Teaching Willow: Session Two (3 page)

When I straighten enough to look at her, her lids are heavy and her voice is hoarse. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It was my pleasure. I love the taste of…you.”

Sage’s eyes flicker to my mouth and back. When they return to mine, I bring my fingers to my mouth and lick the butter from them before setting my palm on her knee and skimming it up her thigh. “Uncross your legs and lean back,” I whisper. Sage obeys, the movement loosening her shorts around her leg. I slide my hand beneath them, searching for the elastic of her panties. I feel nothing, nothing but smooth skin. And moist heat. I bite back a groan.

“What’s wrong?” she asks coyly, her eyes still on mine.

“You’re not wearing any underwear, are you?”

Sage slowly shakes her head from side to side.

“Do you know how much I want to fuck you right now? For being so naughty?” She says nothing as my finger delves between her slick folds, toying with her clit. “I’d pull those shorts down just enough to spank your ass. It would hurt, but you’d love it. You’d want me to spank you lower. You’d beg me to spank that pussy, anything to take away the throbbing, wouldn’t you?” I move my finger in slow circles. I know the tension is building in her again. I can feel her stiffening beside me. “You’re throbbing now, aren’t you? You want me inside you right now, don’t you, Sage? You want my cock stretching you tight, fucking you so hard you can’t catch your breath, don’t you?” I rub faster and faster, my finger coated in her slickness, moving easily over her silky flesh. “You think I can fuck you with my fingers right here, baby? You think I can make you come, right here in the middle of this restaurant, with butter all over my hand?”

Her breath is a warm breeze against my cheek and she reaches for my wrist, not to stop me, just to hold my hand there. In one sharp movement, I slide my finger down and into her, pumping it quickly one, two, three times until I feel the first contraction of her orgasm.

I close my eyes and just feel—feel the gush of warm juice coating my finger, feel the way she squeezes me, begging me for more. Sage is limp in the seat beside me and all I can think about is wrapping those long, graceful legs around my waist and burying my cock in her wet heat. If I don’t stop right now, there’s a great likelihood that we’ll never be allowed back in this restaurant again.

Reluctantly, I pull my finger from inside her, easing it out so slowly I can feel her body sucking at me, and I bring it to my mouth. She watches me lick it clean before I turn back to my plate and crack another crab leg, dipping it in butter and bringing it to my tongue. With my eyes locked on hers and the sweet smell of her pussy all over my hand, I take another bite of some of the best crab I’ve ever had.

FOUR- WILLOW

It’s a wonder my legs were strong enough to carry me to the car after dinner. But I’m glad they were. As soon as we got to the car, Ebon opened the back door, pushed me inside.

“I need to be inside that dripping cunt,” he groaned in his husky way as he pulled my shorts down and thrust roughly into me from behind. In a parking lot. At a restaurant. With nothing between us and the world but tinted glass. It was the perfect end to the most incredible dinner I’ve ever had.

It turns out that my “broken” car was a stroke of luck. When Ebon invited me over, I agreed without thinking, without even considering that I have no idea where he lives. My solution was to take the spark plugs out of Sage’s car so that he would have to come and get me,
and
it would really seem faulty should he have decided to try and start it.

In essence, I lied. Again. And it worked. Again.

For now.

As horrible as what I’m doing is, it’s hard to feel remorse at the moment. In fact, every moment of happiness and bliss seems to make it totally worth it. And it only gets better.

After our romp in the back seat of his car, Ebon was far from finished. As soon as we got back to his place, he started kissing me before the door was even closed, pulling me into the floor and stripping off my clothes before spreading my legs and licking me into another hot mess. This time, we came together, Ebon exploding inside me within seconds of my third orgasm of the night.

When we could finally move again, Ebon picked me up and carried me, boneless and naked, into his bedroom where we collapsed. Now, we’re lying in his bed—a big, heavy wooden affair covered by a solid black comforter—side by side, holding hands as we stare up at the vaulted ceiling and struggle to catch our breath.

“The Shallows might be my new favorite restaurant,” Ebon says, comically matter-of-fact.

I look over at him, a smile already curving my lips. It dies, however, when he turns and smiles at me. As always, I’m dumbstruck by his handsomeness. His cheeks are dark with five o’clock shadow and his eyes are dark with whatever this is that’s between us. As with me, it seems always to be right there, just beneath the surface, waiting for the moment it can present itself.

“I honestly couldn’t tell you more than two things about it,” I admit. Ebon laughs and I grin. “I’m not kidding. I don’t think I noticed anything but the hostess and the butter.”

Ebon rolls onto his side to face me and rubs his hand over my stomach. “The…butter was the highlight.”

“No,
you
were the highlight,” I say honestly.

