Categories
books erotica women writing

My Books

My hope is you’ve enjoyed the stories and poems here and you’re interested in more of my work.

If you’re looking for where you can read my books, here are the links. I value your support and in return you’ll get stories which will entertain and engage you as a reader. If you’re a reviewer, get in touch and I will be happy to offer a copy of these in exchange for a review across the internet.

My first book

As Dahlia Bliss

Categories
books erotica women writing

My Books

My hope is you’ve enjoyed the stories and poems here and you’re interested in more of my work.

If you’re looking for where you can read my books, here are the links. I value your support and in return you’ll get stories which will entertain and engage you as a reader. If you’re a reviewer, get in touch and I will be happy to offer a copy of these in exchange for a review across the internet.

My first book

As Dahlia Bliss

Categories
erotica love lust short fiction women

Animal And Spirit By Dahlia Bliss

Waiting for you, passing the time with a cup of coffee and a book. The words rise to meet me, but seeing you is tangible anticipation. We catch one another’s eye across the street and you grin with a naughtiness which makes me swell with want. 

You wear the chosen clothes. There were several lazy afternoons where you showed me the contents of your wardrobe and from those a soft, pink sweater which fell off your shoulders with your hair worn up at the back and a short skirt with tights. Your lips are the instructed shade of pink. Already, the idle daydream of how it will look smeared your cheek with the ball of my thumb. You’re wearing the red pumps with the half inch heel. My eyes wander upwards, teased by what your clothes suggest and hide, the full curves of you and the strength in your hips and thighs. 

My hands move to your hips as we step into one another’s space. 

My baby girl. 

‘Hello.’ 

We play with one another on many levels. In public, we use our given names where it’s appropriate, but often we are playing out our adventures. We pretend to be spies or thieves, child-like with our feverish imaginations. We look at one another and our eyes offer promises or costs we would account for later. 

Our lips brush over one another, feeling you soften in my hands as we release a drop of the vibe into the world. It is tender, making me shudder to not be crude with it. The control exercised is gentle,, but it is strong and violent. 

You smile at the book as we walk over and order coffee. We complement one another and we’re talking about the things we’ve been watching. 

‘So, I can’t believe how the interview went. I wanted to punch the screen.’ you said.

I grinned and shook my head as I ordered for us. Tea for you, and Americano for me. 

‘She didn’t do yourself any favours with it. It was funny, did you watch the video I sent?’ 

You always do, but I enjoy asking. Baby girl responded to little rewards. But your eyes were bright with mischief today, and I thought about when we would be alone and in private. 

We take our drinks back to the table and chat. There are no nerves between us but there is excitement and the control of it heightens every sensation. 

The rich, black coffee. The cigarettes we smoke on the way and the kisses we steal when we get into the car, a preview of the world we inhabit when we are together like this. It is not an effort for either of us, the exchange of gifts as warm as Christmas. 

My authority.

Your surrender. 

You talk about the stories you’re writing. There is a notebook to hand at all times, where you write ideas, often based on conversations we are having about the things going on around us. It reflects the mercurial grace of your intelligence in you writing, and we talk about the craft as much as anything else. I rest my hand on your left thigh as we drive and give an appreciative squeeze. My hands feel powerful, confident in their knowledge of you and what you respond to. 

We park and you unlock the front door. My heart is thumping in my chest as I look at your bum in the skirt and my mouth goes dry with want. You turn your head and grin at me as I smile and follow you inside. 

2. 

My fingers close around your jaw as I pull you close. We kiss, and there is hunger in it. A playful but intent desire to taste and feel one another. You nuzzle against me as I guide you to the wall and press myself against you. 

‘Oh Daddy Bear.’ 

Your voice is a heavy sigh before we kiss. I retreat and advance, taking your bottom lip between my teeth and biting down hard enough to make you sigh. I take my hand from your jaw and slide my fingers through the hair on the back of your head and make a fist. You groan and kiss me back hard. 

I pull back and look at you. My upper lip curls up and I growl at you to get upstairs. You ask permission to take your shoes off and I nod. 

‘My good girl.’ 

You smile and I stand back as you unbuckle them and takes them off. She walks up the stairs and I stand there, watching how your bum moves and the sight of you makes me throb as I walk up after you. 

I tell you to wait as I walk through to the bedroom and prepare for us both. 

I have blanket fort construction down to a fine art. I suspended the rectangular frame from the ceiling by chains and threw over the sheets we kept as materials. The frame has fairy lights wound around it. I throw pillows onto the bed and take off my shoes before I open the door and tell you you can come inside. 

You squeal and put your arms out as I take you into my arms. My hand strokes up and down your back, palming and squeezing your bum through the skirt. I rub my bearded cheek against you, like I’m marking you as mine.

You are. 

You moan and open your thighs as you ask permission to touch me. 

I nod and grunt as your fingers unbutton my shirt. You pull it free of my jeans and press yourself against my bare chest. Your mouth goes to my ear as I nuzzle your neck and grab your bum hard. The strength in my hands serves us both. There is the honeyed silk of your skin beneath you clothes, and I ache to touch and taste it. I pull your hair and you run your fingers over my chest, stroking my nipples to make me groan with want. 

I bring my hand around from your bum and slide my fingers inside the waistband of your skirt, through your tights and over your panties. I stare into your eyes and revel in your expression. Your eyes are black with arousal and you face is flushed as you look back at me, lost to your feelings. 

‘Whose pussy is this?’ 

I massage you through your panties for emphasis. 

You smile as you lean back. My fingers slip under the material as my fingertips graze over the ripe swell of my pussy. 

‘Yours, Daddy. It’s your pussy.’ 

I kiss you as I draw my index finger down an inch and you shudder as I brush in a small circle and you reach out to rest your hand on my forearm to draw me closer.

Deeper. 

Harder. 

I part you with my fingers and slide my hand down, letting the warm sweet oil of your arousal anoint me as you arch your back and I stroke around your clit with the care it takes to pick a lock. Such gentle actions explode within you, and it is the gulf between attention and want which I leap across each time I touch you. 

I let go of your hair and close my fingers on the arteries either side of your neck and I squeeze for a second as you moan and close your eyes. My hold lasts a second before I ease off and kiss you again as I dip my finger inside you. You soften and I circle my finger slow inside you, savouring the warm, wet tension of you. I kiss you as I close my eyes and surrender to my instincts. 

My fingers recite a poem to you, each line and verse builds upon the last, and I feel your responses, increasing or decreasing the pressure and speed in line with what you need. The understanding is unspoken in this moment we share. 

