Rekindled

"Too long," she agreed. "I was scared of what would happen. I never told you how much you meant to me."

He swallowed, hard. "I was afraid of losing you," he told her, then added after an honest moment with himself, "and of being with you, too. I was too . . . unprepared. If I knew then what I know now . . ."

He trailed off, unsure of what to say, unsure of how it would be received. It was a moment played over and over in the quiet spaces of his mind, the moments in-between: what he would say to Vanessa Dorsey if ever he was to speak to her again. He knew exactly what he wanted to say, but no idea how to say it.

"You would what?" she urged, her voice low and eager and anxious, almost pleading. This was the third and final tide of tension, and everything hinged on him, and he knew it.

He met her gaze square and said the defining words of his life. "I would have grabbed you and taken you, and marked you as my own."

Her eyes were so bright. "Then do it," she whispered, and that was all he needed.

Thirty months melted away as they came together in that moment, hands and bodies and lips and tongues. There was little rhyme or reason in their movements, at first; after so long, they simply could not touch each other fast enough. Soon, however, they rediscovered the right rhythms. It was not hard, not frenzied, but nor was it soft and measured; each knew what they wanted, and took it with little fumbling.

She stripped him in no time, the spandex of his costume peeling away to reveal the muscles of his physique, and she spent particular time tracing the ridges with her fingers and palms. She loved the feel of his body, loved the strength and firmness she found there, and she could feel herself getting soaked.

The evidence of her desire also had much to do with what he was doing; he wasted little time delving his own hands under the cups of her bikini top, clutching and squeezing and kneading her breasts, before removing the flimsy material completely to expose them in full. His lips left her mouth and dipped to the crest, closing over her shriveled nipples to suckle delightedly.

Vanessa giggled and wiggled out of his grasp, stepping back with her hands on her hips and a defiant sass to her stance. Her body was fantastic, with curves and tone in all the desired places, and displayed totally but for the skimpy bikini bottom.

"I'm hungry," she purred, and an image flashed before his eyes of a moment years earlier, etched now forever in his mind, when she murmured those exact same words . . . and the glory that followed.

She stepped forward then and leaned in close to him, running her hands up his body, her face scant inches from his own. He did not move, did not speak, knowing she wanted what was coming to be hers, and hers alone. She was close enough to kiss him, but did not, redirecting herself to slither down his body to her knees.

She reached out and took hold of his aching cock, thick and hard and just as wonderful as she remembered, and he moaned as she wrapped her cool fingers, one by one, around the shaft, and squeezed it. Her other hand followed, and soon she was rubbing his erection gently in both directions as if rubbing at fire sticks.

And then she took him into her mouth.

Her bright brown eyes twinkled as she gazed up at him and her lips were moist with anticipation as they parted, and enveloped him. Her tongue roamed over his cock, basting every inch, rolling over it like ripples across the surface of the water. Her hands continued to stroke the base, tugging at it, pulling on it, stretching it tight.

She wasted no time getting his testicles involved; her mouth dropped lower and teased them lovingly, running the tip of her tongue along the wrinkles of his scrotum, and he moaned. She grinned, loving the power she had, and lapped at his balls before sucking first one, then the other between her lips.

She glanced up and caught his eye, and held his gaze as she raised her face and slowly pressed the flat of her tongue against the underside of his shaft. Starting with the base, she slurped a wet stripe from end to end, rounding over the top and closing her soft lips around the head, holding there, the mushroom tip held in her mouth like the candy of a tootsie pop.

Which, of course, she suckled.

Hard.

A guttural groan burst from his throat as he took hold of the sides of her head, trailing his fingers through the luxurious locks of her hair, urging her onward as she took more of his meat into her mouth. Vanessa purred with pleasure and willingly complied; he remembered how fond she was of fellatio, in addition to being talented.

And so she began to bob her head up and down, taking his cock deeper and deeper with every stroke, her luscious lips stretched around his shaft. It was only moments before the purple head of his cock nudged against the back of her throat, even as her nose tickled his pubic hair; she very nearly had him completely inside her mouth. He had only two inches left before she finished the job.

The beautiful young woman bobbed her head up and back again, and this time instead of pausing he felt something in her mouth give way, and heard her swallow as the head of his cock slipped down further . . . into the depths of her throat.

