Unsure (22 page)

“You’re staring, Ashley. And here am I trying to be so cool, so considerate given
your
state of undress.” His teasing banter reminds me what we’re about, and how totally unsophisticated I am in these matters. I tear my eyes away from his torso, stammering an apology. But I can’t help reminding him that I already told him I’ve not much experience of this sort of thing. His reply is to get up and lean across the now depleted chessboard, lifting my chin with his fingers to kiss me. His lips brush mine ever so softly, his tongue sliding along the seam of my lips before slipping inside. The kiss is gentle, tender, and it settles me. He lifts his head, smiles.

“Not in the rules, love, but you looked as though you might need it and I just can’t help myself. You’re so beautiful you take my breath away.”

Still smiling, he sits again, and moves his queen to take my castle as well as putting me in check. He may be gentle and tender, but he’s ruthlessly pursuing his goal. And that goal is me, naked and ready for him.

“Does that count as two items of clothing?” I ask.

He leans back, his face a satisfied smirk as he rakes my body with his eyes. “Strictly speaking, yes. But I like to draw out the entertainment. Just the bra will be fine. The pants will follow soon enough anyway. Your knight goes on my next move. And in case you’re wondering, you’ll be mated in four moves.”

“Is that a farming expression?” I ask, my own expression deliberately innocent. He looks up sharply, and laughs out loud.

“Ashley, you bloody well delight me. And no, it’s an expression from a man whose balls are going to explode if he doesn’t get inside you very, very soon. The bra. Now, please.”

I take a deep breath, and comply. But I’m careful to let my hair fall around my shoulders and cover my breasts. A temporary measure, I know, but this sort of sensual play is unfamiliar territory for me and I’m naturally rather shy. Inhibited even. If Tom notices and feels cheated, he doesn’t say so. I make my own move, careful not to expose too much of myself as I lean toward the board, then sit back and watch as Tom’s remaining castle slides sideways to take my knight. He says nothing, just looks up expectantly. I know my part, understand the rules of our game, and remove my pants without further fuss or protest.

Naked now, I sit on the sofa, my legs curled under me. I meet Tom’s gaze, and see at last he is not unmoved. Far from it. His green eyes are blazing, hot and sensual, anticipating. I risk a glance lower and can see his erection, huge and thick and clearly outlined inside his jeans. It gives me a strong sense of satisfaction to know he must be very, very uncomfortable and I’m the cause of it. Serves him right.

“My move. What do you suggest?”

“You could take my bishop with your knight. And I wish you would because then I could take off these bloody jeans…”

I smirk at him before reaching out and uselessly moving an inoffensive pawn. His response is a low groan before he reaches for his castle to again put me in check. Leaning back, he says nothing now. Just beckons. Obediently I slide my legs from under me and stand, my hair still covering me, more or less, as I walk around the table to stand before him.

I lift my chin, proud and unafraid. “A kiss, I think it was?”

He nods, reaching for me. His hands on my hips, he pulls me forward to straddle him, placing my knees on the sofa on either side of his long legs, still painfully encased in his offending jeans. I’m acutely conscious of the wetness between my legs, gathering for some while now, and I know it will be unmistakable once he touches me. He makes no move to do that, though. Just looks at me and quirks his gorgeous lips. “Make this good, Ashley.” His softly spoken command is still demanding, still forceful.

Careful not to settle my bottom on him—I don’t want my wetness to leave any telltale marks—I lean in, my palms on his cheeks as I settle my lips over his. I mimic his earlier actions as I ease my tongue between his lips, exploring his mouth. He tastes wonderful, sensuous and delicious, soft and welcoming, and I am unresisting as he pulls me closer. I deepen the kiss as he tunnels his hands through my hair to pull it away, round to the back of my head. He twists it around his hand while he slides his other palm possessively across my breasts, shaping and molding. I gasp, but don’t try to break the kiss. I don’t even try to break it when his hand leaves my breasts to slide down across my stomach and brush the dark curls between my legs. He combs his fingers through the tight curls before sliding farther to stroke the soft folds of sensitive flesh. I jerk in response, only to find his hand securing my hair is holding me firmly where he wants me. And where I want me. I sigh into his mouth and continue to swirl my tongue around his as he slowly circles my pussy before slipping one long finger inside.