You buck against me and draw back from the kiss as you look deep into my eyes. 

‘Daddy, that feels so fucking good.’ 

I give a slight smile and stroke your clit, which makes your eyelids grow heavy as you moan with pleasure. I continue the rhythm, keeping my face still as I watch your expressions as the sensations build and you gain urgency and agency from the tumult of touches I cast into you. 

You grip my arms and stares into my eyes with raw want. 

‘Please, can I come, Daddy?’ 

I shake my head and you whimper, closing your eyes and bracing yourself against the slow wave of sensation building within you. We give off waves of heat in our embrace, and we move with one another, without losing the rhythm of the moment. 

You ask me again, breathless, and I shake my head. You whimper and lower your head, but I tell you to look at me and you do as another spasm of release dances through you. Your heat drenches my palm and fingers, and the friction makes you lean forwards and cry out as you stare into my eyes. 

‘Please, Daddy, let me come. Please?’ 

I look at you and shake my head. The denial does not stop my hand from where it strokes my pussy into the start of a prohibited activity. I am forcing you to accept my authority and you clutch at me as you cry out you will come. 

You buck against me as your fingers bite into my arms and I squeeze your neck to enhance the experience,  your eyes shine with tears as you shudder through an orgasm hard as a cramp before you sag against me. 

I do not stop stroking you and you whimper, whispering in my ear. 

‘Oh Daddy, I‘m going to come again. Can I come?’ 

I tell you you can, and you are there, crying out as you ride the sensation down and collapse against me. My arms throb with the action but I feel immune to everything but my authority over you as you come all over my hand before you straighten up, surprised by the riot of you nerves as you tell me you want to come again. I don’t refuse you and you curl over me, grinding against my fingers as you pulse and undulate into a tight knot of tension which you undo with a loud cry and your arms coming around me. 

Your breath, soft and ragged, makes the hairs on my neck stand up as I press my palm against my pussy and tell you you’re safe. You collapse against me and rub your cheek against mine as I slip my fingers from between your thighs. 

I bring my fingers up and smear them across your lips. You grin and kisses me before my arms come around you and pull you close. We hold the embrace until you suggest we have a cigarette and I agree with a smile. 

You take off your tights and we dive into the blanket fort together. We roll cigarettes and light them, and we lay there, smoking and kissing, talking in soft whispers because my voice carries through to the neighbours. 

When we’ve finished, we stare into one another’s eyes and move towards one another. 

I unbuckle my belt with one hand as I grab your hair and push you down into the bed as I straddle you. You reach inside my jeans and stroke my cock through my underwear. There is a red insistent pressure behind my eyes, the blazing libido honed into a point of perfect focus as I lift off and you reach out to push my jeans and underwear down my thighs. You reach out and stroke down the length of my cock as you look up at me. 

‘Can I kiss it Daddy?’ 

I nod, my throat too tight with arousal to speak as you tilt your head to one side and give a smile which makes me clench as you close your lips to the underside of my cock before you lick me with a giggle in the back of your throat. I sigh and close my eyes, reaching for your hair as you stroke me with both hands as you guide me into you mouth. When I open my eyes, you are looking up at me, electrified with desire as your lips close over me and you suckle me with a slow pressure which goes to my head. 

I feel every nuance, breathing with the pleasure of your lips as I pull you hair and tell you how good it fucking feels. I accept it and you murmur with pleasure as my cock stiffens in your mouth. 

Between your hands and mouth, I am clenching in slow, deep spasms of impending release. We speak a language of our own, seamless and silent as breath. I break it by telling you I will come and you continue as I take a tight grip on you hair and let go. 

It is flight without leaving the ground, a sensation which comes from everywhere and channelled into the music two people can make if they play in the same key. I feel the rush of everything as I spasm onto your tongue and you gulp me down as I shiver with power. 

I pull you up and kiss you, tasting the salt of my come as you wrap yourself around me. I push you onto the bed and you turn your head to one side. 

‘Traffic light?’

You smile at me and whisper.

‘Green.’ 

I reach down and touch your face, but you turn your head and scowl. I turn your face back towards me, keeping my fingers tight on your jaw. You try to pull away but I hold you down firm as I shake my head and grin.

‘You can’t get away, baby girl. I take what I want from you.’ 

My cock stirs against my thigh as I grab your wrist with one hand and push it down onto the bed. You kick against me, but I laugh and grab your other hand as I press my chest against you and kick your legs apart with my feet. She breaks character and grin before you put on your grimace again and I smile, with a bellyful of lust fuelling my strength. 

You lift your hips up as I bring my mouth to your ear.

‘I don’t know why you’re fighting, baby girl. I’m stronger than you.’ 

You grunt and try to push me off but I hold on and the head of my cock rubbed between the lips of my pussy. You bend your leg at the knee as you bite your bottom lip. 

‘Are you going to fight Daddy anymore?’ 

I make my voice hard and you lift your hips to draw me in but I pull back and shake my head. 

‘Oh Daddy.’ 

I shake my head. 

‘Are you going to fight Daddy more?’ 

You sigh and shake your head. 

‘Are you going to take this like a good girl?’ 

You ask me to kiss you. I lean over you, with your wrists still in my hands, dominating you as my tongue steals between your lips and you relax in my grip as I ease my hips forward as I let the head of my cock move back and forth as you gasp and lift your legs higher to take me in. 

‘Please fuck me Daddy.’ 

I tease you with it, slow rocking motions where the head of my cock gleams with your come and I feel the muscles in your stomach tighten as you express your need for depth and intention. I thrust into you with one deep stroke and you gasp. I lean forward and inhale you, the musk of sex, the wild honey and coconut oil you use. Touching you is a contemplation on beauty, but right now I am reduced and elevated to a wild animal of need. 

Her bear. 

I fuck you in slow strokes. My need makes me urgent and propulsive, and you breathe in rapid spurts as you close your eyes and moan beneath the delicious expression of my desire. I raise up and put my fingers on your throat as I squeeze. Your eyelids flutter and you buck against me as my pussy floods with arousal and you ask me for permission to come. 

I squeeze your neck again and fuck you with a lust akin to brutality, tender and terrifying in its openness before I let go and you ask me if you can come. 

Your eyes are damp, and your skin is flushed and glowing. There is a delicacy to you which makes dominating you feel such a rare pleasure and the valid proposition of it pools in my crotch as I tell you to wait for me. I lean forward and kiss you, tell you to let me know when you‘re going to come. 

Animal and spirit, a primal polarity which creates a cosmic, theatrical tension where we play with deadly seriousness in safety. 

