tagRomanceTrivial Pursuits Ch. 14

Trivial Pursuits Ch. 14

bytitania123©

Dear Readers,

Welcome back to another chapter. I hope you enjoy the long-awaited 'development' and hope you find the result was worth the pace. Please keep the feedback coming, I always appreciate hearing your thoughts. And as always, thank you to AlreadyTaken for catching all my many typos ;)

Enjoy,

Titania


******

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"Talk is cheap, my darling
When you're feeling right at home
I wanna make you move with confidence
I wanna be with you alone

Said help me help you start it
You're too comfortable to know
Throwing out those words
Oh, you gotta feel it on your own"
"Talk is Cheap" Chet Faker



*******

Denny's condo stood near the top of Russian Hill and had a spectacular view of Coit Tower and the northeastern corner of the Bay. Alessa feigned her cool manner as best she could, but struggled to dampen both the impressiveness of the place he called home and the anxiety of spending the weekend with him. As he had suggested she stay until Sunday, she brought work with her in hopes of not only staying ahead of her caseload but as a plausible distraction for a few hours. He took her leather duffel and her work bag from her, setting them on the gray modern couch, before guiding her through his home.

"Hm, your place is a little nicer than mine," she observed as he showed her the layout and then eventually led her to the balcony.

"More expensive, not nicer. Your place may be small and humble, but it's clean, functional, and reflects you."

"Cheap," she said drily.

"Perfunctory," he corrected. "And cute."

She raised a considering eyebrow and nodded in possibility. "So, Denny," she said slowly, scanning their surroundings instead of looking at him, "what's the plan?" When he remained silent, she turned to find him grinning at her. "What?" she questioned curiously.

"I know it may sound silly, but I thought we could have a sleep-over."

"Well, obviously," she answered with a sour turn of her mouth, not knowing how she was going to survive tonight if it involved sex, but not knowing how to get out of it. "That's why I'm here."

"No, I mean a sleep-over, like things we did when we were kids. I have the whole night planned."

Her face was skeptical when she followed him inside. "And as you are the guest, I'll let you choose. I have pizza coming in about five or ten minutes," he guessed glancing at his watch, "and we can make root beer floats. We can watch a few movies; I even thought about letting you show me your favorite Korean films if you'd like, or play a few games I've set up."

"Games, huh?" she asked surprised.

"Well," his grin turned cocky, "adult games." He watched her breathe deeply as if she were shoring herself up from the inside. But she didn't argue but simply moved about his living space. And then his cell chimed; the front desk notified him that the pizza had been delivered.

"You can change in my room if you wish."

"Change?"

"Yeah, out of your clothes and into your PJs. That is, unless you wanted to go around in your underwear, 'cause I'd be fine with that."

She chuckled breathlessly at his shameless flirting. "Yes, well I'm sure I'd get a little cold. I think I'll just put on my jams."

"Jams?"

"Yeah, my sister calls them her jams, so I guess I do, too," she explained with a thoughtful smile. She picked up her bag and went to change while he went down for the pizza. She washed her face, clearing away what little makeup was left after her nightly run, and ran a cool rag behind her neck to wipe any residual sweat, feeling a little refreshed and at ease. When she returned she could smell the pizza wafting through the air, making her stomach grumble in response. He had flopped the box on the glass cube coffee table and was in the kitchen. She could hear hissing of opening bottles followed by clanging of metal caps hitting the quartz countertops.

"Beer?" he asked as he came in, holding one for her as he eyed her gray tank top and thin-cotton white pajama pants that hung loose on her hips. Alessa took the bottle, looking about her, uncertain where to sit. Denny sat near the middle of the couch, making wherever she sat unavoidably close to him. "Here, sit," he instructed as he opened the box. A large, delicious looking sausage-and-mushroom pizza sat steaming and again her stomach growled. "Hungry?" he asked chuckling, pulling a slice out so that the cheese stretched away in long strings.

"Yeah," she answered, sitting next to him.

Denny noted that it was close enough to not be far, but not close enough to touch him. He handed her the slice before taking one for himself. "It's good, huh?"

