Friends and Lovers Pt. 02

She was stiff. She was sore. Her arm was asleep. And she felt fucking fantastic.

Maybe in the movies people woke up entwined in each other's arms after a night of spirited lovemaking, but for her, reality was much more awkward. Her head had somehow become wedged behind his shoulder, and both his legs were about to slide off the couch altogether. She untangled herself as best she could, looking down at him as she moved his limbs out of the way.

He was sleeping peacefully, his dark lashes lying flat against the pale skin beneath his eyes. They fluttered slightly as she pulled free of him, and he stirred.

"Five more minutes, mom," he mumbled, and turned over so he was facing the back of the couch, still caught in mid-slide towards the floor.

She tried not to laugh. God, he was adorable.

She sat up, arching her back to stretch out the sore muscles. Then her breath caught. What time was it? Holy hell, she was going to be late.

She stood up quickly, and was seized by an ache between her legs so unfamiliar that she nearly sat back down again. Holy crap. It had been way too long. She almost felt like a virgin again. She rose again shakily, noticing that her whole groin felt sore, and so did her hips -- probably from throwing her legs up around his waist. God, what a wanton hussy she was, she thought happily.

She went quietly towards the bathroom, checking the clock on the stove as she walked by. It was nearly eight-thirty. Crap. She was supposed to be at work by nine, or nine-thirty at the latest. She'd have to make the shower a quick one.

She stood under the hot water, letting it pour over her sore muscles. She washed out her hair, lathered up her body and massaged her sore hips as random images from last night invaded her thoughts. Even now she wasn't entirely convinced it hadn't all been a dream. Had it really happened? The soreness was real enough. And so were the images flashing through her mind.

His body on hers, looming over her, holding her wrists, kissing her with abandon. Taking each breast in his mouth, teasing her with his fingers. Sliding into her, tilting her back and thrusting deeper, faster, harder. Oh God.

Suddenly a blurry figure appeared on the other side of the glass door. The door slid open and he stood there, looking disheveled from sleep but adorably sexy. And naked, too.

"Hi," he said, a seductive smile curving his lips. His eyes traveled down her naked body, pausing at her breasts and then sliding down to the triangle between her legs where rivulets of water coursed and ran together.

She flushed at the frank inspection but willed herself not to try to hide from him. She shifted her weight, jutting her hip out provocatively and smiled.

His eyes returned to hers, desire glinting in them. "May I join you?"

She pushed the door back and invited him in. He stepped in and crowded her, not unpleasantly, until her back was up against the tiles. He braced his hands on the wall behind her, and let the water flow over him as he leaned down and kissed her.

She opened to him and kissed him back, winding her hands around his waist and sliding them down his ass, squeezing appreciatively. He smiled into the kiss, enjoying her wandering hands, then pushed forward so their bodies were pressed together, the water slick and warm between them.

"So," he murmured in her ear, his voice barely a whisper above the sound of the water. "So much for that idea."

"What idea was that?" she whispered back, kissing his ear.

"The idea that we could ever be just friends," he said, catching her jaw with his lips as she turned her head. He covered her neck with slow, lingering kisses, trailing his mouth down her and cupping her breast with his hand.

"Oh, I don't know, I think it's a great idea so far," she said coquettishly. "Besides," she joked. "I do this with all my male friends."

He mock scowled at her, and gave her that smile that had always melted her. "Well, that's going to have to stop. You're mine now."

He kissed her slowly, his tongue tangling with hers as he teased and tasted, enjoying her mouth.

She kissed him back, licking and tasting and enjoying him until she felt rather than heard a hum of desire, of pure carnal lust, vibrating through him. He was growing hard against her belly, his cock pressing against her urgently.

He lowered his head further and took her nipple into his mouth, licking the soft nub until it grew hard beneath his tongue. Pleasure shot through her, and he turned to lavish the same attention on her other breast. She writhed against the cold tiles at her back, arching into him and sinking her fingers into his hair to hold him to her. He smiled as she moaned with pleasure, and laughed softly when he took her nipple between his teeth and made her suck in a sharp breath.

His cock was as hard as it had been a few hours ago, and it surged in her hand as he took her breasts. She gathered some suds into her palm and grasped him again, feeling the iron-hardness of him beneath the silky skin. She began to stroke, gliding fast and smooth, and he groaned from the pleasure of it, collapsing against her and kissing her between his soft, low sounds of pleasure and need.

