Alison's Wonderland (20 page)

“Oh, babe, you’re a natural. I just have a favor to ask.”

“Yeah? What?” I hoped it wasn’t a request to have me dress up in black PVC or something strange—at least something stranger than a man’s three-piece suit.

“Could you use the hairbrush handle inside me the next time? At least, until we buy a dildo.”

I hadn’t planned on repeating this performance, but something in Kazimir’s bright hazel eyes made me melt. I wanted to make him happy, plus I wanted him to tidy up his pigsty of an apartment, too.

“Come here, slut,” I said, crooking a finger in his direction. He quickly scooted over to me, and then he crouched down so I could kiss him. This time, I held his hands, rubbing them over my breasts. “I think I can do that, Cinderella,” I whispered into his ear. “Now, have a shave, so we can go to the ball.”

“They say if you kiss it, you’ll get the gift of the gab.”

It was the man’s seductive brogue that caught my attention, rather than what he said. I knew all about the Blarney stone already. I’d flown from England and then covered the breadth of Ireland on a bus full of tourists to get to the castle where it was located.

I paused on the woodland path I’d been strolling along and glanced in his direction, wondering where he’d appeared from. He was a couple of inches taller than me, and built solid. His features were rugged, his eyes filled with whimsical charm. Thick, dark hair and bold blue eyes reflected his nationality. He was a local, and he had a wild gypsy look about him that captured my attention. Was that what he was, a gypsy in the woods?

“The Blarney stone.” He nodded in the direction of the castle that housed the legendary Irish stone, and lifted his eyebrows. “Did you want to kiss it?”

For some reason, the way he said “kiss it” didn’t make me think of kissing the rock that was currently surrounded by tourists. Instead, it made me want to kiss something else.
Him? Embarrassed, I clasped my hands around my arms and glanced back along the path. The crowd of people gathered outside the castle was growing all the time. That’s why I’d wandered away into the forest instead, my attention strangely lured by the pretty woods. And now I was being strangely lured by a man who looked like a gypsy. When I looked back at him, he was smiling at me as if he knew what I was thinking. The sun was bright behind his head and I shielded my eyes as I replied.

“Yes, I thought I would—” I paused “—kiss it…” Oh, for some odd reason, saying that aloud made me feel as if I’d been embraced and fondled by the words. “But there were so many people up there.” My explanation dwindled off as self-awareness gathered inside me. Where had he appeared from? Faded blue jeans encased strong thighs. The jeans were worn with heavy boots, and the dark, open-necked shirt he had on exaggerated both his coloring and his stature. Broad shouldered, shirtsleeves rolled up over muscular forearms. He had large, masculine hands, and I could scarcely look away for wanting him to touch me.

“You came here for some Irish magic, didn’t you?”

I shrugged and smiled, trying to be nonchalant about his question. It sounded more like a come-on than a serious suggestion. But, yes, I had made the journey in the hope of some of Ireland’s magic rubbing off on me. As I was crammed in the queue of tourists, the magic seemed too far away.

Stepping across my path, he grinned. “An adventure, maybe?”

There was speed and lightness about the way he moved. It was almost dancelike. He began to wend his way along the stepping-stones that made a path through the trees and bluebells. The trees had grown dense, and the smell of summer was heavy in the air under their canopy. I realized he was now leading me as we continued along the way. But we were within shouting distance of other people, and I felt safe with him.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” The self-awareness I’d felt when he first spoke to me was shaping into something else, something that was making me bolder.

“Tell me, now. If you had three wishes, what would they be?”

I laughed softly. “Three wishes?”

“You’re on the Irish Myth and Magic tour, are you not?”

“Well, yes.” He must have seen me getting off the bus. Perhaps he worked here. Yes, he had the look of a caretaker, earthy and rugged.

He chuckled, and there was a ribald quality to the sound. “Did you want to kiss the Blarney?”

I was mesmerized by the way his mouth moved, slow and seductive, as he said that. He’d stepped closer, and my body responded. He locked eyes with me, demanding my response.

“Yes, I did want that.” A warm breeze moved in and wrapped itself around us as I spoke. I swayed, my senses suddenly filled with the scent and the atmosphere of the woodland.

“I’ve kissed the stone,” he said, his voice low, his breath warm on my face. “Kissing me would be just as good as kissing it yourself.”

He made me want him. Badly. Squeezing my thighs together, I nodded. “Maybe it would.”

