tagNovels and NovellasBetter Ch. 02

Better Ch. 02


Chapter 2 - Andrea

Robert left me in a very softly terrible way. I wanted more than anything than to fall into his arms and just melt together, bodies conjoined until they melted like butter ... for hours.

But wasn't Robert. He's direct. He's rough. He runs the show. And there's lots of action. Tons of it. Non stop. He doesn't even have to ask. He just locks those steel gray eyes into mine and in no time I am twitching for him, my breast feel like they're going to explode. He'll just either tear my clothes off, or walk me straight to the bedroom, get to the business of ripping off our own clothing, and figure out every possible way to make use of every square inch of the mattress and the edges that surround it ... and the posts at the heads and ends of his bed.

The first time we were together, we couldn't get the clothes off each quickly enough. He made it a point of telling me boldly and loudly that I was going to be his compliant slut for the night because it will be everything I've wanted. It was. I didn't know I could keep my legs buried into my chest as long as I did when he cowered over me and drilled me like as if I were a steel beam ... over and over again ... in short rapid bursts that made the bottom of my cunt ooze and switch a tightening grip that come from below, clenched onto the tip of his cock until it finally held his entire cock captive, making him not being able to make it move. When I finally released my grip, he certainly liked taking his time his dick back and forth inside of a pussy that was wetter than in any porno movie, at least the ones I have seen. I loved how he felt, as if her were orchestrating the hardest and straightest dick I ever saw. It was like it was a thick baton that led a single organ orchestra. A loud orchestra. One with a deep, heavy bass section, deep-bottomed kettle drums, and screaming metal guitars. Like Jimi Hendrix playing all of the parts of the 1812 Overture, except the crescendos are my low, growling moans that come up slowly and hoarse, and then lead to a screaming, crashing bang. He felt like a cannon in the way he laid on his back, knees bent, allowing me to hold onto his knees with my hands so I could slide my whole body as I slid up and then down his cock as far as I could take him. It made me gush all over his groin, his belly, and all over between us, and it made him shoot the hardest, hottest and most powerful stream of semen I ever felt. I smelled like sex for days. And then I wouldn't hear from him for several days at a time.

That should have pissed me off, but it didn't. I just kind of accepted that he was a nice guy who was a blast to work with and teach, soaked up every photography trick I taught him, was great for some deep and open conversations about anything going on in the world, and fucked like a rock star that had his not too tall, slim and incredibly flexible body. I would have never accepted that kind of in and out behavior from anyone else. I pretty much wanted a man who understood how to connect to my soul before connecting with any body part. I had that with both Robert and Michael, but I also wanted a man who wanted me in a way where I felt was treasured and valued me as a one of a kind that had no equal. I didn't get that from either of them. Sure, Michael treated me that way, but at the end of our trips, it was his wife who got the same treatment as I and they were a real couple, not one that had to show discretion when they were seen in public. We weren't a couple that I could tell my closest girlfriend about. And Robert? I didn't really get his game. We're so focused on each other when we work together, sit back and talk philosophical about everything but our lives over beers and a stick of 420, and then fuck again and again, until he just can't hold out any longer. Sometimes that would be for hours. Sometimes he'd come and get instantly hard again. But in the end, he left, and I really had no connection with him until the next time we had a chance to work on something together or he called to just fuck.

My head kept going over the pluses and the minuses of both men all night. I felt wracked with awkwardness for telling Robert how I felt about him and not getting much of a reaction from him. I felt deceitful for wanting to be with Robert while Michael had no clue there was another man in my life. Kind of. Sort of.

I never got to sleep. By the time I got tired, it was already time for me to get into the shower, do my hair, put on my makeup, and get dressed to pick up Michael from the airport. By the time I got on the freeway, I felt it was mine to command, my car sometimes being the only one on four lanes, zooming through the middle of the city to get to the airport on the other side of town. I played Lauryn Hill's "Killing Me Softly" over and over again, singing along to it as slowly, loudly and strongly as she sang the song herself. It felt like the way I wanted to make love to Michael as soon as I could get him behind closed doors, which couldn't be soon enough. Actually, I wanted to fuck him like a jackal, but that wasn't Michael's style.

