Weekend lagniappe - excerpt from Time Pirate by Alice Gaines

Here's a scene from my story from Changeling Press.  Time Pirate is an MMF romantic romance novella.

Alice www.alicegaines.blogspot.com

Jax propped herself on her elbow and memorized the features of Kyre’s face.  If that orgasm had been anywhere near as good as hers, he’d remain out for a while and wouldn’t catch her staring at him.

Assuming Barton confirmed his history, he’d earned the job on her ship, although she wouldn’t tell him that until after he’d fucked her completely.  He ate her pussy than anyone she’d ever had, including Marc, and he had an amazing tool - thick and beautiful with a head big enough to stretch her wide as it entered her.  If he didn’t perform in the stamina department, Marc could make up for that.  She’d have two men, after all.  Together, they could screw her until she couldn’t see straight.  Yeah, he was hired.

She let him rest for a couple of minutes while she studied him in better light than she’d had in the bar.  Her earlier impressions had been right.  The angularity of his face - the rigid bone structure - kept him from pretty-boy good looks, but he had his own beauty.  Anyone could pick him out of a crowd and end up fascinated by his features.  She wouldn’t at all mind seeing him on her ship, sleep-cycle to sleep-cycle.
Now to see if he really could perform again.  After all, no matter how good he’d made her first orgasm, having a ride on his big beauty would make the fuck complete.  She reached down to his package and discovered that his cock hadn’t completely softened.  As she stroked him, the shaft thickened and grew longer.  Promising.

Still wet from the oral sex, her pussy released more moisture, readying itself for the invasion of his sex into hers.  Her clit throbbed softly as a reminder that she wanted more.  She wouldn’t be satisfied until someone pinned her to the bed with a big, hard one.  If not Kyre now, then Kyre later, or Marc when they got back to the ship.

He opened his eyes and gave her a wicked grin.  The expression softened his features and, as much as his hardening cock ought to command her attention, she couldn’t look away from the deep blue of his eyes.

“Found what you’re looking for?” he asked.

“Could be.  What do you think?”

“I think you’re going to make me hard again.”

“Hard enough to fuck me?” she asked.

“That’s what I promised.”

Yeah, he had.  The effect of the ‘rag.  She would have tried to buy some if she’d realized it could get her sex this good.

“I like a man who keeps his promises.”  She kept stroking him as he stiffened in her hand.

Stretching, he put his hands behind his head and groaned.  “That feels almost as good as your mouth.”

“Got you off pretty good, huh?”

“Amazing,” he said.  “I have the feeling your pussy will be even better.”

“It’s wet already.”  And man, was it ever.  Despite her earlier climax, the lust from the ‘rag hadn’t nearly worn off.  She was going to need a man soon, and not just his mouth.  If she knew anything about male anatomy, she wouldn’t have to look any farther than the man lying next to her.

“Tell me what your pussy wants,” he said.

“A big, fat cock, making me stretch to let him in.”

“I could be that big,” he said.

“I’m going to make sure you are.”

Now fully erect, the vein on the underside pulsing against her palm, his rod could make her come again.  Before she finished stroking him, she circled her thumb around the ridge that defined the head.  When another drop of fluid emerged from the tip, she smoothed it into his skin.  “You’re ready.”
He held out his arms.  “Come aboard, captain.”

Rising, she swung a leg over him and parted the lips of her pussy.  With the other hand, she steadied his cock and guided the head toward her opening.  For a moment, she paused, his tip just grazing the aching flesh of her pussy.  Savoring, anticipating, drawing the moment out.  That could only go on for so long, though, so she lowered herself onto him.

She’d been right about his size.  He did present a challenge…one she happily accepted as she adjusted to his bulk and slid down his pole.  When she reached his root and had taken all of him, she sat there, registering the sensations.  His sex possessed hers completely.  So deep, so hard.  When she climaxed again, she’d have this tool inside her to absorb the shocks.  If he came as hard as he had the last time, she’d feel the release of his semen, hot and urgent, inside her.

Since he didn’t seem in any rush, she took over, resting her palms on his chest so she could move upwards and then back down.  The glide and friction felt so good, she bit her lip and continued.  He got into the act by putting his hands on her hips to help guide her.  Soon, they’d found each other’s rhythm so that his pelvis rose to meet hers on the downswing.

Sounds of ragged breathing filled the room - hers and his.  Arousal formed a cloud around her, blocking out everything but the pressure inside her pussy and the increasing tension in her belly.  Her clit surged to life, although it never had gone back to quiet.  If she angled for just the right fit together, his pelvic bone could hit her clit on every pass.

Now rocking forward and back, Jax increased the contact, and soon, the heat returned to circle around her brain and turn her into a grasping, demanding creature.  She rode him hard, until sweat slicked his body and beaded on his brow.  He watched her the whole time, his gaze giving nothing away.  At that moment, he had to know that he owned her, that she required the fucking he offered, and would do anything to get it.