She nodded, but said nothing. They settled into comfortable silence until Denny had finished off his first slice. "I'm gonna change. Be right back. Help yourself to anything." And then he was up and down the hall. He hadn't shut the door and she could hear the opening of drawers and the rustling of fabric and was impressed by the intimacy that was engendered through sound alone. He reemerged wearing black and white flannel pants and a black t-shirt.

He settled again next to her and picked up another slice. "Oh, and I almost forgot, I got you something."

Her brow furrowed. "Denny, I don't know how I feel about gifts," she began, uncertain if she wanted to receive anything from him.

"Will you stop being so contradictory and difficult?" he chastised with a playful smile.

"I'm not being difficult just because I voice my opinion."

"You're being difficult when you don't keep an open mind for the opportunity of something new. Will you at least reserve your objections until you've heard me out fully?" When she begrudgingly nodded, he smiled and stood. Looking down at her he instructed her to close her eyes. There was a question in them a moment before she complied, again unenthusiastically.

She heard a noise coming from in front of her, she assumed somewhere near the wall where his large flat screen TV had been mounted. Hard plastic clacking and snapping and then she felt him settle next to her again.

"Your hands," he instructed, and she held them out. She felt something cold placed in them and opened her eyes. It was an original Nintendo controller.

Denny turned on the TV and she felt a smile creep over her lips as she saw the very first Mario Brothers game menu on the screen and then the very familiar theme music. "You still have the original?" she asked bemused.

"No, but after the other night, in thinking about something fun to do tonight, I went online and ordered one. It even came with the little orange gun for the duck hunt."

She laughed at that. "I cheated so badly at that game!"

"Went right up to the screen to shoot them," he finished for her and together they shared a reminiscing laugh that all kids who had ever played the game shared.

He set them up with a game, and together they played an hour laughing and drinking beer and killing mushrooms and flying turtle-ducks.

"You're pretty good at this," he commented.

"Yeah, well, one of my friends had one and we played a lot when we were little. Those were good times," she smiled nostalgically. He was silent, allowing her to share as she willed. "I was in college, I think my senior year, maybe, and having a rotten time. I was online, taking a break from my funk, when I just randomly thought about my friend and how we used to play her game system to death. And so I looked it up and found websites that had the games to play. And it instantly made me feel better," she beamed. "It was as if I'd found a time capsule and all the happiness and perfection of youth came pouring out of that screen. I was finally motivated to keep going with my schoolwork, so I set myself a forty-five minute work session and then a ten or fifteen minute game break." She nodded. "It really helped get me through some of those quagmire times."

"My friends and I were a little like that. We'd usually do something like paper football or hackie sack. So I guess it stuck with you, huh?"

"I guess. I mean, not really, only when things are a little too stressful and I need to separate my mind from everything that's going on," she explained quietly.

Denny realized she must have been speaking of the afternoon they had gone to the clinic, and wondered just how much strain he had put her under by insisting they get tested. But it was necessary, even if unpleasant, and though it might have been taxing on her, she bore up well enough.

He reached over and turned her face to him, giving her a kiss of praise. She was startled, but quickly relaxed, submitting with pleasure to his mouth. He had only meant for a quick peck, but when she so swiftly responded, even a subtle parting of her lips, he delved a little deeper, pushed for a little more. It had been such a long-held desire that when he finally had the opportunity he took it fully.

One of his hands cupped her face while the other one reached around her to turn her toward him. Much to his excitement, one of her hands slid up his arm to grasp his shoulder, using him as an anchor to pull herself closer to him. It was all the acquiescence he needed, and though his natural instinct was to push her back and crush himself upon her, he recognized she would need greater control to feel most comfortable in order to advance. It would be agony, but it would be worth it. He pulled her into him until their bodies were pressed as tightly as possible at the slightly awkward angle. When her thigh slid over the top of his, his grip on her tightened and he pulled her to rub her groin on his leg.

Alessa realized a little dazedly that it was becoming more than she could handle, that the sensations were too intense and she was losing her control over her actions, fast. She attempted to pull away, but his grip on her only tightened. She teetered between allowing whatever might happen to flow naturally and stopping it altogether.

"Denny," she murmured, a little more of her rational mind returning to her.

