17. Taylor
CHAPTER 17
Taylor
W hen the elevator door opens, his hand is gliding up my arm, pulling my bag from my shoulder until it falls to the floor. Then he’s spinning me around to face him. His hands brush against my face, into my hair, his lips against mine, softly teasing.
I kiss him back, tugging on his shirt, demanding his lips with the fervor of a woman who has needed this longer than she realizes.
My hands are pushing at his suit jacket, attempting to maneuver it over his shoulders while he kisses me. He steps back, his breathing rapid as he rolls his shoulders, bringing his jacket down his arms and onto the floor. Within a millisecond his hands are back on my body, his tongue sliding past my lips.
“Turn around,” he says against my lips between kisses. I oblige, his hands sliding over my body till he reaches the zipper of my dress. He pushes my hair to the side, his lips trailing warm kisses up my neck as he begins to lower the zipper.
I suck in a sharp breath when he runs the back of one knuckle gently down my spine. His other hand reaches up, brushing the dress over my shoulder and down my arm on one side. He repeats the process, peeling the dress down my body until it’s a puddle at my feet. I sigh, arching my back slightly when his hand wraps gently around me, settling against my stomach.
“This first time,” he whispers against my ear, his fingers of one hand sliding up my throat, the fingers of the other slipping into my panties, “is for you.”
“Ohhh,” I groan when he doesn’t hesitate this time, two fingers immediately toying with me, dipping into my wetness and stretching me. His thumb is pressed against my clit, his other two fingers sliding deep inside me until I start to tremble.
The throaty rumble of his chuckle vibrates against my back. “Your little pussy wants to come already.” I quiver and clench around his thick fingers, my body already wanting release.
He spins me around, walking me backward as his tongue finds mine again. My fingers struggle with the buttons of his shirt as his lips cover mine. He pushes my hands from the shirt, reaching between us to tear it open in one swift motion. Buttons scatter to the floor as he pulls the shirt down his arms, his abs flexing with the movement.
My mouth hangs open and I wouldn’t be surprised if drool drips from my lips when I finally take in his physique. It’s the first time in my life I’ve finally been able to admire Austin Blake shirtless. I want to savor it, to take it all in, but he’s grabbing me again, pulling me back to him so he can kiss me.
The kiss goes from playful, me gently biting his tongue, him sucking mine deeper, slower when his hand drops to his belt and I hear the familiar clanking sound as he undoes it, his eyes growing darker as he stares into mine.
The clink of the belt has me weak, making me throb with need. He’s seconds away from being inside me and it’s not fast enough. His movements aren’t rushed or frantic though; they’re precise. His belt undone now, he moves to his zipper. I’m panting, shaking with need.
My knees hit the couch, and he lowers me down to my back, one leg on the couch, the other hanging off just as he pulls himself free. I look down my body, his cock in his hand. He looks up at me, his hair hanging down, his lips parted as he pulls my panties to the side with his free hand.
“Oh God,” I groan when his warm tip hits my entrance, “it’s so much bigger.” I wince when he pushes farther.
“I know.” His voice is unrecognizable. “Fuck, I thought you were ready for me, baby.” His body is rigid with tension from holding back. He pulls his cock back out of me, tugging me down to the edge of the couch where he tosses my legs over his shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” I moan, unsure why I’m apologizing for not being able to accommodate his alarmingly large girth.
“Don’t you dare apologize.” He pulls my panties to the side again. “Ohhh, fuck, look at you,” he groans, leaning down to slide his tongue right up my pussy in one long low stroke.
“Ohhh yessss,” I groan, my fingers tugging against his hair as I press his face harder against me.
But he doesn’t let me finish. He crawls back up my body, his cock at my entrance, sliding in deeper than before.
“Five years,” he groans, his hips starting to move. “Five years,” he says, pulling the cup of my bra down on one breast. He licks my nipple, then bites down. “Five agonizing years,” he repeats against my neck, biting me softly as he pulls the other cup down. “And now that I have you”—he pulls back far enough to look at me—“I’m going to take my time.”
His words are like catnip to me. Every nerve ending feels like it’s on high alert, every sensation heightened.
“Don’t stop,” I plead as if that was even an option for either of us at this point.