He made no demands but continued giving her pleasure, his hips moving to embed himself more fully.  “Do you want me to touch you?”

Touch.  She knew the meaning of the word, but nothing penetrated the fog of arousal clouding her brain.

“Do you want me to touch your clit?” he said.

“God, yes.”

“I can rub it and make you come,” he said.  “Would you like that?”

“Please.”  She could have done it herself, but how much better to have him see to her every need.  The bundle of nerves in question was throbbing and ready to push her over the edge.  All it needed was…oh, God, yes that.

Without slowing the rhythm of his thrusts, he found her clit at the point just above where he entered her.  He flicked his fingertip over it, setting off explosions that traveled along her nerves to the rest of her body.  Her breasts grew ultra-sensitive, and she cupped them, tugging at the nipples.  She forgot how to breath, the pleasure was that intense.  How long could he draw this out before she came?  How much could she take before she shattered?

Still, he continued, showing no mercy, while his cock stroked the walls of her pussy and his fingers played her clit like an instrument.  Clutching her breasts and squeezing, she tipped back her head and let out a low moan that built as the orgasm claimed her.  Though she tried to hold it off for just another second of this heaven, in the end, she had no power to stop it.

Her pussy tightened around him as her whole body shuddered.  Then came the spasms, starting at the entrance to her womb and coursing down his length.  She climaxed with every cell and fiber of her body.
Before she’d finished, he let out a roar and rolled her onto her back, his cock never leaving her body.  Raising himself up on his arms, his fists on either side of her, he ploughed into her as if a demon rode him.  Suddenly, her orgasm was his, as he released his lust into her.  Their shouts rose toward the ceiling together until they’d both finished and they collapsed into a pile of flesh.

As her heart slowed and his harsh breathing heated her ear, she stroked his shoulders and then his face.  “You definitely have the job.”

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The Voluptuous Correspondence of Lady X - Installment 17

My most precious Richard,

You can't know what your words do to me. While we're apart, every one is a shard of broken glass piercing my chest, aiming at my heart. I fear someday one will hit its mark, and I'll be forced to cry out the truth to rid myself of the pain. I can't hold the knowledge of our love inside me any longer. I must find a way to bring us back together before I grow mad with wanting you. Every day that separates us invites calamity. I might drop one of your letters where a servant loyal to my husband will find it. I might call X by your name while serving tea among others. I might cry out for you in my sleep so loudly that the sound will penetrate to his bedroom next door.

Craving you is like a sickness in my blood that can only find relief in your embrace. We could return to Sir Walter's salon, and I suppose eventually we shall. We'll play his silly games. The two of us are lustful enough that such amusements can give us pleasure from time to time. I'll let the ladies admire your cock, as they did the last time we visited. And you'll indulge me with other men if the right circumstance arises.

Ultimately, this won't satisfy either of us because we need more from each other than the physical act, no matter how profound that act might be. We need the sharing of souls along with the communion of bodies. Every time you enter me, I'm transformed from a poor human creature into a sexual being with appetites beyond what other mortals have imagined.

Find a place for us and send for me. I'll devise some excuse for a holiday alone and join you. Make it isolated so that no one will discover us. Begging now, I remain,

Your lustful X

*

My darling girl,

I've found the answer to your latest plea. It isn't the jungle we'd imagined. In fact, the climate is brisk on the best of days. However, the place lies far from civilization, with at least an hour's travel even to the nearest town.

An acquaintance of mine owns a tiny cottage on the Cornish coast. His latest tenant could no longer endure the complete social isolation of the place and has taken an extended trip to the continent. The cottage is furnished with everything we'll need, and we can have it for at least a fortnight, perhaps a month if you can manufacture a reason to be away from X and your friends for that long. Say the word, and I'll order enough firewood that we may remain naked the entire time and I'll be able to take you whenever the urge hits. I'll bathe you in front of the hearth and then lick you dry. I'll wrap your legs around me and walk the length of the cottage and back, bouncing you along my shaft. I'll contrive some way to get you to bend over...perhaps drop something on the floor...so that I can stare at your glorious arse until Cupid's Dart arises to point directly at it.

The cottage has but one bed, so we'll never be separated but will have to sleep in each other's embrace. There's a small beach where we'll take walks before returning home to make love with the chill of the wind still in your hair.

Reply immediate to inform me of when you can leave, and I'll contact my friend. Hurry, my darling. Priapus yearns for you, and no one but you can satisfy him. Until I hear from you, I remain,

Your constant lover and constantly erect,

Robert

*

My dearest Robert,

It feels rather amazingly odd to sit in the room next to the chamber in which you lie asleep amid the rumpled sheets and coverlets that our lovemaking scattered no more than an hour ago. I'd fear I'd exhausted your ability to fuck for days were I not exquisitely familiar with your unending passion and stamina as a lover.

