Clothes flew almost before the door closed. Lauren’s fingers ripped through buttons on Brent’s shirt, pushing it from his shoulders. They tarried over his warm skin, caressing the corded muscles of those broad shoulders. As hard as those muscles looked and felt, they were still her favorite pillow, comforting and secure.
Of course, at forty, his body was no longer that of the athlete he had once been, but in some odd way, she preferred the few extra pounds that he now carried. It made him more ‘real,’ more ‘human,’ more ‘approachable’ for someone like her. She had always found Brent irresistible, perhaps more so in this mature and slightly padded incarnation.
Brent’s hands were busy too. His fingers tugged at the button on her jeans until it sprang free. Then he jerked her t-shirt from where it was tucked into her jeans, pulling it over her head. The fresh night air caressed the skin on her chest and stomach as he tossed the shirt across the room.
The hungry look in his eyes as they took in her breasts clad only in sheer pink lace was enough to warm her once more. And the low growl that was torn from his throat as he lifted his hand to cup and caressed her left breast sent an answering heat coursing through her.
Lauren closed her eyes and reveled in the firm, sure caress. When his calloused fingers found her nipple, she moaned at the intense sensation of the roughness. Her breasts filled his hands to overflowing. He squeezed the soft flesh gently.
His other hand came up to cup and weight her right breast, repeating the process through the soft material that hid nothing. Her nipples puckered into tight buds as his thumbs brushed slowly back and forth across them. Lauren cursed the bra that kept her from feeling his touch against her bare skin.
“Please,” she whimpered as she opened her eyes, looking up at him, pleading for more.
Brent chuckled. “You say I’m the one that has no patience. Seems to me, sweetheart, that it is always you that can’t wait.” His eyes darkened with emotion as he removed his hands from her breasts, stepping back a bit.
“This morning was hard and fast, baby girl. Tonight, I’m gonna take my time. I’m gonna touch and taste and love every inch of that lush body of yours. I’m gonna get to know it all over again. And I’m gonna remind you of what we’ve both been missing these past seven years, Mrs. Jacobs.”
Lauren shivered. She recognized that look now. Determination. Sheer, stubborn determination. Whether it was finding an answer to a scientific problem that intrigued him, or breaking a horse, or getting what he wanted from her, it was a look that Lauren had seen hundreds of times. A look that meant almost certain victory. Only once had it failed – the day that she signed the final divorce decree.
Lauren was not sure that she could stand even a single night of the type of lovemaking that he described. Hard and fast in the desert heat had been enough to singe the synapses in her brain. What would slow and determined do?
Thinking fast, she tried distraction and seduction of her own. She lowered her eyes and stepped forward. Her fingers traced the dusting of hairs down his stomach, where they disappeared into his jeans. Her fingers toyed with the button there. “I need you now, Brent.”
He shook his head and smiled as his fingers covered her hand. He pulled it back from the button on his jeans as he spoke. “Then just imagine how badly you’re gonna need me after I’ve kissed and licked every corner of your body.”
To accentuate his words, he brought her hand to his lips. He began with a light kiss in the center of her palm. But that soon turned into a soft lick. How did the guy manage it? His lick was ideal. Not too sloppy wet but not dry either — just a perfect reminder of a different kind of wetness that was building between her legs.
Her throat tightened impossibly as he drew her ring finger into his mouth. He stared deep into her eyes as he applied gentle suction, slowly pulling her hand back until just the tip of her finger remained between his lips. He nipped at her finger. Just enough pressure and pain to bring pleasure.
“Something is missing, sweetheart,” his hand turned hers over, and he placed another soft kiss in her palm. Stepping forward, he drew her into his embrace. He smiled at her like a little boy with a new toy, “But not for long.”
Lauren opened her mouth to set him straight. To remind him of their deal. But Brent was not interested in words. His mouth covered hers. There was no preamble. No soft kisses that built. This was a full-out assault on her senses. His tongue swept inside her open mouth. Waging war against hers, taking no prisoners.
