Three, Two, One (321)

“Stories,” I say, like a woman on the edge of sexual frustration madness.

“Where can I read one?”

“Fuck me.”

“If I fuck you, will you let me read one?”

I turn around in the tub and look him in the eyes. They are knowing. Like they know I’m his. “Fuck me like you’d fuck your wife on her wedding night.”

“And you’ll give me a story?”

I nod. “I promise.” It comes out as a whisper.

He leans down and kisses me. His hand cups the side of my face and I turn into him even more. My leg hits his erection and that makes him claim my mouth harder. His tongue pushes inside, searching. Like he’s seeking the truth and it can only be found by twining ourselves together.

And then he stands up, his strong arms around me, taking me with him. And he lifts me out of the tub and walks me out of the bathroom. The entire time we’re connected by our kiss. My knees hit the back of the bed and I stumble back.

But then his hands have me, and I finish my fall onto the bed in his arms. I pull him closer to me. I need to feel his skin against my skin, his chest against my breasts, our breathing building up to a wave of rising and falling as we stare into each other’s eyes.

“Who are you?” I ask.

“I’ll tell you when you tell me.”

And that ends it. Because we both know we’re not who we say we are. He can’t be this man who takes advantage of women on the streets and puts their bodies up on the internet. He just can’t.

And if he really believes I’m nothing more than a whore who likes to be beaten when she has sex, well, I’d be so disappointed.

“Like my wife on her wedding night?” he asks, changing the subject back.

“Mmm-hmm,” I answer.

“Does my wife want it how I’d do it? Or how I think she’d like it?”

“How you’d do it.” I can’t stop staring into his eyes. I want to know his secrets. I want him to know mine so bad.

“That’s not lust, Blue. That’s not sex. It’s love.”

I swallow hard, but I stay silent.

“Ask for it,” he says, still in that sexy whisper. “Ask for it and I’ll give it to you. But I want to hear the words.”

“Make love to me,” I say.

But he shakes his head. “That’s not what you want. Tell me what you want.”

I expect him to coax it out of me. Maybe tease my pussy or whisper dirty things in my ear. A little bit of coercion to take away the sting of want and longing.

But he doesn’t. He goes quiet. His gaze is steady. And his hand, though resting over my mound, ready to proceed, is still.

“Love me,” I say, giving him what he wants to hear and telling him what I want at the same time. “Love me.”

His smile makes all the vulnerability worth it. And his kiss… he kisses me like he’d kiss his wife on her wedding night. His mouth is soft and hard. His lips are punishing, yet tender. He kisses me like I’m loved.

I study her face when I stop kissing her. There’s so much more to know. So many more little tidbits of information to ask for. So many more opportunities to claim her in ways that will last far longer than the heat of what we’ll do here in my bedroom.

And then I reach under her ass and push her up to the middle of the bed. I open her legs and look down at her pussy. It’s wet from the bath as well as her arousal. It’s been professionally waxed very recently. I know this because when I sweep my tongue between her folds, it’s smooth.

She bucks her back and I take my lips to her belly. It’s flat. Too flat. It reminds me she needs to eat more, and that reminds me that we still have a dinner date waiting to be rescheduled.

She wants to be loved.

I want to take her to dinner.

She wants me to kiss her like I’d kiss my wife on her wedding night.

I want to dress her up and put her on my arm.

I crawl up her body, licking her soft skin that smells like my soap, and then stop at her nipple. I rest my mouth over it and she takes a little gasp of air. Like she needs it to tide her over until she can gulp it in. My tongue swirls around, stopping at her peak. And my dick, which is already hard, gets even harder as her nipple bunches together in my mouth.

I tip my head up to see if she’s watching, but she’s turned her cheek to the side. Her eyes are squeezed tightly closed, and she’s biting her lip.

My wife would like it soft.

This girl wants it hard.

And as if she’s reading my mind, Blue’s fingertips weave through my hair and grab hold. “More,” she whispers.

“More what?” I answer her back.

“More of everything.”

I want more of everything too. More talking. More questions. More answers. More tension as we wonder what will happen next.

But I don’t want it all at once.

And I don’t want more fucking.

I don’t want to take so much that there’s nothing left. I don’t want to use her up. I want to save her for later.

She arches her back so that her breasts press against my chest. “Please,” she says, urging me to continue. “You promised me.”

I crawl up her body further and place my hands on either side of her head as I stare down into her face. She turns so she’s looking me straight on and she knows she’s not going to get what she wants. She’s going to get what she asked for.

“Please don’t do this,” she whispers.