A Wicked Mind is a Terrible Thing to Waste
I stifle a yawn. I don't want him to see that I'm tired even though I am. My record is six hours though it doesn't even come close to the thirty two I've witnessed from him before. I can't let him down so I try to stay focused and concentrate.
He's reached sexy stage two and my eyes can't stay away from him now. Sitting there in his, thin, wire-framed glasses, his carefully rolled up sleeves revealing a hint of his tattoo and muscular arms, his slimming pinstriped tie demanding my attentions southward to those perfectly pressed, navy blue slacks that curve around his shapely.... darn. Must stay focused! I turn to the next page and start at the top.
He sighs and slips his fingers up under his glasses to rub the fatigue from his eyes. It isn't enough and with the removal of the glasses, we go careening headlong into sexy stage three and it's all over. His gaze lifts to match mine and I smile instinctively across at him, engrossed by those stunning emerald eyes. He blinks absentmindedly at me for a moment then returns my smile with a heart-melter that sends my mind spinning and my imagination unchecked.
I'm lost as I always am, as I've been hundreds of times before with him.
I blush and look away, nervous that the others will catch my ogling. My eyes peek back and he's still looking, intense green eyes locked on me and the others seem oblivious to the whole exchange. His head tilts forward and his brow overshadows his piercing gaze as it cuts the distance between us. In that instant, I feel something deep within me. I don't know what it is at first, swells of heat and tingles radiating out from between my thighs and I close my eyes for a moment. The euphoria captures me and when I look back at him, he's smiling. He's doing this to me, I know it.
I worry the others will notice and my eyes dart to each of them. They are totally unconscious of us and I am so grateful as the overwhelming sensation of pleasure washes over me again and I let it take me. Energies ripple along my nerves and the hum of some unheard song vibrates my flesh. All the while, he sits there with a subtle smile and those perceptive eyes.
His pink tongue wets his lips as he breaths in a deep breath and I swear he can smell my arousal from across the room. He closes his eyes for a long moment, concentrating, and when he opens them, I hear him calling to me and I need him more than I've ever needed anyone. I dizzily get to my feet and see him rise from his chair, his lips curled back in a satisfied smile. I return his smile, waiting anxiously to see what he's going to do next.
He does nothing, simply stands there and I want to run over to him. He must sense my impatience because he begins to slowly stroll around the table towards me and I start towards him, holding myself back from rushing. We stop so close to each other that I can feel the magicks pulsing from him.
I suddenly feel very small and shy and my face falls to my fidgeting hands. My heart skips a beat as his large, gentle hands cup around mine and holds me. I slowly peek up and when I see his adoring smile, all my nervousness and doubt is gone. He leans down, straining his neck to reach me, and places a tender, feather-like kiss to my breathless lips.
He draws his face back and smiles faintly again. He doesn't presume. He doesn't push and I can see his patience and feel his longing as his eyes speak to me. With a breath, I slip my hands free from his gentle grip, wrap a hand behind his neck and pull him back to me. Our mouths press against each other and there is a spark I've never felt before.
We act without thinking, both undressing as quickly as our clothes would allow. When we are done, we stand as strangers to each other but still with a connection that goes deeper than any other. We've never been here before, stripped, with our hearts bared to each other. He slips his hand into mine and we move to the table's edge together. I sit at first and he supports me, gently helping me fall back to the table top and slip me farther to the center. He crawls up and over me and I smile at how beautiful he is as he takes his place between my legs.
His tensing body hovers above me, his arms taut with his own weight and I tell him it's okay with a subtle nod.
He kisses me softly, keeping his lips pressed to mine as he buries his maleness within me. All I can manage is a choppy breath against his chiseled chin. He's so broad, so deep that I can feel him echo through me with every slight shift and pulse.