The battle was over quickly. Lauren surrendered with a whimper of pure feminine need. But still, Brent fought on. His tongue parried and thrust. Doing exactly what he had told her, he would, learning and tasting every nook and cranny of her mouth.
Lauren hated her body. Hated the heated pleas and whimpers that she was powerless to stop. Hated the way that it shook and curled about Brent. Curled about him like a cat, rubbing and pleading for his attention. But she did it anyway. Her body betrayed her, and she did it all.
Brent’s hands moved slowly up her arms and shoulders. His lips never left hers as his hands trailed softly across the area. His fingers made quick work of the clasp at her back. She moaned into his mouth as he loosened her bra. Brent smiled against her lips as his hands moved slowly back up her arms to her shoulders.
His fingers brushed softly back and forth across the soft skin there. He traced her collar bones. And he continued the assault on her senses with kisses like a man dying of thirst. His tongue boldly swept inside her mouth until the pain and emptiness of the past seven years faded into the background. Even worries about the future, volcanoes, and Ice Ages could not withstand this heat. Every thought except the taste, smell, and feel of this woman disappeared.
Only when she was whimpering and rubbing her body against his like flint sending sparks to light the kindling, only then did Brent gently push the straps off her shoulder and down her arms. Their fingers entwined as the bra came free on one side, slipping down her arms until it pooled and dripped between them.
Brent drew back from the kiss with a sigh. He released her fingers but kept a firm hold of the lacy confection. He brought it slowly to his face, rubbing its softness against the stubble that covered his cheeks. He smelled it, drawing in her scent. It should not be sexy, sniffing underwear. But he had missed the smell of her, the subtle fragrance of roses laced with pure Lauren. It was his drug, and he was jonesing for a fix.
“I like this a far sight more than that industrial white boulder-holder that you were wearing this morning.”
Lauren blushed, “My breasts are not boulders.” She lifted her arms to cross about her chest, but Brent stopped her, his hands firm on her arms. He swore that her nipples tightened even more as he looked at her breasts.
“Baby, those tits are a thing of real beauty. I remember the summer you came to science camp, the summer after they developed. I couldn’t pay attention to a damned thing that any of the professors said. All I could think was where those things had come from.”
He chuckled, “Of course, I knew all the science of puberty and where they had come from, but that did not stop my adolescent mind from its fascination with them.”
Lauren dropped her eyes, “You were so distant that summer. I thought I had done something wrong, said something wrong. I was afraid you didn’t want to be friends anymore.”
Brent placed his finger beneath her chin, lifting her face until their gazes met. “Oh, sweetheart, you were thirteen years old. And I was a stupid kid of fifteen who had no idea what the fuck to do when his best friend suddenly grew from a little brat that followed him around and bugged the ever-living hell out of him with her questions, questions that he did not have the answers for. Suddenly, she was not a kid anymore. But she wasn’t a woman either, and I knew better than to give in to the feelings I had.”
His hands cupped the round flesh once more. His thumb brushed back and forth across her nipple as he whispered, “But we aren’t kids anymore, Lauren. And there’s not a damned thing stopping me from living out every single fantasy I had that summer. Laying in that hard bunk bed, surrounded by five other dweebs that I knew were having the same fucking fantasies that I was about these. You don’t know how hard that summer was.”
He chuckled as he tucked her bra inside the back pocket of his jeans. He pressed forward against her thigh, rubbing himself against her. “How about we find out how hard things can get tonight, sweetheart?”
He did not wait for her answer. His lips captured hers once more in another searing kiss. One hand remained on her breast, cupping and kneading the softness, but the other went to the small of her back. It drew her against him tighter still until she could feel every inch of his hard flesh pressed into her. He moved them then, using his hand at her back, he guided them the few steps across the room to a couch against the wall.
