Category: NC-17 PWP (J/D)
Disclaimers: not mine, but we've known this for a while now
Feedback: ballynihinch@hotmail.com
Kudos: DmcF b/c you always read my scrawlings and never spill beer on them!
Summary: Donna explores new territory...
She woke up suddenly, shivering in the pale light cast by the street lamp outside. The nightmare that had provoked her to rear up in bed had vanished in the blink of an eye, but the feeling of agonising loss still coursed through her body.
Deep breaths slowly calmed the rapid beating of her heart. It wasn’t until she stretched out her legs from their foetal position beneath the sheet that her heart leapt into her throat again.
There was someone else in the bed. Her foot had brushed up against a bare leg, softly rough with hair.
“Oh God,” she whispered, following the length of the sleeping form up to where his head lay nestled among her pillows.
Josh had never looked more peaceful than he did at that moment, his features happily relaxed in the wide depths of satisfied slumber. In a flash she remembered how he had looked a short time ago, his weight wonderfully settled above her, his eyes ablaze with passion that was equally reflected in her own face.
The whispered words of love that had passed from his lips to the hollow of her ear had broken down every barrier of doubt or miscommunication between them. Just thinking of some of the things he had said made her blush.
She had succumbed to the demands of sleep gently tucked into his arms, her breasts and sex pressed flush against his nakedness. Now when she saw him asleep in her bed, the main emotion overwhelming her was fear—not so much fear of what would be said when the sun came up in a few hours, or what may or may not continue between them in the future. Rather, it was an actual fear of his physical presence in the rarely-transgressed sanctity of her bedroom.
He was here, without any clothes on, and—if she believed the love-chants he had cried out time and time again during their coupling—painfully in love with her. Crazy for her. Just as much as she was for him.
But the thought of him naked and available to her—it made her giddy and terrified in the same instant. All she had to do was draw back the plain, white bed sheet and she could gaze upon everything she had dreamt of and fantasised about for…well, it had certainly felt like forever.
It was startling then when, with a total sense of calm, she carefully manoeuvred herself further down the bed and reached forth a slim, white hand to pull the sheet away. She listened closely to the seductive rise and fall of his breathing, not wanting to disturb his sleep as she pulled the sheet forward and exposed him to the soft shadows of the night.
The first thing she noticed was the absolute difference between them. She had always taken a small measure of pride at her pristine, alabaster skin. A boy from her high school had said that her body was a cross between glowing moonbeams and well-polished marble. He’d been a lovesick idiot, of course, but the words themselves had stayed with her for years afterward, a private kind of touchstone.
But Josh—whew. It didn’t matter anymore about the six previous lovers she’d had. Looking at Josh’s body was like discovering an entirely new world.
Her mind tore through the panic that had briefly calmed her into a state of shock. Every part of her—mind, body, spirit—suffused with desire as she looked at the magnificence of masculinity before her very eyes. Her tongue darted out to wet the corners of her mouth and she unconsciously bit down on her bottom lip, only then noticing that it was fantastically tender and swollen from hours of his kisses.
It was hard not to stare at the cascading sprinkling of hair that lightly dusted his chest before gathering to form a ribboned treasure trail that led a wanderer through the curling forest of pubic hair to the root of his sex.
The member in question lay quite docile against his pubic bone and lower stomach. She never knew how long she stared, taking long glances at every inch of white, almost translucent skin, the darker coloured sac that held his ‘boys’, the deep blue vein that curved up the length of his shaft—it seemingly tempted her to bend at once and trace it with her tongue.
But her visual journey of her new favourite pastime wasn’t done yet.
Everyone had noticed over the years that Josh had fantastic arms—more than one staffer had longed to join him for any inconvenient jogging meeting just to admire the scenery. But now she could say with all certainty that his legs, especially that stretch of hips and thighs, were equally mind-blowing.
The muscles of his thighs were relaxed in sleep, but they still offered more than a hint of detailed sculpting that made her pause and wonder if the man had actually started to exercise regularly. If not, a part of her grudgingly had to admit that the word impressive wasn’t good enough to describe Joshua Lyman’s physique.
She made a mental note to check the paper tomorrow and see if Hell had frozen over.
Josh would scream bloody murder if she ever said this out loud, but he really did have the most shapely ankles and feet. Stifling a snicker, her eyes swept back up his body.
Even in the softness of the street lamp’s glow, she could see every nuance of the white scar that divided his chest. A little below his left nipple was another puckered mark—the bullet’s signature. Her fingers itched with the memory of having felt the scar tissue as they made love. Obviously, it felt different to the touch than the rest of his skin—it was something more alien and rubbery, like a chicken pox blemish that refused to fade away with time.