We remain still, taking in the sensation of the joining. But our magicks intertwine and like a volatile solution, we begin to boil. We can't stay still any longer as the magicks compel us to move. He pulls out and returns and I shiver. He pulls back and presses forward and I rise to meet him, making him shiver. The dance begins and we are in perfect rhythm, in time with our heartbeats. His flesh glides along mine, energies blazing a path within me. The heat is incredible and I can see the sweat drip from his creased brow. He's giving himself to me, not only in flesh but in spirit and I praise every drop of sweat, every moan, every thrust.
I call out his name, his real name and it sounds so natural as he drives into me.
Harder now, more urgent and I feel a rumble welling from below. He quickens the pace and I encourage him, guiding his hips to me with my squeezing hands on his waist. Faster and faster and my body starts to tremble beneath him. He can feel my necessity and works to take me over the edge. In a final blissful plunge, our magicks merge and we rupture. He lets himself go, all his energies, all his spirit, all of him and in that instant, he's mine entirely.
Stillness and breath. His damp body rests on mine, blanketing me as my flesh blankets his. We've never known such peace before and we take a moment to savor it. He lifts his head and with a weary smile, places one final kiss to my lips.
When I feel his tender flesh slip out from me and watch his face fall with having to do so, I promise it will happen again. And it will, the next time we are researching.
He's read that page five times now. I've watched his eyes, wishing they'd study me with such dedication. Then, as if he'd read my mind, I see his head lift from the book.
He glances over at me with a boyish grin and a teasing roll of his green eyes. He thinks I'm slacking and he's right. I can't help it. It's all his fault, sitting there with his shapely jaw line tensing as he reads another passage. His mouth creeps open slightly as he reads something interesting and I feel a flood of heat pour into my nether regions at the thought of what mysteries lie beyond those pouted lips.
That's when my imagination takes over.
I can feel his thick tongue licking along my mouth as his hand cups me, pressing against me, holding me. It makes me hard, makes me hot and I can't take it any longer. I stand, ignoring the others, and climb over the table to get to him. He's waiting for me with a glimmer in those magnetic green eyes, ordering me to come and get my medicine.
We've done this hundreds of times in just as many ways.
This time he's rough and in control, grasping my shirt and forcing me to turn around. He shoves me hard against the table as if punishing me for slacking off. I feel his hardness shove against my jean-shielded ass and welcome it; so solid and commanding that it makes my legs weak. Thank God for the sturdy table. His sultry breaths warm the rim of my ear as he draws his hand down the front of my t-shirt, starting at my chest and gliding south until he reaches my cock. It leaps to greet him and I blush. With a balmy kiss to my neck, he grips me roughly and I gasp out with giddy delight, trying uselessly to hide my enthusiasm.
I'm so lame. He knows how bad I want him. He tortures me with it and I always let him.
He releases me and I miss his touch already but the excitement returns when he crawls his fingers up to start unbuttoning my jeans. I impatiently brush his fingers away and work the buttons open myself, hoping he's doing the same. I begin to fold down the waist of the pants only to be prevented by his firm hands pinning mine at my sides. He presses against me again and I can feel more of him. He's so hard and thick and I can't wait to feel him writhe in me. I can tell he's free now, stalking me and making me beg for it. I try to lean back against him and he slips his hand forward again, diving within my waistband and gripping my flesh with a demanding fist. I freeze as I shudder in his grip and feel his tongue licking along my earlobe. It's too much for me and I feel the dribbles of moisture trickle down my pulsing length. He teases me with a playful finger, rubbing the head of my cock until I feed his curiosity with another drizzle. Finally, he strokes me. Once, slow and deliberate. Again, vaguely faster and more severe with urgency. And again with a grasp verging on painful and I wince as he pushes against me, fucking me through my clothes. Faster strokes now and I'm achingly hard for him and he knows it. With a final jerk, he releases me and rips my jeans down, taking the loose fabric of my boxers with them. Within seconds, I feel his stiff flesh pushing between my cheeks and I can't help but arch back at the pleasure of it all. But with instincts as sharp as his rigid cock and rich with experience, he senses I'm not ready for him and grabs at me again, working my shaft as his body rubs against mine.