She kept stroking and teasing, gliding over him in a steady rhythm, and felt herself growing warm and slick at how hard he was beneath her fingers. She loved that she was doing that to him, making him want her so much. He groaned, his breath jagged and shallow. He tried to kiss her through his mounting pleasure but he had to break off to breathe, to lose himself in the sensation.

"God, love," he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. "So good."

She tried not to focus on his calling her love, knowing it was his only his arousal talking. She focused instead on the intense pleasure that was making him say it. She continued stroking him, changing her hand position so that she pulled up with each stroke, teasingly pulling his skin up over the head each time and sinking down to the base, pleasuring every inch of him. Her other hand cupped his balls and caressed him, gently rolling him around in her fingers as he tensed and surged and seemed to fight against her, against the unbearable pleasure she was causing him.

After a few torturous moments he stopped her hand, his breathing so fast and ragged that he could hardly speak. "You don't want this to end too soon, do you?" he warned, kissing her in between breaths. "Because, my God, you could make me come in seconds if you wanted to."

"That might be fun," she said, kissing the edges of his mouth, licking at his lips and his tongue when he opened his mouth to her again.

"For me, yes," he breathed, breaking away from her. "But I'm not nearly finished with you yet."

He slipped his hand into her hair and held her head, kissing her with such raw passion, such naked need that she felt a surge of warmth flood between her legs in spite of the cooling effects of the water. He had wrung a soul-shattering orgasm out of her just a few hours ago and yet here she was again, eager for him again. Wanton hussy indeed.

"Do you remember that night, last month..." he asked, his voice low and deep. "At the party, when I played that song on the guitar for you, and you asked whether it hurt my fingers to play the steel strings?"

He was watching his own fingers trail over her breasts, over her tightened nipple, down past her navel, as the water trickled over them both.

"Mmm hmmm," she murmured, her eyes closed, lost in the sensation of the water coursing down her body and his hand moving over her.

"And you touched my fingertips..."

Of course she remembered; she'd run her fingers over the roughened pads of his fingertips, and had watched in delight as he'd twitched a little, and then trembled, just a little, at her touch. She'd kept her touch feather-light and soft, drifting over his fingertips and down his fingers a little, feeling the shiver of heightened awareness in her own hands.

Maybe she'd been a little too suggestive, a little too lingering, whispering-touching those parts of him that were supposedly hardened against such sensations -- but she'd been unable to stop herself. His hands had been warm and strong and eminently male, and when he'd stiffened and held his breath, as if willing himself not to react to her seductive touch, she'd felt that shiver of awareness deepen into an intense desire.

Such a seemingly innocent touch, just a friend examining the time-worn calluses of a guitar player's fingertips...and yet in that moment, even amongst their friends, even with the music playing loud and the laughter soaring above it, she'd felt like it had been just the two of them in that room, touching each other intentionally for the very first time, her hand tentatively reaching out for his, and his reaching to meet her half way.

"You drove me wild." he said, leaning to kiss her neck. "I got so hard, I was afraid to move. And after that, I kept thinking of all the things I wanted to do to you with these fingers." He slipped his hand between her legs and caressed her folds, parting them gently and sliding inside her. "Like this, for instance."

She moaned and leaned her head against his shoulder, letting him touch her wherever he wanted. His fingers explored her, caressed her, possessed her, expertly as though they, too, knew she was his.

"I just had to touch you," she breathed against him. "And believe me, this is what I was thinking about too."

"You stopped me last night," he murmured, dragging his mouth along her neck. "I wanted to feel you come for me. To finish what you started that night."

She groaned at the sound of his voice, so low and sexual, so heated with his own desire.

"Let me feel you come for me, baby," he whispered into her ear, licking her earlobe. "Please."

He gripped her hip and lifted her up against the wall slightly, positioning her so he could slide his fingers deep inside her. He held her firmly around the waist, bracing her against the wall, and thrust into her gently, with first one finger, then two, sliding deeper and deeper each time, stretching her, mimicking the size and power of his cock. His thumb played over her clit, sending shocks of pleasure through her as he pressed his forehead to hers and gazed down into her eyes. She gasped and cried out from the overwhelming pleasure of it even as she squirmed beneath his fingers and ached for more.

He braced her against his thigh and pressed against her while his arm steadied her from behind, holding her completely in his grasp. He had such a way of holding her, letting her know that she was going nowhere, making sure she had no desire to be anywhere but in his arms. She felt safe, and secure, and above all, worshipped.

