Unbroken (6 page)

She stared at him, curiosity in her avid gaze. “What’s that?”

“You don’t know?” He grasped his cock, fingering it like a flute. “
That give
you any ideas?”

She took the glass dildo from him, her eyes widening when she realised what it was, and maybe the size, too, since they came in large, extra large and monster. He’d chosen extra large, because who needed any bigger than ten inches?

“Where did you get it from? Did you make it?”

“Nah.”
He grinned. “I have a friend who blows glass. He used to make these before he got a contract with a big company to do perfume bottles. He still does a few sometimes, but they’re collectors’ items these days.” He raised a brow, enjoying her fascinated study. “Like it?”

She turned it in her hands, the blue spiral twist in the centre reaching up to eternity. “Oh, yes.”

“And it’s the artist in you that likes it, right?”
Zoltan
said.

She glanced at his cock, then the dildo, and handed him the artificial one.
“Not hardly
. It’s pretty, but it isn’t warm, and it isn’t wet, and it doesn’t pound me to oblivion.”

Zoltan
opened the cabinet and got out the lube. “I can remedy that. Ever been taken in the ass?”

Oh, yes, this was perfect. Hot and sexy and the suggestion got her so steamed that he could see it, together with the tinge of doubt in her eyes.

“Once or twice.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant, but he’d turned her on.

“This might be a bit large, but it’s nice and smooth.” He slid the phallus through one hand, pushed it,
clasped
his fingers around the shaft.

She liked that. Shit, so did
he
. He didn’t go in for ass play much, but
Vashti
had such a fucking sexy ass that he wanted it like he’d never done before. He’d fucked her from behind, her curves fitting beautifully into his groin, cushioning his steady strokes into her pussy, but he had a mind to try more. See how far he could take her. Get her orgasm quotient up.

Nothing emotional about that.

“Trust me?”

She nodded and turned her back on him. He caught his breath. That amounted to permission. She trusted him to shove the whole ten inches inside her. Not that he would. It was wide, too, wider than any man he’d ever seen, but maybe she liked that.

Or maybe he could do something else.

Hot water needled down on him and he winced before she eased the flow to a hard rainfall. He stood under the spray and turned around, letting the water rinse off the clay that smeared his body. He held the dildo under the stream and watched the red clay stain from his hands wash away, leaving the beauty of the clear crystal, with its sapphire-blue twist, behind. He’d read somewhere that glass wasn’t ever fully solid, but constantly liquid, constantly flowing. He didn’t understand the science behind it, didn’t care to find out because that snippet of information had given him enough to work with, enough to create a river of clay, later cast in bronze and sold for a mouth-watering sum at some fancy auction house.

Ridiculous what people would pay for a ‘
Zoltan
’ piece. Not that he was complaining.

When all the remnants of red clay had swirled around the floor and into the drain, he reached for her, urged her back against him and opened his hands wide, smoothing them down her body. If he could render her skin in bronze that would be worth something, worth paying a fortune for, but he knew his limitations. He’d never make a Pygmalion. Nor did he want to. He’d take the creation before him, the living, breathing person who offered herself to him now. The smoothness of her skin astounded him, the silkiness, that gorgeous colour with its subtle shading, and most of all the heat beneath, reminding him that a real woman lived and breathed here. All that put his total oeuvre in the dust.

She raised her arms and lifted her heavy swathe of hair away from her nape, winding it expertly around until it formed a coil on the top of her head. She must have picked up a clip from the washstand because she used it now, opening the jaws of the gleaming black plastic and enclosing her hair in one skilful movement. He watched, fascinated. Normally he loved to feel her hair swirl around him when they fucked, touching him with whispers of sensation, but today he wanted nothing between her body and his. He wanted to see it all, feel it all.

Now he examined her lovely, gleaming back. Ingres had to give his model an extra vertebra to get the sinuous effect he wanted, but
Vashti
had it already, the satin skin covering supple sinew and muscle, the bones of her spine barely discernible when she moved. He hated to think of it rendered skinny and ugly by the constant diets models subjected themselves to, but if she went back to the profession, no doubt she’d be like that soon. He had no right to ask her. They were separate people, with their own paths in life. He had to remind himself of that with increasing frequency these days. They were just getting too comfortable with each other.

All the more reason to ramp it up now, make it hot, raw sex and try to keep the emotional part away. He swept one hand down her back, loving the feel of her. “Hold on to the handles.”

On either side of the elaborate shower installation jutted two long handles.
Vashti
would need those now. He’d make sure she needed something to hang on to. She obeyed him without speaking, gripping them until her knuckles showed white. Good, he’d got her excited, and a little bit nervous, not knowing what he planned.

He took a firm grip on the dildo, just above the glassy balls and teased her with it, sliding it over her muscles. He grabbed the lube and squeezed a pool of it on to the glass shelf, and dipped his fingers into it. Watching her shoulder muscles carefully, he slid his
lubed
fingers down her crease, at first sliding past her opening. Her muscles tensed, but she didn’t say anything. He rolled the dildo over her skin, bent and dropped kisses where it had touched, and began to work her. Dipping his fingers in the lube again, he circled her anus, and heard her gasp. She liked that. The sensitive skin reacted to his touch, opening slightly for the tip of one finger. He kept his nails short when he was sculpting clay, and this aided him now. He wouldn’t inadvertently scratch her.

She hissed, a sound of air escaping between clenched teeth.

He smiled, but kissed her again and murmured, “Just feel. Don’t condemn, don’t judge, just accept. If it hurts, tell me and I’ll stop.”