Soon, I'm feverish, lips parched and tongue hungry to taste him as I feel him damp along my skin. With each push, he slices between me, slipping deeper. With each stroke, he steals more depth and I willingly let him take it. I'm begging for him now but with a test of a sturdy finger, he knows it's still not enough. He prepares me to receive him, enticing me open with more sensual squeezes. He fondles my balls with a tickling touch and I whimper from the ripples of pleasure it causes. He knows me better than anyone and he is rewarded by it with a welcoming cavern catching him as he slides along. His smiling lips kiss along my neck as his cock finds its way home. I hold my breath, waiting for what's to come. I know it will hurt and I bend forward, fists slamming hard against the glass of the table.
Instead, he's so gentle it drives me mad, his tip cresting within me, slow and slick. His breath is choppy, labored and I know it's taking every bit of his control to fight off the temptation to fuck me raw. But this time, he wants to feel me, every inch. So he sinks, stops and breaths, offering me soothing stokes that send shivers up my spine. I constrict around him, embracing him. He sinks further and I cry out in anguished pleasure. He breathes deeply as he withdraws a subtle amount to lessen the pressure. The movement sends currents of ecstasy through me and I thrust backwards, forcing him to plunge to the end of me and beyond. We both cry out.
He's lost to me now, forgetting all tenderness and compassion, he begins to pump into me and it is a blissful rage. Driving faster and faster and I groan with each hammering blow. Though he's absorbed by his own voracious lust, his hand never leaves my cock, forever attentive to my throbbing member as he pounds every last inch of himself deep within me. It hurts beyond any pain I've ever felt but I love it. This is only for him. No other man would ever know this but him and I treasure every moment of it.
He's fucking me now with brutal grace, demanding me to obey his every shove and I do, slapping my ass against him over and over until it stings us both. Then, with a quake, I feel it, the glorious warmth of him spilling into me as his entire body shudders. It sends me into frenzy and I erupt within his attentive grasp as he falls forward to rest against my back. But his hand continues to move, stroking me until I've emptied every last drop I have.
Finally, a humming silence falls over us and we rest.
We stay motionless for over a minute, looking damned ridiculous and neither of us care. I feel his lips place gentle kisses along my back then he tries to stand up. And when he unsheathes himself from me, I want to cry.
I don't worry about it, though. It will happen again. It always does when we research.
He's just sitting there.
I don't know how he does it, sitting loose and comfortable in that hard wooden chair as his strong fingers glide along the pages of that Sumerian text. His other hand reaches toward his face, adjusting his glasses and moving onward to comb through his ashen waves falling rascally along his forehead. He shifts the book within his palm and reaches carefully for his cup of tea, sipping delicately at the brim and returning the cup to the table in front of him. He turns the page and begins the ritual all over again.
He's been that way for over three hours and I can't stand it anymore.
With a stern expression and the slightest hint of a smile, he raises his eyes to meet mine and I feel my heart skip a beat and I swear he heard it because his jade pools seem to twinkle out from under his smoothing brow. His smile brightens and he returns his attentions to his book. But that's not what my imagination sees.
There is something new in his stare. Something animal, something carnal. He stands, slow and sure and makes his way over to me. I act casual, as if he were simply handing me another book to read but I know what it is he wants and God, how I want it too. When he reaches me, he takes my book from me and carefully sets it aside on the table. He removes his glasses, placing them on the book and politely offers me his hand. I hesitate, acting naive and he smiles calculatingly, pinning me with those magnificent eyes. My innocence melts away as a wave of heat travels through me, centering between my thighs and his smile fades, replaced by something more dark and wanton. I slip my hand in his and he helps me to my feet. He guides me over to the table and gently places his hands along my hips, shifting my weight against the edge of the wood and I sit.
I follow his directions as I always do. It's always like this but never the same.
He examines me with his gaze, moving from my feet, up my legs, along my stomach and pausing for a heartbeat at my rising bosom only to move upward to meet my eyes as if nothing caught his notice. His seeming disinterest only spurns me on more and I wet my lips with my plumping tongue in hopes to draw out a sliver of the passion lying beneath his stubborn resolve.
