Wishes in Her Eyes (4 page)

On a groan he says, “Deeper,” as he rolls me on my back. Now he’s in control. He settles himself between my legs and without preamble, pushes his cock inside me. He moves slowly, rocking in and out, driving me crazy because I want him to move faster. He lowers himself over me, kissing me. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper. “You feel so good,” he whispers in my ear, “Can I stay inside you forever?”

“Yes,” I whisper back. He begins to push harder and faster into me while he kisses and nibbles on my neck. He pounds into me without apology. We both need this animalistic savagery. The pleasure is so intense I bite into his shoulder, drawing another moan from him. I close my eyes to the sexual overload.

Knowing I’m close, he whispers, “Come for me.” One more thrust and I come with a primal scream that no man has ever wrung from me. My orgasm brings his right after. He groans loudly into my shoulder, his sweat dampens my face.

While our labored breathing returns to normal, he holds me and I soak up his warmth as my soul floats down to where my body lies. We spend the rest of the night kissing, teasing, making love, and sleeping, never losing contact with each other. Hours later, as I stir to get out of bed to check the time, he murmurs “No,” and pulls me closer to him. I fall back to sleep.

Several more hours later, I stretch, grab a handful of Trojans and say, “I’m sticky. Let’s go take a shower.”

“Mmmm. Okay,” Stone says lazily.

In the shower, we make love again. Stone lifts me, I wrap my legs around him and he thrusts inside me, pinning me against the shower wall. Our cries of ecstasy echo throughout the bathroom. We laugh as we slide down the wall and end up in a heap on the shower floor. I sit in his lap with my legs around his waist as we kiss. Water falls down on us as if the storm outside has made its way inside. We emerge from the “storm,” dry each other off and fall into bed exhausted and still damp.
I’ve still got it!
I think to myself as I drift off.

After a few hours of sleep, I’m dying of thirst and my stomach is rumbling. Who knew a marathon of hedonistic sex could make you thirsty and hungry for something other than more sex? I look over and listen to Stone’s light snore and watch the rise and fall of his chest. Careful not to wake him, I crawl slowly out of the bed, make a quick pit stop to the bathroom and walk to the kitchen. Passing a clock in the living room I see that it’s late Saturday afternoon. No wonder I’m hungry. Even though my belly is talking to me, I don’t want to raid Stone’s refrigerator or rummage through the cabinets so I decide I can live without food for the time being. After getting a glass out of the drainer and filling it from the tap, I walk over to the couch and look out the window.
What an incredible view!
Kansas City, the city of fountains, is as beautiful during the day as it is at night when the fountains are immersed in floodlights. . I want to move closer to get a better look, but I also don’t want to give the entire city a free peep show. The hustle and bustle of the world below hypnotizes me so, that I don’t hear Stone come up behind. When he wraps his arms around my waist, I jump several inches off the floor.

“You know if we’re gonna keep doing this, you’ve got to stop jumping when I approach you,” Stone teases. “You’re mine and I’d never hurt you.”

Normally when a guy took on the He-Man, chest thumping role, I’d balk and freak out all over him. This time, however, with it coming from Stone, it makes me feel protected and safe.

“Yours, huh?”

“Yep. All mine. Just in case you missed it earlier, let me prove it to you again.” And with that Stone brings his mouth down to mine and kisses me with barely controlled savagery. When my hands roam down his body to wrap my fingers around his dick, he growls, lifts me and carries me to the windows. Stone lowers me and turns me around so that I’m facing the windows. When I stiffen, he asks, “Is something wrong?”

“People will see us.”

Whispering, he says, “I don’t care and you shouldn’t either.”

He then gently presses me against the window and slides his hand between my body and the glass and then into my pussy to play with my clit. At this point Stone is right, I don’t care. Nothing matters but the pleasure he’s giving me and the vulgar words he’s growling in my ear. He forcefully kicks my legs apart and says, “I’m gonna fuck you from behind while everybody watches.” This is a whole other side of Stone that I’m seeing. And I love it.

He moves his hand from my pussy and I cry out, “Please!” He takes my hands and spreads them against the glass on either side of my head. I’m splayed open and bare for anyone who happens to look up to see and I don’t give a damn. We could have been in the middle of Rockefeller Center fucking like rabbits and I wouldn’t have given it a second thought. Stone is bringing out a side of me I didn’t know existed.

Poof! Out of nowhere comes another condom. Stone grabs my waist, lifts me up off the floor and enters me with such force, the breath is knocked out of me. “Oh, God!” I scream loudly. He then slides his fingers back into my pussy and takes me from both sides. I choke, sob and sputter from the dual assault. Too much, but just right. I hear Stone grunt like a Neanderthal behind me and I know it’s just as overwhelming for him too. I can’t breathe, but I’m not about to tell him to stop. So I die from being fucked up against a window. There are worse ways to go. Stone pounds into me like a man with something to prove. So predatory. The cold glass against my fevered skin is like a narcotic. Never was there an aphrodisiac as powerful as this. One, two, three more thrusts and I’m bucking against the window and howling like a mad woman. I’m sure all of the neighbors on Stone’s block can hear me, but again, who the fuck cares. Stone, however, isn’t done. Even with my pussy pulsing around his dick, he’s still hammering away. He pulls out and drills into me so fiercely that I feel another orgasm coming.
Seriously? Another one?
This man has to have a magic wand for a dick. Never, ever have I been able to manage a “multi” as Darry likes to call them, but here I am, on the verge of a total volcanic meltdown. Three Mile Island has nothing on me.