I'll rejoin you in a moment, place my head on the pillow next to yours, and nestle my body into your larger and stronger one. And should you roll over in your sleep, I'll whisper of my love in hopes that it may penetrate into any dream you may be having. In the morning, I'll renew my vows of love, but right now, I'll record the events of our first afternoon here in our new love nest. I'll slip my notes to you into your bag when we have to leave so you can relive these heavenly moments when we're parted again. Then you can write your recollections for me. In this manner, we'll endure the days and weeks we'll have to spend apart before we can find some new means to be together.

But why should I dwell on our parting when I still have you in the very next room?

When I arrived, you'd already laid a fire and were waiting for me dressed in nothing but your robe. And no wonder, you'd made the room so warm that I immediately threw off my cloak and bonnet and began the long process of removing all the layers of clothing that modern women wear.

You helped, of course, and soon, my dress fell to my feet, and we'd started work on my petticoats. All the while, you whispered such heavenly and forbidden words to me. "My cock is swollen and stiff," you said. "I can't wait to feel your cunny snug around it. I can‘t wait to feel your spasms as you spend."

And while you did all that, while our fingers flew over buttons and hooks, I became moist and hot inside. Desiring you with all the pent-up lust that our separation, with nothing but out letters, had created inside me. As more and more of my body was revealed, you took the time for a stroke along my inner thigh above the garter, a nip at my shoulder, a kiss at the nape of my neck. Those little promises of what was to come made me all the hotter for you. You even eased my breast out of its confining corset.

When your mouth closed around the nipple, I thought I could expire from sheer pleasure. I know I clutched your head for balance and closed my eyes to concentrate on the heat and moisture of your mouth. The gentle tugging and your breath against my skin told me that I had, indeed, returned to my true lover. Inside my body, my womb was already clenching, and moisture gathered between my thighs. I burned for you, aching in my most private places - the flesh that most needed the touch of your fingers and the pressure of your cock as it would pass between my pussy lips and slowly enter my chamber.

We struggled with the stays in our haste, but we finally had them undone, and we managed to rid me from the rest of my small clothes. At that, you could lower me to the carpet before the fire and follow me down. You only had to loosen the ties of your robe to cover my body with your own.

I reached for your cock immediately, stroking it's length and tugging gently on the head. You growled with frustration. After all, we'd been apart all these months, and you only wanted to find your place between my thighs and drive your erection into me. But I refused to show you any mercy. After all, I'd been deprived of my favorite toy all that time. I continued stroking your member until you trembled most violently. I finally had to take pity on you and, if I'm to tell the complete and utter truth, on myself as well. For I'd grown quite wonderfully wet and ready for you.

So, I finally relinquished my pet and allowed you to thrust it into me in one motion.

We rocked together so perfectly, my darling, the result of hours spent in intimate union. We know each other's moves and cues so well that, as soon as you enter me, we soar into bliss so powerful it melds our souls together. This afternoon, complete with sounds of the fire in the hearth and the firmness of the floor beneath my back, will survive in my memory forever. I’ll never forget your moans and sighs nor the sensation of your skin sliding along mine. I’ll recall how your passion powered mine and how quickly I approached the pinnacle.

Soon, so soon, the orgasm swept through me, and I flew apart, my cries floating to the ceiling. You could no longer hold back, and you found your own release inside my cunny. I could tell by your answering roar that your climax rivaled mine, and when we finally collapsed, spent, against the carpet, my heart swelled with feminine pride that I could so satisfy a marvelous lover like you.

Well, the candle burns low, and I find myself craving the warmth of your body next to mine in bed. I’ll find a place to hide this note and then write you more tomorrow. Thank you for finding this haven for us, my darling. I’ll bless you forever.

All my adoration,

X


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The Adventures of Wonderslut, Installment 18

Felicity seemed to take everything in easy stride when it came to these assignments, but for Jason, some things still felt new.  In theory, there was nothing weird about a woman wearing her husband's suit with the pants pooled down around her ankles.  And he'd certainly watched cunnilingus in his day, although he generally preferred performing it.  But you didn't see a boner, and a rather nice one, underneath an apron every day.  It seemed a Susie Homemaker moment in a bass-ackward sort of way.

"I have an idea."  Felicity punched the top of his arms.  "Keep them busy.  I'll be right back."

"Right...uh, how?"

She didn't answer because she'd already disappeared, carrying the duffel bag they'd brought.  A door closed behind her, leaving him in charge.

He turned his attention back to Paula and John.  John was doing his best both to feast on his wife while stroking his cock, but he didn't seem to be making a lot of progress.  Paula still slumped back against her chair, her eyes closed, but by now, she ought to have progressed from breathing hard to making “I'm-going-to-come” noises.

John stopped eating her and glanced up into his wife's face.  "Honey?"

Paula opened her eyes.  "It's no use.  I can't.  I just can't."