He hovers over me, the wide couch allowing us plenty of space as he reaches up to grip the back for leverage. He’s watching my every movement, every breath and noise I make, studying me like he’s trying to memorize me.
“You think I could stop?” he grits out through a clenched jaw, his hands reaching for my wrists to pin them over my head. “The world could end and they couldn’t pry me from you.”
I’ve had frenzied sex before.
Drunk, horny, in college when you think you’ve met the hottest guy of your life and you can’t seem to find the light switch as you tumble down your hallway. Whatever half-charming thing he last said to you making you think you’re about to have the most mind-blowing sex of your life. But then… after less than three minutes, you’re left panting in the dark, on your back, disappointed while he rolls over to tell you that it was the best sex he’s ever had in his life.
I’ve even had hot, one-night stand sex with a mysterious stranger I’d been eye-fucking at the club all night.
The kind where you don’t even ask each other’s names and it takes place half in the cab on the way back to his place and the other half in various parts all over his apartment. Where there’s zero expectations and no inhibitions because you’re just going to sneak out once he falls asleep afterward anyway.
But that’s not what this is. Not even close. This is hot, heavy, passionate. The kind of eroticism that people upend seats of government over and destroy lives to experience. That all-consuming kind of passion that feels like it’s going to make me combust from the inside.
I’m defenseless against him. My body completely surrendered to his touch. The sensation continues to build, my eyes rolling back in my head when he chooses to flick his hips upward at the end of one of his strokes.
He adjusts his stance, one of his feet on the floor, his knee on the couch. He still grips my wrists in one hand, pinning them above my head, his other hand gripping the edge of the back of the couch.
“Look at me.” His voice is gentle. I open my eyes, looking up at him. His eyes meet mine, his hips thrusting in long slow movements, the tip of his cock hitting my cervix every time. “I want to watch,” he murmurs, trailing his lips over my skin, “watch you surrender to me, feel you milk my cock.”
“Yes,” I groan, lifting my head slightly to sink my teeth into his shoulder when he drags himself slowly back out of me.
“Fuuuuck,” he hisses, slamming into me harder on his return.
My hands start to tingle, numbness slowly hitting my fingers as he tightens his grip. The control he’s pretending to have starts to slip, his movements growing faster, harder, deeper.
“Austin.” I can barely get his name out, the sound of his belt clinking with his movements echoing with the sound of our panting. This is an image I hope I never forget. His pants hanging off his hips, the deep V of his lower abs more prominent with every forward thrust. His arms and chest flex with the movements, his veins pronounced, threatening to pop through his skin.
“How’s it feel, baby?” He regains some control, leaning forward to kiss me, tilting his hips just right to make me see stars for a second. “You’re taking my cock like a good girl.” His words are still strained. “So much deeper than I expected.”
“S-s-sooo good,” I stutter as his tongue swirls around my nipple before he sucks it into his mouth. “I need— I need to…” I try to say the words, but I can’t form them. Every coherent thought feels as if it’s being fucked out of my body right now.
“You need to come?” he asks, releasing my hands and maneuvering both of my legs up over his shoulders. He grips both of my thighs, one in each hand, pulling me down and onto his cock over and over as he thrusts his hips forward at the same time. I reach my hand down to touch myself.
“Don’t!” he barks. “Don’t you fucking dare yet.”
I don’t want to risk him stopping so I jerk my hand back. My breasts sway and bounce with our movement, the sound of his flesh slapping against me growing louder. His eyes have gone dark, his movements growing erratic as his head falls forward, a guttural moan erupting from his chest.
He stares down at me like I imagine a wild animal stares at its prey before it attacks. A devious and hungry grin on his face, like he’s seconds away from devouring me. He spreads my thighs farther apart, looking down to where his cock disappears inside me.
“You can come in a minute, but first…” He slows his rhythm again, my orgasm just out of reach only adding to my frustration. “You’re going to let me get a good look at you.”
I’m not shy, even in the bedroom, but this feels so exposed, yet exciting. He spreads my thighs wide, leaning back slightly as he watches himself fuck me, his hips pistoning back and forth slowly, his muscles flexing erotically with every movement.
“I can’t,” I pant, my hands back to toying with my breasts as my legs begin to tremble. I slide one hand down my body, almost within reach when he barks at me again.
