Late Valentine Ch. 01

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She feels wonderful. Soft and warm and very wet indeed. There's so much I want to do with this woman I'm finding it difficult to focus. The feel of her breasts, their warmth and heaviness through the fabric of her camisole; the constellations of freckles that tempt me to touch and lick her skin all over; the matching dimples at the top of her hips. So much to explore. Except that now she's writhing and gasping like that, I'm tuning in to the way her hips are beginning to swing and rotate against me.

But the position is uncomfortable for both of us to stand this way for long, me trying to keep her lifted up on her tiptoes with my back bent, so reluctantly and slowly, I bring my hand out of her knickers, trailing a glistening line of her juice on my fingers as I pull them up her belly. Loosening my hold of her, she lowers herself down onto flat feet, shivering and fighting to regulate her breathing.

Dropping my head to bite at her neck a bit more, I remind myself I wanted to make sure she was in control of what happens here, so I wait for her to make the next move, dropping my arm away from her ribcage. After a couple of seconds, she takes my hand, pulling me onto the bed behind her, turning her head just enough to know that I'm following her, a small smile on her lips. I have the presence of mind to catch at the top of her knickers before she settles into a kneeling position, plucking at the soft lace to tug it down the curve of her hips. She lifts her bottom up and lets me pull them lower, all the way down her lovely thighs, lifting a knee at a time from the bed, until I scoop them off completely. It's difficult for me to put them down, they feel so silky, but the sight of Elizabeth's round bottom wins the battle, and I climb onto the bed, kneeling behind her. She's already shuffling her hips backwards towards me, finding me, until she's sitting against my thighs.

It never fails to amaze me how erotic the feel of a woman's skin is, how the simplicity of touch can be so electric, so fulfilling. Her skin is pale, the colour of ivory, and, as I lift the camisole up on one side, I can see more clearly a beautiful constellation of darker freckles covering her right hip bone. I run my hand over them, then just my fingertips. They are darker and just ever so slightly raised.

'You've found my birthmark, Rob,' she shivers under my touch.

Her thighs are already parted. I slide my hand in to find her, no longer sure if it's just her who's shivering, as I dip my fingers into where she's warm and wet.

'You feel so beautiful, Elizabeth,' I say.

I wrap some of her fantastic hair into my fist. She starts to make noises similar to those of her laugh -- breathy intakes of air that seem to stop and catch in her throat -- as she drops her head and leans forwards a little bit, pushing herself down onto my fingers as I thread them through her lips and around her clit. She drops her head, exposing more of her neck for me to nip and lick. The spot just below her right earlobe seems particularly good for her. She twitches each time I touch it with my mouth. The muscles in her belly and thighs are tensing and contracting so I decide to up the ante. Reluctantly releasing my hold of her hair, I run that hand inbetween our bodies, briefly giving myself a stroke on the way, then curl my hand underneath her bottom. It seems to take her by surprise that I've trapped her between my hands, one from the front, one from behind, as her hips lift and buck forwards then back. Her head drops lower and I think she might have emitted a small burst of laughter. This combination of desire and laughter is intoxicating both of us.

'I can't get enough of how you feel,' I say as I slide and press my fingers through her juices and then push a finger into her.

'God, Rob, that feels so, so good.'

She doesn't seem to know which direction to move her hips but whichever way, she's picking up the tempo, so I withdraw my finger, feeling how strongly her muscles hold onto me, and slowly ease two fingers into her, listening to her breathing, feeling her body's response as she leans further forward to give me better access to push deeper inside. She's still tight, but definitely getting wetter.

I lean into her ear. 'Do you like this, Elizabeth?'

'Fuck. Yes.'

Her body temperature is soaring. I slow down until I'm circling around her clit at an almost lazy pace with one hand, but maintain the rhythm she seems to want from my stiff fingers of the other hand, twisting them inside her and marvelling at the strength of her grip on them, imagining what it would feel like to have them pulling and squeezing on my cock. That thought almost tips me over the edge, and I make a conscious effort to concentrate on what I can hear and feel of Elizabeth's pleasure to hold myself at bay. She's making slightly louder noises from the back of her throat and I can move my fingers more freely inside her now. She's widening out for me.

'Show me, Elizabeth. Show me.'

'Oh God.'

