When Love Comes Calling: Two Short Stories (3 page)

“Edmund,” she cried weakly, holding onto his shoulders, thrusting and writhing against his hand, unable to stop as the pleasure went on and on.

“God, Sylvie, God,” he rasped as she continued to shudder and ride his hand desperately. “You’re still so damn aroused, even after that climax.”

Sylvie just nodded jerkily, biting her lip, trying to control her reaction to what he was doing and failing miserably. “Oh Edmund!” she cried out, unable to think of anything else to say, unable to put into words what he was doing to her. She never wanted him to stop, never. Suddenly Edmund pulled his hand away, the desertion sudden and unbelievably desolating. “No!” Sylvie screamed, grabbing his arm and trying to shove his hand back between her legs.

Edmund laughed softly and pulled his arm away. “Is this the woman who told me no just a short while ago?” Sylvie couldn’t even make herself feel shame at his teasing. The shame would come later, she knew. Right now she just needed to be filled. Filled by Edmund, only Edmund. She reached for him again and his voice and hands were tender as he stopped her. “I just need to undo my breeches, Sylvie. I’m going to come, god damn it, I can’t wait. You are so damn desirable. Watching you, dying of pleasure on my hand, begging me for more, I’ve dreamed of it, Sylvie, but it can’t compare—nothing can compare. God!” He ripped open the last few buttons on his trousers and shoved them down enough for his cock to spring free.

It was beautiful. He was beautiful. His cock was long to her untrained eye, and strong looking, with veins running down its length, the head a dark red, plump plum. It rose from a nest of curls curiously darker than the hair on his head. Beneath she could see a large sac, heavy and full. The whole sight made her mouth water. She wanted to kiss it, to taste the drop of moisture on its tip. Before she could say anything Edmund grabbed her hand and placed it around the shaft of his cock. The feel of it was shockingly soft, like the smooth skin of a baby’s bottom over a hard, strong column of wood. She loved the feel of it, loved his groan of pleasure at her touch. “Pump your hand along it, Sylvie,” he gasped after she stood there just holding it for several seconds. “Like this,” and he wrapped his hand, still wet with her juices, over hers and showed her, moving it up and down his shaft with a firm grip that pulled that soft skin roughly, and pushed her fist into the base of his plump head. He groaned again and let go so she could explore and find her own rhythm. He placed both hands on the wall beside her and hung his head, his eyes closed while she touched and learned his cock.

He was shaking when he finally leaned in close, laying a forearm along the wall. He reached one hand down and Sylvie gasped as his fingers penetrated her again. She bit her lip and her grip on his cock unconsciously tightened.

“God, yes, Sylvie,” he groaned, burying his face in her disheveled hair. He took her in the same rhythm she’d been using on his cock, and she shivered as she resumed her pumping. “Harder,” he growled, “faster.” She changed her rhythm to match his pace inside her, a pace that was bringing her close to climax again.

“Edmund,” she said in a shaky voice, “I’m going to come again. I’m sorry! I…I can’t help it.” She had so wanted to please him this time, but her own orgasm was pushing at her, refusing to be brushed aside.

“Sylvie,” he groaned into her hair. “Come again, and again, and again—as many times as you can, my love. It’s the next best thing to actually fucking you.” He pulled his fingers back until they pumped into her shallowly, curved into that sensitive spot, and his thumb circled her clitoris again. It was enough to shatter her. As she came she felt Edmund shove her hand down over the end of his cock, cupping it. He cried out her name hoarsely and she felt a hot, wet spurt in her cupped hand, then another and another. He was coming, he was coming with her, and the feel of it sent her careening into another orgasm.

“
F
uck
.” Edmund felt like a foolish schoolboy. He’d lost control. He’d wanted to do so much more to her, to draw out their pleasure, and instead he’d come like a lad with his first girl.

“Edmund?” Sylvie’s voice was sweet, and tired and worried. He’d worried her.

“It’s all right, Sylvie.” He dredged up a laugh as he leaned away from her slightly so he could see her face. She was flushed and drowsy, satiated. “I’d meant to make that last a little longer.”

“It was wonderful, Edmund.” Sylvie pressed her palm to his cheek and rose to her tiptoes to tenderly kiss his lips.

