner walls convulsing in a release so strong I feel it in my uterus. As I’m coming down, I take his hand and push two of those long fingers inside me.
“Feel good?” he whispers.
“Not as good as you’ll feel in me,” I whisper back. “Please, Hugo.”
Together, we take hold of his stiff cock and guide it toward my aching opening. Together we gasp at the feeling of cock sliding in pussy. And then he’s pulling my hips up, thrusting into my channel with long powerful strokes that leave me moaning in pleasure as he keeps hitting something really incredibly good. He’s saying filthy sweet things to me, telling me my pussy is like heaven, that we fit together so well, that my sweet wet cunt is like paradise and he never wants to leave it, he wants to make me feel so good, so good…
And then rainbows burst behind my eyelids, and he showers my womb with hot cum, and we collapse together in the most satisfying release I’ve ever experienced.
