Erotic Story Submitted by DeliciaeMeam - Aug 9, 2009 - From Stories for women - Views - 6426
“If that’s the only reason you came over here, you can leave. Put out that fucking joint and get out. Now.” Chris looked at me with a doubtful expression on his face, eyebrows raised slightly, and yawned. I tried again. “Get OUT.” He looked down at his fingers, picking at them carelessly. “B, you intrigue me.” Sarcasm fell heavily in his voice. God, I was so fed up. “Cmon, Chris,” I said, voice hard. “You know you wanna,” he teased, smiling down at his hands. He tapped his joint out. “It’s not a matter of want. I just can’t. Get it?” I stood, looked at him until he met my gaze. He opened his mouth, as if to say something. Instead, he pivoted and walked to the door. I watched him fumble with the locks until I couldn’t stand it any longer. “Bye, Chris,” I said, unlocking the door and ushering him out of my tiny apartment. “Bea.” “What?” He shifted his weight. “I don’t want to leave like this.” “Why the hell not?” I asked, eyes cold. “You know why,” was all he could manage. He looked at me intently, his dark brows furrowing slightly. “You had your chance, Chris. Now get the hell out of my apartment.” He just stood there in the darkened corridor. “What do you want, Chris?” I asked finally. He leaned towards me, and my breath caught in my chest. “You.” I tilted my chin up in disbelief, looking into his brilliant blue eyes. “What do you want?” he asked, softly, close to me. My hands rose from my sides and I closed the gap between us in a single step. He looked at me again, and I knew. He bent towards me, and I met his mouth. His lips engulfed mine. “You sure?” he said. I nodded, slowly, dreamlike, and dared to place my palm on his chest. He put both hands on my hips, carefully, as if not to spook me. Chris kissed me again, moving one hand beneath my shirt. It was icy against my skin, and I inhaled sharply. Chris pulled away, worried. “Just say no if you want me to stop, Bea.” I moved my hands to his shoulders, pulling on them lightly as I kissed him. His hands floated up and down my spine, a caress so soft it sent shivers over my whole body. His tongue slid effortlessly, powerfully, into my mouth. I pulled him closer, deeper into my apartment, running my hands up his arms. They were hard beneath my palms. I moved my fingers down his chest, to where the hem of his shirt met his belt buckle. Chris’s hands left the small of my back, returning to hi own body, to pull his shirt over his head. I fiercely undid his buckle, button, zipper, and the cloth hissed to the floor.
The heat inside of me was pulsing, deep in my belly like a shot of vodka. I breathed raggedly as Chris lifted my shirt, kissing my hip, navel, abdomen, and between the rise of my breasts, still encased in a simple bra. We made our way to my bedroom. Chris tripped on a pair of shoes, falling with me onto the mattress on the floor. His kisses continued, rougher, deeper, more passionate. His hand was behind me, unclasping the fabric, releasing my warm flesh into his waiting grasp. He kneaded me, and I kissed him harder than before, urging him to continue. His touch was torture. I tugged my skirt off, letting the feathery fabric pool next to me. He removed my final garment, and I quickly tugged off his boxers.
“Only fair,” I murmured. Chris smiled and played with my hair. His hands lingered, up, meeting my moist flesh. His fingers stroked just around, teasing me. I pulled him closer, harder, spreading my legs apart. His fingers slid easily inside me, and I kissed him harder. I arched up to him, and he obliged, rocking gently on the bed. The fire burned hot, igniting my whole body. Chris kissed me again. His kisses descended rippling the skin of my neck, collarbones, breasts, stomach, and “Chris,” I whispered. His tongue pressed and tunneled and scooped. The fire was now an inferno. I arched upwards to something I could not meet yet, yearning, pleading for more. Chris rose above me, kissing my mouth deeply. He entered me, and I gasped. I moved with him as he pushed deeper. He was above me; the fire burned and sparked and collapsed and shot flames. Chris flipped underneath me. I dug my hands into his back, his chest. He said my name so loudly I was tempted to clamp my hand over his mouth. He exploded. I exploded, shattering into a million chandelier pieces, red hot. On fire. I lay on him, feeling his damp body beneath me. And exhaled. “Ready for round two?” I asked. He grinned up at me, pulling me close.
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