Strange Haven

It'd been a long time but she couldn't be aroused by a stranger, she told herself. Breaking into her house, sneaking into her bed, threatening her. That wasn't what she wanted.

Was it?

Against her back, against her bottom and legs, she could feel every inch of him, awareness sharpening on the lean, hard body far more than she wanted it to. The thin singlet and panties she wore to bed seemed a laughable barrier between them, and as if her thoughts had transferred to him, she felt a slight twitch on her ass.

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With the gradual infiltration of heat, he felt his eyelids closing, his muscles relaxing incrementally. Too much time spent running and hiding, ignoring pain and exhaustion, was dragging him down and he pulled in a deep breath. With it, the scent of the woman next to him invaded his nostrils; soap and smooth skin, clean, soft hair, an indefinable faintly musky odour that trembled around the edges of his consciousness, bringing into sharp focus the silky skin under his hand, the soft curve of the woman's ass against his groin.

Ah ... crap. No, he thought, drawing in another breath, his fingertips slipping a little on the shoulder of the woman, a sudden awareness of the cotton-clad bottom his cock was nestled behind. It'd been too long and he felt the twitch of arousal at the same time as he registered the flimsiness of what she was wearing.

Imagination furnished images and his drowsiness was withdrawing as arousal deepened. It'd been too long since he'd been this close to a woman. Too long since he'd breathed in that scent. Too long since his hands had slipped over skin so smooth, firm, yielding ... electrifying.

Rape had never been one of his fantasies. Games, mutually consensual, were another thing, but taking by force? No. He ground his teeth together as his cock continued to stiffen, apparently not interested in anything but the feel of that inviting ass against it.

He needed sleep, he told himself, trying to insist on it, not the increasing desire that was filling his balls with an ache he knew was only going to get worse.

Almost involuntarily, he moved his hand, fingers slipping down her arm until he could feel the curve of her breast under the heel. The touch, as light as it was, sent a deep throb right through his nervous system and he leaned into her, his mouth brushing along the soft and sweetly scented skin of her neck. He felt her shiver.

"Sorry," he murmured, so faintly even he could barely hear the word. "I'm sorry."

He didn't know what the hell he was apologising for. It was getting harder to hold a coherent thought. What he wanted ... what he needed ... was pulsing through his veins and pounding in his balls ... to taste her sweet juices and the thick cream of her come ... to feel the slick, wet thunder of her with his fingers, spasming around them as he teased her to shattering climax ... to push himself deep inside, into the tight, giving volcano of her sex and feel the tension go in a long, silent scream of satiation ...

His hand slid down a little more, his palm rubbing over the breast beneath it and he felt the nipple, hard as a rock, under the thin material. It scraped against his skin, producing a shuddering reaction in his cock and he could hardly tell what he was doing any more, one hand squeezing the breast under it, the other sliding down her stomach and reaching the elastic line of her panties.

"Sorry," he mumbled against her jaw. "S'been ... a ... long ... I ... Jesus ... I-"

He wanted to shut up. He'd broken into this woman's home, had gotten into her bed, it was too fucking late for apologies, but he couldn't help himself. He didn't finish the sentence, his fingers found the hollow of her hip, where her panties didn't touch the skin and they slipped under the elastic, registering a soft tangle of curls, smooth skin and ... moisture.

For a moment, the incandescent desire swirled away as he moved his fingertip cautiously down between hot, puffy lips. It pushed along without the slightest resistance, gliding in a film of thick liquid. He stopped and lifted his head slightly.

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Sara tensed as she felt his hand cup and squeeze her breast, her heart slamming into her ribs at the strangely gentle touch, her mouth opening and her breath whistling a little as it pumped in and out of her lungs. The tremble increased, anticipation of what would happen next, what he would do, what he would touch ... and she squeezed her eyes shut, unable to lie to herself that she didn't want this. It'd been so long, too long, since she'd felt a man's hands on her, felt a man's desire pressing against her.

And he wanted her, she thought dazedly, it wasn't like her asking and being rejected, time after time.

She was wet, she could feel the pulsing deep inside as his mouth slid along her jaw, unable to make out what he was saying but feeling his breath in plosives on her skin. Her breasts felt heavy, swollen and needing under his hand, and blood was rushing to her pelvis, swelling the lips there, making her clit harden and throb as well.

