by Gwen Masters

The drone of the rain on the gabled roof was slow and comforting. I listened as the drops tumbled over themselves and formed streams, then rivers, then waterfalls that fell in sheets past the wide bay window. I lay still and quiet, letting my body grow accustomed to the slow waking that seemed to accompany late and rainy mornings. The sweet sounds of an old acoustic guitar weaved themselves in and out of the raindrops. I saw her in my mind's eye, a battered old Taylor with scratches on the fret board and no varnish in all the right places. She had been waiting for him in the back corner of a tiny classic record store. He had picked her up, strummed a chord, and immediately named a more than worthy price to the surprised storeowner. And thus, this morning, I awoke to the sound of Evelyn.

A slight chill remained in the room despite the fire roaring from the corner hearth. I had kicked the old quilt away from me sometime while I slept, and now I lay there wearing his blue dress shirt and nothing else. I could feel the rise of the fabric over my hip and I knew he was sitting at the end of the bed, his eyes trailing over my legs as he played. I moved one hand slightly and found the cool intricacy of the wrought iron headboard. My fingers slowly closed around it and then I moved, pushing against it while I stretched like a lazy cat. The headboard bumped gently against the textured wall, then held steady as I felt the rush of relaxation slide through my limbs. My hair smelled sweet and clean as it fell over my shoulder, and I turned gently into it, taking a deep breath of his cologne that seemed to somehow be trapped in the auburn strands.

I opened my eyes and there he was, his hands absently working the guitar as he watched his old shirt rise over the swell of my hip. His smile was slow as he watched me stretch just a little farther, deliberately letting the stiff cotton reveal more of my legs. His hand dropped from the fret board and caught one of my feet, his thumb running slowly over my red-painted toes. I turned just slightly enough that the ample rise of my breasts teased him through the open front of the shirt. He could see nothing, but more than enough all at the same time. His eyes were dark with desire.

"Morning, Stephen," I whispered, my voice almost lost in the crackling of the fire and the steady melody of the Seattle rain.

"Afternoon," he replied with a grin. "You've slept right through breakfast." His broad hand cradled my ankle, his fingers gently rubbing my leg.

I took a deep breath, making my belly rise and the shirt fall open a little more. He swallowed hard and I smiled, never taking my eyes from his.

"I like it when you watch me sleep."

He bent his head suddenly and kissed my knee, his dark hair falling over his forehead and brushing my skin with a soft tickling caress. His hand slid up the back of my leg, finding the inside of my knee. I shivered once and laughed as he teased the sensitive spot.

"Silly man," I whispered.

"Your skin is so smooth and pale," he whispered back. The guitar thumped gently as he set her on the floor, her headstock cradled against the corner of a ladder-back chair. Both his hands cradled my leg, strong and warm hands that made me feel nothing but safe and secure. He kissed my toes, one at a time. Outside the rain had not ceased, and here in the room the fire occasionally sputtered when those raindrops made their way inside to touch the flames. I could hear his breath, coming faster than it should. I had done that. I arched my back and pushed myself deeper into his caress.

He grinned against my shin, his lips trailing up. One hand found the other leg and pulled it over his lap. The motion made his shirt fall open just enough so that he could see the shadows between my legs. He looked up at my eyes with smug satisfaction. His voice came soft and low. His hands trailed up and then back to my ankle, then again, a little farther each time.

"I thought about the things I would like to do to you. I watched you sleep and thought about how badly I wanted to just open those lovely legs and slide into you. But you looked like an angel lying there, and I couldn't bring myself to disturb you."

I arched into his hand. His fingers trailed up the inside of my thigh, beckoning for more. I slowly bent my knee, letting my leg fall to the side.

He moaned softly.

"Like this?" My voice was rich with seduction.

"Exactly like that," he whispered in breathless reply.

I found the row of buttons on the shirt, pushing the fabric to the side, but not quite far enough. It caught on my hard nipple with a delicious little tug. I opened the other side of the shirt in exactly the same way. My skin tingled with anticipation. The cotton rubbed my nipples gently, making them even harder. He pushed my legs farther open. I let my fingers trail down the center of my chest, to my belly button. I circled it with one finger, tilting my head on the pillow just enough to make the strands of red hair fall over the side of my face. I licked my lip and he smiled at the obvious but not overt invitations.

"You're beautiful," he praised.

"Only when you look at me that way," I answered.

His tongue played on the inside of my thigh. I studied him while he tasted my skin. His dark hair was longer than ever, curled at the ends in sexy disarray. His broad shoulders were incredibly tanned from the long hours we had just spent under the Atlanta sun. He was wearing only shorts and a simple cross on a silver chain. He smelled of warmth and cotton and expensive cologne. His lashes were impossibly long as he closed his eyes to better savor the slow exploration of my thigh. His hands were strong on my knees as he pushed my legs even farther apart, leaving me with no secrets.