Todd growled as she held him there, her tongue flittering as best it could around the shaft stuffed inside her mouth, her lips smacking at the base even as her hand came up to massage his balls. She suckled him faster then, harder and faster than she had before, and all the elements of her barrage came into play: lips, tongue, mouth, fingers, palms, throat.

It was designed to finish him, the crescendo of her symphony of suck, and it did.

He growled once more to let her know, and in the next moment his body tightened and his cum poured forth into her mouth as like from a geyser, spurting into the roof and splashing down into her throat. She sucked it down eagerly, taking what he gave her in gulps, and she loved the feeling of his thick liquid as it filled her mouth. Her lips lingered on his shaft, sliding up and down with tender care as it cleansed all remnants of the sticky-sweet cum, though the mushroom head never left its enclosure, and would not until every drop was gone.

His fingers eased their way through her hair, stroking softly, and she gazed up into his grateful eyes as her tongue lapped at his softened penis to its leisurely contentment, purring and teasing the limp appendage, and in short order, despite its fatigue from such a recent ejaculation, it began to stiffen once again, and she giggled with her lips wrapped around its girth.

Todd groaned and lifted her chin with an outstretched finger, drawing her gaze up to his, so that she was looking right into his eyes, and understanding the intensity there, when he spoke for the first time in a long time.

"My turn," he said huskily, and pulled her roughly to her feet.

She nodded obediently, and waited.

She did not wait long; his hand slid down her body and plucked aside her bikini bottoms, and his finger slipped deep inside her without warning. She whimpered and felt her legs tremble, but her knees held and did not buckle. Her head dropped back and she nibbled her bottom lip, and her eyes fluttered as that finger began exploring her insides, expertly twisting and turning, and caressing her from the inside out.

"I'm hungry," he breathed, echoing her words, and with that his hands took hold of her and spun her around, shoving her shoulders forward to bend her over the nearest waist-high table.

His hand slid down the track of her spine and took hold of her flesh at the curve of her bottom, and reveled in it, before rising up her back and around her neck to take hold, roughly and with its whole palm, of her throat. She felt exposed and vulnerable, and helpless, but he was moving so fast that she could hardly think straight. He tugged at the strings of her bikini bottoms and let them fall away, deftly relieving her of the rest of her ensemble, leaving her nude.

"Spread," he ordered simply, and Vanessa spread her legs obediently.

He pushed her down against the surface of the table, her breasts squished into the cold surface. She lost sight of him, could not see what was happening, which is why she squealed when she felt him fingering her sex once again. She squirmed, but he held her down; he was in control.

She was bent over and displayed, and she loved it.

"Taste me," she begged him, and could not see him grin.

* * *

Bent over at ninety degrees with her upper half squished against the table and her legs locked at the knees, completely and gloriously nude, the buxom supermodel looked like a porn star placed in the prime position to allow the audience viewing of her nether region, and it was an eyeful. A thin swatch of dark hair, neatly trimmed in a triangle small enough to hide beneath the tiniest bikini, sat just below the actual pink of her vagina, which was hairless. Her rubbery lips were pressed tightly together, pursed so very preciously, and juice coated the whole of her folds, even as it dribbled slowly from the slit.

When she begged, Todd felt the devil within him take over. He crouched behind her and spread the smooth round orbs of her bottom, his face eye-level and inches from one of the most perfect, upside-down heart shaped rumps in existence.

"Please!" she whimpered, wiggling her behind, aching for his tongue.

And so he gave it to her, burying his head deep between her legs, smothering his face in her wet pink folds, peppering her sacred skin with a series of sweet kisses. He wasted no motion; he sucked and tongued her clitoris, gaining intensity until he was going completely and utterly to town, his face smashed into her, his nose pressed up against her anus.

His hands did not idle, either, grabbing and squeezing the firm cheeks of her bottom, jiggling them even as he slavered over her pussy. He covered as much ground as he could, trailing his tongue up from her clit to the skin between her pussy and anus, then dropping to lance once more into her vaginal crevice to tongue-fuck her fiercely.

