Authors: Lush Jones
Still Life (3 page)
“Yes,” Sara whispered, glad it was Casey and picturing his tattooed forearms as he slid his hand up her leg. His arm snaked up her thigh as she began to shake. She wanted to sit up, yank his shirt off and rip the ponytail out so she could run her fingers through those messy blonde curls and pull his mouth down to hers. How old was he—twenty-two, maybe?
Old enough
. The adage flashed through Sara’s mind as she wriggled on the platform.
But the hand at her breast, not to be outdone, curved around the soft flesh, rubbing and pinching the nipple until she moaned, unable to stop herself. She knew this wasn’t Casey. And from the cologne, she was pretty sure it was Grant. Rude, nasty Grant. Who had just tried to make a fool out of her and who she should probably tell to fuck off, to stop touching her, and leave her alone. Except, that she didn’t really want him to.
Then the other hand, Casey’s she hoped, reached farther up her leg until he stopped at the triangle of her thighs.
“Sara,” she heard Professor Roberts whisper, “do you want Casey to stop?”
Sara shook her head, eyes still shut tight. She wanted Casey to keep going, to make the aching stop with his fingers.
So Casey touched her, slowly at first, groaning as he stroked her and then slid his fingers one by one inside, until she was so wet she came with a sharp cry.
“That’s good, Sara. But I don’t think you’re done.” Professor Roberts’ voice was ragged now, and Sara knew it was he who had taken such a deep breath earlier. He was the watcher. He had set this all up, she realized, the entire pose designed for no other purpose than to watch other men touch her. She wondered just how much this was turning him on and the idea that he stood there, directing Casey to make her come, made her want to do it all over again.
Sara heard a zipper come undone and the slap of denim hitting the concrete floor. Patchouli drifted past her face as she felt strong hands cup her bottom, drawing her hips closer as he slid his long, thick cock inside, and Sara moaned again.
Grant pinched her nipples harder, before leaning down and sucking them as Casey fucked her.
“Turn her over,” said a voice with a slight European accent, sounding a bit stern and excited all at once.
Casey pulled out of Sara long enough to gently flip her onto her stomach, his muscular arms handling her limp body as if she were a china doll. Casey tugged her hips up until he could enter her from behind, fucking her hard. The hands that were at her breasts now reached beneath and rubbed her clitoris. “I bet you like that, don’t you?” Grant murmured so softly no one else could hear him or admonish him for tormenting Sara. But she no longer cared what he said, as long as his fingers never stopped. That terrible teasing from earlier had been replaced by an insistent throb between her legs and she pressed her bareness harder against his touch, squirming as his thumb circled her clit.
Someone held Sara’s shoulders up, cupping her breasts with thick hands that smelled of charcoal and cloves. “So sweet,” said an accented voice, who Sara guessed was Thanos. “So beautiful.”
Even as Thanos continued to cradle her upper body and mutter comments in an accent that grew thicker as his breath quickened, Sara heard someone else clear his throat. Then steps came closer and Professor Roberts asked, “Do you have anything left for me?”
Sara pictured the handsome professor, his confident, comforting manner. His warm hands on her body as he arranged every pose. His smiles, his calming remarks—everything calculated to put her at ease. He had orchestrated this blur of bodies and sensations. She imagined his blue eyes full of longing, watching Grant and Casey and Thanos stroke and tease her until surely there was no part of her body remaining untouched.
She nodded, unable to speak. She wanted him, too. She was greedy—she wanted all of them. She nodded again, not concerned about where he might touch her, just knowing that she needed him inside of whatever she had left.
He bent down and kissed her on the mouth, slight stubble rubbing against her lips as his tongue slipped between them. No one had kissed Sara in a very long time. Haven had kissed the way he drank vodka, in one quick, cold gulp designed more to get the job done than for enjoyment. And he’d always tasted like Listerine, obsessed as he was with mouth germs.