Knowing he couldn't push her too fast, he pulled back so they could gasp against each other's lips. "Too much?" he guessed knowingly.

She swallowed and then nodded, her eyes opening to his. She had been so certain he would push her until she gave in, but the gentle understanding she saw in his eyes caused a dam of relief to flood through her. "Maybe a little," she managed.

He cupped her cheek. "Come here," he said softly, guiding her while changing his position until they were laying on the couch with him on an elbow above her. "I will make you one promise right now. I will never push you into sex. Don't get me wrong. I will fuck you. So long and hard your body is going to cry in its sleep for me," he intoned with a smile as he stroked her hair back, "but I will never move us to that. Understand? When you're ready to try, you are going to have to ask.

"Now, I might touch you," he mused as the hand that had been fingering her hair slid down her jaw and neck, the tips of two fingers gliding over her skin, creating a burn in her stomach as they went. "I may kiss you," he added as he dipped down to run his lips over the smooth skin of her neck, his tongue snaking out to taste her just a little. Her skin prickled under the erotic scratch of his stubbled jaw juxtaposed against his tongue's velvety smoothness. "I may even make you come," he said as his leg, which had been atop hers, slid to fall between her thighs and press at the juncture of her body. He pressed it up into her and felt something hot in his belly when her eyes closed and her bottom lip quivered. "But I am not going to fuck you until you beg. Okay? So relax and enjoy." And then his mouth was smooth over hers, like a thousand pleading caresses.

She could taste pizza and beer on his tongue, coupling his flavor for a new experience. And as he slid his tongue sensuously against hers, she felt his stray hand draw a slow and winding path down her front, creeping lower and lower over her chest. She squealed in surprise when a fingertip grazed over her nipple, making it hard as a tiny, aching pebble. Once at attention, his fingers traced all the contours of her breast, applying varying amounts of pressure, coming close and circling around the sharp nub, but never touching it again.

Alessa was past near-discomfort, she was in full-blown ache, and as her mouth was still occupied by his, she could only direct him as she wanted by twisting her body into his touch. And when he still did nothing to ease the ache, she boldly pressed herself up into his hand demanding his firmer touch. "Mm, something you needed, Sweetheart?" he teased in a deepened voice that thrilled her to the pit of her stomach. He didn't wait for her answer, but continued kissing her.

"You're making me hurt," she whispered through his kiss.

"Am I?"

"Yes, stop playing with me," she managed to instruct a little more firmly. Never, with all the stories she had read or written, had she felt this aroused. There was nothing as blissful as the real touch and warmth and taste and sound of another person, and she knew she had been a fool to ever think all this desire and pleasure was a product of mass delusion.

She placed her hand over his, pressing it firmly into her breast, squeezing it. The ache became sharp, satisfied and intensified all at once. She hissed at the pleasure before allowing Denny to kiss her more ravenously.

"Oh, is this what you needed?" he teased in a husked voice. "Why didn't you just tell me, Sweetheart? I'd be more than willing to make you happy. How's this?" he asked as his grip tightened before he twisted and kneaded.

She whimpered into his mouth, the pleasure of his firm touch shooting straight into her sex, now flooding with all the blood from her brain. "So good," she whispered, still pushing up against him. Her thighs had momentarily parted to allow his thigh to fit even more tightly against her sex before they squeezed together to hold him securely in place.

Denny's fingers drew up the fabric of her night shirt until his hand lay atop the warm, soft flesh encased in a black satin bra. "Why didn't you take this off?" he murmured, pulling away to look down at her doubtlessly magnificent chest for the first time.

Quickly, her hand reached up to grab the bunched shirt to pull it down and hide herself, but he stopped her, not allowing her to hide from him. Enough space existed between her head and the arm rest, that he was able to take both her arms and pull them to rest above her head. He held them in place with one hand so the other was free to caress her skin as he wished. Alessa tugged only minimally, only enough to feel the strength in the grip of the one arm, and felt herself light up.

When his fingers trailed between her breasts, she twisted slightly, as if to move him off. He looked up at her questioning. "What's the matter, Sweetheart?"