Another push and that’s it. A scream escapes me that could wake the dead. As I fall apart, I hear Stone say, “Aw, fuck!” and he comes right behind me. He slams into me a few more times and he’s spent. We fall away from the window, into a heaving pile on the floor.

Panting heavily, Stone says, “You’re trying to kill me.” I laugh breathlessly.

After a few minutes we manage to crawl to bed where we spoon, molding to fit each other’s shapes. Stone buries his nose in my hair, taking in my scent and holding me like I’ll disappear. Lying here seemed so natural. I want to stay right here until we both stink so bad it makes our eyes water, but I don’t want to tell him that. I’m not typically a weekend affair kind of gal, but I can’t tell him that for fear that he’ll throw me out of his bed like I have crabs. Yeah, yeah, he said that we would “keep doing this” and “you’re mine,” but what exactly does that mean? “Keep doing this.” “You’re mine.” Did that mean just for tonight? Plenty of men have spouted pretty post coital words to keep the sex going. Just because we’ve spent a weekend together doesn’t mean things can’t go south quickly. I’ve read enough Dear Abby columns to know that a weekend doesn’t necessarily mean we’re a couple. It could just mean we’ve had a weekend of hot sex and by Monday morning he could act like he doesn’t know me. My heart tells me Stone is in it for the long haul, but my head says, “Be reasonable.” I’m so conflicted. If he says, “Let’s move in together and get monogrammed towels,” would I jump for joy or run screaming like a maniac. I want him, Lord knows, I want him, but I’ve also had so many relationships that have crashed and burned, I’ve lost count.

After rolling the situation around in my mouth and chewing on it until it’s lost all it’s flavor, and with that wonderful “morning after” or in this case “weekend after” feeling coming on, I squirm away to distance myself both physically and emotionally. As I get out of bed and lean down to search for my underwear, I realize they’re still in the bathroom.
Shit
.

I feel Stone reach for me and then he says, “Where are you going?”

My first mistake is turning around. My second is looking at him. He looks confused. He also looks delicious. Argh, these damn hopelessly romantic, totally useless, female feelings! So what if he looks like my Prince Charming? So what if he seems like the kind of man who’d slay my dragons and eat them with Tabasco sauce? So what if Mr. Charming said I was sexy and elegant. With my track record, I’d eat the poison apple and die.

“...Uh, I think maybe I should go home.”

“Why?” Stone’s look of confusion is slowing turning into a look of frustration.

I just stand there. I stand there so long that Stone asks me again, “Why? Don’t run out of here like this is a booty call. Because it’s not.”

Still standing there looking stupid totally naked, I finally say, “I’m not really good at relationships. I wanna be, but I think I’m cursed or something.”

“I’m not the best at relationships either, but we should at least see where this goes before we completely give up on it.”

“We didn’t really start the right way. We went straight to sex instead of becoming friends and dating and all that other bull... I mean stuff,” I say, stammering my way through my explanation. “I kinda want all that.” I feel like such an idiot. Saying that I want wine and roses and I’d just slept with the man the first time he got me alone.

“I think we can consider each other friends now,” Stone says grinning sheepishly.

“Come on. You know what I’m talking about.”

Standing and moving towards me, he says, “I know babe. I’m just teasing you. You want to be romanced. You want to be courted. Treated like a lady. Right?”

“Um—right.” Truthfully, after he stood up, I didn’t hear shit, aside from, , “You want...”

“I can do all that. I’ll take you out wherever you want to. I’ll let you drag me to the Kauffman Center and sit through the Sleeping Beauty ballet. We can go eat sushi, which I hate, and I’ll promise to say it was great.”

“I hate sushi.”

Laughing, Stone says, “See. We already have something in common.”

Coming closer still, he continues, “What I’m saying is this, us, it feels right. With all that I’ve been through it’s been a long time since anything has felt this right to me.”

Wrapping his right arm around my waist and caressing my face with his left hand, Stone says, “I can’t promise you ‘happily ever after’, but how about, ‘happy for now.’ Is that okay?”

Sighing contently, I say, “That’s okay.”

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D.L. Uhlrich
is the author of several erotic short stories published on various websites. Although she's only recently taken up writing, according her to mother, she's been making up stories since she could talk. She enjoys music, reading and the arts. She holds a Bachelors of Arts degree in Criminal Justice from Washburn University. She resides in Northeast Kansas with her husband and children.