Clusterf*ck Page 5

  “I’m warm,” I say, and he walks towards me and removes my wrap.

  I can’t take my eyes off the massive bed and now I’m so nervous I feel frozen to the spot. I want to wind back the clock, back to sitting in the car with his fingers at the back of my neck.

  Behind me there’s a rumble. I guess he’s sliding the door open along its track. “You can back out, Virginia, I won’t hold that against you.” There’s a softer noise this time.

  “No.” My tone is sharp. “No, I don’t want to,” I say, managing to coat my voice with something softer.

  “Good, I’d have been disappointed if you had. Turn around.”

  I see what he’s done. He’s slid the old boat shed door open, exposing the entire face of that front of the shed to the sea. But it’s winter, and there’s an escalating easterly wind coming across the ocean. To compensate, he’s closed glass stacking doors. We can still watch the surf, but the elements won’t reach us.

  “You look beautiful, standing there, and quite nervous.” He walks towards me as he speaks. “You don’t have anything to be afraid of,” he says, whispering the words into my mouth. “I’m going to make you feel amazing,” he adds, continuing to kiss me gently. “Can you step out of your shoes?”

  “No. I’ll have to undo them.” He grabs the back of my head and kisses me harder then breaks it with a nip to my lip. Everywhere tingles. It’s as though he’s switching on previously dormant nerves wherever he touches me. I go to crouch to undo my shoes, but he tells me to stay where I am.

  He’s at my feet, undoing the tiny buckles, then lifting each foot out of the shoes. “These look killer. I’ll fix that for you,” he says.

  He’s standing again. At some stage he’s removed his jacket and tie, and freed a couple of buttons on his shirt. I can smell the faint traces of his cologne, see a darker spot on his cheek where some lipsticked woman has kissed him, and when he kisses me, I taste scotch and mint on his breath.

  I can’t believe I’m here, in the boathouse with Luther, but I push all thoughts out of my head knowing that I’m going to have weeks alone to examine every minute, and every emotion. For now, I’m just going to feel.

  Our mouths meet again and in seconds, my dress drops to my feet. I startle, unprepared for being in front of Luther in my underwear. The show has begun, no turning back now. As if. My bra is unclipped and slipped off me, and Luther steps back, smiling at me like a wolf. I can see the line of his erection in his pants and the size is alarming. I should have considered that more.

  Luther is big.

  He leads me to the bed and tells me to lie down. Although I’m wearing panties, he’s still fully clothed and it makes me feel vulnerable. He kneels at the end of the bed and takes one of my feet and starts massaging it. His thumb finds a tender spot and I try to jerk my foot away but he holds on.

  “Be patient, it gets better.”

  He’s right. His hands push the pain away and soon he’s found some spot that’s miraculously connected to my core. My pussy is swollen and wet, and I want to touch myself. His hands shift to my calves, kneading and releasing all the tension from being in heels for hours.

  “Close your eyes, Virginia, and relax.”

  “I am relaxed,” I say.

  “Then why are you gripping the comforter like that?”

  “I’m trying not to touch myself.”

  His laugh is soft, not mocking as his hands slip behind my knees and he pushes my legs open. His lips are on the inside of my thigh, his mouth making its way up nearer to my pussy, biting the soft flesh as he reaches the top of my leg. The sensation, in opposition to the soft kisses, is amazing, and a small moan escapes me.

  Then, at last, he’s there. I can feel his hot breath through the silk of my underwear. Again, he bites gently and my hips buck against him because it’s not quite enough. He ignores my hints, and continues nuzzling, then sits back on his heels.

  “You smell amazing, and your panties are soaked. Hope you’re not fond of them,” he says, gripping the thin line of lace at the side and tearing it in half.

  “They were expensive.”

  “Yet they broke so easily. Don’t worry, I’ll buy you more,” he says, tossing them aside. His hand reaches between my legs, one finger sliding through my soaking cleft.

  At last, I think, as I tip my head back and close my eyes.

  “Look at me,” he says, his finger continuing to stroke from my entrance up to my clit and back again.