You ask me to fuck you harder. Your voice is tight and you’re close, as I feel another throbbing rush of arousal flood my pussy and we lock into a perfect cycle of want as you tell me you‘re going to come. 

I speed up, releasing the control I’ve held onto as I pound into you, looking into your eyes as my head swims with the rush of impending release. You clench around me and I let go, the ache transforming into a sweet, unstoppable wave of liberation. We find one another in the beatific blindness of the moment, kissing to gain wisdom of our primal selves. 

You pull me close and I wrap you in my arms, tight so you can feel what is within me, too important to hide but at a point where my words would be too fragile to contain it. You sigh and we lay there, seeing one another before you draw me down into another kiss and we work ourselves into another puzzle of intimacy. Another game. 

Categories
books erotica women writing

My Books

If you’re looking for where you can read my books, here are the links. I value your support and in return you’ll get stories which will entertain and engage you as a reader. If you’re a reviewer, get in touch and I will be happy to offer a copy of these in exchange for a review across the internet.

My first book

As Dahlia Bliss

Categories
books erotica women writing

My Books

If you’re looking for where you can read my books, here are the links. I value your support and in return you’ll get stories which will entertain and engage you as a reader.

My first book

As Dahlia Bliss

Categories
books erotica love romance women writing

Nothing Keeps Me Anywhere by Dahlia Bliss (NSFW) Chapters 7 – 9

Start at the link below

https://mbblissett.com/2020/05/11/nothing-keeps-me-anywhere-by-dahlia-bliss/

CHAPTER 7

‘I’d like to continue talking to you.’

She gave a pinched smile. Her arms wrapped around my middle. Our wet bodies fitted well together, and my fingers raked through her dripping hair.

We left the water only when we pruned.

We found one another during the hours before dawn again. My fingers stroked her to a gentle orgasm that made her cling to me and swear into the night air.

It was around six before she woke me with coffee. She had showered and was in her uniform. As she passed me the cup, she asked what was wrong.

‘It’s strange seeing you like that.’

She frowned as she blew over her coffee.

‘You should see me fight.’

I nodded.

‘When are you fighting?’

She shook her head as she took a long sip of her coffee.

‘Don’t. I like you, but don’t say things you don’t mean.’

My smile was a challenge to her.

‘Try me.’

She got out her phone.

She gave me the date and my expression remained unchanged.

‘What time?’

She shook her head.

‘You’re so full of shit.’

My smile widened as she frowned, unsure of how to read my intention.

‘Try me.’

She told me the time. There was space in my schedule and seeing her again appealed to me.

‘I want to hang out with you again.’

She grinned as she shook her head. I watched the colour come to her cheeks again.

‘You’re so, so full of shit.’

Then she turned and kissed me with her hand against my chest as she put her cup down.

She got a condom from the chest and came back to me as she reached beneath her skirt and tugged her underwear down her full thighs.

She looked at me, gave me a grin that made my cock throb with want.

‘I want to feel you real close before I have to take you back.’

She squatted over me as she reached between her legs and placed me inside her.She was already wet and we fucked through the tender soreness from last night. My fingers grabbed her hair, but she touched my face and shook her head.

‘Not in the uniform.’

Our orgasms made us close our eyes to one another and her fingers bit into my shoulders. The stolen urgency was rocket fuel to our nervous systems as we shuddered together. We were a languid, soft eyed knot of tangled underwear and tender flesh.

 

Chapter 8

She dropped me off outside the hotel before she drove around to the staff car park. Ben sauntered up the steps beside me. He had an affable grin and his t-shirt was inside out.

‘Good night?’

There were black circles of fatigue beneath his eyes. He nodded.

‘Is she working today?’

He nodded and then smirked at me.

‘I didn’t sleep.’

A clap on his shoulder and a grin made him stand up and smile at me.

‘A gentleman keeps it to himself.’

He nodded as he looked through the hotel. He rubbed his stomach and suggested breakfast.

Terry omitted the bruise at his temple as he sipped his coffee. A cold, hard stare and then he turned and made conversation with one student.

 

CHAPTER 9

My phone pinged with notifications that people had placed orders for the additional materials and courses.

‘Thought you’d LEFT.’

She brought me over coffee.

‘I’m in no hurry.’

She grinned.

‘It’s strange to look at you and not get to touch you.’

She shrugged as she shook her head.

Something came to her and she was about to speak when a customer caught her eye and she rolled her eyes for my benefit. A quiet glow of pleasure went through me as I scrawled a brief message on a napkin and folded it beneath the plate. Our eyes met across the room. She gave a slow wink before she carried on taking the order of the elderly couple who peered at the menu with a fragile intensity.

Packing was brief, resting my case on the undisturbed bed as the sunlight reflected off the water glass with the napkin still artfully arranged inside it.

Terry was arguing with the receptionist as I set the key card on the counter. He looked me up and down before he shook his head and returned to jabbing his index finger at the receptionist again. She had a resigned expression on her face and a pang of sympathy went through me.

‘Namaste.’ I said.

It’s amazing how even spiritual sentiment can sound like fuck you if you intend it accordingly.

With his left hand below the field of vision of the receptionist, he raised a hand.

‘John. A moment of your time,’ he said.

I shook my head again and walked outside.

He hurried towards me and as we stood outside; the cigarettes came out.

‘I didn’t really feel you were present with the guys this weekend.’

Inhaling the smoke as Andrea’s observations returned to me, then a brief nod to acknowledge the statement.

‘I’ve been refining things a little. Trying to make it less about me, and more about them.’

He winced and shook his head.

 

‘These manlets don’t pay to make it about them. We validate them, your -’ he pointed his index finger at me. ‘personal brand, my personal brand is what they pay for.’ he said

‘Then tell them to spend their money on a good pizza and a fleshlight if that’s really what you think.’ I said.

He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes as he sucked on the cigarette. He patted me on the shoulder and I bit back the flinch that came to me.

‘John, has the little tough girl got inside your head? Thought we’d trained that out of you?’

My eyes narrowed as I turned to face him.

‘Terry. I defend you to the hilt,’

He smirked and my hands balled into fists. Terry was tall and lean, with overlong grey hair and a beard so he could appropriate that fuckable swami look. A vision of his beard matted with his blood flashed before my eyes, but it passed before it seduced me.

‘John, all that matters is what you produce. You’re sleepwalking through this shit and it hurts all of us.’

My eyes narrowed.

‘You know her?’

His eyes widened and he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbed like a Yoyo.

‘Who?’

A slight crack in his voice.

‘So, did you fuck her or try to fuck her?’

