Teaching Willow: Session One (4 page)

Ebon’s brow furrows.  “Yeah, about that…”  He walks back to me, reaching up to cup my cheek as he stares down into my eyes.  “Things weren’t good.  You know we were going nowhere.  We haven’t kissed…
really
kissed in a couple of weeks.  But I’m willing to admit that maybe that was my fault.”  He pauses, his eyes searching mine. “But reading those pages…God,” he whispers, rubbing his thumb over the crest of my cheekbone.  “I had no idea that you felt that way, that you thought those things. Was Willow right?  Is that story about us?”

I cast my eyes down and nod. 

“It’s just that it seems so unlike you, so unlike the person I’ve come to know.” 

I hope my shrug is nonchalant.  “Maybe there’s more to me than what you
think
you know.”

“Then I
want to know it.  All of it.  I want to know the girl who feels that way.”

“She’s different than the girl you know.  I keep that girl hidden, almost like she’s someone else.  But if you want the
real
me, I’ll give her to you.”

“Yes. I want her.  I want her bad,” he says before he softly commands, “Give her to me.”  Ebon watches me closely, searching my face like he’s trying to see inside me, beneath my skin.  Beneath my mask.  “Will you read some of it to me?” he asks, his eyes focusing on my lips.

“Wh-what?”

“I brought a few of the pages. Will you read them to me?  I want to hear the words come from these,” he declares, moving his fingertip to my lips to trace the line between them.

“Ebon, I don’t—”

“Please.”  His tone is earnest, almost pleading.  “It would mean so much to me.  Let me make this up to you.  Even if it’s just one last time.”

My stomach curls into a ball of anxious anticipation.

To be able to read
my
words about
my
feelings to Ebon, face to face, is…is…

I pull a gulp of air between my parted lips and hold it in my chest before I answer.  “Okay. Just this once.”

Obviously happy with my answer, Ebon smiles and reaches for my hand.  “In here.”

He starts to tow me toward the bedroom and my pulse rises.  Surely he can’t mean to…

When we reach the doorway, he turns and scoops me up to carry me to the bed and deposit me right in the middle.  He takes something from his back pocket before he stretches out in front of me, perpendicular to my legs.

With his eyes locked on mine, Ebon hands me the papers. I unfold them, noting that they appear worn already, as though they’ve been handled dozens of times.  It takes only one glance at the first page to realize (with a deep blush stinging my cheeks) what part he wants me to read.

“But this…this isn’t even accurate. I mean, I…sh-she just made this up.”

“But you said that it
is
how you feel, that it’s how you think.  She had to get it from somewhere.  I want to see where.”

His eyes are like hot emeralds, burning holes into mine.  I imagined Ebon capable of such heat, but I never would’ve imagined that I’d get to see it, much less feel it.  Not in real life.  And yet here it is.  Here
he
is.

Swallowing hard, I drag my eyes away from his and look for the first full paragraph from which to start reading.

Your kiss is like fire, searing every inch of my tender skin.  I can feel the imprint of your lips on mine long after you abandon them to make your way down my throat.  My nipples tighten as your mouth nears the neckline of my shirt.

“Can I slip inside?” you ask, fingers hovering at the edge of my shirt.

“Yes,” I breathe.  The single word is all I can manage. I can’t think with your hands on me, with your mouth torturing me.

Ebon’s finger on the top of my foot gives me pause.  I feel it like a hot flame, a flame that shoots pure fire up my legs and into my core.  His eyes are on me, intent.  Ravenous.

My mouth goes dry.

“Keep going,” he says softly, his finger making tiny circles on my skin.

I swallow hard. It’s like forcing down cotton balls.  But still, I continue.  Nothing could make me stop this now.  Nothing.

Your hand slides beneath the neckline of my shirt, dry flames on silk.  You stroke my flesh, teasing the tops of my breasts.  It’s not enough, this light touch. I need to
feel
it. I need to feel it all the way down to my bones.

As if sensing my increasing urgency, suddenly you curl your fingers into the neck of my shirt and jerk. I gasp as seams crackle, giving way to your insistence.

“Do you like that?” you ask, pinching one of my nipples through the thin material of my bra.  “Do you like it rough?”

“I…I…I just want to feel it. All of it. All of
you.
”

I’m mindless with want.

You release me long enough to throw me gently onto the bed, falling between my spread legs and flexing your hips sharply into mine.

“Then I promise to make you feel it.  I’ll make you feel every kiss of my lips, every lick of my tongue, every thrust of my cock.”

Moisture floods my panties as you rock against me, tugging my bra down as you lick and suck and bite at my aching nipples.  I clamp my lips shut to keep from crying out.

“Don’t hold it back, baby. I wanna hear you.”

I pant uncontrollably when I feel your hand at my knee, skating softly up the inside of my thigh.

My gasp is real, even though my mind is torn between two worlds, two realities.  Ebon’s eyes are still trained on mine, but his hand is moving slowly up the inside of my thigh.

“Keep going,” he whispers.

A thick coil of desire curls in my stomach, like a snake ready to strike.  It jumbles my thoughts, clouds my vision.  I have to blink several times to focus clearly on the words.  On
my
words. 

My senses are at fever pitch, as is my desire.  When you roll slightly to the side, my muscles tense in readiness of your touch. 

I feel your palm graze my damp panties.  I can’t help the pleading mewl that seeps out around my tight vocal cords. 