Tender enough, as tender as he planned to get for now, he still felt concern for her and a burning desire to take her to new pastures, new realms of experience. And to experience them himself, because
Vashti
was in a completely different arena to every other woman he’d had sex with.

Now he had the tip of his finger in her ass. Heat blasted at him, but the tight muscles opened sweetly to his persuasion, clamped around him. He’d have to use a lot of self-control when he got his cock into her. Already it dripped for it. He glanced down and caught sight of it, rock hard and straining, the tip wet with his essence. As he watched, a drop slid from it and blended with the water cascading down the drain.

Vashti
held steady, but the occasional gentle moan told him she didn’t object. Part of him remained on guard, waiting for her protest. He’d promised. He reached around with the dildo, tickled the sensitive underside of her breasts,
felt
their weight close around the top part.
Vashti
had pert, petite breasts, mouth-watering delicacies rather than full-blown feasts. He loved nipping and sucking them, loved watching them jiggle in time to his thrusts. He’d have to get a mirror put in here because that was the downside about doing it this way. He couldn’t kiss her and he couldn’t see the expression on her face, something that would guide him now. He wanted this time to wipe out her previous experience, wanted to show her how good it could be.

Mind-blowing, if his previous experience was any guide, and with
Vashti
, even more intense.

He took his time, listening to her soft sighs and moans, reading her body as her muscles tensed and relaxed. Her nipples crinkled and hardened for him, and he wanted to taste and nip. Later, he’d do it. He’d make her
scream,
make her beg him to move on. Or have her do it to him. When she took control in bed she went wild, exploring and experimenting, doing things he’d never dreamt of before.
Very imaginative, his
Vashti
.

No.
His nothing.

The dildo collected water, and he slipped it between her pussy lips to nudge and tease her clit until she could hardly bear it. He needed more hands. Someone
panted,
their breath harsh and he was mildly surprised to discover it was him. She gave him control this time, and he loved it. He had most of his finger inside her ass now, so he introduced another, easing it around the lube at the opening to make it easier for her.

“
Zoltan
…”

“
Mmm
?”

“Do it. Do it, my love.”

The last two words froze him, filling him with terror and elation, and he wasn’t sure which was stronger.
Zoltan
rarely felt terror, but he’d never felt so close to anyone before, never allowed anyone in so deep. This needed to stop.

He dragged his fingers out of her, grabbed the tube and
lubed
his cock until it glistened. He used his body to protect it from the stream of water,
then
bent over her, introducing the very tip to her small opening, which he’d worked looser. It still gripped him in infernal heat when he slid inside. So easy, once he’d breached the tight ring of muscle on the outside and persuaded it to accept him.

Oh fuck, she felt so good. Did every part of her body mean paradise to him? Shit, no, but he could come just looking at her sometimes. He gripped one hip, urging her to move back on him. Her hands still had the handles in a death grip, one she used as purchase to ease her body back on to his.

“That’s it, come to me in your own time.”

Then she stopped.

He was still only half in, and he wanted it all.
Wanted it now.
“Straighten your legs, bring them closer together.”

She did, awkwardly, and he remembered that slight limp.

“Not if it hurts.”

“It doesn’t.” She gasped as he
pushed,
not stopping until he’d embedded his cock completely in her hot body.

Christ, she was steaming. He ventured to withdraw a little, try to set up a rhythm, and she gasped again, but not with pain.

“Here we go.” He pushed in, pulled out a little more, pushed in. Did it again, deeper each time until he could move easily inside her. He stared down, where her buttocks cushioned his groin and knew that he’d embedded the sight into his mind and that one day it would come out in his art. He didn’t know how yet, and he wouldn’t work on it. In the old days, his days of abstract, it would have come out as a dynamic, a line of pure action, divorced from the inspiration, but now it might appear as a more literal interpretation.

Fuck, he didn’t care. The pause had given him a minute to regain some of his control, but he was going to lose it soon, and do it spectacularly.

He moved the
dildo,
let it slide down until it touched her opening, at the very heart of her pussy. Her moan had an edge this time, but she didn’t say stop.

So he didn’t. He pushed, easing his cock out of her until it was barely inside, and inserted the dildo. The smooth glass slid in, and he didn’t stop until he’d pushed all ten inches inside her. She winced, gasped when he stroked past her G-spot, but he waited, and thrust home with his cock, so she had two phalluses pushed inside her wet, gorgeous body.

The water still rained down on them, and he leant forward, managed to reach the controls to get a barely-there spray. It misted down as he worked her, eased out and in, concentrated.
Cock, then dildo, working out a rhythm that pushed first one into her, then the other.
He got into the pattern, let her relax into it, accept it, then he changed, thrusting the dildo in and out twice, before pulling it out and concentrating on his cock. He had just enough sanity left to press the tip of the dildo against her clit, so that every thrust nudged it, drove her up higher.

When she screamed, he let go, unable to hold back any longer, unable to resist the allure of her beautiful, sleek body. When he came, he felt as if he’d given her every bit of what made him
Zoltan
, all the creativity, all his most precious essence, deep inside her. It couldn’t have a better home.

Vashti
shuddered as
Zoltan
turned her in his arms and switched the shower to pour over them. He rinsed her, soaping them both with shower gel, and when she lifted her face, he dropped a gentle kiss on her lips. His mouth trembled and she knew this had affected him as deeply as it had her. She wanted to stop thinking, to let him care for her. Her mouth twisted. Strange, to go from one protective presence to another, but
Zoltan
would never control her as her mother had done, from an age when she was too young to know any better. Her mother had divorced her father as soon as she had what she’d wanted from him, and had devoted her life to her daughter in a parody of the stage mother.