A low whine escapes from her. Feeling her whole body begin to stiffen, I withdraw my fingers altogether. She falls further forwards, confused. I press my palm flat against her clit and rock against it gently from the front; drag the fingers of my other hand along the crease between her buttocks, teasing, and finally thrust back inside her, feeling her whole body judder with surprise and then pleasure as she grips my fingers, contracting over them again and again. I watch how the shape of her spine changes as she fights through her orgasm, bowing and curving as her head, shoulders and hips jerk and shudder.

And then she goes completely still. Even as I withdraw my hands from her, she hardly moves. I sit more upright, realising I'm breathing nearly as heavily as she is, but wondering what this stillness means. She draws a deep breath; I watch as she fills her lungs, her ribcage expanding beneath the shimmering silk of her camisole.

Suddenly she's twisted around and has pulled my mouth to hers, her hands hard on my face, holding me fiercely, kissing me just as fiercely. It takes my breath away. And a bit of my heart too.

After some time, she releases me. Now I can see what I thought I had been able to feel against my face -- her tears. I don't like to see that, so I raise my thumbs to wipe them away.

'Hey, Elizabeth --,'

'Rob, that was -- unspeakably good. You've no idea how good. My God, I've rarely been able to come like that. And never as quickly.'

I'm lost for words and decide the best thing to do is kiss her again. Words like that can go to a man's head too easily, no pun intended. But she draws away.

'Open your eyes, Rob,' she's saying to me, a fingertip pressing on my lips.

I open them.

'That's better. I want to be able to see what you're thinking.'

I blink, wondering how much she can see.

'What would you like, Rob? You've let me be in charge and I think I've gotten the better end of the deal so far.'

'Not at all,' I shake my head.

She's facing me now, so I reach out to press the palm of my hand against her breast, enjoying the contrast in temperature and texture between her hot hard nipple and the cooler silk of the camisole. It's irresistible. Her eyelids dip a little and she arches up to my hand. I want to push her down onto the bed and press myself into her, to watch her eyes and feel her body as she accommodates me inside her. My cock twitches impatiently at the thought, breaking into my reverie, and I recall Elizabeth's question.

Placing a hand on her back, I urge her closer and to kneel up. I can't resist running my mouth and tongue over her right breast and my saliva soaks through the silky fabric as I suck at her soft flesh. She sighs, runs her hands through my hair, around the nape of my neck, and I pull her tighter to me, wanting to possess her completely, using my hand to push her breast upwards from underneath, to press more of her into my mouth, I'm so greedy for her. Lost in her, just the feel of her; the feel of her ribs expanding into my hands as she breathes, the heaviness of her breast against my mouth.

The blast of a police siren in the street below makes both of us jump and jolt against each other, and, startled, we laugh, trying to catch our breath, the blue light flashing and rotating over the walls and ceiling, all around us, until the car moves on. Elizabeth sits back down on her heels, her face in front of me.

'So, Mr Montague, what's your pleasure?' she whispers, lightly kissing me, and smiling, 'I'm in your hands,' as her hands wrap around my cock.

I close my eyes to concentrate on her touch, but she draws back from my mouth.

'Open your eyes, though.'

I obey her command, said softly, but no less compelling for it. And watch her kneel up again, her eyes on me as she continues to stroke me, shuffling even closer, pushing me downwards, fitting me inbetween her thighs. I can't help but groan at the feel of her. So very hot and slippery.

'Ah, so you do make some noise, then?'

'Mmm,' is all I can manage to say.

'Is this what you'd like?' she murmurs, gliding herself over me.

I nod. I'm unable to find any words, the feel of her is too consuming.

'You're clean?'

I nod again, and lick at her neck and collarbone, eventually whispering, 'Yes. Healthy as can be.'

I think I can hear a smile in her voice as she says, 'Very good. I'm on birth control, Rob, so --,' and she dips her hips, applying more pressure on my cock.

My pelvis kicks up, almost unbalancing us, making us laugh again. I want this feeling to last forever but my cock has other ideas, clearly. My knees are complaining at all this kneeling so I shift both of us around until I'm sitting with my back up against the padded headboard and pillows, then reach for her to kneel over me. I still want her to be in control, at least for this; she's small and I don't want to crush her. Not until I know if that's what she might like me to do, anyway. Looking at the expression on her face, it seems it's a good decision. Her eyelashes are lowered as she takes hold of me gently and firmly, the feel of her hands heavenly as she holds me against her, sliding along me, making sure we're both wet as can be. I catch my breath, thinking there's little else that can possibly feel as fantastic as this.