I said his name once, then bucked into him as his mouth touched me. I closed my eyes and listened to the rain on the roof, the crackle of the fire, and his low moan as he found me wet, and wanting. His tongue moved slowly, lazily, in keeping with the mood of the morning. I began to relax even more. I knew I wouldn't climax that way this time, and so did he, but that wasn't the point. The point was the gentle melting of my body into nothing more than a being of quivering delight. My hands tangled in his hair as I slowly rocked with the motion of his tongue on my clit. He sucked gently and I cried out in surprise.

His lips left little trails of kisses on the insides of my thighs, then my belly, moving in circles until he reached the swell of my breasts. He caught one nipple in his fingers just as his mouth descended on the other one. I arched, pressing my body against him, making his thigh slippery and wet with my juices. He sucked slow and steady, then harder. My hands tightened painfully in his hair and he bit down gently, letting out a low moan of warning.

His fingers trailed up my thigh and one of them slid deep into my weeping pussy. The invasion was sudden, unexpected, and so welcome. I spread my legs wider. He pushed deeper. Then his mouth was on mine and he was kissing me hard, his demanding tongue sweeping into my mouth. I bucked hard against his hand, once, then again. A second finger joined the first. I moaned into his mouth, the sound swallowed up by his body over mine. He whispered into my ear.

"That's it, baby…enjoy it…move with me, help me make you come."

It didn't take long. He held my hips down when I would have arched, and he held my legs apart when I would have closed them to the overwhelming sensation. With one plunge of his fingers I came hard, my pussy clamping down on his hand and making him cry out with me. I trembled and shook under him, reveling in the feeling of his fingers slowly moving in and out. When I thought he would pull away, he instead thrust them deeper. Once, again, then again, harder each time, until I was treading the line between pleasure and pain.

He bit down on my neck. His thumb flicked over my clit and I came a second time, harder than the first. This time my voice filled the room, surrounding us with a passionate cry that made his cock surge harder than before. Before the ripples of pleasure had begun to fade, he moved between my legs. He impaled me with one long hard thrust.

My groan mingled with his. He wrapped his arms around me and moved us both, until I was sitting astride him, his body buried to the hilt in mine. I braced myself on his chest and just ground against him. I felt completely filled and stretched to the limit, and I smiled at that delicious and decadent way his cock always felt inside me.

His eyes sparkled as he put his hands behind his head and watched me. "Enjoy yourself," he invited with an air of hunger, the need to simply watch as I pleasured us both.

The softness of sleep had not yet left me, and so my motion was steady and slow. I watched the way the shadows of rain graced his skin. His hair fell away from his face in soft waves that beckoned for my touch. So touch them I did, running my hands into his hair and pulling his head back, revealing his throat for my gentle kiss.

"Yes," he whispered in a voice soft and low.

I moved my hips up and down, lazily, enjoying every inch of his caress deep inside me. Once I pushed down hard, driving him so deep that we both cried out. He bucked under me then, wanting more, and I began to move faster. His eyes closed and a smile crossed his lips. I had to smile back, right before nibbling on his ear. The shiver that ran through him became my own.

He surged harder inside me and I took advantage of it, moving with longer strokes. Soon his moans were dictated by his body, not by his mind. He held onto the headboard and I watched his knuckles turn white as he clenched the wrought iron. I found one flat nipple and sucked gently, then scraped my teeth across it before moving to the other one. All the while, my hips were moving over him. His legs began to tremble, and I wrapped my feet hard around his thighs.

"I need to come, baby," he whispered, the sound almost lost in the sudden gush of rain outside our little room.

I didn't slow or speed up, just held that steady pace until he moaned louder. Then I whispered in his ear, things I knew would drive him over that precarious edge. "I love feeling your cock inside me," I told him. "I love it when you whimper like that. I love the way you stretch me. I love the way you taste when you come. I love that little sound you make right when that hard dick spurts out every last drop you have inside you."

He tensed under me, then relaxed. Then he cried out, letting the sound and the sensation go. I slid down, all the way, enveloping his cock with my deep pussy. He shouted once more and then his cock exploded. He came with a deep moan, the richness of his voice flowing over me like the orgasm that flowed out of him. For long moments he clenched the headboard, letting the last vestiges of the pleasure make their way through his body. Then he let out a long sigh. I lowered myself onto him, into the cozy safety of his arms.

We lay there together and listened to the drone of rain on the roof. He ran his hands over and over through my hair, lifting and separating each strand until it was all smooth as silk. A sudden sound made me smile. I pressed my ear to his chest, to better hear the sound of his tummy rumbling in want of a meal.

"I'm hungry," he commented needlessly. I cuddled into him and we rocked back and forth for a little while. Then he reached for his shirt, with a smile on his face.

"Hey, Stephen," I whispered in his ear. He turned to me with a questioning look. "I think I like Seattle."

He laughed aloud. "I know I do," he said.

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