When the back of her knees hit the hard surface, he dropped his hand from her back. The movement was so quick that Lauren did not have time to right herself, falling backward into the soft cushions. Brent towered over her as he spoke. “You’re still overdressed for what I have in mind, Mrs. Jacobs.”
He knelt on the floor between her spread thighs. He lifted her foot and made quick work of the sneakers and socks that she wore. When he finished, he brought her foot to his lips. He nipped and sucked at her big toe before repeating the process with her other foot.
This time he playfully nibbled each toe, “This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home, this little piggy had roast beef, this little piggy had none.” He paused as his hands massaged her instep. Smiling, he added, “and we’ll get back to this little piggy later.”
His hands trailed from her foot up her denim-covered legs. His fingers traced the seam that ran inside her thighs. When the trail ended as those seams converged at the conjuncture between her thighs, at her very core, Lauren drew in a quick breath and held it.
Brent looked into her eyes as his fingers traced circles in the material, too light to feel, but too evocative not to. Lauren’s hands moved to the zipper, but he brushed them aside. “No, no, sweetie, that’s my job.”
She whimpered again, “Then do your damned job, Brent.”
“Patience, patience, sweetheart. We have all night,” he whispered just inches from her lips now.
Lauren’s body strummed and surged with the bent-up need. She bit her tongue to keep from crying out with the force of it as Brent once more turned to his deliberate teasing. Cupping her core in the palm of his hand, he lowered his face towards her bare breasts. He hovered just above them. His hot breath caressed her skin as his fingers toyed with her.
Lauren thrashed on the couch, trying to get up, trying to end this torture, to take what she wanted. But Brent held her down with his hand between her open thighs. Suddenly, Brent gathered both of her hands in his other one. She felt something soft wrapping about her wrists.
She looked up to discover that Brent was tying her bra about them. She increased her efforts. Fear and panic rose in her. This was a game they had never played. Bondage was not something that Lauren fancied.
The child of a bitter divorce, trust had never come easy for her. This game robbed her of the control that she so desperately needed. Required a level of that trust that she had never known. Had no desire to know now.
“Brent,” she pleaded as she fought him. “Don’t do this.”
He stopped then. His face was mere centimeters from hers. His eyes found and held her gaze. “I would never hurt you, Lauren. Never. You know that, right?”
The pleading tone in his voice tightened an invisible chain around Lauren’s heart. A chain that not even a divorce decree and seven years apart could unlock. A chain whose key Lauren feared was lost long ago.
“Brent,” she whispered once more.
His response was a soft, sweet kiss. It rocketed her through time to another kiss. Their first. She had been sixteen. Sweet sixteen and never been kissed, as the saying goes. It was Brent’s last year at science camp, and they had stayed out late talking, too late again.
Walking along the deserted beach, they had stopped to watch the waves. The waves of the ocean that they knew separated them. Lauren had wondered aloud how she would ever survive science camp summers without him. In the soft moonlight, he had taken her hands in his and drawn them to his lips.
They both knew things were changing forever that summer. The nerdy kids that they had been were gone. The future uncertain. There were no easy words, false promises to be broken. Brent had said nothing.
Instead, he had looked deep into her eyes and lowered his face slowly until their lips touched. Just lips and hands, but it was the most fantastic thing that she had ever known. It probably still was — the perfect first kiss.
This kiss was as soft, as gentle, as sweet. And held as many unspoken promises as that long-ago memory.
Lauren was stunned. Unable to move or think. She was stuck once more in a tsunami of feelings. It was not a comfortable place for her.
She fought back. Testing the bonds about her wrist, but they did not give. She wriggled beneath Brent. Turning her head to the side, she reluctantly broke the spell-binding kiss.
“Brent, let me go. I mean it,” she protested.
“Naughty girl,” Brent’s palm came down hard on her outer thigh. She jumped in shock as she stared at him, her eyes wide as she struggled against the bonds.
But Brent had other ideas. His hands repositioned themselves on either side of her hips, holding her down firmly. “Now, where were we?” Then he blew softly across her chest.
