Good Morning II

Laura thought she might melt, literally melt as Bill loomed over her, against her, rubbing his rock hard erection in the cradle of her hand, held in place by one of his own.

His breaths were warm and quickening like her own, his chest heaving against hers. Her nipples were achingly hard beneath the fabric of her robe, so sensitive she would swear she could feel the practically non-existent ridges in the fine weave against the tips. It had her gasping little gasps into the hollow of his throat and trying to catch her breath, to calm.

But she couldn’t, not when he was speaking, telling her how his need matched her own, his voice a weapon of devastating sensuality, that raspy, deep baritone reaching down, down, down inside her to tickle the depths of her womb as ably as his cock had and soon would again.

She gushed wet between her thighs in anticipation, the soft flesh of her sex swelling and tightening to the point of throbbing in time with her heartbeat. She considered the chances of cumming just from the sound of his voice and decided they were good when he suddenly whispered low in her ear, “Are you wet for me, Laura?”

A wild flutter cascaded through her flesh, settled heavy in her pussy. “Yes,” she acknowledged on a moan.

“Yeah. I can smell you,” he countered, hand moving from hers and into her robe with another whisper, “Let me feel.”

She parted her legs for him, unsteady as they were, whimpering when his fingers slid into her panties and down to fondle her juicy folds.

“Oh yeah, that’s nice,” he breathed, moaned as he rubbed her. The rhythmic glide of his fingers was mesmerizing and she found herself moving into it. “You’re so ready,” he commented after several moments, pressing his stubble-rough cheek against hers.

She nodded, ignoring the burn of whiskers, and worked her hand inside his pants to close her fingers around his distended member. It was so hot, silk-covered iron and pulsed in her hand, a steady throb. He frakked the circle of her hand with little grunts and sounds of pleasure.

Then, all at once he stilled and his hand was gone, his body moving away. She opened her eyes and watched him strip off the t-shirt. Then he was reaching for the tie on her robe. She helped him loose it and part the sides to reveal her breasts. He took them in his palms, kneaded and stroked, thumbs riding the rim of her areolas, bending her nipples to and fro.

His eyes watched every move he made and encouraged her to respond without restraint, whispering when she bit her lip, “Let it out. Be loud if you want.” His eyes shot up to hers. “Let me hear how much you like it.”

Gods, it was not an easy thing to do. It ran counter to her years-ingrained habit of keeping her tongue, silencing her pleasure to prevent discovery of hers and Richard’s affair

Here, now, in the light of day in her own kitchen, with an entirely different man, it should have been easier, but it wasn’t, even though she was aroused beyond anything she’d ever known with Richard. She tried, though, emitting little whimpers and moans, gasps when Bill pinched or plucked her nipples in tandem.

The entire time, he watched her, his eyes on hers, fathomless seas of desire, warm and inviting. She tumbled into them, into him, taking hold of his hands and directing them down to her hips. Together, they pushed her panties down and off. Her robe followed and she put herself in his arms, mouth melding with his as her breasts pressed flush against his chest.

His hair was soft in her hands, his lips softer still under hers. He lifted her and she wrapped her legs around him, held on as he carried her away from the counter to, to…

The table.

Cool, smooth wood was beneath her, at her back as he lay her back, leaned over her. His mouth left hers, moved down her neck to her chest. His hands followed, stroking, smoothing, coaxing, as he whispered, “Tell me what you want.”

She did, hands tightening in his hair then loosening and sliding across his shoulders, as she whispered, “Frak me.”

“Louder,” he pleaded, lips closing around one of her nipples, sucking.

“Frak me,” she moaned, back arching as he pulled hard and deep on the bud. “Frak me,” she repeated, louder, and louder still when he pulled ever harder, sensation sharpening until it was almost painful, but deliciously so. And then he was soothing with gentle licks and swirls of tongue, soft kisses and a delicate, maddening dance of fingers along her sides, making her shiver and moan.

She caressed him and he reascended, mouth covering hers in a deep, slothful kiss as his hands worked between them, freeing his cock. Laura felt it press hot and heavy against her sex, then he was there, right there, poised to slide inside her.

Gods, she was so ready, aching inside and out, body and soul, to feel him breach her with his broad head and fill her with his thickness. She was ready to feel him move in and out of her, to accept him again and again and again inside her until they found satisfaction.

They needed this, both of them. The beginning, the end, and everything that came between. She didn’t question that they found it in each other, essential strangers. She never would have imagined … and yet as he prepared to bury his cock in her once more, she couldn’t imagine it any other way, embraced that neither of them seemed to want any more than the other was prepared to give.

