Chapter Five
Mari
When her hand clamps around my cunt, I feel myself start to melt. Even through the elasticated cotton of my tight boxers, I come alive with tingles and shudders and delicious pressure right where I need it.
I’m so overcome by the full-body sensation that I fall back onto the bed. As I hoped, Roos’ hand stays where it is, and she leans back with me.
“How does that feel?” she asks, and I like how her voice has changed. It’s thicker, a little deeper, and more commanding.
“Good,” I rock my hips up to prove it, “it feels really good.”
“Tell me, Mari,” she says, still in that authoritative tone. “Have you been tested recently?”
“Uh-huh,” I mumble. “A few weeks ago. Got the all clear. Haven’t been with anyone since.”
Apparently, full sentences are too difficult for me when the heel of her hand is rubbing quick circles against my clit, and I can feel my own dampness on my underwear.
“Very good,” Roos says, satisfied. “I also tested negatively. Recently. Ish.”
“Okay,” I say, and I’m surprised when a clear and important thought emerges through my fog of arousal. “But…do we… Should we still use a condom? I’m not on birth control.”
“In theory, you shouldn’t need it. I don’t produce much cum, but I definitely think condoms are always a good idea,” she says, and she reaches across my body to a bedside table.
She rummages around, all while still pushing her hand against me, and then a box of condoms and a bottle of lube are thrown onto the bed near my head.
With all that settled, I have a very sudden urge. “Kiss me,” I say, and I hold my arms open for her.
She gives me this stunning smile - bright and wide and revealing – and then she crashes into the side of my body, bringing her lips to mine.
Roos’ kisses are like none I’ve had before.
They’re deep and slow and sensuous. Even when they’re quick and passionate, there’s still a sense of timelessness to them, like she’s rushed to have me but not in a rush for it to be over.
It’s like she could never tire of my lips, could never get bored of my taste, and I come alive with the way her tongue flicks against mine before she sucks my bottom lip into her mouth.
I moan, loudly, and I feel that pull up the corners of her lips into a smile.
She grazes her teeth over my tongue, and I reach up and grip her head between my hands, my fingers getting lost in her hair.
“Shit, wait,” she says, pulling away. Both her hands come up to her hair. I mourn the loss of her palm on my cunt, but not as much as I worry I’ve done something wrong.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, it’s just… I’m wearing a wig.” She blushes and looks away. “I have this fucking awful hairline I hate. But also, I like wearing wigs.”
I smile. “I love that for you. Do you want to take it off?”
“Not really,” she says, and I can tell when she looks into my eyes again, it’s with effort. “I like having long hair like this. Especially when I’m…being dominant.”
“But would it be best if I didn’t touch it too much?”
“Exactly,” she says with a much smaller smile than I’d like to see.
I place my hand on her knee. “Whatever makes you feel more comfortable.”
“Okay,” she says, and then she looks down the length of my body. I feel the air in the room grow more charged, denser, electric. “Now lie down and take off your underwear.”
I do as I’m told with a happy sigh. There is something special about slick and smooth scenes where hook-ups happen almost seamlessly, without any interruptions or hiccups.
But personally, I like this version of sex much more.
When we stop, when we talk, when we share what we like, what we don’t like, what feels good.
This feels raw and unfiltered and real, and I’ve been looking for something to feel real for a very long time.
When my boxers are off my body, Roos gets up and moves to stand between my open legs that hang off the bed.
With one of her knees, she nudges my legs further apart, and this has me tilting my hips up to her.
She flashes a wicked grin down at my crotch, not even bothering to direct it to my eyes, and I watch without blinking as she elegantly bends at the waist and inhales me.
That’s it. That’s all she does. She doesn’t touch me. Doesn’t kiss me. Doesn’t make any contact at all other than sniffing the air immediately in front of my cunt. For some reason, it makes my belly quiver and feels more powerful than if she’d covered me with her mouth.
She must like what she smells because she finally makes eye contact with me, flashing that mischievous smile.
“You smell good enough to eat,” she coos, still sternly somehow.
“Please eat me,” I beg, thrusting my hips again. I’m desperate for her tongue. “Please.”
“Begging already?” She cocks a dark blonde eyebrow. “What if I’m not hungry?”
“Then use your hand, your fingers,” I blurt. “Anything. Just please touch me.”