I moan against his mouth, loving the sweet friction, loving the feel of his finger inside me. I move my hips instinctively, seeking to increase the pressure. Perversely, as if he knows what I’m about—and I’m sure he does—he slides his finger out again, only to inch forward to stroke my clitoris. The pleasure is so intense, so immediate, I feel the first tingles of orgasm starting to build. I shudder in welcome anticipation as he expertly rolls the sensitive little nub between his finger and thumb. Christ, who ever knew it would be so easy?

Then, just as suddenly as it began, it ends. His hand doing such wonderful things to my clit drops away and he gently tightens his grip with his other hand, holding my hair. He lifts my head, breaking the kiss. I find myself looking into deep green eyes, sensual and knowing. “Mmm, that
was
good, Ashley. Well done. Now, it’s your move, I think.”

“What? I thought we…”

“Your move, love.” He turns me easily in his arms so I find myself sitting in his lap, now facing the chessboard again. Blindly I reach out and move another useless pawn.

“Ah, that’s cruel, Ashley. I’m dying here.” His low groan is intensely satisfying to hear, given the unfulfilled state of arousal he’s created for me. I’m helplessly lost in a fog of desperate frustration now and don’t care what happens as long as he finishes what he started. And soon! All thoughts of modesty have evaporated, I just want his hands—or probably better still, his cock—between my legs. I shift in his lap, trying to find some release.

With a chuckle he leans forward and moves his castle again. “Check. Another kiss I think. But this time, I get to kiss your lips.”

I turn my face helpfully to his, but he simply smiles at me. “Not those lips—gorgeous though they are. Lie back on the sofa, Ashley. And open your legs.”

My eyes widen as his meaning dawns. This is a first for me, and I’m unsure how to react. I get no time to consider the matter, though. He eases me back onto the leather cushions as he slides from the sofa to kneel in front of it. He takes hold of my legs and pulls me toward him, positioning me on the edge of the sofa before gently but firmly sliding his palms up my inner thighs and pushing them apart. I lie there, conscious of my complete vulnerability, totally exposed, open to him. He winks at me before lowering his eyes, and I force myself to remain still as he looks his fill at my most intimate, private places. Finally, satisfied with his scrutiny, he lowers his head.

And my fortitude is rewarded. I scream, and jerk my hips off the sofa as the most intense, shocking and sweetly delicious sensation shoots through me, filling every corner of my body, tingling and throbbing. Every part of me is aware, involved, but the sensation is pooling at my clit where his lips and tongue are working, licking, tasting, lapping. Anticipating my reaction Tom holds me still, sliding his tongue around the entrance to my pussy, and I accept his kiss, welcoming it, as he slips his tongue inside me. And I’m lost. I’m gasping, pleading, when he finally turns his attention to my clitoris. He flicks the swollen little pearl ruthlessly with his tongue until I’m thrashing mindlessly under his mouth. Then he ups the ante, drawing the engorged bud into his mouth and he sucks. Hard. I give a ragged moan as my orgasm explodes through me, rocking me with its intensity.

Never, never has anything felt even remotely as good as this. The waves of pleasure pulse through me, starting at my clit, under his clever, wicked mouth and rippling outwards. It feels as though I’m falling, spinning, swooping toward…ecstasy. Even as the glorious tingling starts to subside Tom slips first one, then two fingers deep inside me, my inner walls clenching around him as he strokes me, stretches me to prolong the release, to draw every last shiver and moan from me before he’s finally satisfied with his work.

I’m limp, boneless as he finally lifts his head and slides his fingers out of my pussy. My eyes are closed, my breathing ragged. If asked my own name at this moment I suspect I’d struggle to come up with an answer. My world is rocked, my reality shifted. Now, at last, I know what all the fuss has been about. Now, at last, all my hormones are the right way up.