The humiliation of wanting this stranger vanished as his finger slipped along her lips, touching her with a slow intimacy that hit every nerve in her body. He stopped, agonisingly, and she felt him shift a little, his head rising.

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"Do you want me?" he asked, his voice cracking a little high with surprise.

She didn't answer, but he could feel her flexing slightly around his fingertip, could hear, now that his attention wasn't solely concentrated in his cock and fingers, her breathing; rapid and shallow.

Seconds ticked by before she turned her head a little, her voice low and almost defeated as she answered, "Yes."

The admission sent a violent shock through his balls and up his cock, as if she'd touched him with a live wire.

"Roll over," he said, moving back a little to give her room. "And take off your top."

After another long moment's hesitation, she did, rolling closer to him, onto her back, her hands fumbling against the obstruction of his arm to pull the thin top off, her legs moving apart slightly, giving his hand more room.

He closed his eyes briefly at the feel of that tacit request, swallowing hard. He wasn't going to question this, he decided, opening them and looking down at her. He could see the gleam of her eyes in the subdued red glow from the clock, the outline of one cheek, the short curls that lay against the white pillow.

"Put your arms around me," he whispered, not believing she'd do it, not knowing why he'd asked it of her.

She lifted her arms slowly, her hands sliding over his shoulders and curling around his neck, the sensation somehow more unbearably intimate than his slow exploration of her pussy. Like a lover, he thought distantly, the idea distracting.

He lowered himself, until he could feel her breath on his mouth. "Kiss me."

He hadn't really believed she'd do that either, but she pulled him closer, brushing her lips over his and at the light touch, another low-voltage bolt ran through him, stabbing into his balls and shooting up his cock, turning it to steel.

Her lips explored his, mobile and softer than he'd imagined, then he felt the tip of her tongue slip along between them, tracing the shape of his mouth, first along the outside, then from the inside. The tentative delicacy of it brought a deep shiver, running down his back, and he slid his fingers along her pussy, cupping her mound and pushing a finger inside her as her tongue explored his.

She was hot. Much hotter than he'd thought. And tight. So tight he pushed in very slowly, feeling her stretch around his fingertip. Her clit, under his thumb, was hard, and he felt her whole body shake as he circled it gently, her hands closing hard on his shoulders, her breath, slightly minty, gusting into his mouth.

Fuck.

Between the kiss and the sensations surrounding his finger, he could hardly keep himself from coming there and then.

Two years. Eight months. Thirteen days. Nine hours.

She gasped against his lips and arched up, pushing back as he pushed a second finger into her, curling both and finding that tiny patch of nerve-endings, fingers and thumb stroking in unison, inside and outside.

Muscle, swollen and hot and coated in liquid, squeezed rhythmically along his fingers, in time with his caressing massage, the sensations transmitted by the sensitive nerve endings in his fingertips going direct to his cock, and his low groan, at the way the feelings were screwing deeper into him, exploding in nerve-wracking detonations up his length, escaped in a huff against her throat.

Then she was coming. A fast vibration around his fingers, her hips bucking up against him, her head thrown back as she tried to stifle her moans. The sight, the sound and smell, and feel of her, twisted almost painfully inside him, jacking him up higher again. He ground his cock against her hip and ass, watching her ride that roller, the way it felt astonishing him.

He'd always been careful to make sure sex was mutually enjoyable, that the women he took to bed had no complaints, even when they woke up alone in the mornings, but he'd never felt their arousal as an adjunct to his - and never dreamed it could stir him that much to see a woman shaking uncontrollably with the pleasure he'd given her.

His fingers were soaked, and abruptly he wanted to taste her, drive his tongue deep into her and lick out her thick creamy come. She was spasming around his fingers, eyes half-closed, mouth open, panting softly then holding her breath as another peak shook through her, her thighs clamped like a vice around his hand.

Was that one or two, he wondered as he ducked his head to trail his mouth down her throat and over her collarbone to her breast. He was going to lose it without ever getting into her if he didn't move fast. And he needed to be in her, needed to be swallowed whole and feel those tight, slick muscles pump him dry.

