Page 43 of Sherwood
“You’ll choose the right thing,” she whispered.
“You don’t know that.”
“You always have.”
I shook my head, slowly, the heat inside my chest matching the warmth of the computer farm behind us. “Not true. I left you.”
I could see her swallow, the subtle shift of shadows in the dark, and then I was walking her back to the wall next to the door, back, back, until she was pushed up against it and my hands were planted on either side of her head.
“What’s your safeword?” I asked, running my nose along her jaw, smelling her, sweet sugar with just a hint of the sea.
“Red,” she said, lifting her chin for me so I could more easily reach her throat.
I kissed the damp skin there. “Unbutton my pants,” I told her. And then said, when she obeyed, “Good girl. Now unzip them.”
The zipper was thick and sturdily made, and each metal tooth made a heavy click as the zipper pull moved down, down toward the bottom stop. The endless breezes and sighs of the computer pod wafted more warm air against my already warm belly; I could feel, with subatomic precision, exactly where the band of my underwear stopped and where my skin began. I could have measured down to the micron where Marian’s hands were in relation to my navel, to my cunt.
I could have calculated the time it would take for her to slide her hand down the front of my underwear, and I would have been exactly right, I would not have introduced a single millisecond, microsecond, nanosecond more.
I still didn’t know how much experience with kink Marian had, but she knew enough to keep her hands where they were, one on the fabric of my pants, the other on the tab of the zipper, waiting for her next instruction.
I licked her throat and then said, “Let’s put those pretty hands to good use, Marian. I want one on my cunt.”
She shuddered out a breath, her lids going heavy as she did as she was told and slid a hand down my belly, past the wide elastic at the top of my briefs. I grunted when I felt the first graze of her fingers—grunted again as they moved over the stiffened flesh of my clit.
I widened my stance, boots heavy on the perforated metal floor, and gave her more access.
“Clit now,” I told her. “You can explore and play later.”
She nodded quickly and used two fingers to circle and stroke. The climax was already gnawing at the hollow places of my body, desperate to claw its way out. The first time I had Marian touching my cunt in five years, and I was about to go off like a teenager fooling around in the back of her car for the very first time.
I dropped my head back and blinked up at the dark ceiling above us, searching for control, needing to make this last.
The high, narrow slits in the ceiling—made in the earth above the pod and fringed with ferns and moss—betrayed the occasional wink of stars through the trees, and I tried counting them, I tried breathing to the rhythm of the counting, but it was useless. I’d been wet and needy since the club, since licking Marian’s sweet, helpless pussy, since feeling Rafe’s mouth on mine as his hand twisted in the leather of my jacket—
I moved my head forward and bit her neck, her jaw, her lips. She was perfect, so she let me, she let me kiss and lick and bite, giving me gorgeous little sighs as I did, her braless nipples poking through the loose T-shirt like hard little bullets. I reached down and cupped her pussy, feeling the heat of her even through the sweatpants, wondering if she was sore from earlier tonight, wondering if I could make her give me just one more release…
“Lox,” she said. I could feel her breath on my lips and smell the sweetness of her…and the submission in that one syllable alone was enough to undo me. My clit felt like the center of universe, her fingers too, but also her mouth and her eyes and her fierce, beating heart, because she’d always been fiercer than me, because she’d been willing to stay, stay when it was messy and hard and heavy. All I’d ever done was flee to thing to thing to thing.
“I can feel how wet you are,” she whispered, and even though she was only rubbing my clit, I was moving against her enough that things were slippery enough that she had to focus to keep her touch right where I’d commanded it.
Soreness be damned, I tugged down the waist of her sweatpants and found her sex, the shock of hot, swollen skin against my own enough to make me growl. She was wet enough that I didn’t have to go searching for it, slick against my hand, and I bit her throat again as I came with a rough, urgent noise.
I came like I hadn’t come in so very long, since Rafe, and it felt like a fire tearing through me, like the end of all things was happening right in the center of my body. Convulsions rippled out,lashingout, hot waves everywhere, and I could barely breathe for it, I could barely survive it. But if I didn’t survive, this was the way I wanted to go: with Marian’s cunt in my hand, my mouth on her neck, her fingers between my legs.
Her breath and the hums and breezes of my stolen treasure mingling in my ears.
The clenching waves emanated and then abated, slowly, waves on an ever steeper shore, and at long last I could lift my face to hers and see those eyes shining with the lights from my rigs.
“You did so good,” I told her, and she bit her lip in a shy smile.
“Thank you, Lox,” she said, and I kissed her.
“Tell me,” I said against her lips, my fingers running through her slippery need, “if you’re still at—”
“Green,” she said, before I even finished asking. “Green green green—”
The first blare of the alarm was loud enough to make us both startle. I looked around, my hand still firmly between Marian’s legs, and then the alarm screamed again, this time with bright, blinding flashes of light.