“What about this?” She brings her hand between my legs and pinches my clit. She pinches it with a cruel twist that has me jolting up from the bed.
“Fuck!”
“Did that hurt?” she asks as she strokes my inner thigh so gently it feels like a feather brushing up and down my skin. “Did that hurt so good?”
“Yes, it hurt,” I answer, and then make sure I am holding her gaze when I add, “Do it again.”
She laughs, and it sounds like birdsong. And then she pinches me again.
“Oh, God,” I groan. It’s even more painful when I’m expecting, wanting it.
“By the way,” she says, bending over again, “I lied.”
“Oh?” I say, wondering if this is another scene-breaking moment.
“I am hungry.” She drops to her knees. “I’m fucking starving.”
And finally, her mouth is on me. She eats me like she kisses – slow licks, teasing tongue flicks, indulgent hard sucks.
In no time at all, I’m writhing into her face, and she has to dig her fingers into my hips to still me.
But the sweet pain of her manicured nails only adds more magic to the moment.
When I start to moan, she does too. When I push up on my elbows to watch her, she takes one of her hands and starts to play with herself, and I know it’s for me.
She’s telling me what eating me does to her. That it turns her on so much.
I want to come in her mouth, but I also want my first orgasm with Roos to be something else. Something bigger.
“Roos,” I say tentatively, all while my breathing speeds up with my arousal. “I want to feel you inside me. I want to come with you inside me.”
She gets up and stands in front of me, and it’s this posture that leaves me speechless. She’s tall and lean and so fucking elegant. She’s a beautiful blend of hard lines and soft curves. Her skin is flushed pink, and her nipples are rock hard. I’m in awe of her. All of her.
“My fingers,” she puts two in her mouth and sucks on them, teasing me. “Or my dick?”
“Your dick,” I gasp. “I want your pretty dick inside me while you kiss me to orgasm.”
Something flashes in Roos’ grey eyes. It’s quick and unexpected and a surprise to her too. It takes her a second to arrange her features back into the controlled composure she had before.
“That’s what you want?”
“Yes, please, Roos. Please.”
She reaches for the condom and takes her sweet time putting it on, knowing full well I’m watching her every move. With another nudge of her knee against mine, she makes room for herself and then lies her slim body on top of mine. I can’t stop myself; I wrap my arms around her and hold her to me.
“Move up the bed,” she says in her softer, normal voice.
We shift together, and I’m grateful for it because it means I can envelop her with my legs as well as my arms.
Gently, Roos pushes back against me, leans to the side, and puts a hand between our bodies. A second later, and I feel her. Inside me.
The first thing I feel is relief. And it’s not just physical. It feels emotional. Like, good, that’s where she’s supposed to be. Inside me. Because I know for certain part of her has burrowed its way inside me tonight, and this feels like a physical manifestation of it.
But then she starts to move, and I feel everything else. A slight stretch. A gentle pressure. A building ache.
I move my hips so I can meet her every thrust. I look up at her as she frowns and pouts with concentration. And then she looks into my eyes, and we stay like that, holding each other physically and with our gazes.
When she lowers her head and kisses me, I wonder if she does it because it’s what I asked for, or if she had to do it because the eye contact was too intense. Too much too soon with someone you’ve just met.
I don’t care. I don’t care if Roos feels that way or if it’s just me.
Because she is kissing me – deeply, sweetly, powerfully – and I’m climbing higher and higher and higher away from the ground, away from myself and into something else, something else I don’t know and can’t predict.
“Oh, God, Mari,” she says against my teeth, and I know then that she’s dropped her role completely. She’s as gone as I am. So I squeeze my limbs harder around her, and I help her take us even higher.
When I come, it’s blinding and melting and full of the last thing I expect.
Hope. Somehow, in the arms of this beautiful woman I literally bumped into randomly, I’ve found hope.
I came to Amsterdam looking for it and expected to see it in the picture-perfect canals or in the modern art museums or maybe in the fucking tattoo convention, but instead, I found it in a beautiful woman with eyes the colour of morning fog.
I hold onto Roos as my climax breaks and then starts to ebb and flow. I hold onto her as she then moves quicker, harder, with more strength. I hold onto her as she stops, stills, and cries out.
I’m still holding her many minutes later when we have both found our breath but not yet our words. In fact, speaking feels so far out of reach that we just look at each other for many long minutes until sleep takes us both.
*****