He raised his eyebrows and clapped me on the shoulder again.

‘John, the problem with sleepwalking is that you’re never sure of where you might wake up. That attitude is a direct path to the land of wind and ghosts.’

My grimace at the casual, lazy appropriation he used did not sway him.

‘Hey.’ He grinned. ‘You’ll come back, no matter what barriers you put up.’

He lifted his arms to hug me, but my expression stopped him.

‘Namaste, Terry. See you soon,’

He lowered his arms and flicked his hair back as he nodded.

‘We will see, John. A lot can happen between one moment and the next.’

He walked back inside, the cigarette stub still lit where he had tossed it aside. With the heel of my shoe, I ground it out, finding a grim measure of satisfaction in it.

Sympathetic magic, but it occurred to me that sometimes you can confuse the heel and the cigarette.

Categories
books erotica lust women

Nothing Keeps Me Anywhere by Dahlia Bliss Chapter 5 – 6. NSFW

CHAPTER 5
We had to crouch close to shower. My hand washed between her legs, but she told me with a shy smile she was still tender. She looked up at me with my cock in her left hand as she raised herself on her toes as she kissed me. I whispered that was enough, and the light danced across her eyes, making my heart thrum once again.
She made steak and eggs with a towel wrapped around her as she spoke about her next fight. Jennifer Edwards, from New Mexico and had come up with a record of four wins and one loss.
‘She’s a wrestler. And my ground game is awful.’
The fight was in six weeks; she was doing extra shifts at the hotel, training, eating and sleeping.
‘So I’m your guilty pleasure.’
She gave a terse laugh as she rolled her eyes.
‘Guilty over what?’
She flipped the steaks over.
‘There’s what, one hundred guys, I don’t know how many speakers, and you-’
She pointed the tongs to me.
‘-Are here. I don’t think either of us should feel guilty.’
She spun back around and reached for the eggs from the refrigerator.
‘I agree with you.’
I moved closer and my hands rested on her hips as she cooked.

She looked over her shoulder at me and grinned.
She dished everything up between us onto two plates and she found glasses. We ate on the floor.
The steak was tender and the eggs were vibrant with the simple addition of a pinch of sage.
She popped the last cube of her steak into her mouth and chewed.
‘Why do you put up with Terry?’
My mouth was full of chewed steak so a frown sufficed until a mouthful of water chased it down.
‘He’s been a mentor.’
She cocked her head to one side with brows drawn together, as she took a gulp of water.
‘Don’t you feel you’ve outgrown him?’
I held the last forkful of eggs before my lips as my eyes narrowed.
‘He looked out for me.’
That made her laugh.
‘Looks like he stopped but forgot to tell you. He looks like the type who’ll sucker punch a guy, you know?’
She jabbed her fork at me.
‘Loyalty is admirable, but it’s a two-way street.’
My fork went onto the plate and I folded my hands on my lap.
‘Yes, but he’s helped people. Including me,’
She sat back, resting on her arms and cocking her head to one side.
‘Sure but these guys are paying you to do what their dads should have done.’
I gave a brief nod before I continued.
‘A lot of dads aren’t doing the job they’re meant to.’
She bit her lip and looked away as she rubbed her palms over the towel across her thighs.
‘I’m sorry. That’s rude.’
I breathed in through my nose as my eyes shut for a moment. My temples throbbed as my fingers pinched the bridge of my nose. Then, my gaze lifted and a smile crossed my face as she waited for my reaction.
‘I don’t take offence.’
My smile reassured her.
‘I don’t care.’
Her eyes glowed as we moved towards one another.

CHAPTER 6
She reached to touch my cock, resting it in her palm before she squeezed. She circled her fingers around the head and rocked it back and forth. It swelled beneath her touch as she squeezed me.
‘That’s it, slut.’
She groaned and asked me to hold her throat a little tighter.
I gripped her neck and pulled her forward to kiss me.
She nipped my top lip, which drew out a grunt of pleasure.
‘Don’t do that, slut.’
She gasped as her fingers squeezed me.
‘What will you do?’
.She gave me a pleading look and my nod made her grin with elated surprise.
‘Would you spank me?’
She let the towel drop away. My cock throbbed at the sight of her firm ass.
The corners of her mouth flickered upwards.
‘We’ll see what you can manage.’
My fingers took her hair in my left hand, pulling it taut. My right hand came back and swung it downward. It was a good slap, one that tingled your palm as you hit. She gasped and then laughed, swearing underneath her breath as she nodded.
She dared me to do it again.
The next blow stung my palm
She laughed and pushed back against my hand.
‘I think you should use your fingers on me.’
She gasped as she looked into my eyes.
‘Please.’
Flexing my fingers took the ache out of my palm as she breathed through the sensation, flexing her thighs as she lifted her ass up higher.
‘Open your knees and put your shoulders to the floor.’
Her mouth hung open as her chest heaved with each breath as she looked at me. She lowered herself to the floor and my fingers parted her. She gasped again as my index finger slid forward and she pushed back. My palm turned towards the floor as she came forward, whimpering against my touch.
She pulsed against my fingers as they danced in small circles around her clit that made her gasp.
She broke the reverie to ask me to pull her hair again. She told me not to stop with my hand and lifted her hips to draw my fingers deeper. Her hair was damp and heavy in my hands as more of it wrapped around my fingers. She squeezed and the contraction sucked my fingers forward.
She lifted her head up and pushed back against me. Her eyes were closed and her mouth had gone slack. She moaned and her pussy flooded with her arousal and the spot beneath my fingers swelled.
‘I will come.’
She shuddered as her breath came in shorter bursts. She grew more restless as she bucked against my fingers.
When she lifted her head, her face had tightened into a mask of anticipation. She shuddered as she rode the pleasure was within her. Without that restraint; she moved with a power that challenged my authority over her. Her eyes rolled back in her skull and she gasped as she shook out the pleasure.
She collapsed against the futon with a sigh of contentment. She swore again, then laughed with relief as she rolled onto her back and sighed.
‘That was different.’ she said. ‘Thank you.’
She raked the damp hair away from her face as she looked at me.
She grinned as she got up and planted a small, soft kiss on my cheek.
She patted the futon beside her. She rolled onto her side and put her left hand on my abdomen as she stroked the fur on my stomach.
‘I will serve you now.’ she said.
She moved her hand up to stroke my left nipple again. She pushed the bar through the flesh and then pulled it back again. She grinned as she then moved to the right and repeated the gesture.
‘You’re quite a few firsts for me, tonight.’
I looked down at where she was playing with my nipples.
‘I’ve never tuned like a radio before.’
She looked shocked for a second, but then she saw my expression and laughed.
‘You’re such a dick.’
She brought her fingers up to my mouth and kissed them.
‘They get tender if you rub them too much.’
She chuckled again, and then she got up and my eyes closed. Her warm breath stirred the hair on my chest before her lips wrapped around my left nipple. She pushed the bar with her tongue. It was a pleasant sensation that made me bring my hand up to hold her hair again.
‘They’re fucking sexy.’
She took the condom and unwrapped it. She turned it over between the fingers of her left hand as her right hand circled the base of my cock.
She rolled it onto my cock with a swift, careful motion of her fingers.
She straddled me and took my cock in her hand as she guided it between her thighs. She dipped her hips to take me inside her. Her hands settled on my shoulders and she took me. She shut her eyes, trusting to the call of her body. The muscles in her stomach and hips flexed and strained as she swept and bobbed her hips in a descending circle as she teased out her arousal.
She became vocal as she reached her own orgasm.She drove her hips downward. My orgasm began in my hips and thighs, rising upwards to coil up my spine with each earnest thrust. She touched my face and her mouth twisted as she squeezed me.
Everything went white and a series of wrenching throbs made me lift my hips as she tilted her head back with her eyes shut as she gave a deep groan.
She sat there, her face closed to me as my senses returned. Her hands were warm on my shoulders and she took her left hand to rake her hair away from her face as she leaned forward.
‘You’re a regular Johnny on the spot.’
‘But I like it.’

