Access All Areas (18 page)

Then the door opened, and there he was. Dark circles under his eyes, regarding me with a steady stare. A brief smile played on his full lips, and I looked away, suddenly embarrassed at everything it implied.

“Come in.” His voice was brisk. He turned suddenly, and I followed him in. He shut the door, and flipped two of the locks, loudly. The metallic clang echoed in the room. My escape route had been blocked.

He walked to the middle of the living room and gestured to me to follow him.

“Let me take your jacket.” He was suddenly polite, old fashioned. But his manner was still cold and distant. He expertly helped me remove my leather jacket, and he hung it up in the closet, neatly. He turned back and looked me up and down, taking in the soft white t-shirt, slightly see through, revealing a cream balconnet bra underneath. The short black leather skirt. Stockings. High heels. I figured rock and roll with a French edge was what you wore to these sorts of things. Judging by the look on his face, I’d done all right. I ventured a little smile.

“You like?”

“Very nice. You look good in leather.”

He was wearing a pair of ripped jeans, faded, torn across the knees and where his leg met his hips. The gap drew your eyes in, made you try to see what was hidden underneath, a mere tantalizing shadow away. His long torso was covered in a vintage Hawaiian print shirt, unbuttoned halfway, showing an expanse of smooth chest. A white belt. He looked the picture of dissolute fashion, put together, but looking effortless. Sexy, yet edgy.

“I like the shirt.” The next part came out in a whisper, I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath. “And the rips.”

He laughed. And just kept staring at me. He reached me in one long motion and ran his hand down my back, and lower, down my legs, slowly. I closed my eyes.

“Nice.”

Suddenly his hand dipped below my skirt, and reached in between my legs, brushing the skin at the top of my stockings. I could feel top of his wrist brush against my panties, already wet, then move away. I flushed and looked up at him, his face right above me, controlling. He smiled, like he had discovered a secret, then spun me around so I was pressed up against him from behind. He was already getting hard; I could feel him as he pulled me tight into his hips.

His deep voice murmured in my ear. “When you’re here, like this, you’re mine to play with. Do you understand? Just nod, don’t speak.”

I moved my head against him. I could feel his hair against my cheek, the smell of him so close to me. I leaned my head back on his shoulder and he licked the side of my mouth, wetly, and pulled away again. I let out a soft moan, wanting more.

His lips moved around my ear, his tongue darting in and out. “Shh, don’t talk.” His mouth moved down my neck, and suddenly his hands were covering my breasts, pinching my nipples, hard. I couldn’t help the gasp that came out.

“Quiet.” His voice was a low command.

I nodded. He pushed me away from him, and the cool air hit my back, which had been so warm pressed against him just seconds before. The contrast was painful. Was he angry?

Then his arms were around me again and his hands ran down my stomach, and made slow, steady circles there. He grabbed my hips and swayed with me, in a slow dance, a delicious friction between his erection and my backside, so close. He moved me against him, and I let myself go with his rhythm. The heat was pooling in my belly. The ache that had been slowly building was now a painful kind of contraction, as though all my muscles were at breaking point. He slowed down and ran his hands up my body, peeling off my t-shirt over my head. He threw it somewhere, and glided his hands down my back, tracing my spine downwards. The sensation was nearly ticklish, I had goosebumps all over my body. I wanted his hands everywhere. As if he’d read my mind, he placed his palms over my breasts.

“I like this.” His fingers ran along the top of the lace, with an unbelievable delicacy, gently pressing against the flesh bursting out over the top, avoiding my nipples, which were painfully hard. His hand brushed against one, almost by accident, then twice, then dipped below the fabric and flicked it with one neat fingernail, sending a wave of heat down my body. I bit my tongue, but a groan came out.

“You’re shy about speaking out, so you’re going to be quiet until I tell you that you can speak. Or make any noises. At all.” He turned me around again, and sank down, taking a nipple into his mouth, licking at me through the fabric. I clenched my fists and dug my nails into the skin with the effort it was taking not to moan. I shut my eyes, tight. Then his teeth were tugging at me, pulling, running over the other nipple, biting at the soft underside. I was dizzy from the mix of sensation, his commands, his body so close to mine. Knowing that he was hard. Not knowing what he was going to do.