I timed myself to find a spot in front of the door he would be coming out of, and to lean against the side of the car dressed in a royal blue trench coat that barely covered the top hem of my stockings and the clips of a black garter belt that he sent to me when he was away in France one time. They went with the black lace bra with a push-up bra with a nude lining that I was also wearing. All that and a pair of sheer hose and a pair of Christian Loubotin knock-off pumps was all I wore. I had a dress in a bag in the back just in case he wanted to make a stop for breakfast on the way. It wasn't necessary.

He had the cheekiest smile on his face as he walked toward me. His kiss was unlockingly welcoming, his hands groped my ass without anyone noticing. He held me against him to let me know the next thing he wanted to do was had nothing to do with standing in an airport arrival curb in front of dozens of travelers and taxicabs.

We got into the car and he said, "I need to get to the Townsend. I have a meeting."

"A meeting? Really?" I was a bit disappointed, but I sometimes knew work was sometimes involved with his trips to town.

"Yes, with a sassy and sexy woman ," he said. "Product testing. 300-count Egyptian sheets. In-room stereo system. A two-person Jacuzzi overlooking the park across the street. Supposedly the best brunch in town, served privately for two."

Damn, it wasn't necessary. I spent the last two nights cleaning up my place. But who could pass this up, especially a room on the top floor that had its own elevator key in the most elite part of town? A place known for lodging CEOs, dignitaries, movie stars and rock star under a guarded cloak of privacy and discretion. The hotel was known for its heavily worded and enforced non-disclosure agreement it had with all of its employees ... even the ones who worked in the kitchen and the boiler room and never saw a guest.

As soon as the bellhop left, he quickly got to untying the sash of my coat and unfastening each button slowly. He let the coat slip off my shoulders, down my arms, and onto the floor as he pulled my body firmly against him with hands that softly swept down my back from my shoulder blades to the bottom curves of the cheeks of my ass, softly cupping them as I unbuttoned and pulled off his golf shirt and made his trousers and boxers disappear. My touches mimicked his, hands barely gliding over the skin of lips with the contours of his body, finding those unsuspecting spots that got his dick hard without ever touching it. They were the same touches he used that made me unaware that I was opening my legs and waiting for him to slide his fingers over my wet and wanting pussy lips before slipping them in, at first one, then two, then tree, swirling them within my tightly confined walls until he couldn't reach the tips of his fingers any deeper or any faster inside of me. It was my orgasm, only for me ... this time. The other four times, it was about us together, getting his cock saturated with my juices as he slid it in and out of me, building up speed and intensity every time I came. I wanted to feel the tightening of his body release as he came inside of me, but he held off until after the moment I let out a cry that seemed to go on for minutes. Not one or two, but five, maybe ten. I don't know. It was unending ecstasy even I was surprised I could sustain as he pummeled me from above as he savored the buildup I could tell was wracking every muscle inside of him.

After he was finally spent and after his long, luxurious strokes inside of me, a grin broke out onto his face, and he looked me in the eyes and said, "Good morning, my love. I've been thinking of starting the morning with you like this since the last time we were together." I wrapped my arms and legs around him and was surprised he hadn't gone soft inside of me. In time, we were at it again, only more actively and acrobatically. He took me to the edge of the bed, held my legs up at twelve and three, coming into me standing at an angle that made me gush not once, but twice, soaking the edge of the mattress for as far as I could feel. Our cries comingled in a sweet, raw harmony that didn't want to have an ending. But when it did end, he was full of smiles and playful kisses with only a sheet on top of us to retain our warmth we generated earlier.

I never left town and this felt just as much like a vacation as anywhere we traveled together. Even my thoughts of Robert left town ... or at least my mind.

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