My breath condensed in my chest as the space between us vanished, and his mouth brushed over mine. It was the subtlest of kisses, but it set free a wild thread of excitement—a thread that electrified my body and made my center clench and melt.

“Tell me your wishes,” he breathed as he moved to kiss my earlobe. His body was hard and demanding against mine, his breath hot on my skin.

“Confidence,” I found myself responding, strangely intoxicated by his blatant approach.

He lifted his eyebrows suggestively, eyes twinkling as he assessed me. “Confidence to do what, exactly?”

There was something so immensely appealing about his naughty approach that I was affected by it. Well, I was affected by some damn thing, because I laughed and wrapped one hand round the back of his head, my fingers moving into his thick dark hair. “Confident enough to do this?”

I returned his kiss, savoring the way he moved against me when I did.

He held me tightly to him, teased the tip of his tongue against mine and then thrust it deep into my mouth, moving in and out in a direct suggestion of raunchy sex. The sensation made me squirm, my body clenching, my pussy growing slicker by the moment. What was happening to me? Not only did I feel empowered, I was acting on it. I ran my hands over his chest and then down, around his hips, and grasped his buttocks. They were firm, muscular, and when I squeezed them, he rubbed against me and I could feel his cock through our clothing—big, and hard. My head dropped back, a sigh of longing escaping me.

“What else?” He continued to explore me with his hands as he asked the question, squeezing my breasts roughly through my top and bra. “What would your second wish be?”

Heavily aroused by his touches, and under the spell of his powerfully persuasive suggestions, I found my mind filled with fantasies—the fantasies I entertained in my private moments, the things that turned me on but I wasn’t brave enough to share—to use a sexy, aroused and willing man, to work his body with my own, to tell him to do me hard and do me well, and revel in every decadent moment. A man like him? I stared at him, unable to voice it, but wanting him to know.

His intense gaze made me sway, and he grabbed me in against him, holding me steady. I shuddered in his arms, heady with arousal.

“Come on,” he whispered, his Irish brogue lifting on the summer breeze as he took my hand and pulled me away from the path and into the thick bed of bluebells.

I had to jog through the flowers to keep up with him, and the scent of them rising up from beneath my feet was almost overpowering. When he drew me to a halt I was panting, my senses reeling. It was deliciously dusky and yet warm beneath the trees, the summer heat haze mellowing under the shifting pattern of shadow and light there. He turned to me and tipped his head to one side.

I saw the question in his eyes, and I nodded.

He lifted my top, pulling it over my head and dropping it into the flowers. With one finger he flipped my bra strap from one shoulder and, as it lowered, he cupped my breast with his hand, lifting it from the bra and bending to take my nipple in his mouth, his free hand clasping me around the hip, holding me upright. He sucked heavily on my nipple. A red haze of pleasure shot from his mouth to my cunt, where I was hungry for a man. The sunlight darted over my eyes as I shut my eyelids, melding my senses in a wild frenzy of awareness. I moaned aloud, shocked, yet willing, wanting more.

He drew me down, lying on the ground, pulling me down with him.

I climbed over him, suddenly knowing what I wanted. Panting, I grabbed for my bra, pulling it off. I stretched my arms above my head, reveling in my bare breasts, reveling in the bacchanalian magic of the moment.

He was smiling at me, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Show me,” he whispered. “Show me what you’re thinking about.”

I growled, lustful, and unleashed. Pushing against his chest with my hands, I closed my eyes and inhaled the wild forest. Even while I did, my hips were moving, my inner thighs squeezing his flanks. I wanted to pull off his belt, undo those buttons on his jeans and check him out. Images exploded
through my mind, images of proud women, women who reveled in their sexual confidence. I took his hands to my hips, and my eyes opened.

His expression told me he knew what I was thinking. He pushed my skirt up around my waist. Grasping the band of my knickers, he paused and flashed me a dark look, then tore them apart, exposing the slit of my pussy in one powerful movement.

I gasped aloud, thrilled.

He ran his thumb over my clit and flashed me an appreciative glance. “You have a beautiful pussy,” he breathed. “Show me what you’re made of. Do it. I want you to.” He had a hungry gaze, and there was no mistaking what he wanted.

I laughed decadently, amazed at my own response to him. “Why don’t you kiss it,” I said, moving closer to his face. Where had the words come from? Deep inside me I recognized them, yes, but never had I said such a thing before.

Oh, but he did what I wanted, and how!

He grinned and then moved right under me, kissing me right on the clit.

I nearly passed out, it was too good.