He straightened up and stood there for a moment, thoughtful. Then his hands were on my shoulders, pushing me down.

“I think you need to be on your knees, little girl.” His voice a dark threat.

I sank down to my knees, my leather skirt riding up, showing plainly the tops of my stockings. I was trembling. I looked up.

His eyes looked nearly black, and his smile seemed more ominous now. I was losing it.

“Oh, you look good like that. Look straight ahead. That’s right, look at my body. What you want. What you’re here for.”

I was nearly eye level with his crotch and the long rip in the denim. I could see clearly the dark blue boxer briefs peeking through the hole, his thigh, covered in a fine pattern of hair, the bulge that was his erection.

He unbuckled his belt, slowly. Then his long fingers looped around the buckle and freed the whole length of it out of the jeans, in one fluid gesture. The belt made a slapping noise as it whipped through the fabric. The movement was arrested in mid-air, then he snapped the belt back down against his leg at speed, the sound loud and echoing in the silence. His eyes shut for a moment and he gripped the leather in his hand, but did nothing else.

“Unbutton my jeans.” His voice was a dark cipher now. A tone I’d never heard.

My hands moved to touch him, and I stroked the silken, burning hot skin, before I reached the buttons. I couldn’t help it. He slapped my hand, which made me hit his cock. Hard. He hissed.

“No little girl. Do as you’re told.”

I moved up to the first button, then the second and third and fourth. His jeans were now hanging open.

“Pull them down.”

I held on to the belt loops, careful not to touch him. His soft jeans slid down over his hips, down his legs and fell to the floor. His thighs were strong as he kicked them off and away. He looked enormous in front of me. Tall. Commanding. I watched, fascinated, as he shoved his hand down his briefs and straightened himself out.

“I don’t think I’ll let you touch me now. In fact, I think you can just watch. Put your arms behind you. Don’t move otherwise.”

He walked behind me and pushed me forward, my ass up in the air. I heard the swish of the belt through the air before the stinging pain of the leather against the tops of my thighs cut through my thoughts. A cry escaped me, and brought me another hard blow, followed by three more, exactly placed. I waited for the next, but instead Tristan stood behind me, his long leg thrust between mine, pushing against my sex, and swiftly wrapped the belt around my wrists several times, tight. It was warm from his hand. He latched the buckle and pulled it tighter, the leather digging into my skin. My heart was racing. Then he moved away, and pushed me back until I was sitting on my heels.

Standing directly in front of me again, he smiled, that enigmatic smile that didn’t reach his eyes, which were darker than before. Then he walked away. His thighs flexed with each step, his firm ass demanding to be touched, moving under the fine fabric of the briefs. As I watched him, he lowered his shirt over his broad shoulders, revealing the pale, creamy skin of his back, smooth and full. He then dropped his shirt on the floor, all without turning around. He knew he had my full attention, and his little striptease, his super consciousness of his body and the power it contained was making me impossibly wet. He was taunting me with his sexuality. I wanted to move, uncramp my legs, ease the burning, but I didn’t dare. I felt like he’d memorized my position.

He turned and walked back towards me. “Like what you see? See if you like this.” And he came up to my face, and dipped one of his large hands inside his briefs, squeezing his balls, the shape of his knuckles and his cock pushing through the thin fabric. I looked up to his face. He was staring at me. “Don’t look away now. I want you to watch me. I know you like it.”

And he slowly dragged his hand up his length, then his hands were visible again, He hooked his thumbs around the elastic top of his briefs and began pulling them down, slowly. Finally, his cock sprung free, huge, hard, glistening at the top. He continued pulling them down his long, finely muscled legs, and nimbly stepped out of them, tossing them across the room. And he stood in front of me, his thighs strong, solid, his knees sculptured like his calves, elegant yet insistently male. Then he began stroking himself, slowly, repeating the motion over and over, an arm’s length away from me. I wriggled. I couldn’t help it. I wanted to touch him so badly, I could taste it. I needed pressure between my legs, and I squeezed my thighs together. My foot twisted, and one of my shoes fell off. He noticed, and he glared at me. And I sat there, chastened.

