Paige in Progress – Brighton Walsh
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I lift up, hovering over her again. “Get your purple toy, Paige.” I lower myself and nip at her bottom lip. “I want to watch you fuck yourself with it.”
She stares at me for a minute, her eyes flitting between mine, her lips parted. A flush works its way up her neck to her cheeks, and I don’t have to be a mind reader to know she’s thinking about me watching her use it. And she likes it. “Oh God, I’ll come before I even turn it on.”
“Good.” I push off the bed and stand off to the side. “And then you’ll come again when it’s inside you. And then you’ll come again when I pull it out and put my cock in there instead. You wanted sex tonight? You’re gonna get it. Now grab the toy.”
For a moment, she doesn’t move, and I almost think she’s going to deny me, but then she scrambles over to her side table and pulls out the battery-operated cock she thought was a good substitute for me. We might only be together for the short time I’m here, but I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure everything she uses after I’m gone will pale in comparison to the real deal.
When she’s got it, she lies back on the bed, her head on the pillows and her legs bent and spread, feet propped on the mattress. “I’ve never done this before,” she whispers, tentatively running the head of the vibrator through her slit, looking more vulnerable than I’ve seen her.
I grip my cock hard, because the thought that we’re doing something she’s never done before makes me want to come like I’m buried deep inside her. Makes me want to shoot all over her stomach and breasts, mark her even more. My voice is gruff when I say, “Good, me neither.”
That seems to relax her, and she spreads herself open with one hand, all that perfect pinkness peeking out at me, and guides the vibrator over her clit, then lower, before repeating it all over again.
“You’ve got the prettiest pussy, you know that? All pink and swollen and fucking delicious. I’d have you for every meal if I could.”
Moaning, she bites her lip, shuddering as she watches me while tormenting herself with the head of the vibe. And that’s exactly what she’s doing—tormenting. I can see it in her eyes. In the way her body shakes as she barely touches herself.
I grip my cock hard, fisting it in a punishing hold, just enough to keep me on the edge, but not enough to push me over. “You gonna turn it on?”
She shakes her head, her eyes fluttering closed before she opens them and drops her gaze to the fist I’ve got wrapped around my dick. “Not yet.”
Watching her get herself off is better than watching porn. Jesus. Seeing her tease her clit, how she brings herself almost to the point of coming, her entire body taut, then pulls back, removing the vibrator from her pussy completely until she’s relaxed once again. And then she does it all over again.
Finally—finally—she slips the vibrator inside her, and I watch with rapt attention as the curved, purple head disappears into her pussy, her lips spreading wide around it. Paige moans and closes her eyes, pressing a couple buttons, and then a whirring starts up and her entire body jolts.
“Oh fuck,” she breathes as she pumps it in and out.
“That’s not as thick as I am, is it? Not as long either. Does that satisfy you anymore?”
“No. Not since I’ve had you.” That’s the most honest she’s ever been, revealing something she’d probably have kept to herself if she wasn’t already half lost to pleasure.
“You wish that was me inside you instead, Paige?”
She whimpers out a breathy, “Yes,” and I have to force myself to stand there. To not give her what we both want and let her get herself off this way first. I grip my shaft, pumping slowly as I watch her. I want nothing more than to match the fast pace she’s set on herself, but if I do, I’ll come in about three-point-seven seconds, and I’m not coming again until I’m buried deep inside her.
Paige continues to fuck herself hard, one of her hands going up to trace her nipple before she tugs it between thumb and forefinger. Her eyes are closed, her near constant moans telling me she’s close. And, Jesus, I need her to be. I want to be inside her right fucking now. Want to show her how much better it is with me than it is any other way she can get it.
She opens her eyes and stares right at me, cock in hand, watching her get herself off, and then she does. She keeps her eyes connected with mine as she moans, body arching off the mattress, and I can’t wait another second.
I fumble with a condom and roll it down my shaft as I climb on the bed. Kneeling between her spread legs, I brush her hand away before pulling the vibrator out of her. She’s still shuddering from her orgasm as I hook her legs over my elbows, opening her wide for me, and drive home. Paige moans deep, reaching up to grip my face and bring our mouths together. She slips her tongue between my lips, sliding it against my own, as she lifts her ass off the bed to meet my unforgiving thrusts.