It backfires. With a calm breath, he parts his lips to smile tolerantly at me and my mouth waters, longing for a taste. He knows it, damn him. I surrender, reaching out to grip his pinstriped tie and reel him in to me. It's his turn to act naive and he does it masterfully, with his wide eyes staring through me, waiting curiously to see what I was going to do to him.
I show him.
With a claw and tug, I tear his tie from him and whip it around his neck, trapping him within the bind. He smirks as I pull his face to mine. I feel his breath waft along my lips and I greet it with a gentle lick of my tongue at the dent just below his bottom lip. He leans forward, trying to steal a kiss but I back away, teasing him. He objects.
Before I know it, my blouse is transformed into rags by his insistent fingers. I don't care. He'll make it all better. His mouth ravishes my breast. His tongue claims my peaking nipple and I gasp at a gentle scrape of his teeth along it, teasing me now and it's much more cruel and delightful.
As he moves to my other breast, I work his buttons loose and try to free him of his shirt. He pulls away only long enough to shrug off the irritant and he returns to my glistening flesh with and eager tongue. His hands slip between my bare legs and I let out a silent thanks that I wore the skirt today instead of the sweatpants. I blindly unfasten his belt and move on to his button. I freeze in place as his fingers find their way underneath my silken panties and comb through my moist curls. I gasp as his face returns in front of mine. He wants to see me squirm when he enters me. And when his thick, skillful fingers dip into me, I try to cry out only to be subdued by his hungry mouth.
With a wiggle and a push, he draws out another muffled gasp and I feel his lips curling as he kisses along my chin. My body quivers with every stroke as his fingertips move within me, touching flesh long ignored and now singing from his attention. He retracts from his exploration and I wince at the separation. I understand though, he wants to be with me every step of the way. He doesn't bother to undress. Rather, he unzips his pants and carefully frees his erect cock with a practiced gesture. I smile at the unadulterated stature of his penis, defying gravity and swollen with passion. He slips his damp fingers beneath my silken fabric again and pulls it aside as he moves closer. I feel his flesh meet mine, his throbbing head glide along my dewing folds and I savor the moment as if it was my first.
In my mind, we've done this hundreds of times in just as many ways.
We pause, our eyes lock on one another, and as our lips finally meet in a mutual kiss, he sinks into me and we both gasp at the magnificence of it. Then, with a gentle stir from in the deep, I feel him begin to move and the battle begins. Slow and steady at first, then building like an avalanche, and my entire body becomes electric. He sways a little, his hips grinding along my sweaty thighs as his cock stretches my flesh. I shiver when he finds that hidden place that makes me weak, that makes me his. He growls possessively into the skin of my neck as he gently fucks me.
My walls tense around him, wanting to choke and ensnare him and it triggers the beast lurking within the tweed. Rigorous thrust after thrust, and I cry out for more, wanting him to unleash everything for me. I can take it, I know I can. Suddenly, his body stiffens and slows, his face wrought with tension, bordering on pain. With his jaw clenched and eyes screwed shut, he releases within me and my thirsty inner flesh drinks him in. He is so beautiful at that moment, so raw and exposed. It sends me beyond control and my soul gushes around his trembling masculinity.
We stay there for a moment, focusing only on our breathing and pounding heartbeats. I look at him, still standing at the table's edge, immersed. He looks at me, still perched on the table's edge, penetrated. Reality floods back and we both feel the burden of its weight.
He smiles, curls a stray hair away from my face and back to it's proper place behind my ear. With an apologetic sigh he leaves me. It hurts more than any wound. But I know it'll be alright. We will do this again, the next time we research.
Look at them, sitting there with their bored eyes and restless hands. Not one of them is focused on the task at hand. They each in turn, flash me a jovial smile, and feign interest in their occupation but I know better. I return their acknowledgments with an encouraging smile and patient glance and they assume I'm deep in thought. But truth be told, I'm not. My mind begins to wander. And when I look across at those beautiful faces, my imagination shows me something far different and entirely too delicious...