  I’m on edge, desperate to come and I just want to lie here and concentrate on what his finger’s doing. So, he stops. My eyes fly open.

  “That’s better, eyes stay on me while I finger you, then I’m going to lick you clean. After those two orgasms, I’m going to fuck you. I’m desperate to do that now but I recall a promise I made to you, and I don’t break promises. You’re so wet, Ginger. The heat here is amazing,” he says.

  He hasn’t let up with his fingers and my hips are circling, riding the rhythm of his hand between my legs.

  “Your eyes keep shutting, Gin, I want you to keep watching me. I want to see the moment when you come, when that pretty flush rises up your body, and your mouth falls open as you cry out. See how long you can keep those eyes open. This clit of yours is so fat. I can’t wait to get it in my mouth.”

  I don’t know how he can speak. All I can do is whimper and follow his hand. His thumb stays on my clit now, stroking and pressing, and he has his fingers at the entrance to my pussy. There’s so much pressure there I’m close to coming. Finally, he slides a finger inside and I feel every inch, his knuckles, the way he twists and turns it. My eyes flutter closed then I remember to keep them open.

  “Good girl,” he says, and the warmth and pleasure in his smile nearly pushes me over the edge. The steel blue of Luther’s eyes is softened in this light.

  “This cunt,” he says, sliding his finger out then back in again, “is so hot, and so tight, I don’t know how I’m going to fuck you.”

  Judging by the outline in his pants, I don’t know how he will either. His hand shifts, the heel of it against my clit as he works a second finger inside me.

  My pussy clenches, and I feel so full I think I’m going to come. Luther feels it to, and his hand stops.

  He leans closer to me, kisses my belly softly then looks up at me. Slowly his hand moves, rocking back and forth, heel to clit, fingers inching in and out of me. The movement is small, but the tension and pressure in my core grows.

  “There you go,” he says, sliding up my body until his face is by mine. “You’re so close. Your pussy tries to hold my fingers when I move them. Give me your mouth, I want to swallow your cries when you come.”

  Our mouths lock together and he continues the steady rocking of his hand until, finally, it’s too much. Something breaks inside me and, true to his word, Luther catches my cries of pleasure.

  He breaks the kiss. “That’s one,” he says.

  9 ~ LUTHER

  Ginger comes a second time not long after the first. The first was hard, fast, overwhelming. A shock-and-awe orgasm that gives me the sort of control I like over a woman. I planned to lick her pussy slowly, to draw out the second coming, make her beg for it, but she tastes so good, and she’s so responsive it’s shock and awe all over again.

  I’m still dressed and she lies before me, limp, sweating, exhausted. Well, she thinks she’s exhausted but that word will be redefined for her tonight.

  “How’s your stamina?” I ask.

  She nods, smiles back, holding up five fingers, indicating how many more orgasms I promised her.

  I wink at her. “That’s the spirit. Let me get you some water. I don’t want you dehydrating.”

  I grab a couple of bottles and unscrew the cap on one, taking it back to the bed. I’m still dressed. Strands of Ginger’s hair have escaped the pins that held the bridesmaid styling in place. She’s not a bridesmaid anymore. She’s mine for a few more hours, then it’s back to normal.

  I place the bott
les on the bedside table and straddle Ginger’s hips. She reaches for my belt buckle and I push her hand back to the bed, holding it there.

  “I have rules, Ginger.”

  A little crease appears on her brow. “Rules?”

  “That’s right. I like being in control of your pleasure. Those two orgasms came fast. I thought I’d have to work a little harder than that. So, second rule is that you ask before you come.”

  She laughs. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I take fucking very seriously, so no, I’m not kidding.” My expression is level. It’s my courtroom face that would win me poker games if I was a gambler. Thing is, I’m already considering dawn, and Ginger has a crush that needs breaking. I don’t want her romanticizing our little encounter tonight. I squeeze her wrist and her smile fades, but her eyes are excited. That’s what I like. My cock can’t get any harder than it is right now, but if it could, that look in her eyes would have done it.

  “That’s rule number two. What’s rule number one?”