Categories
books erotica women writing

My Books

If you’re looking for where you can read my books, here are the links. I value your support and in return you’ll get stories which will entertain and engage you as a reader.

My first book

As Dahlia Bliss

Categories
beauty erotica love women

Chocolate Covered Strawberries

I had gotten here as early as I could, but saw that quite a few others had the same idea. My stomach lurched at the thought of just being another face in the crowd, made invisible by weight of numbers. My solipsism had weaved so many scenarios for us, and this, the closest to actual reality, appeared to have unravelled before it could come to fruition.

I took ten minutes to get inside, moving myself closer to the front of the room. A stack of fresh hardbacks, a jug of chilled water and a glass dominated a small table. Federico, the owner walked through and grinned in disbelief at the numbers.

‘If you all buy something, I might make rent this month.’

A peal of nervous laughter snaked through the air. The ghost of online purchases made several people grip their copies a little tighter than normal, but Federico grinned, flushed with delight at the amount of people in his bookstore. I glanced around, not seeing anyone I knew, and enjoyed the slight cessation of my nerves.

Federico cleared his throat.

‘So, without further ado, allow me to introduce -‘

He said his name and my heart pounded in my chest.

He walked out from the back of the shop, his caramel eyes twinkling with nervous excitement. He wore a crisp white shirt, blue jeans and a black leather belt. His skin was tan, and his beard was thick and trimmed, dusted with silver around the chin and cheeks.  I watched his mouth, his lips and went into myself with the force of the connection.

Max glanced over the sea of people, smiling as he put his hands together.

‘Hi, well with these things, you know what you want to hear from me better than I do knowing what you want.’

His eyes met mine and he smiled, mouthed ‘hi’ and carried on speaking.

My breath quickened in my lungs as our eyes met. The reaction was immediate, fierce and visceral as my thighs clenched against the hot pressure in my pelvis. He kept glancing in my direction, smiling as he spoke. He offered to read a chapter from his work in progress and everyone applauded as he sat down to read.

His voice was melodic, with an interesting grain to it which drew people in. His accent made the inevitable erotic overtones sophisticated and beguiling, and by the end of the reading, I could see my own feelings mirrored in the expressions of the audience.

They were women, and when Federico broke the spell by asking if anyone had questions, some of them shifted in their chairs, resentful of being woken from the moment of connection he offered.

The question-and-answer session alternated between technical questions about his approach and details about the books he had written. He was polite, earthy and pragmatic about his approach, but he spoke about it with such passion he grew effusive and intense with it at points.

I joined the queue, having brought a copy of his last book. I got to the front. He looked up, flexing his right hand to ease the cramp of repetitive signing.

‘Hi.’ I said.

He smiled and set his pen down.

‘Hey, you. It’s great to see you.’

My face flushed and I fought the awkwardness that rushed into me, the warring emotions that his presence evoked in me. Body fought mind, thought and feeling wrestled within me and I passed him the book to sign.

He wrote something in the front, then signed it with a flourish and handed it back. His index finger brushed down the length of my thumb and I shuddered with excitement. I moved away and he held my gaze, evoking a twisting anticipation and nerve that made my eyes damp with a depth of feeling that robbed me of my calm. I left the bookstore, finding the mass of people too sensual and in depth to bear for a moment longer. The afternoon was bright and warm, I lifted my chin to the sky and breathed in deep, willing myself to calm down.

I opened the book. He gave me his room number and the pseudonym he had checked in under.

Spare key at the desk. Let yourself in if you come.

M

The signing continued until four p.m. I went to my car and sat behind the wheel, debating the urge to see this through.

I started the car.

2.

My voice shook when I asked for the key to the suite. The receptionist rewarded my courage by not looking up from the computer as she slid the card across the desk. I took it and walked to the elevator. The concierge asked me what floor and I told him. The elevator ride took an eternity viewed through the filter of my warring emotions. Each floor promised an exit, but something rooted me to the spot until I arrived at his floor. The doors opened and I stepped out, trusting that my legs would carry me the rest of the way.

I let myself in. It was an enormous suite, with a double four poster bed, a dining table, a mini bar and a desk set by the window. The carpet was thick beneath my feet and I glanced around, surprised by the opulence on display.

I heard the door open and turned. He stood in the doorway, a grin of unabashed pleasure and surprise splitting his face in two.

‘I didn’t expect you would come.’

His voice was soft, tinges of vulnerability set alongside the rough, deep brush strokes of his voice.

It robbed my mouth of moisture and I smiled as I turned around. I wondered how I looked to him in person. My self consciousness could be cruel and here it had a grand opportunity to stick its claws deep into my soul.

He stepped towards me.

‘Fuck, you are gorgeous.’

I flushed and looked away.

He shook his head and ran his tongue over his lips. He reached out his right hand and rested it against my cheek. The brush of his fingertips sent an electric charge through me. I squeezed my eyes shut and gave a choked sob. He lifted his hand away and I opened my eyes.

‘I’ve not been able to think straight since I saw you today. I don’t know how I made it through the rest of the signing.’