“Don’t you dare,” he grimaces.
But even his veiled threats can’t stop me. Watching him fuck me mercilessly while I’m spread open for his pleasure and appreciation is a kink I’ve never known I had.
“Oh, oh, oh.” I try to hold back but I can’t. I whimper. The sounds coming out of me would rival a seasoned porn star. Maybe it’s the five-year anticipation or the fact that I’m so far past the line of professionalism I never thought I’d cross with Austin, but the physical sensations I’m feeling in my body are like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
“You really don’t obey, do you?” He feels me squeezing him, and his eyes roll back in his head but he doesn’t stop. “Fine, but I’m going to watch. Hands flat on the couch.”
I barely get them there in time.
“Now relax,” he says, keeping my thighs spread far apart. My hand wants to drift to my clit but he notices. “Hands on the couch, baby.”
“Touch me,” I beg and he manages a small laugh but shakes his head.
“Look at me, Taylor.” My eyes meet his again. “Keep your eyes on me, baby.” He thrusts into me, then back out before looking down between us again. “I can see you throbbing against me. Mmmm. Look at that little pussy stretched to the max, taking my cock like a good girl.”
“Ohhhhh yesssss!” My nails dig into the couch, my back arching, my legs shaking. I try to squeeze my thighs together but Austin won’t let me. It doesn’t stop me, though; my orgasm takes over completely. I come, harder than I ever have. My abs flex and clench, my body bearing down as my orgasm sends me to heights unknown.
He’s pounding into me, faster, harder, my body still tingling. His eyes are closed, one hand wrapped at the base of my throat, the other gripping one of my thighs. Then he releases me, leaning back to pull himself from me. He fists his cock, pumping once, twice, then spilling his release onto my chest and stomach with a groan and shudder.
The room is silent, only our heavy breathing audible. When Austin lifts his head to look at me, I hold my breath, the sudden fear of him saying it was a mistake stilling my movements. But a second later, that feeling dissipates when he kisses me, his hand sliding down to cup my breast, dragging his thumb over my nipple as his tongue dances with mine.
“Oh.” My body responds already.
“Greedy,” he whispers into my mouth, dragging his tongue lazily over mine. “I like that.”
I’m not sure what I expected the afterward situation would be, if he and I ever did hook up. Mostly awkward, I suppose. I’d convinced myself I would be so consumed with how we’d handle seeing each other the next day that I never expected it to feel so good, so natural.
He smiles, reaching behind me to unclasp my bra and pull it from my body. He tosses it to the floor before hooking his thumbs into the waistband of my panties next.
“Let me toss these in the wash so that they aren’t stained.” He nods toward the puddle he left behind on me. “And grab you a warm towel.”
“Okay.” I stay reclined, not wanting to spill the mess onto the couch once he untangles himself from me and picks up my undergarments from the floor. He leans down, cupping my breast again as he kisses me.
“I’ll be right back.” He’s tucked himself back into his pants that remain undone, slung low on his hips. I take the opportunity to appreciate his body, the smooth lines of his back that move as he walks. When he returns, he’s kicked off his shoes and socks, a warm towel in his hand as he approaches me.
“Now this is a scene I could get used to.”
Don’t… read into it, Taylor.
“I think any man would say that after having a mind-blowing orgasm and coming back to see a naked woman strewn about his couch with stilettos still on her feet.” I kick my leg into the sky with a giggle, his arm coming out to grab my ankle.
“Oh yeah.” He tosses the towel onto the floor after cleaning me off. “And what other men have had the pleasure of you strewn about on their couch, naked, with heels on?”
“None.” I smile, my hands coming up to cup my breasts in a seductive manner. His hand stays clasped around my ankle as I drag my foot down to press the heel into his chest.
“How many other naked women have been strewn across this couch with their heels still on?”
He studies me for a second, his smile fading. My stomach drops and I’m worried I’ve made it awkward.
“None.”
He releases my leg, then stands up, pushing his pants and underwear down his thighs and to the floor, leaving himself fully naked… finally. I don’t wait for his next move. I sit up, pulling myself to the edge of the couch so that his still rigid cock is just out of reach of my mouth.