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Shivering and unable to catch her breath, Sara felt her toes curling under without volition as another wave of swelling pleasure flushed through her, her fingers curling and uncurling involuntarily over the big muscles of his shoulders, in time with the violent contractions of her back and thighs and the shooting spurts of sensation that seemed to be ricocheting back and forth and up and down her body, gaining strength with every rebound.

Dying, she thought incoherently, arching up again without any control over what her body was doing, mind and senses completely lost in how it felt; how unbelievable it felt. She wanted it to keep going. She needed it stop, for a second, to get some air into her lungs, before she passed out.

His lips slipped down the slope of her breast and that drew an audible moan from her before she could stop it. God, she was on fire, on fire and needing more, more touch, more sensation, more everything. His tongue lapped at her nipple and she arched up again, heels digging into the mattress, pressing her breast harder against his mouth.

Enclosing the nipple, his mouth was hot, teeth scraping a little. The sudden suction drew an answering shriek from the nerves in her pussy, and the combination was building in her again; sharp, spiking stabs, restless ripples undulating the muscles of her abdomen, washes of pleasure, almost like electrical discharges, fluxing through her organs, inflaming her thighs, twitching and jerking her toes.

His mouth moved to the other breast, fingers pinching and rolling the wet nipple left behind, and she was cresting again, spasming around the fingers inside her, aching for more.

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He pulled his fingers out as he slid down her body, dragging her panties down her legs roughly and pushing her legs apart, burying his face between her thighs. Dragging a deep breath in through his nose and nearly drowning in her scents, he slid his tongue along the swollen folds of her sex.

She tasted sweet, he realised vaguely, sweet and thick, like honey mixed with something else, something juicy, musky. Addictive. He forced his tongue into her, sweeping it against the walls of silken skin. His cock was throbbing in time with his pulse, twitching and jumping to have its turn.

Against his scalp, just touching, her fingers were unconsciously stroking his head in the same rhythm as he licked and the sensation was contradictorily relaxing and stimulating. Lapping his way up to her clit, hard and erect, he flicked at it with his tongue, feeling her buck lightly against his mouth.

God, he could get lost here for a long time. The thought barely had any meaning as he dragged his teeth over the small, throbbing nub. Lost in the sounds she was making, lost in the taste and smell and feel of her. He lifted his hand, sliding it from her thigh to run up and down the puffed lips, gliding in her moisture, his arousal escalating with every breathless moan he forced from her, every tight spasm of her muscles around him.

"Huh - uh - uh - uh ..."

He slid his fingers into her, two and then three, fucking her with them, lips closing around the pulsing clit in his mouth, lashing his tongue over it and sucking hard.

It didn't take long. She thrust up against his hand, against his mouth and he felt the violence of her orgasm, squeezing in rolling waves down the muscles that ringed her vaginal tunnel, oscillating in between the deeper convulsions, a never-ending ripple that trilled up and down his fingers.

What the fuck would that feel like surrounding his cock, he wondered, his breath whistling in his throat at the thought.

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Suffused and swamped by the pleasure that filled her, Sara bit down hard on the insides of her lips to hold in the cry that wanted to burst from her. Every part of her body was jittering, her nervous system overloading and sparking - her breasts were orgasming, her knees, even the damned insides of her elbows. There was no air in the world, and she couldn't control the jerking and twisting of her wired-up body.

She'd never had multiple orgasms, not even with Dan at the height of their passion. She'd thought she probably wasn't capable of experiencing it, one of a large percentage of women, had been grateful for the orgasms she did have and not wasting much time on wishing otherwise. Another earthquake rippled through her pelvis and legs and abdomen, peaking in a fierce ache in her nipples and the feel of his tongue sucking gently on her clit. Were those contractions and sharp-edged waves lessening? She couldn't tell.

When he lifted his head, she felt bereft, her clit cooling suddenly without the heat of his mouth. She felt him slip his fingers out of her, and shook with the sensation of loss, tears inexplicably pricking behind her eyes.

"Don't - please - don't stop."

Was that her voice? Whispering and begging him?