Brent bent his blond head, laying it between the round globes of her breasts. His face buried in her flesh. He stayed like that for several long moments. He indeed was in no hurry, as he had told her. He wanted to enjoy the soft feel of her skin against his. And her smell again drew him under her spell. Some primitive and ancient act between their simian ancestors repeated.
When Lauren’s struggles began to take a decidedly more erotic turn, becoming more about seeking out his touch than freeing herself from his bonds, Brent gave her a taste of what she wanted and needed. And taste it was, as he licked and sucked at her engorged breasts. His mouth fulfilled the promise he had made, tasting every single millimeter of her flesh.
Sensations rocketed through him as he licked, nibbled, and toyed with her breasts. It seemed an eternity as he teased and tormented her with his mouth. He was rock hard and his jeans tight and confining. But the discomfort allowed him to keep his focus.
And he was focused. Focused upon loving her and binding her to him in a way that no piece of paper ever could. He knew now deep inside that she still loved him. That no divorce decree could end that. That she had missed and needed him just as much as he had her.
The problem was convincing his stubborn, red-headed wife of that fact. But he was determined that was precisely what he was going to do. Even if he were wrong, and his gut told him he was not, but even then, even if the world as they knew it went on and on, it was not right, not complete without her by his side. And he would do whatever it took to show her that. To, for once, prove her unprovable theorems.
He licked the underside of her breasts. First one and then the other until he ended in the middle. Slowly he trailed his tongue down her stomach. When he got to her belly button, he stopped. As with her breasts, he blew softly across its surface. Then licked around its edges, like water swirling down and down the drain, his tongue drew deeper and deeper into the recess. He used his hands to lift her hips, bring her closer to his mouth. Then he sucked softly at the center before continuing his trail of kisses lower.
When he reached the top of her jeans, he paused. He smiled up at her. “Now we can get rid of these,” he pronounced slowly in his deepest, sexiest Texas drawl that he knew drove her wild.
But instead of using his fingers to quickly deal with the offensive material, he used his teeth instead to toy with it. The process was mind-numbingly slow. Chinese water torture with a sexual element.
The button was difficult. Once or twice, he almost gave up, but he had never been a quitter. When it finally gave way, he smiled as he looked up at her. Her upper teeth were pressed so tightly into her lower lip that it turned white around the edges.
He smiled wider, knowing that meant she was trying to hold back moans. But not for much longer, he would make sure of that. She was no longer fighting the bonds around her wrists, but he was not stupid enough to comment on that, knowing it would just incite her to do so again.
He turned back to his task. Once the clasp on the zipper was securely between his teeth, he made quick work of that. He looked up at her once more as he slipped his hands inside the soft denim and pushed it down her hips. This time, not even her teeth buried in that pouty lip could hold back the whimper that spoke volumes about what this little game was doing to his wife.
Damned good thing, too, because it was fucking living hell on him. He swore that his cock was going to burst his zipper at any moment. He had always exerted patience and caution with Lauren from that first kiss they shared at space camp until the moment he had taken her virginity but never had the stakes been higher than now. This was make or break…and he was not about to lose. Not again. His mind could not even comprehend the pain of a lifetime like the past seven years.
He forced his mind from that path onto the more pleasant present as his fingers tangled inside the soft lace of her panties, but instead of taking those with the jeans, he smoothed them back into place, another layer of torture to be dealt with later.
Brent shifted where he knelt on the floor, trying to somehow find a more comfortable position, one where his jeans were not so fucking tight, pressing uncomfortably against his throbbing cock. He was not successful and cursed under his breath as he finished the job, drawing her jeans off first one and then the other leg.
He held her gaze as he lifted her foot. “Oh yes, I promised I would get back to this later, didn’t I?” he bent his head to lick at the sole of her feet. His hands held the heel of her foot as his fingers worked magic on the arch, kneading and massaging.