Vanessa squealed and her hips began to tremble, and the whimpers grew more pronounced as the beginnings of her first orgasm barreled towards her. She began babbling, "Yes . . . oh yes . . . fuck . . . yes . . . eat me . . . fuck . . . eat me . . . ahhh . . . uunnhhh . . . fuck!"

Then he stopped, and memory slipped to the surface from the silent depths.

She moaned and cried, "No! Don't stop!"

Todd grinned and gave her what she wanted, with a twist. He spread the cheeks of her bottom again, wider and farther even than before, and offered her crinkled pink anus a languorous swipe with the flat of his tongue.

Vanessa screamed, and the sound only rebounded and her knees nearly buckled when his tongue pushed into her tight anus and wiggled around. His memory, it seemed, had served him well: she loved it, and began to shriek and scream even louder than he might have ever thought possible, and the torrent of dirtiness she unleashed upon him then would have shocked even the saltiest sailors, and did not relent.

"OHHHHH! DIRTY FUCKING BOY! LICKING MY ASS! NASTY! FUCK! NASTY BOY! EAT MY ASS YOU FUCKING FUCKER! YES! YES! YES!"

His hands continued working over her flesh as his tongue danced around her puckered hole, teasing every wrinkle. He alternated slow to fast, fast to slow, long and short as he lapped at her backdoor, and she groaned.

"OHHHHHHH . . . DDIIIIIRRRTTYYY BBBOOOOOYYY . . . AAHHHHHHHH!"

He brought up his thumb to strum her clitoris, even as his lips slid over the puckered plot and sucked at the crinkled skin, and she whimpered and quaked, and then contorted violently when his tongue speared into her dark depths. Todd had to struggle to keep his tongue in place as the ferocious climax struck her.

And went on for quite some time.

She was cursing as it took her, cursing him and cursing her own pleasure, and the heavens and hell and all spaces between, and as she cursed she shook and shivered, and through it all Todd continued to eat her glorious ass. When she was finished, when she was spent, coming down from the orgasm that had so decimated her, limbs quivering, body slumped across the table, he disengaged his face, rose to his feet, and leaned over her.

"Get ready," he told her.

* * *

His breath was hot in her ear and her eyes fluttered open, thinking she must have misunderstood him. Her magnificent orgasm, brought unbelievably to life by the feel of his tongue in her ass, had yet to fully fade and her body was weak, and would need a little more time to recover.

And then she felt something thick and hard pressed against the lips of her pussy, parting the glistening, still-twitching folds, but not entering. She gasped and wiggled her bottom, although whether to get herself away or urge him further she could not really say; her mind was spinning so fast she could hardly comprehend anything. His hand, however, came down in the center of her back, pinning her firmly in place, and it was clear what his intentions were.

Todd shoved, and the world exploded before Vanessa's eyes. He slammed into her, burying himself to the hilt, and her fingers clawed at the edge of the table to hold on for dear life. He furiously pumped his cock in and out, in and out of her pussy, as his hand took hold of her gorgeous brunette hair as if it was reins.

Her pussy quaked again almost instantly, another orgasm coming swift on the heels of her last. Even through the veil of amazing pleasure, however, the spinning and the haze, memory tickled the mind of Vanessa Dorsey, and she was taken back to a night some years before, the night she and Todd Coulter came together for the first time.

She remembered his strength and his confidence, and the sexiness of what it meant to feel truly dominated and manipulated by a man who knew what he was doing, and who cared. Impossibly, the Todd Coulter of before could not hold a candle to the Todd Coulter at present, who was still strong and still confident, and still sexy as hell, but who oozed skill and know-how out his every pore, and knew exactly what he was doing.

And on that thought she climaxed yet again, and thus began the fiercest and most awesome orgasm of Vanessa's life.

She wailed as the juice flooded from her ravaged cunt, and her body quaked and rocked all over again, but this time Todd did not relent. He fucked her hard, without slowing, without stopping, and it was exactly what she wanted. This first round between them needed to be hard and rough, the sluicing away of all their pent-up need, their years apart, and she felt him pound out upon her each and every moment of their absence. She savored every inch of him, every sweet and glorious inch as he plugged away, the muscles of her contracting vagina clenching and milking him as she came.

She was absolutely on fire, her limbs and flesh aflame, the blood coursing like molten lava through her veins. She was a blubbering mess, no longer capable of coherent speech.