  “This ends at dawn. Don’t forget that. At this time of the year, the sun rises right in the middle of the glass doors. It literally appears over the foot of the bed.”

  “I get it,” she says. “What if there’s an orgasm deficit.”

  “As if.”

  Our eyes are locked as I unfasten my cufflinks and swap them for a bottle of water on the table. The bottle is glass, cold from the fridge, slick with condensation which I let drip onto one nipple, then the other. Ginger gasps, drawing her legs up, her hand reaching for the bottle. I pull it away. “Don’t touch,” I warn. “This won’t hurt, but it’ll be an interesting sensation. Stay absolutely still.” I lower the base of the bottle until it just touches her nipples which have already tightened.

  Ginger closes her eyes and a light shiver runs through her body. I keep the bottle there until she relaxes, then do the same to her other nipple. This time, she moans. I lower my head and take the cold nipple into my mouth, sucking until she’s writhing beneath me, and her flesh warms. Then I swap, back and forth, cold and hot, until she’s a whimpering mess. She’s fantastic. Ideas flash through my head of all the things I’d love to do with her.

  Her breathing is fast and shallow and I’m wondering if she’s going to come just from some nipple play, so I stop.

  “Not so bad, is it?”

  “It’s amazing. Are you going to take your clothes off and fuck me?”

  “If you behave. Lift your head and drink.” I hold the bottle to her lips and she gulps the water, some spilling from the corner of her mouth. “Had enough?”

  “Thank you.”

  I reach behind me and stroke her hip. “Open your legs,” I say, slipping my hand between her wet pussy lips. “Soaked again, Ginger. This feels like a pussy ready to come.”

  Her eyes have closed and she nods. “I’m close,” she pants.

  I swap the bottles. The one she drank from has warmed, the other is still chilled. My thumb’s on her clit, my fingers inside her. The walls of her tight pussy contract as I find that place around the front that I haven’t teased yet. I watch her closely, rubbing, and she cries out my name.

  “Oh, my god,” she moans.

  “That’s me.” I keep rubbing until I see that little shift in her face that means her orgasm is so close she’ll do anything to chase it down. “Rule number two,” I say softly, and ease my fingers from her to slide the cold bottle along her cleft.

  Her cursing is world class, and she tries to buck me off her, closing her legs until the inside of her thighs touch the cold bottle, then opening them again.

  “Still close?” I ask.

  “Bastard,” she hisses.

  “You were going to come without permission.”

  She’s wearing the cutest petulant expression. “I hate you.”

  “That’ll pass, but I want you to understand that when it comes to rules, I mean what I say.” I slide the bottle away and place it on the floor. My fingers slip back between her legs. Her pussy is cold, but that won’t last. She still looks annoyed. “You’re going to ask to come this time.”

  “Please, Luther, let me come.”

  “You’re new to this so I’ll let you away with that. I’m going to play with your pussy and when you get close to coming, you ask to come.”

  “Okay. Then will you take your clothes off and fuck me?”

  “Perhaps.”

  I don’t know why I’m trying to give her a night she’ll never forget. I should have fucked her back in the reception room at the Lodge and been done with it. But I don’t just want to bury my dick in her, I want everything. And everything is four orgasms, two of which she’ll beg for. It’s watching her face, learning how she likes to be touched, playing with her body, and having a woman who has fascinated me endlessly, finally in my bed.

  Her pussy’s hot and slick again, and I’m rubbing her G-spot and clit. Her eyes are screwed up, and she’s getting noisier. I love that she doesn’t give a damn about moaning and screaming. Every sound that comes from her mouth makes my balls ache.

  “Please…Luther, please may I come?”

  “How close are you?” I’m teasing. Her pussy’s telling me she’s nearly there.

  “Seconds away,” she warns.

  “Nice. Come whenever you want.” Normally I’d tease it out, but if I don’t fuck her soon I’m scared my dick’s going to be permanently injured.

  Ginger calls my name on a long moan and her pussy contracts over my fingers as she comes. I stroke her gently, teasing the last few spasms out of her, waiting for her breathing to come back to normal.

  Her eyes open when I climb off her to undress. I don’t fuck about because my cock needs to be inside the tightest pussy I’ve ever fingered. Ginger stares at my dick and swallows.