He bent down and kissed her, sliding his fingers into her with a wild, sensuous rhythm that matched the increasing speed of his thumb as it stroked and rubbed and swirled around her aching clit. His hand was so strong, his fingers curving inside her to caress her, to find that super-sensitive inner spot even as he plunged and drove and took. With his thumb circling her clit in a relentless rhythm and his fingers deep inside her, stretching her, claiming her, she felt completely owned by him, by the hand that possessed every inch of her.

His tongue slipped into her mouth, matching the rhythm of his fingers, swirling, tasting, mutely revealing that he had had another fantasy, too. The thought of his mouth on her, his tongue tasting her, torturing her, swirling over her clit as she writhed beneath it made her go weak in the knees.

He broke away from the kiss and began trailing kisses down her neck, her breasts, lowering himself to his knees in front of her while bracing her hips against the tiles with his strong hands.

"Did I mention what it did to me the first time your tongue touched mine?" he whispered devilishly.

He looked up at her so intently, his beautiful eyes blazing as the water streamed over his shoulder and down the contours of his chest. She gazed down at him, and for the second time this morning questioned whether all this could actually be happening. This gorgeous, virile man gripping her, kneeling before her, gazing at her like she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. It couldn't be real, could it?

Then he lowered his lips to her and she knew it was.

Sensation tore through her at his touch, so delicately gentle at first, and she arched against the wall with a startled cry. She reached down and gripped his shoulder, steadying herself on one foot as he brought her other leg up slowly, gently and eased it over his shoulder. The sight of it alone nearly made her come. He moved so languidly, so sensuously, positioning her better so he could enjoy her all the more.

He closed his mouth over her clit and kissed it luxuriously, his lips moving as though he were kissing her mouth. His tongue swirled over her in large, sensuous circles and he groaned against her, tightening his grip on her hip as she moaned against the sudden overwhelming pleasure of it. The tip of his tongue darted out to flick against her rapidly as he looked up at her again, watching her pleasure, his eyes smiling at her as if he knew precisely how good he was making her feel. Then he fell on her again, his tongue roaming over her, tasting her, luxuriating in her folds and dipping to lap at her entrance.

She bucked against him and cried out as his tongue slipped into her and pulsed there, gently, savouring her. Her hand sank into his wet hair and as she gripped his head, she was rewarded with a muted chuckle and a more intense forward surge of his tongue inside her. He liked the moans he wrought from her. He liked being able to make her cry out and seize him, her head thrown back in agonizing pleasure.

And fuck did she like it, too.

"Oh God," she breathed, her heart thundering in her chest. "My God, that feels so good..."

He withdrew from her and slid his tongue up to torture her aching clit, and just when she began to miss the feel of him inside her he gently pushed his fingers into her again and began to thrust.

Pleasure soared through her and she cried out even louder, and the leg draped over his shoulder begin to tremble. His tongue circled her clit again, deliciously slowly, as his fingers slid into her over and over again, a sensual, primitive rhythm that made her want to grind her hips against the pleasure.

"I'm coming," she whispered urgently. "You're going to make me come..."

His fingers thrust deeper and faster and he began to lick her so quickly, with such a throaty groan of pleasure that she felt her orgasm rise, terrifyingly fast and sharp, making her cry out in increasing, panting breaths until she shattered, coming violently around his fingers and that sensuous, irresistible tongue. She shuddered with an aching cry and trembled from the spasms he sent rippling through her. Her body curled forward as she gripped him tighter, her fingers turning white from the pressure.

He removed her leg from his shoulder gently as she continued to shudder, feeling aftershocks of pleasure shiver through her. He got to his feet and helped her stand, pressing himself against her and nuzzling her neck.

"My God," she whispered, her voice shaking. Her whole body shaking. "That was incredible."

"That...was just the prelude," he whispered, kissing her. "I haven't even started pleasuring you yet."

God, he was going to kill her. Death by orgasm, she thought happily. What a way to go.

He leaned to turn off the water, but he stilled his hand. He looked back at her with a questioning expression, and then understood. She pulled him back towards herself and he went willingly, stepping back under the stream of water, kissing her deeply, his hands roaming greedily over her body.

She wasn't done with him. He had made her feel like a goddess, worshipped, cherished, adored.

Now it was his turn...

/end