The Odd Ballerz (33 page)

“You’re changing the subject,” he said.

“I am,” she said, chuckling.

“Why?”

“Why what? I don’t know.”

“You’re not going to start swaying on your feet, are you?” he asked.

“Maybe, it depends on what you’re about to do,” she said, laughing, and dang, he was close. Both of his hands were on her waist, holding her in front of his body. He smiled. So handsome, this one, she thought again, watching as his lips descended toward hers again.

“I…” she said, a little breathless, overwhelmed a little at this turn of events, but not enough that she didn’t part her lips for him as soon as he settled his on top of hers. He pulled her closer then, and she lost herself in his mouth for a while.

Jones, he thought, enjoying the feel of her in his arms, finally; lips on hers, chasing her tongue for a bit, and then tangling with it for a while longer. He was smiling when he pulled away.

“Turn around,” he whispered.

“Excuse me?”

He pushed her further into the room, kicking the door closed behind him, moving her over to the front wall, before he turned her to face it. “Do you trust me, Jones?” he asked, moving his hands to her hips then, to the curves he found irresistible, and back down to her ass, smooth and firm under his touch, the most irresistible part of all. He’d been waiting forever to get here, to touch this. He slid his hands over her ass again, softly, caressing. His hands were next at the waistband of her shorts, and so quick, and he was pulling them down past her hips. “Perfect,” he said, looking down at all he’d uncovered.

“What are you doing?” she asked, breathless, trying to see over her shoulder.

“What do you think? Do you trust me?” he asked softly again, his hands continuing to slowly slide her shorts down her legs, letting them fall to the floor in a pool around her feet, and there was nothing left for him to admire but the brown of her skin against the pretty deep pink boy-cut panties she wore.

“What?” she asked again.

“Shhhhh,” he said into her ear, and then the area just underneath it. “I’m answering your question. You should know what you do to me. You think I don’t find you attractive and that’s not true,” he said, his hands running over her hips and ass.

“It’s not?” she squeaked out, trying to see over her shoulder again, caught up in the pleasure of having his hard body pressed so closely to hers. She closed her eyes.

“Not at all,” he whispered into her ear and pushed his hips into the back of hers.

He lowered the zipper to his jeans. She could hear the sound of it and felt what had been behind that zipper resting against her a few minutes later. She reached her hand behind her to touch him. She found his erection, bare and hard. She swallowed; maybe she should rethink this. He pushed his hips into the back of hers then, moving his hands down to take a handful of ass into each of them, squeezing and caressing before parting them. He pushed his hips in close again, sliding his erection in between the cheeks of her ass.

“Jones,” he whispered into her ear, pulling the lobe into his mouth.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting used to the feel of you. I’ve wanted you in this way… since the first day of camp. I won’t hurt you,” he said, moving his hips so that his erection slid up and then down the seam of her ass. “Does that feel like I don’t find you attractive?”

“No,” she whispered.

“Every time you’ve stepped out of your car, wearing something that hugs your body just so, I’ve wanted this.”

“I…” she said.

“Shhhhh, you’re okay. We can make it work and I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. Do you trust me?” he said, kissing her neck softly, moved by the way she felt in his arms, and with his favorite part of her body cradling his erection. He placed his forearms on the wall in front of them, on each side of her, blocking her into his body. He wanted her unmoving, for a bit. He thrust his hips, an infinitesimal push of his erection up, and then down.

“Yes… I trust… you,” she whispered, not that he could hear her reply over his moan as he did it again, another smooth glide up inside the cheeks of her ass and then down. His head rested in the curve of her neck, breathing in the womanly scent that was Jones. He did it again, a smooth thrust of his hips up and back, small movements again, and then again, and okay, once more before he managed to rein in his desire to just enter her and fuck, think about her needs later.

He moved one of his hands to the front of her body, down to her center, and smiled when she sucked in her breath, pushing her hips back into his at the contact. He moaned and began to move his fingers—really, it was only one finger that moved—that softly skimmed over that soft little nub of flesh that was all his to control. He moved his finger again, letting her sounds of pleasure be his guide.