His voice had softened and sweetened with vulnerability. I reached up and touched the collar of his shirt, running it between my thumb and forefinger as I gazed into his eyes and nodded.

‘Nothing happens here unless you want it to.’

His voice had thickened. I glanced at him, the broad shoulders and deep chest beneath the tailored shirt, and he rested his hand over mine. His palm was rough and warm against the back of my hand.

An eternity passed before he leaned forward, his lips open and I glanced at them, soft and full before I shut my eyes and let every thought go in pursuit of the feelings his words and voice had awoken.

They had never gone to sleep.

Our lips danced over one another. Each contact was a flame igniting and an electric current charging through me, each pore of my skin opened to him, to all that his words had promised. When his hunger reached his hands, I whimpered and reached to guide them where I needed them the most. His fingers danced and pressed against me and we lost ourselves in the raw, beautiful moment of our first kiss.

He pulled back and grinned.

‘Are you hungry?’

I frowned and he laughed.

He went over to the refrigerator and pulled out a silver tray wrapped in cling film, which he tore open with lustful gusto. I caught the smell: fresh strawberries and the dark, rich tang of cocoa. He took my hand and pulled me to the bed. He turned and picked up a strawberry between his fingers and slipped it between my lips. I closed my eyes against the fresh sweetness and the following dark, rich burst of cocoa and cream on my tongue. I kissed him and he groaned with pleasure as he put an arm around my waist.

‘I will feed you, baby girl.’

You had heard him say it again and again but to hear it, in the air then dancing against the tiny bones of your ear, into your brain and body takes you to a place of divine decadence.

‘Yes, Daddy.’

3.

We fed one another, peeling away our clothes as we progressed from playful feeding to smearing streaks of it over one another.

We laughed at our audacity, and played things gentle at first, as much to assuage my nerves as to allow us to expand the afternoon into the play I had imagined in the fevered moments where my hands would act in his stead, trying to bridge the distance with the sweet fire of orgasms given up to him.

He ran a slice over my nipple and popped it in his mouth as he suckled me. My hand went to the back of his head as I pushed my hips up against him. I told him how sweet he was, and he looked up at me, circling his fruit-covered tongue against my nipple, feeding me with his beautiful, brown eyes as I fed him.

He did not rush to undress me. He savoured each unveiling as a treasure in its own right, or used it to enhance the stolen, assertive play of it all. When his fingers slipped underneath the waistband of my panties, and his fingers parted me before sliding forward, a raw, wild power charged through me like wild horses. Beneath his fingers, I clung to him as he massaged me, alternating his mouth between my nipples and breasts, making my chest wet and sticky. He covered me in his filth, took possession of me and made me his.

‘Please, Daddy, can I come?’

He moved his lips away from my nipple and shook his head. I groaned and pushed against his hand. His touch made me bold with need.

‘Please?’

He murmured no through a mouthful of my breast and continued to stroke around my clit. Each contact made the throbbing grow in intensity. I fought against it, but his touch was insistent and expert until despite my clenching denials, my orgasm burst within me, sharp and urgent. I clung to him, eyes closed to everything but the power of his touch.

He withdrew his fingers and suckled them in his mouth.

‘You taste so good, baby girl.’

I blushed and looked away, but he reached up and brushed his fingers through my hair before he leaned forward and kissed me. I reached to his waist and unbuttoned his jeans, then pushed them down and moved him onto his back. I reached into his underwear and pulled his uncut cock free. I rolled the foreskin between my fingers before I bent at the waist and took him into my mouth. He reached out and took a handful of my hair. The wanton urgency of it made me take him deeper and he gasped as I drew him in and out of my mouth. The velvet hardness of his cock against my lips fed my hunger for him and when he took a firmer grip on my hair, I swirled my tongue around the head and relished the burst of sweet pre-cum. I gulped it down and looked at him, my eyes wide with the joy of how he moved from giving to receiving without a loss of his power. A crude primacy made me bring my hand and stroke the tight, soft skin of his scrotum, how his testicles were full and the noises he made as I massaged him.

He growled that he would come and I nodded, too lost in the ritual of having him in my mouth, under my power and when he pushed his hips upward and grabbed my hair tight, I took in every drop of his vital, masculine self, suspended in the sweet thick fluid of his come. I swallowed him down and lifted my chin so as not to spill a drop.

He pulled me down to him and wrestled me onto my back. He reared back, his cock still half hard as he bit his lip and looked at me.

‘Oh baby girl, you are something.’

He undressed and came forwards. He kissed me on the lips then covered me with them, exploring me with his lips and tongue until he brought his hands under the backs of my knees and pulled me down the bed. A trail of beautiful, burning kisses tickled my navel before he gazed into my eyes and smiled at me.

‘My pussy is so beautiful.’

He lowered his mouth. He used his tongue and lips together, testing and rejecting particular combinations of pressure and texture based on my response to him. I stroked his head and closed my eyes, let his mouth fill me with a pleasure that was both transcendent and physical.

4.

Afterwards, when we had exhausted ourselves, he cradled me in his arms and pressed his lips to the top of my head.

‘What was that for, Daddy?’

I felt his smile opening against my scalp.

‘Everything.’

His voice had darkened. I had nowhere else I wanted to be, but the world was calling us both.

‘I don’t know when or if I will see you again.’

The thought lashed across my heart and I struggled to remain lost in the gooey, creamy bliss of his presence.

‘Well, it’s funny you should say that.’

I lifted my head and looked at him.

‘Don’t make jokes like that, Daddy. It’s not funny.’

He narrowed his eyes and shook his head.

‘I wouldn’t joke about something like that. I can’t confirm anything yet, but it’s part of why I’m here on this leg of the tour.’

He would not reveal anymore. Instead he took me into the shower with him. We washed and touched one another, hungry for one another beyond the recuperative limits of our bodies. He dressed and walked me out to the car. We did not exchange details because we had never been out of one another’s lives.

I would message him, saying and not saying what I had taken from the night together and then one morning, he sent me an email with a link to a local news site.

It was a press release that the university would appoint a famous writer to teach a course there. The photo was from his press kit, a head shot that showed his delicious smile and the sculptured line of his jaw. A moment perhaps when he was alluding to happiness rather than feeling it.

The smile was for me.

For us.

I ran my tongue over my lips and tasted strawberries

 

Categories
erotica love lust short fiction women

Untouched Places

Untouched Places

1.

Bette stood at the counter, stretching out her aching calf muscles, stiff from the lengthy drive. A weekend with her sister and her family was exhausting and the hours on the road made everything from the soles of her feet to the top of her headache if she stayed in one position for too long. The meagre relief of a covert stretch and a large mochachino would make up for the pleasant yet melancholic weekend with Rose, Harvey and Timmy.