Pulling her lips from his, she reached a hand between them and caressed his length as he held it, caught his gaze and pleaded once more, “Frak me.”

Without a word, he pushed inside her then planted his hands to either side of her head and began pumping her slow, deep. She watched him flex over her, slid her hands over his chest, around to his back and up to his shoulders. His skin was hot and slick with sweat, encasing powerful muscles that flexed under her palms and fingers. She scraped her nails through the stubble on his cheeks and stroked his hair, brushing back errant strands that had fallen to his brow.

“So sexy,” she panted, slipped her arms around his shoulders and pulled herself up to kiss him, needing to taste him.

He moaned around her stroking tongue, eased his arms under her and pulled her with him as he stood straight. She whimpered when he almost slipped out of her, but he grasped her hips and pulled her hard back onto him. She hooked her legs higher around him, digging her heels into his behind as he moved in and out of her, rolling her hips into each thrust, urging him to go faster, and faster still. Pleading for him to to take her harder.

He obliged, hips colliding with hers hard enough to jar the table, hard enough to make her cry out on each one. She gasped his name, beseeched the gods, made inarticulate sounds of joyous pleasure. She struggled for breath, for coherence as the heat and pressure built to the point of being unbearable. He was shuddering with her, his thrusts growing erratic as the end neared. She held to him and he held to her, bodies huddled close as his hands lifted her into the swing of his hips.

Pressing her face in his neck, Laura concentrated on the feel of him thick and heavy sliding through her tightness. She listened and she felt and she pushed any and all other thought aside. Her heart raced, her lungs burned, her pussy ached and ached and ached, and then it was all gone, replaced by a blossom of pleasure that blinded her to everything but the feel of him releasing inside her.

Warm kisses some minutes later brought her back to herself. She returned them, humming at the soft smacks their mouths made as they met again and again. She moved leaden arms against him, hands climbing his back to delve into his sweat-damp hair.

“Oh my gods,” she breathed when he finally released her mouth. Talking her eyelids into opening, she found him smiling at her.

“Good?” he asked.

She gave a soft, humming giggle. Good? No. Fantastic? Yes. “Umm-hmm,” she replied.

He chuckled in response, hugged her close, bowed and kissed her shoulder. When he righted himself again, he eased out of her. She sighed at the loss, but said nothing, her hands slowly falling away from his body as he lowered into the chair behind him, the one that he’d obviously shoved out of the way earlier.

She looked at him, sweat still glistening deliciously on his torso while his blue eyes raking over her body in obvious appreciation. She watched … something … ripple through is features when his gaze fixed on the hot flesh between her thighs. She knew what he saw there because she felt it. When he continued to look, she opened her legs a little wider, giving him a better view.

It was a wanton move for her. Sexy lingerie was about as exhibitionist as she usually got, and Richard, well, he hadn’t really taken the time to just look. There’d always been a meeting to get to, a dignitary to see, a wife to return to. But Bill, he looked, was continuing to look, and he’d looked last night, too, watched her as they frakked, and not just for his own pleasure. He’d studied her, gauged her and was doing the same thing now.

Laura trembled under his discerning gaze, braced her hands on the tabletop behind her, asked, “Like what you see?”

His eyes flickered up to hers. “Yes.” There wasn’t an ounce of ambiguity in that answer. It was direct and honest, and it made her insides quiver.

He reached then for her feet and pulled them into his lap, pressing them sole to sole, keeping her open. He stroked his thumbs around her ankles. He continued to hold her gaze. “You’re a beautiful woman, Laura.” His hands glided up the backs of her calves. “Sexy.” Rounding her knees, his palms smoothed up her inner thighs. “Desirable.”

“Bill…,” she breathed, intending to thank him but he stopped her with a rumbled, “Close your eyes.”

She did and he moved her feet to the arms of the dining chair. She heard it creak slightly as he moved. Her breath caught when she felt his hips brush against the insides of her knees. It caught again when she felt his warmth hovering so close, his breath blowing gently across her cheek. Then there was a broad hand, hot but gentle, laid between her breasts. He rubbed lightly, murmured, “Later, I want to put my cock right here.”

Laura flushed hot, heard herself whimper when he continued, telling her he wanted to feel her soft breasts around him. Then, in a barely there whisper, he asked permission, “Would that be all right?”

She gave him the only answer she had.

“Yes.”

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