And then he popped his thumb into her ass, and Vanessa screamed.

She screamed, and the world heard her, the heavens heard her, and there was nothing and everything in the world but the cock in her pussy and the thumb in her ass. The scream echoed off the book-lined walls and likely drifted through to the ground below, and Vanessa gave small thanks for loud speakers.

And in the midst of her own titanic orgasm, Todd grunted and told her what was coming, and she swooned as she felt wave after wave of his fuck syrup flow into her womb, packing it full, and her knees nearly buckled. Juice and sticky residue oozed from her pussy and trickled down her legs. There was so much pleasure, so much trembling and quivering and ecstasy, she could hardly stand it.

And then she could not: incredibly, she blacked out.

She came to a short time later. He was slumped across the desk next to her, and instantly she felt the void in her pussy where his cock had been.

It was long moments before either said anything, the silence broken only by the muffled thumping of the bass from speakers somewhere beyond and the ragged breathing of the re-acquainted young lovers. In the end, however, it was Vanessa who spoke first.

"My place," she asked with a languorous grin, stretching her arms above her head, "or yours?"

* * *

It was ridiculous, his travel schedule sometimes. He was reminded of the old theory about how monkeys typing at random on a keyboard would eventually type out the complete works of Shakespeare; the travel department for his company was like that, only the monkeys were sitting behind a desk, typing out his travel itinerary, and not once did Shakespeare enter the equation. He must have reminded himself one hundred times en route back to Los Angeles just how much money they paid him to make these pointless little trips, which helped comfort him some.

Some, but not much.

His morning had consisted of a four in the morning wake-up call, a cup of coffee, an hour-long drive, check-in at the airport, a seven-twenty flight, and an eight-thirty arrival, followed by baggage claim and a twenty-minute cab ride back home. He walked through the door to his apartment at nine-ten on the dot, more than six hours (considering the time change) after his trip began, dropped his bag by the door, stripped off his jacket, and plopped onto the couch. He did not plan on moving from that spot for several hours.

His plan did not last long.

The door to Todd's room opened, as it was prone to do on Sunday mornings, and a woman emerged, also as it was prone to do, but this particular time it not just any woman: this woman was one of the most breathtaking creatures he had ever seen. She was African-American, which was unusual, and gorgeous, which was not.

The effects of the morning were clear: ruffled hair, lazy movements, a slight yawn, but all only served to enhance her lushness in some unspeakable way, not detract from it. She was wearing one of Todd's long-sleeve button-down shirts, the kind with the rounded hem, which displayed a great deal of leg. Her bright brown eyes sparkled.

"Hi," she said in a honeyed voice. "I'm Vanessa."

"Ethan," he stammered. "Todd's roommate."

She smiled. "I hope we didn't make too much noise last night. I can be a little . . . loud."

"No," he croaked, then cleared his throat. "Sorry, I just got in myself, so . . ."

Her smile slipped into a mischievous grin. "Oh, I see. Get lucky last night, Ethan?" she cooed.

He realized with a start that he had been staring. "No!" he exclaimed, a little too vigorously, and she laughed. It was not his fault for staring, really; it was clear she was not wearing a bra and the shirt was white and moderately sheer.

She turned and walked into the kitchen. He watched her go, not worrying about staring when she was facing away from him, and in the next moment was extremely happy about it: she reached the refrigerator and opened it, and bent over to retrieve something from a lower shelf, which tugged the shirt up just enough to reveal the lower half of her bottom, tight, toned, and gloriously bare. It was a peek at heaven, a peek at perfection, and Ethan was instantly jealous of his roommate, who had no doubt enjoyed the delights of that posterior for much of the previous evening.

When she rose she was carrying a bottle of water, as well as that same mischievous grin. "You can close your mouth now, Ethan," she said with a laugh as she floated back down the hallway, and with a wink, disappeared through the door.

Ethan sighed and rose slowly from the couch, his plans forever altered. He was suddenly in need of a long shower, preferably as cold as he could make it.

* * *

She crept into the room quietly, still chuckling to herself over her encounter with his roommate, to find him sleeping soundly in bed, the covers down by his waist, the strong and muscular contours of his back clearly visible even in the soft shadows of the room.