She ordered, paid and moved to the right as she felt a pinch at the top of her right hamstring. Bette winced but kept moving. These days, she worried about becoming a miscellany of aches over being alone.

It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling; she told Rose whilst they watched Harvey and Timmy play catch in the garden. The last embers of the barbecue glowed slowly whilst plates sat there, heaped with wilted salad leaves and ragged lumps of meat and fat commas of condiments. It was a problem for tomorrow, as Bette and Rose sat there, finishing the last of the Pimms, holding court on Bette being single.

She heard her name being called as she blinked with surprise. As she took her drink out to the car, a removal van pulled out of the parking lot. Her house was perfect, she decided, but the terrible allure of change was inviting in its awfulness.

Bette saw her phone sparkling with notifications. A dating app which was attempting to get her interacting with it again, reminding her of all the single men she was missing out on. She stopped, cleared the notifications and deleted the app. There were dates, but they were half-lived experiences, boys wanting to be men and even then wanting to be a sibling over a parent. No one she thought to bring home. She put her phone away, lifted the lid of her cup and blew across the surface. Her eyes blurred and she knuckled the tears away, told herself she was tired and her back hurt from the drive. Endless piggybacks for Auntie Bette with Timmy.

2.

The removal van was next door. Katie and Phil had moved back to her parents in Arizona. They had been pleasant but self-obsessed people, and although they tried to be friends, it was awkward and they gave up.

Bette recalled Phil’s hungry eyes when she mowed the front lawn in a bikini top and cut-offs. Katie catching him doing it, how she bent over like she had a slight stomach cramp and a wounded, informed look in her eye which Bette wondered was the motive for the move away.

Bette sucked down the last of the mochachino, which was too thick to do much with beyond sucking it through her teeth. A voodoo logic made her believe the sugar and caffeine would do something for her headache, but all she tasted was the granular bitterness of the coffee grounds and the metallic tang of the pain which had travelled up to do Feng Shui in her head.

‘Hey.’

He walked towards her, hand raised in greeting as he grinned at her. The smile was open, gregarious in a way which made something shift in her chest just as she realised she was meeting him with a headache and teeth stained with mochachino.

Her attention went to the pair of massive dogs walking with him, to heel, a jet black mastiff with a blunt, shark’s muzzle and a lean, lupine Shepherd with its tongue flapping from its mouth but with eyes alert for a challenge. Her head throbbed as she returned her attention to the man.

A wash of grey flooded over her vision as the heat of the day weighed down on her, and judging his black t-shirt clung to his chest and shoulders, it had left its mark on him too. He had wraparound sunglasses on, and a shaved head gleaming with oil. As he came closer, she saw the glitter of close-shaved blonde beard and his Roman nose, red with a tinge of sunburn.

Rose would have run inside and locked the door. Said he looked like a serial killer. Bette would have pointed out most serial killers looked like Phil or Harvey, her husband. She watched the flare of his quads against his dirty jeans and his battered but polished boots.

Bette swept her tongue over her teeth, almost gagged against the bitterness as her head throbbed with pain. She swallowed the mess over spitting in front of him.

And you wonder why you’re still single, she thought, as she gulped it down.

‘Hi,’ she said.

Her voice sounded faint to her ears.

‘Ma’am, thought I should introduce myself, seeing as we will be neighbours. I’m Jack,’ he gestured to the dogs either side of him,’This is Thorne and Rose.’

Bette snickered and got a fresh, disorientating burst of pain which whipped around her skull. The honeyed drawl of his accent intrigued her and when he took off his shades, she peered through the haze of pain, into a pair of piercing grey eyes. His smile flickered with concern.

‘Bette,’ she said.

He repeated her name, testing its pronunciation.

‘Well, it’s good to meet you. Thought I’d get the dogs to say hi. They’re obedient dogs, though, but didn’t want you to worry,’ he said.

She tried to smile, but her head was leaden and tight with pain. A sharp pain started at the nape and she staggered like something had stung her. Another wave of grey washed over her and took everything with it.

3.

A nail is in my forehead, she thought, judging by the pain Bette felt as she came to. The skirting boards needed a good dusting as her vision came into focus.

‘Stay still’ Jack said.

She ran her tongue over her teeth, tasted the granules of coffee and dislodged one was between her front teeth. She sighed and rubbed her face.

‘Would you help me up?’ she said.

He smelled of salt and leather as his hand cupped the back of her head and she put some tentative weight on her left hand to support herself.

‘I’ve got you, just breathe,’ he said.

She sat up by degrees, at a pace which felt glacial, but Jack stayed with her. Sitting upright helped and the pressure in her back and neck had gone. Bette gasped with relief as Ben stood up and looked down at her.

‘Thank you, Jack. I hope this isn’t an omen of our being neighbours,’ she said.

He smiled and shook his head.

‘Nothing to it. Is there anyone I can call?’ he said.

She had slept on a couch at her sisters and the lengthy drive hadn’t helped. Bette went on, despite the pain and exhaustion which had dogged her steps since she left Rose. Jack helped her to her feet and she enjoyed holding onto his thick, vascular forearm. He lifted her with no effort.

She bumped into his chest, but he did not flinch. He chuckled before he stepped backwards. Bette looked into his eyes and fought the uncoiling warmth which started in the seat of her pelvis.

‘Are the dogs here?’

He smiled and shook his head.

‘No, they went back outside.’

He glanced outside, squinting against the late afternoon sun. Bette enjoyed the mingling alleviation of her pain and the tentative stabs of arousal Jack evoked with a gesture. She thanked him and said she would see him later.

‘I look forward to it,’ he said.

Bette watched him walk back to his house, his thick arms swinging by his sides as he strode back.

She ran a bath, hot and caked with Epsom salts. These were the points she enjoyed being alone, but when she closed her eyes, the profile of Jack as he looked outside came to her attention and rose gooseflesh as it insinuated itself into her attentions.

It was dark when she awoke, and the water was lukewarm. She got out of the tub, feeling clean and refreshed. Her stomach growled with hunger and she went with the adolescent impulse to order a pizza.

Bette brushed her teeth, then ordered the pie and made tea. The thought of coffee made her nauseous, and she was appreciating the fragile pleasure of feeling well again.

She was watching television when the doorbell rang.

Jack had changed into a clean t-shirt and jeans. His skin smelled of coal tar soap , masculine and warm.

‘I thought I’d look in on you,’ he said.

Bette flushed and considered the pyjamas and robe she had on.

