Hawk (69 page)

I lean back against the wall and slide my hands between my legs. The wetness I find there isn't from the shower at all. I close my eyes and stifle a little sound as I begin to slide my fingers along my lower lips, the stimulation sending shivers down my legs that make my knees buckle. I sink to the bottom of the shower, sitting in the spray, and hug myself thinking about when I was in his lap, feeling his hard-on pressed into me, the way his hands pressed lightly into my skin and his taste filled my mouth as I kissed him and lunged on top of him. My legs trap my hand and I start circling my clit with my finger, shuddering when the sensation is almost too intense, but I feel a sudden desperation for release.

It doesn't take long. It's like just thinking about him drives me higher and
 
higher, until I have to press the back of my hand against my mouth and stifle the sounds as I drive myself to further heights of pleasure. Part of me wants him to burst through the door, strip, and get in here with me. My toes curl as the peak hits and I curl up into a ball, whimpering, almost biting my hand. As it fades my legs stretch out until my feet hit the other side of the tub, and the water just pours over me.

That wasn't good enough.

I stand up, leaning on the wall for balance. I feel more winded now than I did before, and no less excited. I lean on the wall under the shower, rest my head against it, and just let it pour over me. Then I turn it up, until the room fills up with steam, and let it scour down my back. I don't know what I want my life to be anymore. I don't know what Apollo is doing in my house. I don't understand anything that's happening to me. When I finally turn it off I'm so used to the heat my teeth start chattering and I start shivering as I towel off, wrap up in my robe, and open the door.

It would be nice if Apollo was waiting outside to grab me, but he's not. I pad barefoot and dripping over to my bedroom, close the door, and listen to the soft sounds of the television from below.
 
After I put on a long t-shirt and a pair of threadbare shorts, I walk slowly down the stairs, my hair still wrapped up in a towel. He's sitting on the couch, and he has his feet up on the coffee table. Mom would be furious.

"Hey."

"Hey," he glances over his shoulder, and the look is heavier than an outright stare from someone else.

I'm doing the lip bite thing again.

"Want something to eat?"

"Nah. I'm thirsty, though."

I grab a couple of sodas from the fridge and hand him one as I sit down. I"m not sure what to
do
. Do I scoot closer, so we're touching? What am I even trying to accomplish here? His fingers brush mine and the cold of the can makes them feel warmer as I pass it off to him. I look over and realize he hasn't been paying attention to the show playing on the television since I walked in the room, any more than I have.

"I don't know anything about you."

"I don't know much about you, either," he confesses, shifting a little closer on the couch. "I know you're compassionate, bold, thoughtful. You care about your friends. I think I envy you."

"Envy me?"

He shrugs. "I've never had friends my own age, not even acquaintances, really. My mother died when I was young. She raised me herself until my father came and took me, after she…"

"I'm sorry," I mutter, looking down at the floor, past my soda can. I take a drink but it doesn't cool the heat in my chest. "I feel like shit for bitching about her in front of you."

"It's not like that."

I glance over at him. "So what's it like?"

"You know I have clear instructions to stay away from you. Yet here I am."

I set the can on the table (on a coaster!) and turn to face him, sitting sideways so my elbow leans on the back of the couch, and prop my hand on my chin. He leans back, turns a little to face me. I can feel him trying to force his eyes still but they keep roaming over me. My shorts are hiked right up to my hips. I cross my legs, and his eyes wander down to settle on them. I must have still been a little damp when I dressed. I can feel the cloth clinging to my shirt.

I am such an amateur.

He puts his can next to mine and slides over. This time his eyes are on mine, and they don't waver. The longer he holds the stare with me, the tighter I feel in my stomach, like I'm coiling up. I think he's going to lean in and kiss me.

Instead he yanks the towel off my hair and drops it on the floor behind the couch, pulls me to him, and buries his face in my wet hair. He breathes
 
deep, his chest expanding against me as his arms slide around me. He breaths out slow and his hot breath tickles my skin, and he does again.

"What are you…"

"Savoring you," he says, and tugs me closer. I"m almost on his lap.