“What are you doing?” His voice is deep, gravelly. He knows what I’m about to do. His eyes give him away. They’re almost pleading, like he’s about to beg me if I change my mind.
“Tasting.” I reach my hand down to cup his balls as I part my lips, leaning forward just enough to gently kiss the tip of his cock.
He sucks in a sharp breath, his cock twitching from the contact. He stares at me intently as I reach my other hand up and drag my nails slowly down his abs till I reach the base of his cock. I slide my hand up his shaft, wrapping my lips around him before slowly starting to run my lips over his length.
“Ohhh, you’re good at tasting.” His hand slides into my hair, his fingers tangling in it as I repeat the process again, taking him deeper this time. “And sucking.” I keep my suction light, teasing, dragging the tip of my tongue up the underside of his shaft.
“I’m good at swallowing too.” I let him fall from my lips, but my hand still grips him. I lean forward, barely licking at the bead of precum that has formed on his tip.
“Oh, I have no doubt.” He chuckles, his hand coming down to grip my chin. “And I fully plan on making you prove that later, but right now, I’m ready to move this into round two and it’s not going to be as gentle.”
“Round two?” I ask, sliding my hand into his as he pulls me from the couch. My legs are unsteady but Austin’s hands are on my waist, guiding me toward the stairs.
“I told you, the first time was for you.” He bites down on my neck as we climb the stairs, his other hand toying with my breast.
“And this time?” I moan as his tongue dances across my skin.
“This time”—his hand drops to my belly, sliding down until he’s slipping a finger inside me again, making me gasp—“is for me.”
I’m dripping. Shaking. Already ready for him to take me again less than five minutes after he made me come with only penetration for the first time in my life. We’re almost at the top of the stairs, his fingers inside me, his cock pressing against my ass.
“Fuck it,” he groans, pushing me forward until my hands are on the landing, my knees on the second to top stair. “This will have to do.”
He grips my waist, pressing his cock against my entrance and sliding into me in one stroke.
“Ahh!” I arch, my knees pressing into the runner on the stairs, the rug burn already stinging. I struggle to accommodate him so quickly, my walls clenching, making it harder for him to enter me.
“Just breathe,” he grunts, pulling almost completely out. “You just took me, baby,” he says calmly, slipping inside me only an inch or two before backing out. “Come on,” he grunts again. He grabs a handful of my hair when my body lets him slide in deeper. “Just like that, baby girl.” His fingers dig into my skin so hard it hurts.
“It’s too deep like this.” My voice quivers and I’m not sure if it’s from pain or excitement or maybe both.
“That’s the point.”
He begins to really move now, faster and deeper. My poor body struggles to handle him, to keep up with his punishing strokes, but it doesn’t stop him. “Does it hurt, baby?”
“Y-yes,” I moan, “but it feels so good.”
“Ohhh, that’s right.” He pounds into me harder, his balls slapping my clit every so many strokes, sending an extra jolt of pleasure through me and dulling the pain. “I want you sore tomorrow. I want you thinking of me every time you move.”
His hand presses against my back harder, pushing my chest and cheek against the carpet as he loses control.
His words come out in jumbled, frantic bursts. “Five years. Little attitude. So frustrating. You can take it for another thirty seconds.”
I never let myself get this far in any fantasies of Austin that slipped through the cracks of my mind. But if I had, I still wouldn’t have been able to imagine him like this. Sweaty, losing control of himself, barking orders at me while he takes me punishingly hard.
But even more, I never, in my wildest fantasies, would have seen myself wanting a man to fuck me like this.
He doesn’t last another thirty seconds thankfully because I don’t think I would have either. This time when he comes, it’s with a low, reverberating moan that echoes down the stairs and his favorite four-letter word drawn out impossibly long. “Fuuuuuck.”
“Don’t move.” He pants against my back, his warm breath coming out in puffs against my slick skin. He slips himself from me with a wince and then a very satisfied moan as he runs his hand over my exposed ass. “Fuck me.”
“What?” I turn my face to look back at him from where I’m still sprawled across the carpet on my belly, my ass up in the air. That’s when I feel the warmth of his release drip down my thigh.
“The sight of my cum dripping out of your pretty pussy.” He smiles, dragging his hand up between my cheeks to spread his wetness over my asshole. “Just might be my favorite thing ever.”