And yet, she loved that long strip of raised flesh. It was proof that he had survived and come back to her—been to Hell and back in more ways than one, yet he still remained a whole man who made her own life worth living.
Looking up further, her eyes rested on the divot in his throat, just south of his Adam’s apple. Earlier she had licked him there and, if memory served, he had made a noise halfway between a moan and a squeal. For a moment she contemplated whether or not he would make the same noise if she were to blow a raspberry into his navel.
There was something to do on a rainy day.
She could have happily spent the rest of the night gazing at his face as he slept. He wasn’t handsome in that pretty way that always made her think of movie stars in California—but there was no denying he was perfect. Definitely the kind of man that could only get better with age. She even thought the receding hairline was sexy. Not that she wanted him bald or anything—she would miss winding her fingers into his curls too much—but he was still the hottest man she had ever met. Add in a dash of cocky arrogance, a helping of obvious intelligence and sprinkles of a debonair, if occasionally aggravating, sense of humour and you had a man that belonged in a Brontë or Austen romance. Certainly not in her bed.
Climbing up his body until she was settled where she wanted to be, the notion dawned on her that this was what happiness felt like. It was a feeling a hundred times more intimate than the sensations he had skilfully provoked in her body that had made her climax with release, or when he had shouted her name and shot his searing essence into her womb. This joy zipping through her body and spirit was indescribable, and she had never been more grateful to be speechless.
But perhaps there was a way she could show him her devotion and pleasure with him as her lover.
He still slept, which was surprising. Usually the slightest move she made around the office was enough to cause his eyes to track and burn her body. Tonight was different, she supposed, especially given she had never been in a bed with him like this before—post-coitally.
The smell of him was so intoxicating. She had always been addicted to that unique, peculiar male scent her past lovers had exuded. Now she could breathe in the salty musk of his hips and thighs and groin, adding to the tangy perfume of sex that permeated the room and the soothing smell of the bedsheets beneath their bodies. She felt completely drunk on happiness.
And now that Josh was lying prone beneath her breasts, totally at her mercy, she could share that bursting pleasure she felt with him and make it his own.
At first, she only breathed along his most sensitive areas, refraining from even the slightest touch. The thicket of hair between his legs and at the base of his cock fanned slightly from her warm exhalations. Settling her soft breasts more comfortably along the tops of his legs, she leaned in to breathe directly along the underside of his shaft, a mere hairsbreadth away from the strong, pulsing blue vein that tracked the length of him.
He moved his hips slightly in sleep, rocking his waist and snuffling, but still not opening his eyes. The movement made her look at his hand, lying at his side, relaxed and passive. Narrowing her gaze, she could make out the silvery white scars lining his fingers and palm, scars that he had carried for more than two years but were, unlike his other battle-wounds, wholly self-inflicted.
It had been harder to look at his hand at the time, when the doctors in the emergency room had sutured the gashes left by the broken window, dropping clinks of glass into a metal bowl. The stitches had been scattered and black, reuniting the skin that had been cut so cruelly when his hand had shattered the pane. He had joked at the time that it looked like he had been in a hockey fight. She had replied that her only other experience of the kind had been when her roommate had tried to kill a fruit fly at a restaurant and slapped straight through a pane of glass.
After that anecdote, he had shut up for a good five minutes.
Leaning over in the bed, she pressed light butterfly kisses to the skin of his palm, healing her own memory of the event through tenderness and touch.
He stirred slightly and she moved back to the object at hand. Smilingly wickedly, she hovered just above his cock and ever-so-slowly teased her tongue around the very tip, wanting to gouge his first reaction before going any further.
He was still asleep.
And, she thought to herself, it was about bloody time that changed.
Bending lower, she nuzzled against the thick, pulsating base of his shaft and laved her tongue on the darker, tangy skin covering his balls. An impish feeling took hold, and she softly slipped one testicle into her mouth, tenderly rolling it around her wet dark cave before beginning to suck upwards with a stronger edge.
She thought she could hear an indistinct, muffled moan above her, but she chose to ignore it for the time being, enjoying her own brand of sexual torture too much to risk giving any control over to him.
With a deadly-paced sensuality, her mouth rose up along his length, varying in pressure and rhythm as she approached his crest once more. There were a few pearly drops of cum forming at the tip, and she hesitated for the smallest of seconds before sweeping them up with her tongue.
His taste drove her wild.
Not wanting to waste another moment, she took his entire cock into her mouth, engulfing him in the tight warmth of tongue and teeth and lips. His hips shot upwards and now she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he couldn’t possibly be sleeping anymore.