He didn’t want tender. It smacked too much of pity. He bit her lip and she tried to pull away with a startled cry. When he licked the spot he’d bitten, it turned to a moan. “There’s only one way to make sure that climax didn’t go to waste,” he whispered against her lips. When he pulled back she looked at him curiously. He answered with a wicked grin and raised her hand from his cock, covered in his cum. “Lick it off, Sylvie,” he told her roughly. “I didn’t get to come down your throat, so lick it off.”

Sylvie’s eyes went wide with shock, but he could see excitement and curiosity in their depths. “It tastes good, Sylvie,” he encouraged in the same wicked tone, “I know.”

Her eyes got bigger. Edmund laughed. “Yes, that means exactly what you think it does. I’ve tasted it. Mine…” he paused for effect, “and others.”

Sylvie choked, which made Edmund laugh again. “I know you’ve heard the rumors, Sylvie. I’m very wild, I like just about everything in the bedroom, and out of it come to think of it.” He looked around the marble folly in amusement. When he looked back at Sylvie her eyes had gone hot and her nostrils flared with desire. Edmund’s heart, which had just begun to slow its racing beat, pounded out of control again. Most women were intrigued by his lack of inhibitions when it came to sex. But to see that look on Sylvie’s face, beautiful, innocent Sylvie…unbelievably Edmund’s cock stirred anew at her obvious excitement. He leaned in and licked the soft fleshy part of her hand just below her thumb. The taste of his own salty cum mixed with the sweet, sugary taste of Sylvie made his groin tighten in arousal. “Mmmm,” he rumbled. “That tastes good on you.”

Sylvie gasped, and Edmund took advantage of her parted lips to gently push the tip of one cum-coated finger inside her mouth. Instinctively her lips closed on it, and Sylvie moaned as her eyes closed.

“Good, yes?” Edmund whispered, and he pushed the finger a little deeper into her mouth. It was all the encouragement she needed. Sylvie sucked the cum from her finger, and then pulled it out slowly, a look of rapture on her face. She opened her eyes, and looked at Edmund adoringly, her innocent enjoyment of the taste of his seed lascivious in the extreme. The incongruity wasn’t lost on Edmund. Sylvie had the gift of looking innocent at the same time she was doing something so decadent as licking a man’s cum from her hand. Edmund groaned. She stuck her tongue out and ran the flat of it over her palm, licking up the still warm cum she’d caught there. Edmund couldn’t resist, his tongue joined hers as they licked her hand clean together. Their tongues touched, tangled, the smell and taste of his ejaculate all around them, and Edmund was lost. Sylvie was his, as no one else had ever been. The salacious act became a communion for him, and if he hadn’t been so bloody aroused he would have laughed at the irony of the vicar turning such an erotic, illicit act into a religious experience.

Sylvie pulled away, breathing heavily as Edmund licked between her fingers, his taste still lingering there, merged with the marvelous taste that was Sylvie. “Now mine,” she whispered. He stared at her blankly for a moment, until she reached for the hand he’d fucked her with. She took one of the fingers he’d had buried inside her and gently took it in her mouth, sucking softly and Edmund cursed at the flash fire of desire that raced through his veins.

“Damn it, Sylvie,” he rasped. “Damn. You were made for me, Sylvie, made to be loved.” He crushed her to him and pressed his lips to her cheek, watching as he pulled his finger from her mouth and ran the tip wet with her saliva over the plump, swollen pink flesh of her lips. Sylvie panted, her dark pupils eating up the blue of her eyes as her desire flared into full-blown arousal again. He pulled his hand away and kissed her, his tongue dipping into her mouth to taste her, to taste himself there, the heady combination of the two of them and the love they’d shared mixed and warmed in the heat of her mouth. More, he wanted more.

Sylvie made no protest as he led her to the bench. Her eyes flashed with disappointment as he pushed her down to sit on it. “I thought…I mean are we done?” She was so delightfully upset at the thought Edmund’s nascent erection grew to fully aroused proportions. “No, darling, we’re just getting started.”

Sylvie looked up at him in gratitude. “Oh, thank God.”