As I’m reading, my heart racing inside my chest, I feel the bed shift as Ebon moves closer, his hand inching toward the throb that has so long gone unsatisfied.

I rush to read on, knowing his plan is to follow this scene to its eventual end.  And I know that end. I’ve seen it in my mind. Felt it in my dreams.  And I wrote it just for him.

I throw my head back in wanton anticipation when you push the material of my panties aside to nudge my clit.  I jerk at the pure pleasure of your touch, right where I need it most.

I jump when Ebon’s hand touches me.  I lower the papers and grip the comforter in both hands, squeezing tight.  Our eyes are melded together as he moves my panties to one side and slides his fingertip between my folds, unerringly finding my most sensitive part.  He circles it, exactly like I wrote, always watching me.

“Keep going,” he says again.

I can barely breathe.  My chest is so tight, my body so taut with sexual readiness, I’m not sure I can move my hands to hold the papers.

Ebon reaches to my side with his free hand and unfists my fingers, his other finger still moving against the slick flesh between my legs, unnerving me.

“Read.”

I raise the pages and try to focus. 

“I want to feel you inside me, Ebon,” I confess breathily.

To you, my wish is a command and you push one long finger into me, so deep I can feel your knuckles pressing against the outside of me.  “Fingers first,” you say, withdrawing it and thrusting it in again.

I gasp into the stillness of the room when Ebon’s finger reenacts the written word.  My mouth drops open as he lowers his head. I barely hear his voice.

“
Fuck
, you’re wet.”

I hear the sounds of his finger moving within me.  He doesn’t raise his head again to speak, and still I can barely hear him.

“Keep going.”

Ebon teases me with his finger as I continue on with my story.

“Then tongue,” you say, reaching to my right hip and tearing the side of my panties.  With an almost animal growl, you press your hand to the inside of my thigh and push outward, further spreading my legs, and you dive into me like a man in the desert might dive into a mirage.

With your tongue, you part my folds and lick me as though I’m your favorite flavor of ice cream, lapping up every drop of moisture along my slit.  You suck my clit into your mouth, tugging on it until I all but choke on my scream.  “That’s it.  Louder,” you groan.

It’s then, when I experience your true hunger, that I know I’m lost.  Lost to this moment, lost to this feeling.  To you.   I’m lost
to you
.

The instant I finish the sentence, I feel Ebon reach for my panties.  True to the story, he tears one thin strip of elastic at my hip and the material falls away from my body, leaving me open to him.

He pushes my legs apart and lowers his head to me, nuzzling me before I feel the first searing touch of his tongue.

“Oh god, Ebon,” I moan, flinging the papers to the side and relaxing against the pillows.  His finger retreats and, seconds later, his hands wrap around my upper thighs, holding me open for him as he licks and nibbles.

He moves his mouth back and forth, rubbing my clit with his lips and then flicking it with his tongue, driving me to the edge.   
 
My breathing becomes more labored as the tension builds in my core.

And then I feel Ebon thrust his tongue into me, licking me deep and hard. That’s when the first surge hits. 

“Ebon!” I scream, driving my fingers into his hair and holding on tight as the spasms of my body milk his tongue.

Wave after wave crashes down over me and Ebon gently strokes me through them all.  He licks me all the way down from the pinnacle, until my hands loosen their grip in his hair and my legs fall, lax, to the side.

He releases me and I feel the mattress sink as he moves to the end of the bed. Boneless, I crack my lids to watch him, wondering if he will finish the scene.  When I see him reach for the hem of his shirt, I know full well that he will.  He’s as into this as I am.

Ebon pulls the rugby over his head and tosses it aside, reaching quickly for the button and zipper of his jeans. I see his legs move as he kicks off his shoes. 

I’m speechless, spellbound as I watch him undress.  His chest is wide and tanned, and the muscles of his pecs bunch as he works at his jeans.  His arms are long and strong, the biceps knotting as he tugs open the front placket of his pants.  His abs, bisected by a line of dark hair that disappears into his waistband, contract as he bends to push the denim down his legs.

He’s not wearing any underwear and when I see his enormous cock, I know that there can’t be another more perfect man alive.  It’s long and straight, and so thick I know I’ll be sore tomorrow. But I don’t care.  I want it.  Every inch of it, I want it.  Inside me as deep as it can go.

“That’s all for you, baby,” he says, winding his fingers around the base as he kneels at the end of the bed.  He strokes it as his eyes settle between my legs.  I feel my libido coming swiftly back to life. 

He reaches for my ankles and pulls me to the edge of the mattress, winding my legs around his hips.  He positions the smooth head right at my entrance, rubbing it in a leisurely manner from the top of my slit to the bottom until it’s glossy with my desire.  “All I want is to watch every inch of this disappear inside that sweet, wet pussy.  It’s so perfect.  Pink and slick and perfect.”

Need floods me again. 

I lean up on my elbows and watch as Ebon eases the head in and back out, in and back out, in short thrusts.

“Mmmm,” he murmurs as he pulls out and circles his finger over the moisture on the crown of his cock.  “And the way you taste.  God, I knew you’d taste like this,” he says, raising his finger to his lips and licking it clean.  “I don’t know why you never let me do that before, but I’m glad you changed your mind tonight.”  Ebon takes his wet finger from his mouth and massages my clit for a moment before thrusting it inside me.  “And I love that you shaved.  That’s so fucking hot.”

As though the sight of his fingers moving in and out from between my shaven lips is too much to bear, Ebon presses his palms to the insides of my thighs and enters me in one hard stroke.