Well, shit.  Felicity had left him in charge, and things had gone sour already.

"Sure you can, Paula," he said.  "John's doing a bang-up job.  Just keep going."

"I can't have sex in front of an audience.  I can't have sex dressed in the suit I picked up at the cleaner's today."

"Awww, honey," John said, his face falling.

Okay, this wasn't turning out right.  If he didn't think of something soon, he would have his first utter failure at his job as sidekick to the Avenger of the Non-Orgasmic.  And speaking of Wonderslut, where was she when you needed her?

"Zoot alors."  The door Felicity had closed behind her had flung open, and she stood on the threshold.  Genius.  Pure genius.  She'd put on the naughty French maid costume.  The crotchless naughty French maid costume.  “Let zee orgasms begin.”

Paula groaned.  "You don't mean me, I hope."

"But of course.  You will achieve, or how they say arrive.  I guarantee."  Felicity did her magic thingie with her hands, casting the Slutray in Paula's direction.  It had the usual effect.  Paula flushed a deep red, and she tugged frantically at her, or rather John's, tie and then nearly popped the buttons of his shirt to bare her chest.

"You know, that might not be half bad."  Paula struggled for breath, her breasts rising and falling.  "John, dear, would you mind?  That thing you were doing..."

"You're the husband, non?" Felicity said.  "Order him."

"Yes, honey, order me," John fairly chirped.

“Do it,” Paula said, almost forcefully for an order.  “I’m the king of this castle, right?”

"Always the master," Jason whispered.

"Watch how it's done, kid," she answered.

"Now then, madame."  Felicity flourished her feather duster in John's direction.  "Do what your hardworking husband orders, and you'll receive your reward."

"You bet."  John eased Paula's thighs apart and pressed his face against her pussy.  Soon, Paula was making all the right noises, the rising inflection of her gasps telling the story.  John had found her sweet spot, and he was giving it the once over and twice over and on and on and on.

"Want to get in on the fun?" Felicity asked.

"It looks as if they're doing well on their own."

"I only fixed her temporarily.  She needs more than a dose of the Slutray, she needs a major attitude adjustment, and you and I are going to give it to her."  She shoved the duffel bag into his arms.  "Select a costume and get to work."

If the boss wanted him to create some fun, who was he to argue?  Besides, Felicity looked as cute as all hell in that costume.  If he played his cards right, he might get to sample some of her French booty.  Zoot alors, indeed.

He ducked behind the door she'd used and found himself in a combination laundry room and storage area.  He sorted through the stuff in the duffel, tossing aside sequins and sashes, feathers and leather.  At the bottom, he found ordinary slacks, sneakers, and a polo shirt.  That didn't make a lot of sense until his hand landed on a cardboard box.  A pizza box.  He could play the delivery guy -- the poor schmuck with the large pepperoni in his hands and major wood in his pants.

He slipped out of his Piston unitard and got into his costume.  Felicity hadn't packed any shorts, so he'd have to go commando.  The denim rubbed against his cock, and that and his imagination soon gave him a pretty nice erection.  It'd get better and soon.

He gave the door a few firm knocks.  "Pizza."

Felicity opened the door, although it swung toward him rather than away as a front door would.  You had to work with what you were given.  The show must go on.

"Madame, monsieur," she called over her shoulder.  "Zee pizza, she has arrived."

Paula chose that exact moment to let loose with a scream that told anyone who happened to be listening within the zip code that she'd arrived, too.  The Slutray would do that for you.

"It looks as if she's already been served," Jason said.

"He," Felicity corrected.  "He's the husband.  The wife is standing over there."

John, "the wife" was standing next to the kitchen table now, his cock acting like a tent pole under his apron.  Paula had returned to her senses and was now the deep, deep pink of embarrassment.  Clearly, Wonderslut and the Piston had more to accomplish here, and honestly, his own Mr. Happy wouldn't mind a little work-out.

He held up the pizza box.  "Where should I put this?"

Felicity pointed at the outline of his cock behind the denim.  "More importantlee, where should you put that, mon ami?"

"I aim to please," he said.

"Now, monsieur."  Felicity went to Paula and knelt before her.  "I can serve you as your dear wife has done, or you may indulge yourself with this fine, young man who's brought your pizza."

Paula glanced at the front of Jason's pants out of the corners of her eyes.  Though the Slutray might have worn off after that loud orgasm, she still showed a great deal of interest in what she saw.  Short or tall, old or young, adventurous or stifled, as Paula obviously was, Jason had to admit that all women took to his Piston like macaroni did to cheese.  Felicity always told him it was the combination of hung-like-a-horse, eager-beaver, and gosh-golly innocent good looks.  Paula stared for a minute before crossing her arms over her chest.  "But, he's a man."

“Well, yeah...that is, mais oui," Felicity answered.

"And I'm supposed to be the husband," Paula said.  "How's that supposed to work?"