If he touched her this way, her hips moved to the right. A push downward made her hips move in a circle around his erection, upwards and it was all push back into him, a little frantic even, was this push into him, as if she were trying to get away from his hand. He could control the speed and the direction of her hips by increasing the pace and direction of his one little extremity.

A puppet on the string of his thumb was Jones. So perfect was her ass pushing back into him, moving up and down, softly stroking his erection. She moaned and her head fell forward, toward her lovely breasts—another something he’d craved, wanted his hands and mouth on those, but later. Today it was all concentrated effort to bring her pleasure in this way first.

It went on for a while before he settled his finger in this one spot, the one that drove her hips back in to his, that went perfectly with the up and down thrusts of erection.

He moaned into her hair, feeling the stirrings of her climax, the strong vibrations of her body, surrounding him. “Memphis,” he whispered into her ear, all feeling good and nothing but sensation now, as her hips moved in time to his finger, plucking out his very own Memphis tune. She was closing in on her climax, the sounds escaping her mouth told him so along with the up and down movements of her ass. She moaned again, her hips still moving, fast and then faster, responding to the caress of his finger. Up and down and up and down her ass moved, her hands on his wrists now, holding on for dear life; and up and down and up and down, her ass moved, pushing hard into him, stroking him.

“That’s it… just… like… that…” he whispered into her ear, standing still basically, letting her do most of the work. “More…” he said, groaning under the onslaught of her hips, then it was nothing but the sound of her breathing, short pants that grew even shorter and then she released one long, heartfelt moan as he brought her to her climax, with that one little finger. He watched from above afterward, as her hips slowly, slowly slowed down to a stop.

“What,” she said a few seconds later, when her head cleared enough to think about something other than his finger and the way it made her feel. His hands were out in front of her, holding his wallet in between them, frantically searching for something. A condom, she saw. His fingers shakily removed one from his wallet, before he let it fall to the floor. One tear of the package later and he was sheathing himself and bending her over, placing her hands low on the wall in front so her ass was at the perfect angle, pointed upward, and all his. He pushed her legs open wider, in a hurry now. He ran his hand over her core, ready and wet and his. He entered her on a groan, one slow sink into her warmth.

He closed his eyes then, didn’t move; he needed a second to acclimate to his surroundings. All moist, warm, and tight was he in her. It took a minute before he pulled his hips back, not all the way out, just to the tip, watching the point where his body met hers. A beautiful thing to see was his erection, the tip just at the start of her. He moaned again as he slowly sank in again… so… good… he thought, or maybe he said it out loud, who knew, but he was pulling out to the tip of his erection again, only to push back in, and she felt wonderful, all moist and warm, and pulling him in, and out, and then in again, going with this slow pace of in and out for a while, until it wasn’t enough and he was pulling his hips back and slamming into her, finding a rhythm that would make this desire for her lessen, with a single-minded intensity; and it would be soon, whatever this was crawling over his skin. He wanted it released… now.

She was panting, her hands falling away from the wall, yelping as she almost fell over at the strength of his last thrust. She giggled as he helped her up, placed her hands back on the wall and slid back into her warmth. He started again, his hands at her hips, pulling them back to meet the forward thrust of his, the strength of which had him readjusting his feet. He moaned, watching the beauty of her ass moving up and back over him.

He moaned as Jones, without the aid of his finger this time, moved her hips to the right, then to the left, and “Oh… God…” ’cause her hips were circling his erection now, and he was closing in on his climax. And not more than two seconds later he was on his toes, pushing into her as far as he could, his hands at her hips, gripping them tightly, her ass meeting his hips, in place in front of him, just as she held his erection all snugly within her body. He closed his eyes and groaned. His head fell forward, and he let it come.

It was quiet then, nothing beyond the sounds of breathing returning to normal, two people who had gotten lost in a moment of something incredible. She started laughing, causing him to disconnect from her.