Professor Roberts tasted like cinnamon. He bit her lip, and his tongue probed deeper, his hands on her hair, holding it back from her face. She bit back, too, and met his mouth with an urgency that surprised her. She wanted to kiss Casey, too, and that should have been confusing, but it wasn’t. Because Casey was inside her in a different way, destroying a decade of sub par sexual experiences with the passionate thrusts of a twenty-two year old in lust. And somehow, she knew she’d have him again. But now, she needed someone to erase the years of bad kissing from her memory.
Professor Roberts kissed her the way she should have been kissed years ago, as though she mattered. As if the only thing in the world to him right now was her mouth. He continued to kiss her until her mouth was raw and swollen. “God, I want you.” He moaned and then she heard the noise of his jeans sliding down to the ground.
Thanos held Sara’s upper body as Professor Roberts stroked her mouth, one finger slipping inside for her to suck. She nibbled on him, tugging him deeper with her teeth and hoping this was the precursor to something much bigger.
Then his cock brushed her check. He held it within a flick of her tongue, and she licked the tight skin as he filled her mouth. She sucked harder, and he groaned as her lips moved up and down. He was thick and large, but unlike her ex-husband, he didn’t shove himself down her throat or yank at her hair. He just thrust deeper into her mouth, slowly, giving her a chance to appreciate the sensation.
Oral sex had always seemed like a job, something to do to make the sex act move along more quickly and progress to its final destination. Not this. She wanted him in her mouth, wanted him to fill her up the same way Casey’s cock filled her, pushed inside her until there was no more room. She’d been empty for too many years and now there wasn’t enough to satisfy her. She wanted every last part of her sated.
Casey thrust harder and harder, Grant pressed her clitoris, and Professor Roberts pumped his cock into her mouth until her body felt stretched and filled so tightly she might explode. Finally, she couldn’t take it any longer and she came. Hard.
Her body bucked with Casey’s as he collapsed against her back with a cry. Professor Roberts pulled out of Sara’s mouth, and Grant and Thanos slipped out from beneath her body.
She stayed still for several minutes, facedown on the comforter with Casey slumped against her sweaty skin. Then he stood up, and she could hear the little rustling noises of his pants going back on. Scraping sounds told her that the stools were being shoved back into their places, and Sara still didn’t move. A hand brushed her hair back from her neck.
“Sara? You can stay here as long as you like,” Professor Roberts said, his voice soothing and cool. “I’ll contact you about our next class.”
She waited until she heard his footsteps leaving the room and then slowly, she lifted her sticky, sweaty body from the comforter. She rubbed her shoulder and looked around the room. The easels and stools were all in order. Everything looked perfectly ordinary.
She stood and stretched, and remembered she was naked. My bathrobe, Sara remembered, wondering where she’d stashed it.
And then Casey was handing it to her, muttering, “Thought you’d need that.” His hair had come loose from the ponytail, and he pushed a blond strand behind his ear. The thought occurred to Sara that the same hand shoving at his hair had been inside her just a few minutes ago. His hands were large, knotty, strong. But his fingers, as she recalled, were gentle when they needed to be.
“Hey,” Sara called out softly. “Thanks, Casey.”
At the sound of his name, Casey looked up and Sara got the first good look at his eyes. Green-flecked brown. He smiled a shy, nervous sort of grin.
“That’s the first time you’ve smiled since I met you,” Sara observed, tying the belt of her bathrobe and stepping toward him. “Only we haven’t really met. I’m Sara.” She stuck out her hand.
Casey’s smiled widened. “I’m Casey.” His handshake was sweaty but firm, and he didn’t let go.
“Nice to meet you.”
The End
Author Bio
Lush Jones is a Texas writer of erotic fiction. She took many life drawing classes in college, where there were countless nude models but sadly, not nearly enough sexy professors or hot guys with tattoos. She can be reached at [email protected] or at her website,
www.lushjones.com
Table of Contents