Pulling back to breathe, she slides her hands down my neck and over my shoulders. “God, Adam, shit…”
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” I sit back on my knees and grip the backs of her thighs, holding her down while I pound into her harder. “My cock. Not just to come, but to come from my cock.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” she chants, her head restless on the pillow, eyelids fluttering closed as she clenches at the sheets, at my thighs, at anything she can to get purchase.
“Keep your eyes open, Paige. Watch me fuck you. See who’s about to make you come.”
She does as I say, her eyelids fluttering open.
“Who do you want to fuck you? Tell me.”
“You, Adam. God, it’s you…”
I thrust into her faster and faster, circling her clit until she’s coming around me, pulling my orgasm from me and taking me with her. Her answer makes me crazy…wild…even if I know the honesty behind it is only temporary. As soon as the afterglow wears off, her walls will be back up again, keeping herself safe from anything more that could happen between us.
The only way this is safe for Paige is the one way it’s not safe for me. Even still, I’m in. In this with her, for as long as I can get her. For as long as she’ll let me be.
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He carefully threaded his hands into her thick hair, thumbs smoothing gently under her chin to bring her head up to the right angle. Her hair was silky; whatever styling products she used, hair spray wasn’t involved. Experimentally he stroked completely through, letting the strands slip through his fingers, following them to the ends that fell past her shoulders.
Her head remained tilted up even without his hands holding her in place. It wasn’t one-sided or the result of an over-active imagination. She wanted him to kiss her.
So he tunneled his hands through her hair again and did just that.
It was supposed to be a front-doorstep getting-to-know-you kiss. Decent. Non-threatening. Almost chaste. He’d follow it by asking her out. A little backwards, perhaps, but the confined space accelerated the getting-to-know-you process.
Rachel Carville hadn’t received the getting-to-know-you part of the memo. She stepped into his body and dug her hands into his hair, rising up on tiptoe to meet him. Those full lips parted under his and “chaste” waved bye-bye and rode off into the sunset, hand-in-hand with his common sense.
When she kissed, she used her whole body, lips and tongue and some strange undulation that started in her thighs and swept up in a wave. Her hands didn’t move much but they flexed and relaxed, flexed and relaxed, over and over again while he drove himself crazy thinking about her repeating that flexing motion on his cock instead of his hair.
Still, he might have retained some semblance of control if she hadn’t nipped his lower lip with her sharp little teeth. It didn’t really hurt, but it sent a shock of primal desire straight to his cock, which was already primed to go as far as she would let him go.
No, he was deluding himself; control was long gone. She only used her teeth to regain the advantage after he thrust aside her tongue with his. Another clue this (whatever this was) wasn’t one-sided and that control didn’t exist for either of them.
Her hands slipped from his hair to his neck, from his neck to the lapels of his jacket. She pulled away. Jamie started to blindly follow before realizing she was leaning back rather than retreating, finding room to push his jacket off. Hers lay by their feet, long discarded.
Practicality reasserted itself. He wrapped his fingers around her wrists to stop her. She raised her gaze to his, her expression hazy but with a question starting to form in her eyes.
It seemed to be why are we stopping rather than what are we doing.
“I want more than your mouth,” he told her frankly, “but I don’t have a condom.”
“I’m on the pill.”
He hadn’t been checked for sexually transmitted diseases since his discharge from the army. It shouldn’t be a problem both because of his limited number of partners and because he’d never had sex without a condom—
His mind short-circuited.
He’d never been completely naked inside a woman.
And, unless he’d heard wrong, that was exactly what she was offering.
Jamie thought he’d been erect before. There was, he realized, a difference between erect and painfully erect.
Practical, he reminded himself. He shrugged his shoulders to resettle his jacket into place. At the same time he transferred her slender wrists to one hand, carefully restraining her. Rachel tugged ineffectually, but only once. If anything, her direct gaze became even more heated.
She doesn’t mind restraints, he thought, and the tie fantasy flashed through his mind again. He closed his eyes, inhaling and slowly exhaling to remove the image, before kneeling in front of her.
There were, after all, other ways.