‘Thank you. More embarrassed than anything serious. I was lucky you were here,’ she said.

He smiled.

‘I’m just glad you’re on your feet,’ he said.

Bette grinned and asked him if the dogs were here. He shook his head but she made a play of peeking past his shoulder.

‘I’ve got pizza coming, it’ll be too much for me to eat alone, so do you want to come in, and erm, have some?’

Jack’s smile widened into a grin which made the muscles in her thighs flutter.

‘Sure, I settled the dogs in for the night,’ he said.

Bette tittered and opened the door, asked him if he wanted a drink. Water was fine, and she remembered how she hadn’t cleaned up since before she left to go to Rose’s house.

‘Sorry about the mess. I don’t have the excuse of saying I’ve moved in,’ she said.

He chuckled as he sat down on the couch.

‘I don’t have a lot of stuff, so it’s easy to keep neat,’ he said.

They chatted as she boiled the kettle for a fresh cup of tea. He came from the Ozarks via a stint in the USMC, a tour of Afghanistan as a dog handler, working with a Belgian Malinois. Bette remembered the mastiff and smiled.

‘She’s your war buddy, that’s beautiful.

‘What about the Shepherd?’’

Jack’s eyes glanced downwards.

‘He was my buddy’s. Stayed in after I did my last tour, got taken out and so I applied to take his dog on,’ he said.

Bette swallowed, touched by the quiet way he shared this part of himself with her. She spoke, but the whistle of the kettle made her get up and make tea.

When she returned, he stood up, looking at her bookshelves. She leaned towards thrillers and true crime, and reference material for work, but he was scanning the spines with open interest.

‘Did you ever hear the John Waters quote?’ Bette said.

Her voice sounded pitched and nervous to her ears, but he smiled and looked at her as he shook his head.

‘If you go home with someone and they don’t have books on their shelves, don’t fuck them,’ she said.

Jack stared at her, hard and unflinching for a moment, which made her throat close before his facade cracked and he chuckled, putting his hand over his mouth as he closed his eyes with delight. Bette’s relief made her join in a moment later as she came towards him.

Hack’s chuckle was rough and deep, as they moved towards one another. Bette set her cup down on the coffee table as she wiped tears of laughter from her eyes.

They stared at one another, and Bette felt every inch of skin poised for something when he moved his face towards her, a hand raising with care to cup her cheek. She whimpered as he brushed them over hers, tentative and sweet as they closed her eyes.

Which was when the doorbell rang.

Jack folded his arms and chuckled as Bette swore under her breath and went to collect the pizza.

She took the box and gave the driver a ten-dollar tip to get him away without offending him. When she went back, Jack stood there with his hands by his sides.

‘I hope it didn’t get weird,’ he said.

She set the pizza box on the table and stood up.

‘I’m in my pyjamas and I’ve already passed out in front of you. Weird was two stops ago,’ she said.

He bought his hand to her cheek again as she gazed at him. A slight whimper escaped her lips as he ran his tongue over his lips. They moved towards one another, giving in to the tension between them.

They bumped noses and chins at first, kissing in orchestral stabs as they found accommodation with one another. Bette put his hands on her breasts through her pyjama top as she guided him to the couch. The silence and song had been wonderful, but an older part of her was in charge here.

It was hungry.

Jack pulled off his t-shirt and Bette sighed at the hard plates of muscle, the golden curls of hair on his chest and stomach and the tattoos on his upper arms. There were some pitted scars across his chest, flecks of white against his honeyed skin.

He took off his shoes and socks, then knelt before her on the couch. Lust made some men clumsy, but Jack descended to her like a wild, primal angel and she welcomed him.

Bette surrendered to his slow hands. He squeezed her ass, her hips and breasts with a firm, hungry and appreciative touch which made her moan against his mouth. She wrapped her lips around his tongue and suckled, which made him groan with pleasure. They wrestled like tide and shore, a muted crash of beautiful violence and all of it made in a spirit of honeyed, wild awareness.

Bette awoke to each caress, a rough magic which fed her hunger for touch even as it expanded to demand more of him.

His mouth kissed down her neck and a need to show him more of her raged through her as she pushed herself against him, stroking him as his washcloth tongue painted the canvas of her skin.

She slipped down the couch as Jack moved back onto his heels, straddling her as he unbuttoned her top and smoothed it from her shoulders. He grinned at her before he resumed exploring her chest with his lips and tongue. She tugged down her pyjama bottoms, grateful for having had a bath as his lips painted mandalas against her breasts. She went to speak, but he took one of her aching nipples in his mouth and suckled on it which made her moan with pleasure.

The suckling ache dived downwards and his mouth moved to suckle her other nipple. She kicked her pyjama bottoms off as he parted her thighs and moved between her quivering thighs, kissing the soft planes of her stomach. Each kiss was electric, making her moan soft vowel sounds into the night air like music.

Jack crouched between her open thighs and smiled, murmuring with appreciation.

Bette touched his face, drunk with appreciation as he dipped downwards, slipping his hands under her buttocks to take a grip as he licked between her labia in one delicious stroke which went all the way to the top of her head. She shuddered, relaxing into the febrile waves of joy his tongue unleashed within her.

His tongue danced against her tender flesh, vertical and horizontal strokes grazing fresh stars into her sky. When he rested the tip of his index finger at her pussy, she felt an insistent flood of arousal.

Bette fell back against the couch as she shuddered with wonder. Jack’s fingers splayed over the cradle of her pelvis as he pressed his tongue against her clit and suckled. She exploded after an eternal, perfect moment.

All she was went upwards and outwards, like a firework before returning to herself, familiar and alien with potential and sensation. Jack came up, his lips shining with her juices and she reached out, undoing his jeans as she reached for his cock. A moment of friction passed and he was inside her, pumping and urgent as she clutched him close and felt him tighten up within her. The raging burst of his release made her come again with him, breathing hard and wrapped around him as she cried out before they collapsed together, a damp tangle of limbs and sighs.

They laid there, waiting until they could speak again. He raised himself on his elbows and stroked her face. She smelled the faint mineral scent of herself on his fingers as she looked at him.

‘Hey neighbour,’ she said.

He smiled and looked towards the pizza box, raising an eyebrow. She grinned and pulled it towards them.

‘God yes, you read my mind,’ she said.

She stopped, realising she wasn’t in any pain. All the aches wiped clean and whatever recent ones , they were the kind which made a life with people in it palatable, even pleasurable.

The evening went on.

As the days passed, they walked his dogs and found quiet accommodation with one another. She still had her mornings with the birds, but she never lacked for company.