"Eeez simple."  She turned toward John.  "Say, do you mind if I drop the accent?"

"Do I still get to lust after you?" John asked.

"If things work out the way I think they will, you'll get to do a lot more than that," Felicity said.

"In that case, you can speak Martian," John said.

"Look, Paula."  Felicity put her hands on Paula's knees and looked up in her face, just brimming with empathy and sincerity.  She's used exactly that look on Jason more than once.  It always worked, even when he saw right through it.

"Look at the three of us," Felicity went on.  "All of us are here to make sure you have the best sexual experience of your life."

"We are, honey," John added.

"You two as well?" Paula glanced from Felicity to Jason.

"Exactly," Felicity answered.  "That's what we do.  It's our mission.  Our raison d'être."

"We put the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional,'" Jason tossed in.

Felicity glared at him over her shoulder.  Paula and John looked at him as if he had, indeed, started speaking a language from another planet.  He just stood there and gave them a gosh-golly smile.

After another few seconds of awkward silence, Felicity returned her attention to Paula.  "Your husband loves you very much."

"I do, honey," John added obediently.

"If you loosen up a bit, you can experience something new, something exciting, something je ne sais quoi."  Felicity took a breath.  "Dammit all.  You know what I mean."

"You mean, I should let myself go and really experience life?" Paula asked.  "I should get over my inhibitions and let it all hang loose?  I should forget all the things my mother told me about sex?"

"Especially that last part," John said.

Paula lifted her chin and threw back her shoulders like a warrior about to enter battle.  "I'll do it."

"Okay, husband, tell us exactly what you want," Felicity ordered.

Paula rose and pointed at Jason.  "I want him to f-f-f-f-"

"Fuck you," Felicity said.  "Say it.  'I want the pizza guy to fuck me.'"

"I want the pizza guy to bend me over the kitchen table and fuck me," Paula declared.

Jason tossed aside the pizza box.  "I'm here to deliver."

Paula almost tripped in her haste to get her ankles out of the pants of her husband's suit, but as soon as she'd managed, she leaned over the table and spread her legs.  So much for him doing the bending.

With her in that position, he had a clear view of her pussy, and it was truly adorable.  Sweet lips all plump and soft and begging for attention.  Before his cock burst the front of his slacks, he unzipped them and pulled his member out.  When he got to the table, he dropped trou completely, and his pants hung down around his ankles the same way Paula's had a few minutes ago.

She was wet and ready for him, so he slid into her easily and began thrusting in even strokes.  No matter how many missions he went on, he never tired of a good, slow fuck.  Every woman had her own secrets, and discovering them made her a landscape of delicious mysteries.    Paula's muscles gripped him, as though she couldn't get enough, and her breathing went all ragged and loud.  A highly aroused woman.  She had to have conquered her inhibitions at least a little to allow a stranger to take her in front of her own husband.

He could make it sweeter for her, though, and this position gave him easy access to her on button.  He had to stop thrusting for a moment to pull her back toward him and bend to wrap his arm around her waist.  His hand encountered her pussy hairs wet enough to soak his fingers, and when he parted the lips, her clit nearly sprang out at him.  It was as hard as his cock, and as he stroked it, her muscles clamped down onto him and her hips did a shimmy as if she couldn't hold still.  He knew the feeling.

"Hot damn," she said.  "That is so fucking good."

"Oh, yeah.  Oh, yeah," he said.  Not exactly profound, but his brain's areas of higher thought had tuned out about the time he'd realized how wet she'd become.  In fact, he'd approached the point of no return and had better make her come first.

"Don't stop," she cried.  "I'll die if you stop."

Technically, she'd suffer a small death if he continued, but why in hell was he still thinking in French?  His body had taken over, and he shoved himself into her harder.  Still, he managed to keep manipulating her clit, rolling and tweaking.

"Yes, yes, yessssssssss!"  She screamed as her pussy went wild around his cock.  The unmistakable sensations of a woman having a damned fine climax.  He didn't have to hold back any longer, so as his own orgasm coiled and broke free, he made the last few massive thrusts and grunted as he came in wave after wave.  Holy shit, it was good.  Nearly taking the top of his head off.  The ecstasy went on for bone-rattling seconds before he nearly collapsed, bending over her body, moaning.

Nice job, if you could get it, and somehow he'd managed.

What have Wonderslut and John been doing while Jason shtupped Paula?  Has Jason freed Paula of her inhibitions?  Is the meatloaf burning in the oven?

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Limelight ~One~

Content advisory: m/f sex, oral sex

Stefan Christian Layne stood at the floor to ceiling windows and watched the freak show going on outside by the pool. His band-mates were out of control. He considered going into the back room he used as a studio and practicing rather than going out and mixing with the crowd of strangers who’d showed up because one of the assholes had yelled, “Party at Stefan’s after the show.” That’s all it had taken. The roadies and groupies had flocked to his house. The house he couldn’t afford.