Now he kisses me. Oh God I'm melting. It's like swallowing a spoonful of warm honey. Before I know it I fall back on the couch and take him with me, and he's lying on top of me, lips locked with mine.

Oh.

His hands slide up my forearms to rest on my palms, and lightly hold them down, while his thumbs trace little circles around my knuckles and the kiss deepens. I'm as hungry for it as he is. I can't keep my hands off him, feeling the muscles on his stomach and sides twist and bunch when he moves, spreading my fingers across his chest. I slip my legs around him and he breaks from the kiss, his tightly muscled chest heaving against me as he catches his breath, only to start again when I've barely caught mine. It's as if we don't have enough time and he wants as many kisses as he can before we have to stop.

Do we have to stop? Why can't I want this?

I feel his hand cool on my side, slipping up into my shirt. My eyes flutter open but I don't stop him, if anything I welcome it by doing the same. His skin is smooth. There's a scar up his side from some injury and I find myself unable to stop tracing it with my finger. He shifts so he's lying on his side, pulling me against him, my head cradled on his arm while his other hand moves lightly over my ribs, down to my hip, and back again, each time edging a little closer to my breast. He must be able to feel my heart beating. Finally I gasp as his hand slides up, cups my breast and ever so lightly squeezes, his thumb brushing over my nipple. He goes still and I know he can feel my heart now, pounding in my chest.

Another kiss. He pulls back a little, smirking as he makes me sit up to reach him, teasing me for it. He rises further and pulls me onto his lap so I sit there straddling him. I can feel his erection, his hard-on pressed between my stomach and his. It startles me when I realize how big it feels. I've never done anything like this before. His hands roam under my shirt up my back with the same attention he paid to my chest, his fingertips tracing every little contour and dip in the muscles, tracing up my spine. Then his mouth finds my throat, and one hand slips up to my shoulder blades to pull me close, while the other works into my shorts. He spreads his fingers, cups my butt, and squeezes. I let out a little squeak and he laughs.

"You ever been spanked before?"

"
Spanked?"

"You have a spankable ass."

Before I can argue he slips his hand free of my clothes, and
smack
, a shock shoots up my spine from the impact of his hand on my ass.

That felt… good.

I arch my back a little, shifting in his lap, and he groans as his cock grinds against my stomach. I wiggle my butt and he lands another stinging smack on me, and I shudder. It feels good, like a tart taste, or dipping my toes in ice cold water.

"Again."

His hand hits my rump, and then slides up my back, along with his other one. I wriggle as he pulls my shirt up all at once, pulling my arms up with it, and he twists the cloth and pulls it tight, so only my mouth is exposed and my arms are trapped next to my head, and I'm not wearing a bra and I feel so
naked
. He keeps the cloth knotted in one hand and pulls me close to him, only the thin cotton of his shirt separating him from me, his skin from mine. I'm shivering, not from cold, but just because I'm
naked
. He can see my bare chest. I've never… I even kept myself covered up in the locker room.

His mouth brushes mine in an almost kiss, and his voice is in a whisper so soft I feel it as much as hear it.

"Shy, aren't you?"

I nod, just a little. As much as I can.

"Why? You're beautiful."

A shudder rolls through me and my gasp turns into a kiss as his lips meet mine. The shirt slides up as he tugs it loose and, heart pounding like a fist against my ribs, I let it fall to the floor and sit topless in his lap. I open my eyes as he holds my sides, slip my arms around his head and kiss him, harder. His hair is silky smooth in my fingers, his skin warm. He squeezes my butt with both hands and I wince, a little sore from where he smacked my rump. I like it anyway.

Everything like this is new. I've never had anyone pay attention to me like this before, touch me like they wanted
me
to feel pleasure from it. He keeps kissing me and his hands work their way up, until he holds my breasts in his hands, lets them slide against his skin. He runs his thumbs under them, and the skin there is so sensitive I can't help it, I break out laughing.

"You're not wearing underwear," he murmurs in my ear.

"No," I admit, breathless. "I'm not."

"I wonder why. Did you think I was going to do something to you?"