I lie still, waiting for my head to stop spinning. A few moments pass before I feel myself being lifted from the sofa and laid on the floor. Against my back I can feel the fleecy softness of the huge sheepskin rug in front of the stove, and I feel the heat from the burning logs brush over my naked skin. I’m aware of Tom stretching out alongside me, the offending jeans now gone as he drapes his leg over both of mine to lean over me, kiss me. I feel his lips, gentle against mine and can taste the salty tang of my own juices on them. I open my mouth to accept his tongue, reaching for him to caress his neck, to run my fingers through the softness of his hair. I feel so wonderfully relaxed, so ready. Willing. And yes, at last, so eager.

“Checkmate, sweetheart.”

I smile, still not opening my eyes. “About bloody time! What took you so long? I thought you were good at chess.”

“I take it you’re happy to proceed then.” The words are softly whispered as he eases himself above me, my legs opening under him. I hear the snap of the foil packet as he tears it open, feel his slight movements as he quickly unrolls the condom over his erection. He positions himself, his weight on his elbows, and I can feel him poised at my entrance. Nudging, just barely penetrating me. He holds still, waiting. I hear his voice but can’t make out the words as I brace for his first hard thrust.

“Open your eyes, love. I need you to answer me.” His lips are on mine again, gentle, his kiss light and teasing, just enough to get my attention.

“What? Why are you…?” I’m confused, I thought he was about to fill me. Why hasn’t he?

“Tell me you want this, Ashley. I need to hear you say it. Please…” His voice is ragged, tense as he waits for me to make sense of his words.

“I don’t understand, what’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?” I’m starting to panic, inexperience and lack of skill making me nervous, self-conscious. “Is there something you want me to do?”

“Yes, sweetheart. I want you to ask me. Ask me to fuck you. I need to know you want this, that you want me inside you.”

Understanding penetrates my fog of sensual delight and arousal. This is about my rape by Kenny. This is Tom Shore checking even now, at this stage, after all we’ve done already, that I’m there with him. That I’m about to let him thrust his cock into me because I want him there, that I’m not being forced. I smile, open my eyes to look up into his beautiful emerald gaze, dark now with his own desire but still focused on me, on my needs. On what I want.

I reach up, caress his cheek. “Yes, yes, please. I want you, I want you to fuck me. Now, do it now. Please.” My words are whispered, but I hope I’ve made myself clear enough. It seems I have, as I feel his thick shaft press forward, sliding into me, stretching me.

I gasp—this is so much more than I anticipated. In every way. Tom is gentle, his penetration slow and steady, giving me time to adjust, to accept him. He is not small, I knew that. But still, the sensation of stretching takes me to breaking point, the friction burning my inner walls despite the wetness there. I moan, clutch at his shoulders, frightened suddenly. He stops, drops his head to nuzzle my neck.

“It’s okay, love. Relax. I won’t hurt you. It’s not going to be anything like before.” And then he’s fully inside me, buried to the hilt. He holds still as my pussy stretches around him, as I feel the head of his cock against my cervix. And I know I’m still alive. Very much alive, in fact. I
can
do this. I
want
to do this. I lift my legs, wrap them around his waist, open myself fully for him.

“Is there anything I should be doing? I want this to be good, for you.” I ask the question hopefully—if there’s some skill or technique I need to know I want him to share it with me. Teach me.

“Sweetheart, if I had my way you’d be tied to my bed at this moment, blindfolded, helpless under me. But as it is, I’d be obliged if you’d agree, please, to just lie very still if you can, keep your eyes closed, and enjoy what I’m about to do to you. Do
for
you. Can you do that, love?” The question is followed by a soft, sweet kiss on my parted lips, his tongue slipping into my mouth to plunge the depths there just as he sank his cock deep into my body. Unable to answer with my mouth I squeeze my inner muscles, gripping him tight, and gyrate my hips slightly to let him know I’m okay, and that I agree to his terms.

He withdraws, almost pulls out of me then plunges back, deep and hard. I cry out, the sound swallowed by Tom’s mouth as he repeats the thrust. And again, finding his rhythm. The delicious friction is burning, tingling. I feel my body start to clench, squeezing him to increase the pressure on my inner walls, the ripples of arousal building with each hard thrust. He angles his body, shifting the direction of his entry slightly and the sensation is intensified, so much I can hardly breathe, hardly bear it. My pussy is tightening, pulsing, as my body takes over, my response beyond my control now. This is wonderful, fabulous. Indescribable.