Now they were drinking and swimming nude and who knew what else. Hopefully none of the jackasses would drown. Jesus, he should have gone on tour with his father after all. His band sure as hell wasn’t making the kind of money his dear old dad and the rest of the codgers were raking in. And wasn’t that wrong? So his father had been among the metal pioneers, wasn’t it time for them to retire and let the kids have it now?

Apparently not. All the old guy bands were touring and kicking the music scene’s ass. They might be a bunch of antiques but most of them hadn’t lost a damn thing. And the shit was, he wasn’t just a good musician, he was fucking great, but he wasn’t as good as his old man. Not yet. And that burned blisters on his ass.

He shoved his hair back. He would go practice and if the drunken sots all drowned he didn’t care. A flash of auburn hair stopped him in mid-pivot. Who the hell was she?

He stared in awe at a young woman moving gracefully through the throng of drunken buffoons. She approached another woman who was busy feeling up Alex, the drummer. The other woman looked annoyed and shook her head then turned her attention back to Alex’s cock, rubbing him through his jeans.

Red’s expression spoke volumes as she spun and stalked back the way she had come. Stefan’s paralysis broke. He had to meet her. And maybe get her in his bed. But by the time he got out of the house, she was nowhere in sight.

He maneuvered through the crowd of rowdy partiers. Cripes, he hoped no one called the cops on him again. The last time had cost him over a thousand dollars. He shoved past a knot of young men who were focused on the pool. He saw what held their rapt attention and his gut clenched. The creepy-assed bitch from Hell had shown up.

Richele, the most obnoxious, spooge-guzzling, groupie-whore he’d ever had the misfortune to run across, had showed up. Richele spent a good deal of her time on her knees, but at the moment, her long legs were bent and some guy Stefan didn’t know was between them, pumping away in front of everyone. Richele’s long blond hair partially obscured her face but not enough that Stefan didn’t see her ecstatic expression. She looked over at him, made direct eye contact and licked her lips.

Stefan shuddered. Most likely, the guys watching the side show would each get a turn at her before she left. She’d tried on numerous occasions to get him to screw her. Wasn’t happening. Not in this lifetime or the next. He wouldn’t be surprised if the guy humping her didn’t make it home before his willie turned green.

Stefan continued on and spied the bass player, Mark. “Did you see which way the redhead went?”

Mark, Stefan’s off again, on again lover, pointed toward the gardens at the side of the house. He snorted. “Chasing pussy for a change?”

Stefan shrugged, waved and took off after her. He liked getting it from males as much as he liked giving it to the lovelies who wanted a little time with his cock. So what? At least he was in an industry where being bi-sexual wasn’t a big deal. At least not with most people.

He’d been Mark’s bitch-on-call almost from the day the gorgeous musician had auditioned. Stefan had been instantly smitten with Mark’s good looks. His dark hair fell to his ass and he was built like a brick shithouse. All muscle and hard flesh, the exact opposite of what he found appealing in a female. Stefan liked his women, soft and pliable.  

It was rather ironic that his father, the old jerk, was totally disgusted with Stefan’s sexual appetites. Which was the real reason Stefan hadn’t gone on tour with the old farts. He didn’t need his father constantly on his ass for something he had no control over. Attraction was attraction. It wasn’t like he could get up one day and decide men would no longer do it for him. Even if he could have made a ton of money touring with his father’s band, it wouldn’t be worth it in the long run.

Though at the moment, he wasn’t interested in cock. He rounded the house and found the object he desired. She stood beside the garden pond. Her long hair gleamed under the sun. He wanted to run his hands through those exquisite strands. They had to be soft as silk. He’d like to bury his face in that mass of copper.

He sauntered toward her, boots crunching over the gravel walkway.

She turned and gave him a head to toe once over. She was bold, appraising him like a slab of meat. He liked it. “Having a good time?” he asked and gave her a look over in return. She was scorching hot in a super-short black skirt and crimson top with little black ankle-high boots. Was she already wet under that skirt? He wanted to find out. If she wasn’t, he could rectify the situation.

“Nope.”

“Huh?” Everyone else was having a good time on his tab.

“My friend dragged me here. She wants in the drummer’s pants. I’m not into the groupie shit.”

Wow. She showed no interest in him at all. How unusual was that? He had to have her. “Can I get you a drink or something?”

“I don’t know. Will your boyfriend take offense?”

He laughed. She knew who he was at least. “Mark and I aren’t exclusive and we’re both bi-sexual.”

She lifted a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Hump anything that moves, huh?”

“Not me. I only hump women.” Might as well let her know how it was.

She brushed back an auburn wave of hair. “So you just like getting it?”

“I’ve never had my dick in a guy’s ass if that’s what you’re trying to find out.”

“Actually, it was.”

“Problem with it?” He hoped not. He really wanted to do her. He could already imagine sinking his cock deep in her hot pussy. His cock was playing along with the mental picture and stiffening in his leather pants.