The moans and short-quick pants coming from somewhere deep inside him echoed around the room. Just those few simple sounds made her own wetness rush and spread between her legs, her sex impatient for some much-needed mutual attention.
His cock now coated with the moistness of her mouth, she felt more than able to let the show truly begin. Bobbing up and down at a leisurely speed, she sucked him to her heart’s desire, slowly increasing the tempo as it suited her.
Josh’s hands were curled into tight fists, straining against the sheets as her mouth and body and mind ravished him, fulfilling one of his most deeply-held fantasies. Words were impossible—all he could manage were mindless sputterings of praise mingled with the harshest, most loving of vile curses.
By now she couldn’t stop herself from taking everything he could give, swirling her tongue around the head of his shaft, delving into its salty depths, and then firmly tracing the large, throbbing vein on the underside of his cock. All the while, she kept pushing down and sucking up, driving both of them to the brink.
It was the most sensual thing she felt she had ever done in her entire life. Josh was here, in her bed, naked beneath her equally bare body, writhing from the tantalising, arousing effects of her ministrations.
It was surprising, then, when the thought suddenly struck her. If she could have placed it physically, it would have been a direct hit right between the eyes.
Amy.
Amy had been the last woman to touch Josh like this. Her hands had stroked this same skin, her mouth kissing every inch of him. Josh had been like this with other women before, of course, but the thought of Amy loving him just like this was enough to send actual icy shivers down her spine.
“Donna?” Josh’s voice sounded a million miles away. “Donna? What is it? What’s wrong?”
She blinked rapidly, trying to focus. At some point during her disturbing musings she had let him fall from her mouth and was staring off at some vague spot on the bedsheet.
“Donna?” Josh’s hands came up from where they had been clutching the fabric and laced themselves in the soft strands of hair behind her ears. She sat up quickly, blushing from a mixture of shame and embarrassment.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so…so sorry. It’s just that—”
“What?”
“It’s Amy. I just suddenly remembered that you and her…were like…were like this once…”
“Well certainly not here in your bedroom!”
“Josh! I’m serious.”
“I know you are,” he replied softly. He cupped her face, running his thumbs along the strong lines of her cheekbones. “Donna, I have been with other women, but honestly, it doesn’t matter who came before you. All that matters to me is that you’re here with me now. And that I’m here for you.”
“Oh, Josh!” she sighed, sniffling. “You’re amazing.”
“Stop, I’m blushing!” he smiled. Then the moment became serious again. “Amy means nothing to me—not compared to how I feel about you. But if you doubt me…here, let me show you.”
Easing her down gently into his arms, he cradled her for precious, soothing minutes so that she could grow accustomed to the presence of his body in her bed and mind. Only when he was sure she had relaxed and once again lay open to the sweet power of arousal did he slip down the length of her body. His mouth left a moist trail as he charted the territory of her pert breasts, the delving hills of her ribs and the valley of her smooth, flat stomach.
Donna, now aware that he knew SHE was the one sharing this loving act with him, closed her eyes and gave herself up to the heavenly, sinful pleasures he drew out of her body. By the time he reached the wet, pliant gate of her womanhood, her body was thrumming with arousal. The slightest touch and flick of his tongue around her centre and then up higher, against the sensitive bud of her passion, made her jaw clench and her back begin to arch as she sought more and more pressure and friction.
In the end his mouth ravished her sex, suckling fiercely at her clit while his fingers curled upwards in her tight sheath, coaxing her towards ultimate release. She came with a joyous shout, coating his fingers with herself and bucking her hips time and time again above the mattress.
Never had anyone loved her in that way with such mind-blowing results. The stars that streamed behind her eyes were matched only by the twinkling glow in Josh’s face when she looked down at him, basking in his triumph by resting his head between her thighs just above her nest of coarser curls.
“This was supposed to be about you,” she sighed dramatically, mockingly throwing one hand back against her forehead.
“Hey! It still can be!” Wearing an enormous grin, Josh leapt up the rest of Donna’s body, pressing their naked selves together from neck to knees. “What was that you were saying about me and my fabulously sexy body?”
“Let me see if I can remember,” she teased. She then let out a shriek as he suddenly flipped them over so that she could do with him what she willed.
“Close your eyes,” she whispered softly, bending so that her lips could be near his ear and her fanny pressing against his ever-hardening cock.
“Yes please. I mean—yes, ma’am.”
Running her hands against the scattered hairs on his chest, Donna smiled, kissed Josh lightly on the mouth, and then went in for the kill.
FIN