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I've never experienced a man like this; so quiet, yet so expressive -- even when his eyes are closed. Although I prefer them open, and surprise myself when I say this aloud to him. The way he's ceded control to me has made me feel bolder, more confident.

And bringing me to that sort of orgasm -- I'm in shock. How did he do that? It usually takes a lot more time, and greater familiarity with someone for me to ever feel like that. I'm in a crazy mixed-up state; a stew of anxiety, impatience and desire. Anxiety about getting even more intimate with this man, because who knows what, if anything, can come of it? I'm really not a one night stand sort of woman at all, and the thought of not seeing Rob again makes my stomach plummet to my toes. Yet I can hardly think at all beyond the aching void inside me. Despite his elegant hands having made me come so hard, they've left me feeling agonisingly empty.

Taking his cock in my hands I'm reminded how big he is, and hope he can give me time to get used to him. Once I've had that thought so clearly, it's all I can think about. Pushing and sliding him along myself heightens the feeling of emptiness. I'm craving him now.

Apprehensive as he starts to shift us, wondering what position he wants, what he likes, then relieved as he props himself up against the headboard, those long legs of his in front of him; coaxing me to kneel over him by pulling at the back of my thighs with his hands. And his eyes are still open. Rotating myself over him to lubricate him as much as I can, I bend just enough to kiss his mouth. His response is passionate, consuming, open-mouthed, fucking me with his tongue. Pure euphoria rides over me, down my spine, through my limbs until my fingers and toes curl. I raise my hips a little until I can pull him upright under me, looking into his eyes -- still open for me -- pausing at the feel of him at my entrance. The promise of it nearly overwhelms me right there. I take a deep breath and drift downwards onto him, but of course he's too big to merely drift. His eyes widen as I push down with more intent, then rise up to release the pressure, rotate around him again, pushing down to take more of him. He releases another quiet groan.

'Too tight?' I ask, anxiously.

He shakes his head.

'Too good,' he says, eventually.

I smile, encouraged, and push down more, concentrating on the sensations of tightness and heat and stretching, tilting my hips back a little to feel some pressure against my clit. A short laugh escapes me. One of his hands brushes my chin and up to my cheek.

'Alright?'

I nod.

'Sorry. I just need to take my time,' I explain.

'Don't apologise, Elizabeth.'

He presses a fingertip to my clit, gently, but my hips buck, causing him to thrust upwards into me, and we nearly bump heads. Laughing but hissing too, I try to adjust myself and relax. He helps by using both hands to rub generous circles around my hips and back and down to my ass. This feels really good; seems to do the trick as I feel myself relaxing and widening out around him.

'Mmm. Better. That feels so nice, Rob.'

I look back up into his eyes. He's keeping them open for me.

I kiss him, I can't not. He hums into my mouth.

'Elizabeth.'

I press my hips downwards some more and in a glorious rush, I've taken all of him inside me; it's as though he's pushed all the air from my body and I fight for breath for a couple of seconds, shocked and delighted at how much he fills me, exalted I've been able to fit him in me at all. I drop my head, heat racing through me, as we both sit still, staying in this moment with each other. I'm just about used to the feel of him when he raises my chin in his hand and holds his palm against the side of my face.

'Do you have things you need to be home for this weekend Elizabeth, or could you stay here for a few days more?'

I tip my head, off-balance, totally unprepared for this.

'It's Friday tomorrow, so -- could you delay going back to Chicago until Sunday?'

His eyes won't release mine as he waits for me to say something. Lunch with one of my oldest friends on Sunday, laundry, buying a birthday card for my niece, whether my plane ticket is remotely flexible or not -- these things dart across my mind while at the same time I'm wondering what he's really asking me.

'If money was no object. Elizabeth?'

He runs his hands down the sides of my legs, caressing my skin.

'It's hardly fair to ask me something like that, Rob, given the position I'm in,' I manage to say.

He grins, suddenly.

'But -- is it possible you could stay until Sunday?'