“Not at all, but like I told you, I’m not into the groupie thing. I didn’t come here to get fucked.”

Shit. Had she really said that?

“Okay, how about coming inside and we’ll just hang out?”

She looked like she might be considering it. “I’ll come in if you play something for me. On the violin.”

She was a groupie. She just didn’t know it yet. A stupid grin spread over his face. She liked his favorite instrument. He had to do her and that’s all there was to it. “You got it. What’s your name?”

“Catelin.”

“Come on, Catelin. Let’s go have some fun in the studio.”

She walked beside him as they headed back around the house. He smirked over at Mark as he watched them pass.

“You sure it’s okay with him? I don’t want to cause you problems.”

“It’s fine. He’ll probably take someone home with him. We aren’t clingy.” Though in all honesty, it stung when Mark took someone else to his bed. That Stefan also screwed others and Mark didn’t care in the least also stung. Mark was totally cool with sleeping around with anyone that suited his fancy at the moment. Stefan only did it because Mark did. Though he sure as hell wanted this woman. 

He led her inside and then down a long hallway to the back of the house where the soundproofed studio was tucked into a corner. It was small, but it had everything he and his band-mates needed. He closed the door behind them. “Make yourself at home.”

She perched on the stool behind the soundboard.

“What do you want me to play? Traditional violin or electric?”

“Electric.”

“Good choice.” He grabbed the candy-apple red instrument and plugged into the amp. Any woman who appreciated shred violin was on the right page. He considered using a recording with his band-mates to play along with then ditched the idea. He’d play solo for her. He grabbed the bow and went to it.

He played for almost an hour before he put the instrument down.

“You rock that thing,” she said. “I always liked the violin but I have to admit, electric is awesome.”

He came over close beside her. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I wonder if my friend has managed to get in the drummer’s pants yet.”

“Well, Alex doesn’t exactly play hard to get. My guess would be yes if she put any effort into it at all. And from what I saw, she was going for it. They’re probably in the room above the garage right now, if I know Alex. And trust me, I do.”

“Terrific.” She looked annoyed.

He stifled a smirk. Her friend was helping him out, big time. “You could kill some more time with me,” he said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what you think it does. We could go up to my bedroom and get to know each other better.”

“I’m not some groupie whore.”

Might as well throw it out there and see which way the wind took it. “I know. That’s why I want you.”

She laughed. “You’re a bad boy. Intriguing, too.” She looked him over, hot and slow. “Do you screw as good as you play violin?”

“Better.”

Her lips twitched up at the corners. “That a fact?”

He moved closer. Close enough to kiss her. “It is. I’ll make you feel good. If you’ll let me.”

“I bet you could.”

He leaned a tad closer. “I can. I want to spend the rest of the night proving it to you. I want to fuck you senseless.”

She shivered slightly and her breathing quickened.

He had her. He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. She was warm and receptive. Oh yeah. He was gonna fuck the hell out of her. And she was gonna like it. She kissed back and a moment later their tongues were doing the adult version of the slip n slide.

His arms went around her waist and brought her up against him. Holding her still, he pressed into her, letting her get a good feel of what he had going on in his pants.

She grasped his shoulders then she played with his hair as they did the tongue tango. She moaned softly and rubbed against his hard-on which sent a bolt of hot desire through him. When he had to come up for air, he grabbed her hand. “Come on. Let’s go upstairs. I have a nice big bed. I’m sure it’ll be better than the floor.”

“I have no intention of having sex on this hard-ass floor. The only hard thing I’m interested in is behind those leather pants.” She quirked up the corner of her mouth in a slight smirk.

He led her down another hallway and up a curving staircase. She ogled the paintings and the few antiques he had displayed in cases at intervals along the hall.

“You have good taste in décor,” she said. “I love the burgundy and blue color scheme. Fantastic. And the antiques. I’m impressed.”

“Most of those were cast offs from my father’s home,” he said.

“Cast offs? You have to be kidding.”

“Nope. He and his wife get tired of it and he gives it to me. I think he’s trying to improve his disgusting son.”

“What’s that supposed to me?”

“He doesn’t like that I let guys do me.”

She stopped. “Wait a minute. I read somewhere that your father was a big star in England back in the eighties and nineties. Is that right?”

“Honey, my father is still a huge star. He’s on tour right now, making money out the ass while I’m here with the loser crew.”

“You guys are doing okay.”

“Not like the old farts.”

“That’s because the old farts do it better than you young shits. Sorry, but it’s true. And I don’t mean just your band, I mean all modern bands.”

“They did it their way. We want to do it ours.”

“Sorry, their way was better.”

He tugged her hand. “Maybe so, but this young pup can give you a ride in bed that the old farts can’t. They’re definitely past their prime in that department.”

“Viagra.”