He teased me, alternated, caressing my pussy with long, slow strokes of his tongue and then pressing back and forth over my sensitive clit, stroking every inch of my intimate places. I had to fight for my breath, gasping between the words as I urged him on. “That’s good, so good.”

He drove me to distraction and then sought the juicy center of me, probing me with the strong muscle of his tongue, shoving it in and out, over and over.

“Yes, yes,” I murmured, strung out and panting. Pressure built, my clit buzzing. He probed deeper still, then returned to my clit, circling it. I cried out, shuddering with release. My groin was heavy and hot, my core in spasm. His hands on my
hips kept me upright, but I was fast coming back. I pulled free of his grip, desperate for more. “Take me. Fuck me hard, right here.”

Rolling onto my back, I breathed deep the smell of the flowers crushed beneath me, a decadent bed upon which I was going to be fucked. My body was hot and pleasure-filled, and still I wanted more. I wanted to feel his hard cock inside me, filling me up. I opened my legs to him, beckoning to him as he climbed over me. His eyes were dark with lust, and I knew I was going to get what I wanted. He unzipped his jeans and I moaned aloud when I saw the thick shaft of his cock in his hand. The glistening head—so slick and ready to be inside me—made me lift my hips.

The look he gave me then was wicked, and his cock nudged against me. So hard, so large. A shiver ran through me, a shiver of longing. I wanted it. I nodded, my hands clutching at his shoulders. He pushed, opened me up and entered me. Moving slowly at first, he made me feel and appreciate every inch of him. Then he began working deeper, his hands on my hips as he pushed home and met my center. My core burned, the pressure of his cock there sending shock waves right through me. My head rolled from side to side, my breath was trapped in my throat.

He drew out, thrust again. I tried to speak, to urge him on, but all that I could get out was a low, guttural sound. He nodded, understanding. Rising up onto his arms, he began to work me harder.

Each thrust sent me into a spasm of ecstasy, the thick, long shaft of his cock stretching me to my very limits, making my body writhe. Oh, but he had stamina, riding me back and forth until every bit of me vibrated with pleasure, and I was almost gone. I arched my back, plucked my nipples hard, driven by instinct and seeking my release. I thrust my hips against his, ground on him. “Give it to me, give me more!”

He grinned, his brow lowering and his breathing audible as he thrust into me harder still. Then his cock seemed to swell and I cried out, my center burning, my legs clutching at his hips as I hit my peak.

“Oh, yes,” he grunted, and his cock stiffened, jerked.

His orgasm kept me floating there at my peak for some time, pleasure rolling through me, until he slid free and I melted away, sank into the very earth itself, sated and mellow.

Even as my erratic pulse settled, I began to wonder what had happened. What had come over me? I’d never done anything like that before. I watched the canopy overhead moving on the breeze. The sun winked at me through the leaves, and I felt a deep sense of happiness. I pushed my fingers out against the ground. That’s when it dawned on me—he wasn’t there anymore.

He’d gone. Sitting up, I looked for him. I was alone. Had he ever been there at all? I grabbed my top and bra, pulling them on hurriedly, constantly glancing around as I made myself decent. It occurred to me that it was the first time I was worried about anyone seeing me. It was as if I’d lost all my inhibitions.

He’d done that to me. Yes, he had. And it was good.

If only he was real, I thought wryly. It was likely that he’d been a figment of my imagination. Wishful thinking, after too long traveling? The thought unnerved me, and for a moment I covered my face with my hands, relieved, because my sensitive, pleasured pussy attested to the fact that it had been real. Standing up, somewhat reassured, I brushed leaves and petals from my skirt, and peered at the great big telltale green smudges on my knees and down the front of my skirt. “Damn, I look a sight.”

It meant that it
had
happened, though. I even had the torn knickers to prove it. Yes, a man had ripped the pants right off me. They were barely clinging around the top of my thighs
and I pulled the shredded remains off, balled them and shoved them in the pocket of my skirt. I’d never gone out without undies before, but as I began to wend my way back through the bluebells I found that I liked the feel of the air against my sensitive pussy and my juices sticky against my thighs. This felt earthy and natural. He’d introduced me to that. All that blarney about the three wishes, he’d got the gift of the gab, all right. I couldn’t help laughing to myself. Whatever, it sure had helped boost my confidence. I weaved my way quickly through the bluebells and relocated the path. Three wishes indeed! I felt as if I’d had several wishes granted, and I couldn’t help teasing myself about another one. What would I wish for now? That he was still here, that he was real? He had to be real!