She stared at him pensively, her face burning from the flush of arousal and embarrassment he had caused. She swallowed, but couldn't answer. "Afraid?" he asked. She nodded slowly, as if she knew she shouldn't be, but couldn't help it all the same. "Can you try to trust me? Can you let me make you feel good?"

Her stomach cramped with intense arousal just at his question, let alone what he would actually do to make her feel good. Again, she slowly nodded apprehensively, and controlled her body to lie still beneath him.

Much to her consternation, his eyes held a wicked gleam as he lifted two fingers to her mouth and placed them on her lips. She opened her mouth slowly, afraid of his intent. His fingers slid slowly in and he pressed against her tongue, stroking it sensuously as he might do with his tongue when he kissed her. Her body responded mindlessly, needing no thoughts to follow his lead. And as she closed her lips around those two digits, she suckled a little. The surprising action caused his hips to jerk forward into her crotch, which in turn made her moan around his fingers.

When Denny was sure his fingers were wet enough, he pulled them slowly free, wetting her bottom lip as they went. His hand was talented enough to find her breast and the silky material covering it without breaking eye contact with her. Holding her gaze, he peeled down the fabric and placed those two wet fingers over her nipple. He smiled victoriously when she took a deep breath as her eyes slid shut and her head rolled back so she could arch against him like a sensuous goddess.

He allowed his gaze to wander down to her chest and felt a throb in his penis at the sight of her pink areole and taut little nipple. Suddenly his mouth was watering and he leaned down. She must have felt his movement because she looked back down at him, watching her rising chest and the small space between her skin and his face. And then his tongue slid slowly forward to lathe the little bud that seemed to strain up to meet him.

The sensation was like a delicious itch crawling deep inside of her, forcing her chest to rise higher to reach him. The scene was too erotic to watch and so she dropped her head back, allowing him, for the moment, complete control of her body. He continued to lick and nibble the delicate tissue. And then she felt his sharp front teeth gingerly bite just the thinnest layer of her skin at the underside of her nipple, and then directly at the very top, a sharp painful pleasure that caused her to cry out. Before she could respond, he had engulfed the whole of her areole in his mouth and licked and sucked, pulling that thread all the way from the nub of her sex, through her body, and out her breast. Her hands were fists, causing her nails to bite into her palm, the pain counterpointing the pleasure exploding from her chest.

As he suckled and licked her supple breast, Denny realized he was moving against her, rubbing his thigh into her core as he pressed his own arousal into her hip. He either needed to stop the maddening foreplay to regroup or he needed to do something about at least one of their situations.

"Alessa, Sweetheart, will you let me touch you?"

Her head lolled to the side before her eyes fluttered open. She finally looked at him, processing his request. "I thought you were touching me," she asked dazed.

He loved her husky voice when she was aroused. He chuckled morosely. "No, love, I mean, let me touch you here," he corrected, his hand sliding down between them to cup her mound. Again she drew in another sharp breath at not only the discomfort of someone's hands on her sex, but at the exquisite sensation it produced. "Let me make you come," he whispered, his eyes pleading.

She gave a half-jerk of her head, as if she were about to refuse, but stopped, her concern-filled eyes searching his. "I-I don't know. I don't know if I'm ready for that."

He swallowed, his body pulsating with aching desire. "I understand, but if that's the case, then I think maybe we should stop for a while. I want you too damn much; I have a feeling I'm about to embarrass myself," he informed her with a self-deprecating grin. "Fuck," he groaned with a chuckle of misery as he sat up from her, planting his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his face, the desire still too thick in his blood. "Come on, why don't you go freshen up in the bathroom and I'll get us started on those root beer floats. That's assuming you like root beer. I also have Coke."

The transition had happened so fast she was still laying on the couch panting, mildly disoriented and eternally bereft. Maybe she had said the wrong thing, because at that moment, no amount of ice cream could replace her need for one good orgasm. Somehow she managed to find her voice, looking up at him before she tugged down her tank top and swung herself to sit up. "No, root beer is fine." She stood but wobbled. Thankfully, his hands grabbed her shoulders, keeping her upright. "Thank you," she said in a whisper, feeling drunk as she walked to nearest bathroom. She missed watching him walk to the kitchen, rather stiff with a cowboy's gait, his own erection making the task painful.

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