It was wrong, wrong, wrong, Sylvie chanted in her head even as she let Edmund lean over her and undo the tapes on her dress. She ran her hands over his hips, left exposed by his sagging trousers which he hadn’t bothered to put right. She mentally slapped a hand over the mouth of her conscience as some devil inside her made her run her hands back to his spectacularly tight, muscular behind. Oh God, it was as wonderful as she knew it would be. She’d watched it surreptitiously for weeks, walking around, taunting her in its tight breeches. And now it was hers to do with as she liked. She rubbed her hands over its rough, warm surface and then trailed the fingers of one hand down the crease between the round, delicious globes there. She ran them back up the crease to the deep dimple at the top, and rubbed her fingertip there. Edmund had frozen at her back, her dress gaping in the front now.

“Sylvie,” he choked, “God, that feels good. I like that, love it actually. I love it when someone plays with my arse.” He spread his legs and Sylvie’s fingers teased down again, farther this time, until she lightly scratched at the furry sac between his legs. He groaned and stood up, pulling her hands out of his pants. “Enough,” he panted, “enough.” He looked at her hotly, and Sylvie shivered. “Time for that later,” he promised. He ran his fingers over her shoulders and down to her breasts, lightly caressing the mounds with his fingertips. She shivered again. Then he plucked her nipples sharply and she gasped.

“Do you like that, Sylvie? You must tell me, you know, what you like, what you want, what pleases you and what doesn’t. We will learn all there is to know about each other’s bodies, darling, until we can play them like finely tuned instruments.” He plucked her nipples again and Sylvie’s breathing grew ragged.

“Am I a harp then,” Sylvie said breathlessly, “that you should pluck my strings?”

Edmund laughed at her teasing. She liked to make him laugh. She’d never made anyone laugh before. She had not been encouraged to display her wit by her family or her elderly husband. “Yes, a harp if you like.” He pulled the legs of his breeches up and then knelt before her. “Or a mouth instrument instead, if you would prefer.”

Oh, Sylvie preferred. The thought of his mouth on her breasts again made her nipples peak and ache and burn for the wet of his tongue. “Yes, please,” she asked meekly, and Edmund grinned rakishly up at her.

“So polite,” he murmured as he leaned toward her breast. “You must say please all the time now, Sylvie. I quite like it. Polite begging, yes, I like it.” The last was said with his lips rubbing on her nipple, and Sylvie thrust her hands into his hair and pulled him closer. With a deep chuckle he opened his mouth and took her nipple and the surrounding breast inside the hot, wet cavern. Sylvie shuddered at the feel of his tongue flicking back and forth across the turgid peak. No one had ever kissed her breasts like this. Geoffrey had suckled there as a baby, but the feeling was completely different. Edmund’s was the caress of a man, the desire of a man, pulling there, sucking there, and it was erotic and thrilling. It sent a wave of heat directly to her sex, where a hot gush of cream slid over the cooling wetness still there from before. She hadn’t known, hadn’t understood the depths of desire until today, until Edmund had touched her. She may be depraved, but it was a glorious depravity.

He sucked and bit at her nipple with a rumble of delight, as if it were a delicious treat, and Sylvie groaned as she scooted closer to the edge of the bench. Her legs widened as she tried to press her mound against Edmund—any part of him as long as she could ease the ache there. Her skirt had fallen to cover her as they had walked to the bench and was now too tight to allow her to spread her legs sufficiently. She growled in frustration, thrusting against air.

Edmund pulled off her nipple and languorously licked around it in widening circles, conscientiously making sure to leave no morsel of skin untasted. Sylvie cried out again, at the marvelous sensation of his mouth and tongue on her, but also in increasing agitation over her inability to press her aching sex against something hard, hot, and Edmund.

“Hmmm,” Edmund sighed against her breast, causing tingles to chase down her spine. “Is there something wrong, my love?” His tone was innocent, but Sylvie knew very well that he was aware of her frustration and its cause.

“Edmund, please,” she pleaded, and his hands lightly grasped her ankles, running up her lower legs just a few inches before trailing back down to her ankles. The caress felt good, but wasn’t what she craved.

“Please what, my dear?” Edmund asked as he kissed her neck, and then trailed gentle kisses along her jaw. Her neck arched to give him more room there. It felt so good, he felt so good. Her body clamored for more.

“Please…” Sylvie was struck with panic as she realized she didn’t know how to voice what she wanted. Edmund soothed her with a hand that ran slowly and lightly down the exposed skin of her back, his fingers bumping along her spine. She shivered as the innocuous caress sent waves of longing to her extremities, making her arms and legs feel heavy. She rested her forearms on his shoulders as her head fell back weakly. “Please touch me.”