The action brought back other memories. Lauren had always loved his foot massages, especially when she was pregnant. The moment she got home from work, he pampered her with warm baths, herbal tea, and massages that were mind-blowing. He gave new life to her feet, hands, head, and back with his touch. Until the stress of her day and the extra burden of carrying their babies inside of her were eased, and she could rest, relax, and sleep comfortably.
As if reading his thoughts, something he swore on occasion that they could do with one another, “You know you missed your calling. Screw science; your gift as a masseuse is impressive.”
“Nope, these hands were always just for you, sweetheart,” he drew her little toe deep into his mouth, sucking and nibbling. By the time he released it and moved onto the other foot, he swore that the scrap of lace between her legs was visibly wet. He wondered how much more of this delicious torture he could take.
Still, Brent continued his slow seduction of her senses. He trailed kisses, licks, and soft bites up her ankle and around her calf muscles. He spent forever teasing the back of her knee. When he moved on to more intriguing areas, it was soft bites on the inside of her thighs.
Lauren practically screamed with relief as he neared the soaking lace that covered her sex. Her mind imagined the touch of those lips and tongue where she needed it the most. She cried out as Brent bit down harder on the soft flesh just below the elastic edge of her panties.
She cried out even louder when he shifted his weight once more, leaning back and lifting the other leg with a naughty smile.
“God damn it, Brent, I can’t take any more of your games,” she spat in frustration as she tried to sit up. But leaning back as she was against the cushions of the couch, it was easy for Brent to keep her off balance. He tightened his hold on her foot and placed one hand firmly over the heated flesh of her mound.
“I’ve been dreaming about this moment every night for seven years, Lauren. Dreaming about the things we did together. Dreaming about the things I wished we had done. Remembering your smell. Your taste. This afternoon might have been a quickie; well, a few of them. But now that we’ve blown off steam, I intend on taking my time. I’m going to make every one of those dreams come true.”
His eyes held hers as he started the whole process again. “Because if this is just one week, I’m going to make it a week that neither one of us will ever forget.” He paused between each phrase, licking and sucking her toes in turn. He stopped once more with her little piggy, as the nursery rhyme called it.
“Imagine it, Lauren. This is what I’m gonna do to that lovely little clit of yours,” his voice deepened with a desire that she recognized all too well as he used his tongue to draw tiny circles round and round her toe, lower and lower until it disappeared inside his mouth. He sucked the tender flesh up and down several times. Then he bit it hard. Not hard enough to bruise or draw blood, but hard enough to make Lauren yelp with surprise.
And she did…she imagined it all. Imagined the things that he would do to her. To her throbbing clitoris. She knew that it would take just one stroke, one touch. She was so incredibly close. She tried to end it then. Shifting her hips on the couch, she attempted to squeeze her legs together. She squirmed, trying to release her hands from the bondage of her bra. Just one touch, one stroke. If she could free her hands, relieve the ache. But none of it worked.
She closed her eyes in defeat as Brent continued the torturous trail back up her leg. She prayed and pleaded that this was the last. That this time, he would end it. This time he would give her the release she needed so desperately.
When Brent reached the end of his magical trail, she arched her hips – an unspoken plea. She whimpered and looked down at him, kneeling between her open thighs, his handsome face scant inches from what she needed most. “Please,” she begged as she strained at her bonds once more.
Brent smiled as he acceded. But only partially gave her what she needed. His face buried in the lace of panties, he drew in another deep breath. Lauren blushed bright red, so red that she feared her cheeks matched her hair. “Brent,” she protested at the intimacy of the act.
“Need, sweetheart. I want to smell how badly you want me. I want to remember that smell for the rest of my life, and when I die, I want this moment, that memory, to be the last thing that goes through my mind.”
Lauren was not sure how it was possible, but his words flooded her cheeks with even more color. She dropped her gaze, afraid of what her eyes might reveal. Fearful of what Brent might see there.