Ebon’s smile dies as he studies my face. “I wrote something for you,” he says quietly. I perk up instantly.

“You did?”

“I did.”

“Can I read it?”

“Not yet. Maybe this weekend.”

“Mmmm, okay,” I say, trying to hide my disappointment. The weekend seems so far away.

“Do you have plans?”

“Nothing so far. Why? Do you have something in mind?”

“Maybe,” he says with a devious smile. “But it’ll cost you.”

“Is that right? I hope it’s not too expensive.”

“I don’t know. Are sexual favors expensive?”

I laugh. “Evidently not, because I’ve been doling ‘em out like they’re free.”

Ebon leans toward me and sinks his blunt teeth into my shoulder. A tingle spreads down my arm and lands a few inches south of where his hand rests on my stomach. “Keep ‘em coming.” I feel his tongue flicker out to taste my skin and my breath catches in my throat.

“How can you do that to me? Even after all this tonight?”

Ebon raises his head and looks down at me, his face so close I can count every dark lash that surrounds his emerald green eyes. “After all what?”

“We’ve both…I mean…we’ve had several…”

“Orgasms? You can say that out loud, you know,” he teases. My cheeks flame accordingly.

“I know,” I say dismissively, quick to change the subject. “But I still don’t know how you do it.”

“Do what?”

“Make me
feel
so much when I ought to be numb.”

“You make me feel, too,” he whispers, his face showing a seriousness that surprises me. I wonder if he means the same kind of feeling that I was referring to. Or something…more. “Tell me something about you, something I don’t know.”

My mind speeds through random facts about Sage, any of which she might’ve already mentioned to Ebon at some point. I mean, I doubt it, but I can’t take the chance. The only thing I can do to be sure that I don’t reveal something he already knows is to tell him something about me, the
real
me. Tell him something about Willow.

Even before I speak, there is a perverse freedom in telling him something shocking about me and blaming it on Sage. It’s almost like punishing her for having Ebon when I can’t.

“I fell in love when I was fifteen. My parents split us up and it took me years to recover.”

“Why did they split you up?”

I fiddle with the ring that encircles my middle finger. I’m not much for jewelry, but Sage is and I found this one in her bedroom, right at the edge of her dresser. “Because he was…older.”

Suddenly, I regret my choice of which personal facts to divulge. If Ebon starts asking questions, this could get hairy. Hairy and ugly.

“Oh,” he says, deadpan. I can almost hear the wheels turning. “How
much
older?”

This is where it gets sticky—when Ebon does the math. “Ten years.” As soon as the words are out, spilled into the quiet around us, the silence becomes heavy, burdened, and I regret my capricious revelation.

I brace myself for Ebon’s response. I know what it will be. It will be the same reaction I’ve gotten from everyone else who has ever known or found out about it. Judgment. Disgust. Pity. Everyone assumes that I was this poor little girl who’d been taken advantage of by an older guy. It wasn’t like that at all, but no one believes me. They never have, so I quit trying to convince them long ago.

Ebon is quiet for what seems like forever. I don’t ask what he’s thinking. I already know.

Finally, he gives a soft, “Wow,” in response.

“Go ahead,” I tell him in a small voice.

He turns a frown on me. “Go ahead and what?”

“Go ahead and tell me how awful that is, how sick, and how pathetic it is for a guy of that age to be targeting a young, helpless child.” I can’t keep the bitterness from my voice.

His frown deepens. “I wasn’t going to say any of those things.”

I search his face. I can’t read what’s behind his expression. He’s keeping his real thoughts carefully hidden. “Of course you were. I’m used to it. I’ve heard it a million times over the years.”

“Sage,” he begins, sliding his hand farther across my stomach to cup my ribs. “We can’t choose who we love. I don’t blame you. And the only pity I feel is that it obviously broke your heart.”

I stare up into his face as his words settle into my heart. Could he possibly mean what he’s saying? Could he possibly be so understanding?

“It did,” I say, wishing I could just take back my words and start this conversation over again. But the only thing I can do at this point is to change the subject, to turn it back to Ebon. “What about you? Tell me something about you. Something that I don’t know.”

Rather than answering me right away, Ebon slides his hand up from my ribs to touch my cheek. He peers deeply into my eyes, so much so that cold chills break out across my chest. This is the kind of look that, as Willow, I would’ve given anything to see on his face. “Please don’t regret letting me in. You can tell me anything, Sage. I won’t ever judge you and it won’t change the way I feel about you. You know that, right?”

In this moment, with his body heat enveloping me, his fingers resting against my face and his eyes pouring into mine like warm liquid, I
do
know that. I believe him.

“I know,” I whisper, trying to smile.