“What are you laughing at, Jones?” he said, pulling her up to stand, bemused and sated like you wouldn’t believe. He pulled her into his arms, his mouth on hers, needing to touch it, to be inside it, since he was no longer connected in the other way, mating with her tongue, as the last of his body tried to return to normal.

“I don’t know why I’m laughing. It wasn’t funny. It was nice and more than nice, it was wow, and I could do that forever, but it wasn’t funny. I’m nervous, I guess,” she said.

He kissed her again, lingering at her lips. “I’m with you there. Damn, Jones, that was nice, your favorite word,” he said, placing another kiss on her lips before stepping away. “Give me a second,” he said, his chest moving slower now. He disappeared through the bathroom door minutes later. She took the time to dress, to try and put herself back together again. She might look the same on the outside, but inside there were some major changes taking place.

He found her standing in the doorway when he returned. He smiled at the beautiful picture of Jones in love with him, written on her face, although it was hard to think about much else beyond her mouth parted and lips open, inviting, and he couldn’t resist. “You’re staying the night,” he said, and it was far from an ask, before he leaned in and kissed her again, softly this time, lingering at her mouth again. He placed his hand behind her head to hold her in place as he plundered her mouth, for a while longer, just as he’d done to another part of her body a few moments ago and as he would so do again.

“That works,” she said, smiling, and it was her turn to lean in for a kiss.

# # #

“Memphis,” he moaned, later on that night. “Memphis,” he said again—or moaned, she couldn’t tell which—into her ear as he pushed into her body again, a man on a mission since she arrived at his bed earlier.

“Memphis,” he said again, his hand on her ankles, pulling them together, holding her legs up and in front of her body. In between his hips and hers was his erection, entering her again, and then again. “Memphis,” he said, spreading her legs wide later, placing one on each of his shoulders, as he continued the downward push of his hips. Dang, his hips were some kind of strong, and so were the arms that held his upper body erect and over hers and then as “Memphis” gave way to “M.”

“M,” he said, as he pushed into her body again, unaware that he had switched to it. “M”, her ankles in his hands again, open this time and pushed back toward her ears, and he was thrusting into her again, and again, and harder. “M,” again, to accompany this next thrust, and he was moving her legs again, tucking them behind his back. It was “M,” falling from his lips for every downward thrust of his hips afterward. “M,” to every hard thrust into her, and oh God, she was coming. Another painful, pleasure-filled, mournful “M,” he said, as if he’d had to drag that letter from the depths of some place deep within him.

“Oh God,” was all she could manage to say.

“M,” in short bursts now… panting it out, now that he closing in on his climax. “M… M… M…” in time to the thrust of his hips, faster now that they were into the home stretch, the finish line shining brilliantly before them.

She wanted to scream at the way this man released that one little letter, at the way he felt inside, all hard muscled and in-charge male, or at the way he made her feel, at seeing so much desire for her body, visible in his eyes. He was all pleasure-filled panting now as he stretched out his body above hers, pushing his hips down and up, and down and up; his arms holding his upper body away from her still; his hips the only thing in contact with her; eyes closed, sweat pouring off him, falling onto hers, face contorted in sweet pleasure and his hips moved, and moved, and that one letter, “M”, delivered like it was painful, yet so good, moaned out, one long M… a plea of pleasure as he came, bringing her along with him, and God he was beautiful.

She closed her eyes, her climax forcing her to, rolling over her skin, leaving her twitchy and wired, and oh so satisfied. She could stay here forever.

# # #

The clock on his nightstand read five ten in the a.m. the following morning, the first thing she turned to check after opening her eyes. She moaned, and pulled her eyes away from the clock and back down to the top of his head, situated in between the valley of her thighs. She’d awoken on a moan, felt him, and then found him doing the thing he did so well to her, his tongue replacing his finger now without a hitch, and what a way to start the day.

She moaned again, and tilted her hips upward, her hands in his hair, holding on, as her hips, with a mind of their own, responded to the touch of his tongue moving up and down and around. Finger or tongue or whatever, the man was gifted at pulling climaxes from her. “Oh…” she said, before offering up another moan of pleasure. She closed her eyes and let go.