I shiver at the mad impossibility of it.

But nod.

His hips shift beneath me, blowing any rational thought out of my mind.

'God, Rob, do that again.'

'What, this?'

He shifts again, and it's as good as I thought the first time. I tighten over him a little as he does it again, then again. His eyes drift closed as he settles into a gentle, almost playful rhythm, his head back on the headboard, his hands resting on my ass. The sensations are delicious. I tremble and pull on his cock with my insides.

It takes a while to understand it's me making the gasping noises. He's holding me more firmly now, his thrusts less gentle. I tip forwards. His eyes fly open, his lips parted; I think it's one the most beautiful sights I've ever seen. There's greed and lust in those eyes, but they are kind too; a softness in them.

Somehow, he's moving us down the bed, pulling me with him, his arms clamping me to his chest then one arm moving to my ass to keep me tight to him, rolling us over until I'm underneath him, my back pressed into the cool linen of the bedsheets.

'Is this alright?'

He raises his chest, resting his weight on his arms either side of me.

'I don't want to crush you,' he's smiling, kissing me with short, sweet nips and licks.

I arch my back, enjoying the different feel of him in this position. No longer an intrusion, but part of me.

'Try me.' I can barely whisper.

He tries out a deeper thrust and, again, I have that feeling he's pushing all the air from me. It almost forces a giggle out of me, it's so good. He does it again.

'Keep doing that, Rob, it's amazing. You make me feel amazing.'

He grunts -- the loudest noise I've heard from him since we got in the room -- thrusts into me again, reaching into me more deeply, then again, until we're sliding and grinding into each other, his arms and abs rippling and flexing over me. He pauses, our breathing sounding so loud now. I bump my hips to his in frustration, but he smiles.

'I know it's ridiculous, but I almost don't want to come, this feels so good just doing this.'

'Oh.'

My eyes are in danger of filling up for the second time tonight. He presses his mouth to mine, his arms seeming to tremble on either side of me.

I pull my legs higher over his butt as he moves his hips again.

'I know what you mean, Rob, but, I want you to.'

He raises his chest up, shoves a hand underneath me to lift my hips higher, and the different angle and his harder thrusting is too much to bear. Our breathing has become totally ragged, both of us driven on by the friction of his cock moving inside me as he pulls out, almost completely free of me, before plunging back in, smooth and hot. It roars in my ears and convulses through my body, taking complete possession of me, straining against him, squirming, pinned down by his weight, my arms flung wide.

'Fuck. Fuck. Oh. Fuck.'

Surprised at the sound of my own voice. Surprised at hearing myself at all, and I wonder how long I've been unaware. Opening my eyes, I see him watching me with great intensity, his eyes wide and dark, and I frown, tiny claws of embarrassment scratching at me.

'I'm going to make you do that again, Elizabeth.'

The look on his face suggests he's not joking. He pulls himself back to sit on his heels, dragging me with him. As he makes his first thrusts into me from this new position, I'm still fighting for breath.

'I'm not sure I can, Rob,' I protest.

But he's not having that.

'Yes, you can. You will.'

That alone, the confident, almost arrogant look he gives me is almost enough to make it happen, but I fight it. I want it, but fight it at the same time. I want to feel him, to see him, losing his control, make himself as vulnerable to me as I've already been with him. He closes his eyes over me, each thrust feeling deeper than the last, each one pushing me harder into the mattress. It's rising in me again, unbelievably, but I keep my eyes fixed on him, on his face. Feeling him as he gets closer to his release. And then, there, his breathing almost stops, his back and thighs go rigid, his face almost completely still. I wait with him; it must only be a second or two but feels more than that, until he grunts, still quietly, and thrusts; one; two; three; more -- flooding me. I cramp around him again, my body wanting to have him even more deeply.

I pull him down to me as he relaxes and slides both of us until I'm flat on the bed again, his skin slick with sweat, his muscles shaking. I'm still rotating my hips around him, gasping through the last contractions, when he turns my head to his and presses his mouth over mine, his eyes bright beneath his eyelashes. We kiss. And then we're half laughing, half kissing, sharing our exhilaration with each other. I open my body out to feel as much of his against mine as possible, the adhesion of his skin on mine, the movement of his muscles as he catches his breath.