Ebon leans close enough to brush my lips with his. “Good, because I want to know you. Inside and out. I want to know what makes you tick as much as I want to know every place on your body that brings you pleasure.” His words are quiet and sincere. “I want to know what’s going through your head when I touch you and kiss you, but also when you watch a sad movie or hear a baby laugh.”

Rather than enjoying it as I listen to Ebon say things that I only ever could’ve
hoped
he’d say to me, all I can think about is getting away from talk of my past. All I can focus on is moving the conversation away from important things that might one day lead him to a truth that he can never know. So I divert. I deflect. I hide behind the fire that’s between us.

“Do you want to know what I’m thinking right now?” I ask, my voice husky even to my own ears. Just like I want it to be.

“I do,” he replies, his cock stirring against my side as though it can sense the change in mood. “Very much.”

“I’m thinking of what you might’ve written for me, of what kinds of things might be going through your head when I do this.” With Ebon’s eyes on mine, I slip my finger into my mouth, wetting the tip, and then I draw a circle around my nipple, causing it to bead. I feel the weight of Ebon’s shaft hardening against my hip. “Or when I do this.” My face stings with embarrassment and desire as I trail my other hand down my stomach to reach between my legs. Despite the passionate night we’ve had up to this point, I find that I’m already moist and achy, responding to the new direction my mind has taken, despite the reasoning behind it.

Ebon sits up slowly and moves to my feet. He takes my ankles and eases them apart until he’s staring up at my body. I’m wide open to him and he’s hungry for me. I can see it on his face.

Leaning back on his haunches, I watch as he wraps his fingers around his thick base and begins to stroke himself. “It makes me wonder if you’re wet,” he says in that sexy voice of his. “Are you wet, Sage?”

I’m hypnotized by the beautiful grace of his strong body, by the slow, measured movements of his fingers over the smooth skin of his erection. My only answer is a nod.

“Show me,” Ebon growls. “Show me how wet you are.”

My finger glides into the heated recesses of my body. I shiver at the way Ebon closes his eyes when he hears the moist sounds coming from my penetration.

I wait until he opens them again and focuses on me before I remove my finger and bring it to my lips. Ebon’s hand starts to move faster as he watches me lick and suck it.

“That tastes good, doesn’t it, baby? So sweet. So naughty. Pull on your lips for me,” he says, his eyes falling back down to the area between my legs. “Spread that beautiful pussy so I can see what you’re doing.”

I move both hands down and do ask Ebon asks, tugging my folds apart and exploring the slick skin with my fingers. “God, I know you’re wet. I can see how shiny you are. Put two fingers inside yourself. I want to watch them go in and out.”

Obediently, I insert two fingers, pulling them slowly in and out under Ebon’s watchful eye. He rubs his shaft, his hand fisted around it so tight it makes me throb for him. “Now your clit, Sage. Rub it, tease it. I want to see how you make yourself come.”

The more excited, the more insistent Ebon becomes in his masturbation, the looser I feel, the freer I become. My body relaxes into a familiar rhythm as I watch him cup his balls and toy with them, as I see him circle his thumb over the glistening head of his cock. Faster and harder we touch and tease, grunt and moan until Ebon speaks again.

“Tell me I can come on you. Tell me you want to see it shoot out of my cock and cover your pussy. Tell me you want to feel it run down over your fingers.”

“Yes,” I breathe, my abdominals contracting as his words alone push me to my climax. “Yes, yes, yes!”

My eyes want to close, but I refuse to look away. Ebon is glorious in his desire for me. His eyes are black as coal, his teeth are clenched, and he’s stroking himself furiously, as he watches me finish myself off.

His groans become louder as he moves closer into the apex of my thighs, positioning himself right over my fingers where they still move slowly between my legs. “Let me see it, baby. All of it,” Ebon growls. I move my fingers to spread myself for him. Within seconds, hot fluid spurts from the end of Ebon’s cock to coat my swollen, pink flesh.

Pleasure pours through me, as though his simple action rekindled the flames of my release. My body shivers when he leans in close enough to rub the end of his erection in his semen—over my clit, between my folds, around my fingers.

“Oh fuck, I wanna be in you so bad,” he hisses.

And then he is. He thrusts into me, stealing my breath and thrilling every inch of my insides. He’s still so hard, even after coming. But then I realize he wasn’t done. Ebon rides me so roughly, so deeply I feel every pulse of him as he pumps the last of his orgasm into me.

He grinds his hips into mine, almost angrily. And I love it. I love every slamming thrust of his cock. I love every pinch of his fingers as he grips my ass. I love every dirty word he’s breathing into my ear. I love the feel of his teeth when he leans down to bite my nipple just before he collapses on top of me. In short, I love everything about Ebon—the way he likes to look at me, the way he can’t seem to get enough of me, the way he nearly loses control with me—because I
love Ebon
.