  “It’s big,” she says.

  “You’re welcome.”

  I grab a condom from the nightstand, roll it on, then crawl between her legs. “New rule. This time, we come together. Warn me when you’re close.” I stroke her face. She looks anxious and I don’t want her to be.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure,” I say. So long as it’s not about love, or breaking rule number one.

  “Can you be gentle?”

  Fuck. That’s a big ask.

  “Gentle,” I say back to her.

  She turns her head away and looks out to the ocean, but I take her chin gently and turn her back to me. Lying across her body, the head of my cock nestled in her slippery cleft, my chest against her breasts, I kiss her. She breathes fast into my mouth. Still anxious. I keep kissing until she softens, reaching for me with her tongue. I pull away and trace the outside of her lips with my tongue. Reaching behind me, I pull her legs wider. “Tell me about gentle, Ginger?”

  She looks away again.

  “Eyes on me.” I nudge her entrance with the head of my cock.

  “I’ve never done this before,” she says so quietly that I scarcely hear her.

  My balls ache and it’s all I can do to stop myself driving into her, because the roaring in my ears almost drowns out her words. When they finally seep into my consciousness, alarm rises faster than an orgasm.

  “You’re a virgin?” Fuck, my heart’s bashing madly in my chest and I don’t know if I’m excited or dismayed.

  “Yeah. I mean, I’ve done stuff, but…”

  “But what?”

  “But I’ve never actually fucked anyone. Like, had a cock in my pussy. I’ve been saving that for you.”

  Fuck. Fuck. It’s all I can do not to speak. I want to roll off her and tell her to get dressed. I want to tell her she’s crazy to have done that. I’m not the sort of person you want to save your virginity for. I don’t do this shit. Not relationships, not deflowerings. I take experienced whores in clubs and we fuck in a mutually satisfying way. Half the time we don’t even give each other our proper names. I buy them a nice dinner, good champagne, a dress, or shoes, or a trip to the islands in the middle of winter. We en
joy each other’s company, but we don’t emotionally connect.

  Fuck.

  “So, if you could just go easy on me, because your kinda big.”

  Fuck.

  “Virginia… Ginger, sweetheart, I’m honored, I really am. I’m stunned, too. But if you’re saving yourself, keep it for someone who’s worth it. Not me. I can’t offer you anything. Tonight, this isn’t me. You know that. In the morning we go back to normal. We’re not having a relationship here, we’re hooking up.

  Her eyes glisten. Now she’s going to cry. Fuck, why isn’t there a manual for this shit? I’ve dealt with some pretty crazy women in my day but I’ve never dealt with a virgin.

  “Please, Luther, don’t reject me.”

  A chill runs down my spine, and I roll off her, gathering her into my arms. “Sweetheart, I’m not rejecting you. I’m truly not. I’m astounded, and honored, and I can honestly tell you I’d never have brought you back here if I’d known.” I kiss her again because I don’t want her to feel rejected. I also don’t want to be the guy she loses her virginity to. And I don’t want the gravity of pocketing her V-card to be attached to what is supposed to be a one-off hookup.

  I brush her hair back from her face. It’s a mess now. I still haven’t unpinned it. That was something I was saving for after I’d fucked her, when I was going to put her on her knees and get her to suck my dick. Now I just feel like a filthy bastard.

  “Losing your virginity should be meaningful, not some random one-night stand,” I explain.

  “I’ve been with other guys, Luther. I’ve had boyfriends. I’ve done stuff.”

  “Don’t remind me,” I mutter.

  “And, this isn’t a meaningless one-night stand.”

  “Rule number one says it is.”

  She touches my mouth with her fingertips. “If it was meaningless, we wouldn’t need rules.”

  Touché. Ginger. I hadn’t consciously given thought to why I wanted the rules. Did I need them as much for myself as I did to blanket any expectations she had. I pull her finger into my mouth and suck on it. It’s salty with a trace of something floral—hand soap, I guess. The palm of her hand cups my chin. My damned cock is wondering what the hold-up is.