He ran his free hand from her ankle to her knee to the edge of that so-proper, so-flirty skirt. Her legs were covered with sheer stockings, silky and smooth to the touch. Using just his fingertips, he edged the skirt up, lightly tracing the pale thigh as it was exposed. His questing fingers met a band of elastic.
Thigh-highs. She was wearing thigh-highs under her business skirt.
There was a state past ‘painfully erect,’ and he had just achieved it.
He was going to need both hands.
For what he was going to do to her, she was going to need support.
Jamie pressed his face against the V where her legs met, breathing through his nose to pick up her scent. The faint floral fragrance was still there, but just under it was the smell of desire, another reminder that, as fast as the situation had developed between them, she wanted it as well. He ran a finger around the band of her stocking, feeling the slight roughness of lace contrasting against smooth skin. No garters. He pulled his hand out from under her skirt, released her wrists, and ran both hands up the curve of her hips to the indentation of her waist, pushing the hem of the pale pink blouse up when his fingers encountered the soft fabric. Her hands dropped to his shoulders, fingers kneading into the wool silk blend of his jacket. He gripped experimentally, making sure she wouldn’t slip, then flexed the muscles in his arms and spun her around.
Rachel landed against the cushioned side of the elevator with a startled little ‘umph.’ Still kneeling, Jamie pressed his open mouth against her belly, just above the waistband over her skirt. Sliding his hand back to her ankle, he tugged slightly. She let the elevator wall take more of her weight as he coaxed her foot up, over his shoulder until her knee rested next to his neck. He looked up at her face, making sure she was okay with what was happening. “I want to taste you. May I?”
Her eyes widened. Her lips parted, which made Jamie want to kiss her again but not enough to surrender his current position. There was the faintest lift and drop to her head. Acquiescence.
Good, because he was about to explode.
Unzipping her skirt would probably be best for access purposes, but he was mindful that they were in a public space. If the elevator lurched back to life, Rachel wouldn’t have time to put her skirt back on before the door slid open on the 14th floor.
Jamie was a bit proud of himself for having enough blood left in his brain to think of that.
He spread one hand across her stomach to hold her steady, using the other to tug her skirt up until it bracketed her hips. The smell of aroused woman intensified. Without any hesitation he pressed his open lips to her cloth-covered mons, feeling smooth, already moist cloth under his mouth. He outlined the shape of her with his tongue, the dips and curves that made her female. Rachel’s hands clawed through his hair as her head fell back against the padded wall with a distinct ‘thump.’
She began to pant, an almost noiseless inhale followed by a breathy exhale. Moans were added when he started softly nipping using just his lips. She began to subtly thrust her hips against his face. Dragging his hand down slightly, he pressed his fingers into the cloth just above her clit, startling a gasp out of her.
The sounds she made drove him crazy, made him want to drive her crazy. Jamie pulled his head back to blow a directed puff of air over the wettest part of her, then tilted his head so that his chin dragged back and forth across her clit. When her supporting leg started to tremble he leaned into her with his shoulders, pressing her more firmly against the padded elevator wall. He pushed his lips against the cloth, open-mouthed this time, letting her feel just the edge of his teeth.
She came with another startled sound, a soft ‘oh’ that dragged on and on. He wanted to help her draw her climax out, but her supporting leg gave out on her and she started to slip. He grabbed her by the waist and eased her down. Her tight skirt was more of a belt by this point, hiked around her hips to allow her legs to spread freely across his thighs. She still had her shoes on, held in place by a thin strap near her ankle. The heels were slightly too low and too wide to be called “stiletto.” Still sexy as hell. He stroked a hand from her waist down her hip to the bare flesh of her thigh, above the stockings and below what had probably seemed like practical bikini briefs when she put them on earlier today. Drenched with her desire, combined with the lace-topped stockings, her underwear was the sexiest he’d ever seen on a woman. Not that he’d seen that many… “Hey,” he said softly, “you okay?”
Still breathing hard, she made a small ‘mmmm’ sound, as if she’d just tasted the best chocolate mocha of her life. He lifted his hand from her thigh and cupped her face, drawing his thumb across the corner of her mouth, wishing she would open her eyes.
Then she did, and he was lost.
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