He stopped and walked behind me, and removed the other shoe from my foot. I couldn’t see what he was doing, but he had walked away. “That’s why I needed to restrain you. You have no control.” I hung my head, and stared at my thighs. Was this it? I heard his footsteps approaching over the heartbeat in my ears. There he was, in front of me again. He tapped me under the chin, and raised my face to look at him. His eyes were searching.

After a long moment, he shook his head, as though he had decided on something.

“You’re doing very well though. Considering. Maybe I’ll give you a treat.” He resumed touching himself, his cock, still full, seemed to swell more under his touch. I watched as his fingers circled his thick erection and pulled. I looked up at his face, and he gestured with a look that I should keep my eyes on what he was doing. His other hand gripped his balls then traced a pattern around his hipbone. I was mesmerized. Just watching him lose control was going to be more than enough to push me over the edge.

I watched as he ran his long forefinger around the head and over the reddened top. He groaned, quietly, and placed his finger on his lips, sticking out his tongue, swirling it around his mouth and his finger, shamelessly tasting himself. It was lewd, an animal gesture, and I couldn’t stop watching. All I could think of was that long tongue on me, in me, his big mouth fitting over my pussy, making me wetter. I wanted dirty.

“Little girl.” His voice was a filthy growl, and it tore through me. “Want a taste?”

I looked up at him, all need. He laughed. And he slid his thumb over the head of his still wet cock and thrust it in my mouth, letting me run my tongue over his flesh. God, the taste of him, salt, sweat, power. Then he began fucking my mouth with his finger, slowly in and out, opening up my mouth. I moaned, somewhere deep in my throat, it felt so good, so close, almost like having him inside me.

“Mmm, that’s good. Here, let’s try this.” And without any warning, he quickly removed his thumb and pushed his impossible huge wet cock to my mouth. “Suck me off, little girl. You know you’re good at it.”

I opened my mouth, licking him, taking him in little by little, until I nearly had my lips up against his balls, and the head of his cock hitting the back of my throat. The heaviness felt so good in my mouth, and I let him slip out a little so I could take a breath, and swirled my tongue around him. Oh god. It was like the best possible feeling, and the smell and taste of him were so sweet, so strong. More wetness was forming at the head of his cock, and he was starting to push into my mouth, fucking my mouth slowly at first, then speeding up, rocking against me. His breath was getting ragged and his eyes were clenched shut. I gently let my teeth brush against him, and he moaned.

Abruptly, he stopped and put his hands on my shoulders. He pulled out of my mouth, and I took a deep breath of air. His cock was pointing straight out, red and wet and glistening.

“Little girl, look at me.” I obeyed, and looked up at him. “I’m going to come. I want to come in your mouth, on your mouth. Will you let me? Please.” His eyes were softer now, pleading. I realized I was shaking from need, only his hands on my shoulders keeping me upright. I nodded up at him, the intensity coming off him in waves. “I can’t hold back any longer,” he grimaced, and thrust his cock back into my willing mouth.

I wanted him to come so badly, I wanted to feel him unstuck, taste him all over me, and my mouth couldn’t get enough of him. His rhythm, like before, so steady at first, became more erratic. He gasped for air, and I felt him spasm against me, hot whiteness against my tongue. He grabbed his cock, and pulled it out of my mouth as he kept coming, rocking his hips into air, and the tip of it was on my lips, and the wetness was now covering my mouth, thick, hot. It was so dirty, so erotic, everything I ever wanted, and the noises he was making and the feel of him and him using me like that, coming on me…all these thoughts went straight to my center and I felt my own spasms take me, clutching around emptiness. I cried out, I couldn’t help it, as my tongue ran over my mouth, in an imitation of what he had done earlier, I imagined his mouth on me, his tongue buried in me, and I was shaking, falling on to him, his cock against my face, wet, and still half hard. His arms went around me then, and he held me close, through my orgasm.

“Ah, little girl.” He kissed the top of my head, and knelt down to be closer to me and kissed my wet lips, licking off the rest, his tongue exploring my mouth. He obviously liked it, liked his own taste. I liked that he liked it.