He turns me in his lap and his hand slips down the front of my shorts, between my legs. When his finger runs along my slit, it makes my whole body tense up. I shudder and press against him, slip my arms around him. His finger eases back and forth, back and forth, and I realize how wet I am. It's soaking through the light cotton of my shorts.

Then he starts to press his finger inside me, and I feel a shudder through his body. It feels so weird, but
good
, feeling him move deeper and deeper, and it's only a finger! He trembles with excitement, kisses my cheek softly and sniffs my hair.

For the first time since I met him, he sounds nervous. "Are you, ah, are you, um…"

I swallow, hard. "This is my first time." The words are heavy with a certain assumption.

His other hand cradles my head, and I shift in his lap. His finger slides inside me and he starts to slowly, lightly rub his palm against my clit. Oh God.

"I want you to cum for me," He murmurs in my ear.

I hug my arms around him. "Please."

His finger works as his palm rubs, and I start grinding on his hand, riding him almost. I clutch his shoulders and shudder, it feels so
good
.

"Take off your shorts."

I scramble to get them off, slide them down my legs and then I'm buck naked on his lap, my left ass cheek red from being spanked. He grabs the shirt and spreads it on the couch, drops me on it, and falls to his knees in front of me.

Oh.

I slide down, rounding my back, and rest my feet on the floor. When he runs his tongue over my pussy I cry out, gripping the edge of the couch in both hands. Oh my God. Just when I thought I couldn't handle that, he really starts, running his tongue over my slit as I writhe on the couch. I can't help myself. I throw my legs over his shoulders and sink my fingers in his hair, and it's like he's reading me, like he can
feel
it when I'm getting close, and slows, so it fades, then pushes me harder. His mouth isn't enough. He slips his finger inside me again as his lips and tongue move hot and slippery over my skin, as he sucks my clit.

I can't take it anymore. I curl up around him, panting, gasping for breath, trying to hold back the noises that boil hot in my chest and scrape out of my throat as I cry out and arch
 
back into the sofa, begging him for more, more, please, don't stop. He doesn't until I get so sensitive I have to twist away from him, and he slips up onto the couch next to me and pulls me against him as I shudder and my legs twitch.

"Holy shit, " I purr, turning, awkwardly. I press against him. I want him. I want
him
. More. I stick my hand down his pants and grab his cock, and he undulates on the sofa.

"Wait."

"Why?"

"I don't… I didn't bring protection, I wasn't planning to…"

"I want you."

"Not yet."

"Then let me…"

He unzips his pants and I hold his erection in my hand, staring at it as I stroke my hand up and down his length. It feels rough, and the skin catches against mine, so I lick my hand to make it slipper before I start again. The slight of it stirs something in him, and the tip of his cock flares bigger. It's just an impulse, I don't know why I do it.

I take him in my mouth, resting my head on his stomach as I suck and stroke. It feels weirdly soothing, and I feel…
possessed
when he rests his arm over my back, and uses his fingers to tug damp strands of hair away from my mouth as I suck him and slide him through my lips and stroke him.

He likes it. He doesn't take long. He groans and arches into the couch, pushing up, thrusting through my hand,
 
his body tight as a whip, a coiled spring. It's almost like he's in pain, and then…

When it's over he goes limp, a little smile on his face. I sit up, and he looks at me.

"I'm supposed to swallow it, right?"

His answer is a kiss. God, if somebody caught us like this.

Chapter 9: Apollo

God help me.

I can't stop touching her. It's not just the afterglow, the exhilaration. She's
perfect
. Those few moments will be etched in my memory forever. Her shyness, the subtle way she was afraid but still bold as I peeled off her clothes, and begging me to
spank
her.

As she curls up naked against my side, I want nothing more than to lay her down and take her, thrust inside her and feel her shudder and writhe with pleasure, feel her tighten around me as she peaks, over and over and over until she passes out from pleasure. I want her to be mine forever.

What am I doing? I can't do this to her. I can't. The way she's touching me now, stroking my chest, nestled under my arm. When I look down she looks back at me with, what? Adoration?