For the love of God, he just wanted to fuck, not be told how his father’s generation was so much better. “Forget, my father. I’m so horny I can’t stand it any longer.”

“Poor baby. Come on and we’ll take care of that.” She let him lead her to his room without stopping to admire anything else.

“Wow. This is a nice room, for a guy.”

“You forget, I’m queer half the time. Good taste goes with the territory.”

She laughed and put her arms around his neck. “You certainly aren’t in queer mode now.” She wiggled against his cock which jerked in appreciation behind his fly.

He breathed in her scent. She wore perfume that conjured images of hot nights in exotic places. He skimmed his hands down her sides over the cool silk of her blouse and latched on to her suede covered hips. He leaned in and their lips locked in a hot kiss. He ground his hips into hers. His cock was painfully hard and his balls ached, but now that he had her in his room he wasn’t in a hurry to get in her.

He slid his hand lower, found the bottom of her skirt and eased up under it, caressing over firm thigh. He maneuvered between her legs and she widened her stance. Satin material covered her core. He pressed, feeling the heat of her delicate skin. Her breath caught.

Running his fingers over the material, he stroked back and forth with even pressure until dampness seeped through the cloth. “Ah, finally,” he said and slipped under the elastic. Her flesh was hot and wet, slick, ready for him to penetrate. He stroked upward until he found the little bud he’d sought.

He pressed and rubbed in circular motions until she kicked her head back and a long groan came out of her. He kept up the stroke until she shuddered and rocked her hips on his hand. By now he’d had all he could take.

With a growl, he grasped her skirt and worked it down over her long, silky legs, stroking as he went. She stepped out of the garment and kicked off her boots. A moment later he had her top off and her breasts bared. He bent and ran his tongue over the  nipple of one perky breast and then the other. He sucked the taunt peak into his mouth and caressed the bud with his tongue until she whimpered with need.

She touched him through his pants and stroked his hard length beneath the leather. A little groan escaped him. His cock throbbed. He needed inside her, needed relief. His balls were tight. It would take absolutely nothing to make him come in his pants. It was time to get down to business, but not for Mr. Hard-on, he would have to wait a little longer.

He wanted to see her again, which meant he needed to pleasure her. No woman wanted a crappy lover in her bed. He picked her up and placed her in the center of the mattress. He kicked off his boots and climbed in with her.  Gathering her in his arms, he caught her mouth in a hot kiss that quickly deepened. She was so soft and worm. He nibbled at her lip and kissed along her jaw to below her ear. He pressed a kiss to the little hollow at her throat and licked over the creamy skin.

Her nails sank into him as she urged him to move up over her.

“Not yet,” he said, even though his balls ached with his need to get in her. He kissed her neck then sucked lightly, wanting to leave a tell-tale sign that he’d had her.

She giggled. “Stop it. You’ll leave a bruise.”

“I know. I want to.”

“Everyone will see it.”

“And they’ll know I fucked you and they’ll stay away.”

“Oooh, you’re one of those.”

“Yeah, markin my territory.” He sucked hard, knowing he was bruising the hell out of her tender skin. He didn’t care. He really did want people to see it and know she’d been marked by him.

He crawled up between her bent legs and making eye contact, lowered himself to her slick, hot flesh. He licked upward, tasting her. She rewarded him with a moan. He flicked the tip of his tongue over her nub until she groaned then he licked downward until his tongue slipped inside her.

Grasping handfuls of his hair, she pulled with abandon as he penetrated her with rapid, spearing thrusts of his tongue. Her hips lifted and she gyrated on the bed, little moans seeped from her.

Jesus. He couldn’t take any more. He slid off the bed and fished a condom from his bedside table before divesting himself of his clothing. He tore open the little square and rolled the latex over his cock.

He climbed up over her and guided his cock to her opening. He pushed in with one hard stroke, going balls deep in warm, wet pussy. She surged up to meet him and the ride was on. He rode her hard and she worked with him. She braced her hands on the headboard to keep him from shoving her upward with the force of his thrusts.

She tilted the angle of her rocking hips, letting him go deeper. His grunts and her moans punctuated each inward push until they were sweat coated and straining for release.

He picked up his pace, wanting to drive her to orgasm.  He rode her harder and they scooted across the bed until they were teetering on the edge. He reached between them and caressed the little bundle at the top of her sex. A half dozen strokes and she shrieked her pleasure, stiffening under him then pumping hard, working for her release.

He worked with her, going for his climax. Her contracting muscles sent him spiraling into his owe pleasure zone. He came hard then he collapsed and rolled from her. “Wow. That was fantastic,” he said and removed the condom. He dropped it onto the carpet and pulled her into his arms.

“You were fantastic,” she said and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I want to do this again. Say tomorrow night?”

“Um, sounds nice. But I want to do it again tonight,” she said.

“And so you shall, my lovely. So you shall.”

~ Nickie Asher ~

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Copyright © 2012 Nickie Asher

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.