her eyes. The darkness increased her awareness of him, made her hungry for the rich flavors of tobacco and coffee on his tongue.
While she lost herself in the strangeness of a long, slow kiss from him, he drew her away from the wall. One large hand fell from her face to grasp her hip. He steered them, moving steadily, and she squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to hold the sweetness of his lips as long as she could.
He broke before she was ready, his breath hot and damp on her cheek as he turned his head aside. “I have things to say to you. A question I need to ask. But I want to be inside you so bad my damn legs are shaking. This is your choice. Talk first or fuck first?”
Frightened by his things to say and question to ask, she reached for his belt. Mickey exhaled slowly. He stroked the back of her head, his fingers finding and removing pins while she worked at opening his pants. Her hands shook.
Soon, his large, warm cock jutted into her hands. Emma rested her forehead on his chest. He continued to work at her pins and she tested the weight of his erection. Her fingers touched around the shaft but just barely. She knew from experience that the wide, flushed head stretched her lips. She could hold the thick bulb comfortably once he’d breached the rim of her mouth, however, and thinking about tasting his skin, clean from washing before he came to her, roused a craving.
When her hair drooped from its twist, she started to kneel. Mickey caught her shoulders. He pricked her skin lightly with her hairpins.
Uncertain, she lifted her eyes to meet his. “Why can’t I?”
“I want my tongue inside you.” He kissed her cheek. “Trust me, Emma.”
“I’m afraid right now,” she whispered.
Mickey swept his hat from his head and dropped her pins inside the well before he set it aside. Without the shadow of the brim, she could clearly see his eyes. The dark hid their color even with the reflection of the moonlight but they were soft at the corners.
“The things you have to say,” she began, fighting an overwhelming feeling of vulnerability. “Do they include goodbye?”
Long moments of silence stretched between them. Emma felt awkward with his erection in her hand. She released him. His mouth flattened but he didn’t protest. Instead, he grasped her nightgown and bunched the fabric in his fists until he held the length of it around her hips. Chill air stung her thighs and buttocks. She squeezed her legs together.
“Mickey?”
“Only if you decide they should,” he finally replied. “Sit down for me.”
She glanced over her shoulder to see that he’d backed her up to the end of the porch farthest from her bedroom window. A low rocking chair crouched behind her. If she sat, she would be able to reach his cock with her mouth.
He held her nightgown while she sat. The shock of cold wood on her bare bottom wrenched a gasp from her throat. She gripped the arms of the rocker and tensed to rise, but Mickey covered her hands with his and sank to his knees.
“You’ll warm the seat in a moment.” He squeezed her hands before prying them from the chair. “Lift your breasts for me.”
Her body responded of its own accord. Emma looked down to find herself cupping her breasts, hefting their weight and pushing the white globes together. Her nipples stood long and erect. Despite her trepidation for Mickey’s purpose, want coursed through her limbs.
“Beautiful,” he breathed. Leaning over her knees, he curled his tongue around the underside of her right nipple. Emma jolted. She raised her breast higher, offering it to his mouth, the violence of his earlier bites forgotten. Mickey kissed her fingers and drew away. “But not what I want.”
He stroked her knees apart and lifted them, draping her legs over the arms of the chair. Emma stared, shocked, as he grasped her hips and drew her exposed sex forward. Gooseflesh tightened her naked skin. Forgetting his earlier request, she covered her breasts and folded
While she lost herself in the strangeness of a long, slow kiss from him, he drew her away from the wall. One large hand fell from her face to grasp her hip. He steered them, moving steadily, and she squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to hold the sweetness of his lips as long as she could.
He broke before she was ready, his breath hot and damp on her cheek as he turned his head aside. “I have things to say to you. A question I need to ask. But I want to be inside you so bad my damn legs are shaking. This is your choice. Talk first or fuck first?”
Frightened by his things to say and question to ask, she reached for his belt. Mickey exhaled slowly. He stroked the back of her head, his fingers finding and removing pins while she worked at opening his pants. Her hands shook.
Soon, his large, warm cock jutted into her hands. Emma rested her forehead on his chest. He continued to work at her pins and she tested the weight of his erection. Her fingers touched around the shaft but just barely. She knew from experience that the wide, flushed head stretched her lips. She could hold the thick bulb comfortably once he’d breached the rim of her mouth, however, and thinking about tasting his skin, clean from washing before he came to her, roused a craving.
When her hair drooped from its twist, she started to kneel. Mickey caught her shoulders. He pricked her skin lightly with her hairpins.
Uncertain, she lifted her eyes to meet his. “Why can’t I?”
“I want my tongue inside you.” He kissed her cheek. “Trust me, Emma.”
“I’m afraid right now,” she whispered.
Mickey swept his hat from his head and dropped her pins inside the well before he set it aside. Without the shadow of the brim, she could clearly see his eyes. The dark hid their color even with the reflection of the moonlight but they were soft at the corners.
“The things you have to say,” she began, fighting an overwhelming feeling of vulnerability. “Do they include goodbye?”
Long moments of silence stretched between them. Emma felt awkward with his erection in her hand. She released him. His mouth flattened but he didn’t protest. Instead, he grasped her nightgown and bunched the fabric in his fists until he held the length of it around her hips. Chill air stung her thighs and buttocks. She squeezed her legs together.
“Mickey?”
“Only if you decide they should,” he finally replied. “Sit down for me.”
She glanced over her shoulder to see that he’d backed her up to the end of the porch farthest from her bedroom window. A low rocking chair crouched behind her. If she sat, she would be able to reach his cock with her mouth.
He held her nightgown while she sat. The shock of cold wood on her bare bottom wrenched a gasp from her throat. She gripped the arms of the rocker and tensed to rise, but Mickey covered her hands with his and sank to his knees.
“You’ll warm the seat in a moment.” He squeezed her hands before prying them from the chair. “Lift your breasts for me.”
Her body responded of its own accord. Emma looked down to find herself cupping her breasts, hefting their weight and pushing the white globes together. Her nipples stood long and erect. Despite her trepidation for Mickey’s purpose, want coursed through her limbs.
“Beautiful,” he breathed. Leaning over her knees, he curled his tongue around the underside of her right nipple. Emma jolted. She raised her breast higher, offering it to his mouth, the violence of his earlier bites forgotten. Mickey kissed her fingers and drew away. “But not what I want.”
He stroked her knees apart and lifted them, draping her legs over the arms of the chair. Emma stared, shocked, as he grasped her hips and drew her exposed sex forward. Gooseflesh tightened her naked skin. Forgetting his earlier request, she covered her breasts and folded
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