He loomed over her, his shape dimly outlined in the glow of the digital clock and she felt his knees against the insides of her thighs, sucking in a deeper breath, relief flooding her. She was both satiated and aching for more, flushed through with sensations never dreamed of, needing as she'd never needed before. Needing to be filled, needing to feel him - his warmth, his hands, his lips and tongue, his cock - on her. Against her. Inside of her.

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He knelt between her legs, braced on one arm and looking down at her as he rubbed the head of his cock along her dripping lips, pushing lightly over her clit, and against the opening lower down. In the barely-there light, he could make out that her lips were parted, her breath still rasping in and out of her throat, her eyes half-closed. He couldn't tell if she was looking at him or not.

The throaty whispered plea had torn right through him, a bubble of near-hysterical laughter rising in his chest as he tried to imagine stopping at that moment. His balls were full - stretched and rounded and taut - and filled with a deep ache he couldn't remember encountering before. He guessed he could've stopped - if someone'd cut his throat - but not otherwise.

He pushed gently against her, feeling the head stretch out the tight hole. She was tighter than he'd thought, swollen and engorged, and he ducked his head, holding back a groan as the small entrance reluctantly opened to him; licking, swallowing and compressing him as he went a little deeper.

She spread her legs wider and her hips lifted against him, driving him in another inch. The sensations that surrounded him were cacophonic - heat and pressure, smooth, silken slickness, bathing him and squeezing him at the same time. He didn't want to hurt her, didn't want to rush. She lifted her hips again and this time the groan emerged, soft and low as he slid in another couple of inches, thought wiped out by feeling, her interior walls undulating against him, sucking him in, caressing him.

"I won't break," she said, her voice low.

"You're so fucking tight," he responded, lifting his head and trying to see her expression.

"It's been a long time," she said, turning her head away.

He thrust in, harder this time, feeling half his length slide into her and hearing her small gasp at the sudden intrusion.

"Tell me what you want."

"I want to feel all of you," she murmured, looking back at him. "Slow and deep ..."

The image that came into his head was duplicated by reality as he pushed again, and her hips rose to meet his, driving him in, all the way. He let his head fall forward, her shoulder under his brow, his cock throbbing inside her as he pulled out again, the excruciating torment of the slowness robbing him of breath and strength.

She exhaled against his neck, her arms sliding around him.

"Oh, god, yeah." Her hips rocked back, and arched up sharply.

"Christ, I don't know how long I can do this," he muttered, mostly to himself.

"Not long," she said, muscles clamping and vibrating along him as he withdrew again. "I want you ... god, I want you ... hard ... and fast ... and deep."

He lifted his head, eyes widening as she widened her legs, ramming her hips against his, taking all of him in.

"Huh-uh-fuck!"

She felt like an inferno; his cock sucked in, rubbed, slicked, stroked and roasted. He was so close to the line where nothing he'd be able to do would make a difference and he started moving, one arm curling around her lower back to hold her still; slamming into her and pulling out, her legs lifting to wrap around his hips, her fiery cunt gripping him hard with every withdrawal, resisting him, tugging at him.

He was already there, teetering on the edge when her body began to convulse around him. A series of pulses, getting stronger, pulling at him, pummelling him and he exploded, hips jerking hard, his come flooding out in brain-seizing jets that seemed endless.

That long, long scream ... only in his head ... filled with light ... filled with darkness ... Jesus, he was filling her ... and dying ... did it matter? No ... it didn't. Nothing else mattered.

Still jerking involuntarily against her hips, aftershocks milking him out, his balls were slack and empty and every muscle in his body heavy with a lassitude that was sucking him down.

Somewhere, a long way away, the small voice that sometimes offered sarcastic comments at tense moments piped up ... so much for staying alert ...

"Please. Don't - don't move," her voice whispered against his ear, her arms reaching around him to hold him closer.

"I - I'm gonna crush you," he somehow managed to say back. His tongue felt thick and unwieldy.

"No," she contradicted him, and he felt her legs against his hips, over his back. "You won't."

He let himself down a little more, supporting most of his weight on one arm, hips and stomach pressed against her, his cock still buried deeply inside. Frissons of diminishing pleasure ran up and down his nervous system, sputtering out incrementally.