She felt his hands lift her hips, bringing her sex even closer to his face. But this time, instead of just inhaling, she felt his fingers slip beneath the edge of the lace. He worked it down her legs until the scrap of material hung from her foot.
Lauren waited. Her eyes averted. The blush still brightly coloring her chest and face. She did not want to look up. Did not want to witness whatever erotic intimacy her ex-husband had in store then.
Her body was still wound tight like a toy jack in the box, waiting to burst forth at just one more crank of the handle. She needed that one more crank. Prayed for one more turn – one touch.
Long silent moments filled the chilly night as the moonlight drifted through the glass door. She surrendered. Looking up, Brent held her foot in his hand. Her panties dripped from her ankle like lava winding a path down the side of Kilauea.
She refused to beg again. Her pleas did no good. Brent’s face was a mask of determination once more. She would not lower herself, demean herself further, she promised. She turned her head away.
“Look at me, Lauren,” Brent commanded.
“No,” she spat with anger and frustration.
It was not the first test of their wills. It was merely another in a long line of battles. The score was fairly even between these two pig-headed, stubborn mates.
But Brent was not deterred this night. As he said, he had seven long lonely years. Years filled only with science; his theories…and sweet, torturous dreams of the only woman he had ever loved, would ever love. Those dreams drove him on then.
He lowered her leg. Positioned her foot over the bulge in his jeans. His hips rocked against her. “Remember how good it feels, baby girl. You want me buried deep inside that sweet pussy, don’t you?”
He watched as the muscles in her throat tightened at his words. “Damn it, Brent,” she cursed as she looked back up at him.
He smiled then, rubbing his cock against her foot, a very different type of massage than the earlier one. He lifted her leg until her panties dangled next to his face. Turning his head, he took the material between his teeth. He moved his hand enough to slip them off her foot, leaving them dangling from his mouth. Lowering her leg to the floor, he took them from his mouth and held them over his face, breathing in deeply.
“Need smells sweet, darlin’. But as much as you might want and need me right now, it’s only a fraction of how much I have needed you these past seven years.” Brent admitted with reluctance as he tucked her underwear into his back pocket.
Leaning forward, he returned to licking and nibbling at her inner thighs. “How much I need you right now, baby girl,” he whispered against her skin.
His breath brushed across the swollen flesh that peaked through the bright red curls covering her sex. Lauren moaned for what seemed like the thousandth time that night. But not even an infinity of this woman’s moans and whimpers would ever be enough to assuage the hunger and need that burned as brightly as the bubbling magma pools of Erta Ale.
He sighed, reluctant to bring this game to an end, but it was not just her increasing needs that drove him onwards. Despite their morning tryst in the desert, his own needs burned as brightly. Besides, he knew this would not be the only time they made love this night.
No, it was a pattern he knew well with her. Afterward, they would talk and laugh as they spooned until they drifted into slumber. Only to awaken during the night to fires that burned just as bright once more. No, their love was far from dormant. And after seven years without a single eruption, he knew that this magma chamber had loads more eruptible melt and gases inside it.
Much, much, much more. Theirs always had been and always would be one of those rare supervolcanoes. Like Yellowstone, it was constantly bubbling and boiling, spurning an array of geological wonders, yet still capable of the most powerful of eruptions, a VEI 8. And he braced for just that now.
Brent turned his head slightly and gave her what she needed. His tongue moved softly across the bud.
Lauren practically screamed as that one touch ricocheted through her body. Tendrils of desire burst like magma from Vesuvius, running from her body through his. He always swore in moments like this that the words the preacher echoed from the bible were valid… ‘and the two shall come one flesh.’
But the eruption was only beginning as Brent bent his head closer. His teeth scored the hypersensitive flesh. He knew the pain would be enough to forestall a full explosion. He knew this woman’s body as well as his own, maybe better. He left Lauren half satisfied, which was what he intended as he began again — licking, sucking, and nibbling softer this time.