Instead of smacking his hand away in embarrassment or attempting to get away from the pressure of his fingertip against my unexplored rosette, I press back against him, my body moving on its own.
He watches me, toying around the outside as my arousal grows.
“And here I thought you weren’t that kind of girl, Taylor.”
“I don’t know what kind of girl I am anymore.” It sounds like a cliché line in a movie when I say it, my brain a jumbled mess of emotions right now, but it’s true.
He clicks his tongue, pressing against me harder. “You’re going to get fucked again if you don’t stop.” He’s on his knees, stroking his cock with one hand, the other continuing to toy with me. I look back over my shoulder at him as he watches what he’s doing to me.
“Maybe I want to get fucked again.” I hardly recognize my voice, the way my body is writhing like a cat in heat. “Maybe I need it.”
Who the hell am I?
This is exactly what I’ve fantasized about without ever having experienced it. So desired, so turned on and needy that I lose all sense of myself. That my inhibitions melt away and I’m free to say and do the things I want to express my sexuality.
“I know you do,” he says, releasing his cock and reaching down to pull me back upright, against his chest. “But this third time”—his arm is around my waist, his other tilting my head back so he can kiss me—“I want to take my time with you.”
And he does.
By the time he’s inside me again, he has kissed, licked, or softly bitten every square inch of my body. I didn’t know what it meant to feel ecstasy until now. My body feels like it’s floating through a cloud, every nerve ending alight.
His lips move between hovering over mine, his breath coming out in soft pants, to kissing me. He pins my hands above me again, this time, though, his fingers are interlaced with mine, his eyes staring into mine as he lazily pumps in and out of me.
He feels it building. Releasing one of my hands, he reaches down and grabs my ass, helping me lift my hips up to meet his strokes.
Nothing is said. Nothing needs to be said. Our bodies are doing the talking.
I’m not sure which of us comes first, but the other quickly follows. It’s intense, the pleasure drawing out so much longer this time. When I finally come down, my eyelids can barely stay open.
Against all my natural instincts, I let myself simply bask in the true postcoital glow I always hear everyone talk about. All of the sleepy, feel-good hormones released during and after orgasm are clearly pumping through me. The sudden urge to become one of those lovesick girls who stupidly says I love you after sex and then demands we elope and have babies right away flitting through my head briefly.
“What has you smiling?” It’s only when Austin’s raspy, sex-laden voice rumbles against my cheek that I realize I somehow ended up lying across his chest in our postorgasmic haze.
“Hmm?” I lift my head to look up at him.
“You’re smiling.”
“Sex tends to put me in a good mood.”
“Yeah? Maybe I should try it with you more often.”
I don’t rebuff his suggestion. Now isn’t the time for me to overanalyze and freak out about what this all means. Then again, there’s a strange calmness in me about the thing entirely. Like maybe all I needed was for him to fuck some sense into me.
My stomach rumbles.
“We never did eat, did we?” He brushes my hair from my face. “I’m not sure the Thai place is still open now but I’m sure there’s something we can find in my kitchen.”
“It’s okay.” I yawn, rolling to my side and sitting up. “It’s late. I need to take a shower yet once I’m home an?—”
“You can shower here. I’ll make us something downstairs.”
“I appreciate it, really.” I look around the room, realizing my dress is still downstairs and my underwear are in the wash. “Shit.”
“You’re not having a one-night stand with me, Taylor.”
I freeze at his sudden change in tone. “What?”
“I’m not letting you go home this late after fucking me for the last several hours. Even if it was the middle of the day, you’re not running out of here. You’re staying. I’m not a one-night stand.” He pulls the sheets back and gets out of bed. “Now, do you want to take a shower while I go downstairs and make something for us to eat?” He comes to a stop in front of me, his unapologetically naked body towering over mine. “Or do you want to take a shower with me?”
Suddenly, Austin’s no bullshit attitude that can sometimes really get under my skin and piss me off is a complete turn-on for me. He leans in, planting a featherlight kiss against my neck.
“Take a shower with you.” My response is instant, any anxiety that was starting to bubble up melting away the second I feel his warm lips against my skin.
“Good,” he murmurs, reaching around me and smacking my ass, “because I was going to drag you in with me either way.”