“I am.” His voice was soft, uncompromising. He was going to make her say it.

“I mean, I…I want to touch you.” That wasn’t right, she thought, befuddled as his hand began smoothing in circles on her back, dipping lower each time to run under the crumpled edge of her dress at her hips, until he was able to dip one finger into the dimple at the top of the crease on her backside, just as she had done to him. The feeling made her writhe on the bench.

“You are,” Edmund told her in the same soft, uncompromising tone.

Sylvie cried out in frustration. “Edmund, please, please! I want to press against you, my sex, please.” She moved her arms and tried to pull up her skirts between them. Edmund stopped her with a firm hand.

“What you are trying to say, Sylvie, is that you want to press your wet, aching slit against my hard cock, is that right?” His voice was harsh. “Say it, Sylvie.”

“Yes, yes,” she panted. “I want to press my wet, aching slit against your hard cock.” She didn’t care about proprieties or moral sensibilities anymore, just satisfying her need, rubbing on him and touching him, coming with him again.

Edmund smiled wolfishly. “I have a better idea.” His hands went to her ankles again and began pushing her dress up.

Edmund stood up, surprising Sylvie. She wasn’t positioned properly on the bench. He took her hands and walked over to the side, pulling her around and over so she was balanced on the edge of the bench.

“What…what are you doing?” Sylvie asked, breathless and confused.

Edmund rapidly unbuttoned his jacket and peeled it off, turning it inside out. Then he laid it on the bench behind Sylvie, like a blanket. “Lie down,” he told her gruffly, his hands gentle on her shoulders as he helped to lower her.

“Edmund, I told you, we can’t…” Sylvie’s voice was full of painful regret, and Edmund smiled inwardly. Today she said no, but give him a couple of days and it would be yes. She wanted to fuck him so badly she ached for it.

Edmund went to his knees between her legs, spreading them wide with his hands at the same time he pushed her skirts up all the way to her lap. He was struck speechless at the sight of her. It was covered in dark blonde, tight, wet curls, the lips bright pink and swollen, the same pink as her distended nipples. Her entrance was open and weeping, just waiting for a cock to fill it. His own jumped at the sight. The soft inner lips were ruffled, like a lady’s gown. How like Sylvie to have a ladylike cunny. He had to taste her, had to feel those ruffles on his tongue. With Sylvie breathlessly asking him what he was doing, trying desperately to pull her skirts down, Edmund leaned in and ran his tongue along the petal soft lips. Sylvie’s cry was a muffled scream and she threw her head back against the marble bench with a loud crack.

Edmund pulled his head back sharply to look at her in concern. “Sylvie, are you all right?”

“Oh my God,” Sylvie moaned, rubbing the back of her head. “Next time you plan to do something like that, please give me a little warning.”

Edmund laughed. “Duly noted. Sylvie darling, I’m going to lick and suck this delectable cunny, and fuck you with my tongue until you come. Is that all right?”

“Edmund,” she groaned. “If it feels as good as that first…yes, yes, it’s all right.” She ended on a moan. He hadn’t waited for her permission, but had moved his mouth back to her even as he was speaking. God! She tasted so perfect, so wonderful. He’d always loved to lick a woman, the taste, the texture, the pleasure they received from it. But this was Sylvie, and that made it better than it had ever been before. He was instantly addicted to her taste.

Edmund grabbed her behind the knees and placed her legs over his shoulders so he could get closer to her. Her legs locked around his head, her ankles crossing along his back, and she thrust her hands into his hair to hold his face to her. He didn’t care, he wanted to be that close, he wanted to drown in her. He grabbed her lush bottom in his palms, squeezing as he lifted her higher, onto his mouth, his tongue. He found her clitoris and sucked it, laved it, nibbled it, and Sylvie was reduced to helpless sobs. He loved it, loved her complete surrender to the passion, to the moment, to him. Without warning she came, her sobs became a scream, and she pressed him hard against her. He thrust his tongue into her channel, so he could feel the muscles clench tight on it. He moaned as he worked her convulsing passage, rubbing the walls with the tip of his tongue. Sylvie writhed on the bench at the motion.