Brent buried his face deeper into her folds. His efforts re-doubled as he picked up the pace, licking and sucking at her clitoris faster. The circles that he painted with his tongue grew firmer and firmer. He timed the pressure to match the tiny circles she made with her hips. Arching into his face, then softly retreating, but never that much.
He felt it build. Until once more, it burst forth. An eruption that would not be stopped. Her body bowed off the couch. Her scream filled the night air, bouncing and echoing through the confined space. Her legs shook uncontrollably like the earthquakes that accompanied a volcanic explosion.
Like the north face of Mount Saint Helens, he felt her need collapse in upon itself, propelling downward, unstoppable destruction, and utter beauty – the power of Mother Nature herself.
He was the one moaning around her clitoris as her explosion rocketed through his body. Like the eruptions, they studied it never ceased to amaze, the utter beauty and power of each blast. The fact that he could do this, give that release to his mate, always humbled and inflamed him.
He fumbled with his jeans, finally releasing his cock that had been confined for much too long. But this time, it wanted confinement of a much different kind. It needed to be buried once more inside the tight confines of her body — home at last.
As her muscles clenched and relaxed, drumming their ancient rhythm of release, he lunged forward. For a moment, their bodies battled once more. Lauren’s muscles were bunched tight from her orgasm. They blocked his way. Then he pushed harder. Her body relaxed a bit.
And together, their efforts overcame it all. Brent sank deep inside her. It was his moan that rent the silent night then as her body squeezed and milked his. He pushed deeper until he swore that he could feel her very soul. She still throbbed from the mind-blowing orgasm that his tongue had given her.
Those ripples ricocheted through his cock and pushed him even higher. He wanted this round of their loving to be as slow and torturous as the build-up to it had been. But he was not sure he could last. Even with the morning’s eruptions, those seven years of need were far from appeased. He was the spider trapped in its own web.
He rocked his hips forward, touching something deep inside of her. A bundle of nerves that science said did not exist, but that experience had taught them brought immense pleasure. Lauren’s legs tightened about his waist, drawing him deeper still. He felt another of her orgasms breaking once more like another fissure opening up. She lifted her hips, drew circles in the air with them. Taking him deeper, retreating.
Brent tightened his fingers on her thighs. “Damn it, Lauren. Slow down,” he pleaded.
“Fuck no,” she growled as she found a rhythm that threatened to exceed it all. Her legs squeezed his waist even tighter, so tight that he wondered how he could breathe. Then again, he was beyond the point of really caring. He had driven them to this point. Pushed them past all reason. Teased and tortured her until she took her revenge.
It was his turn now. And Lauren knew just what to do to send him over the edge. A snarky smile played upon her lips as she tightened her muscles.
“Holy shit,” he groaned as he surged forward. His hands on her thighs tightened until the skin beneath his fingers went white. There would be tiny bruises later as a reminder of this night, but neither cared just then.
His hips began to move in earnest then, picking up the dance that she led. Together their bodies pirouetted and retreated. Pounding away the oldest and darkest of rhymes, the dance of life.
Then he felt the next rush of energy surging through her body, racing for release. Lauren looked up at him, “Now, Brent. Come with me,” she pleaded. He could not have fought her pleas if he wanted to. And he was far from wanting to. With a deep groan that matched her high keening scream, they came together.
Brent collapsed on top of her. They lay together, unspeaking for several long minutes. Their bodies trembled and shook with the aftershocks. He loved this part; he always had. Just being inside of her, feeling the tiny tremors. Skin to skin, sweaty with the air full of the combined smell of their love.
Lauren was the first to break the silence. “That was not fair.”
Brent smiled and kissed her nose, “You know what they say about love and war, sweetheart. And this is a bit of both.”
“Yeah, well, you remember that buddy when I get my revenge.”
Brent chuckled. He caught his breath as his still hard cock move deeper inside her with the sound. “Oh, I am, sweetheart. And I can’t wait for the things that amazing little mind of yours will come up with.” He rocked his hips forward.
The games had begun. And neither intended to lose.