Page 12 of Contract for Love

Her fingertips twirl the wire, slowly unpeeling the foil around the top of the bottle, her palm rides up the bottle neck—a swift, tight, grip—as her hand twists. The pop is soft, the bubbles rise then simmer. She brings the bottle to her lips, rimming the top with a slow sweep of her tongue. Then her lips part, a brush of deep red lipstick marks the glass as she takes a mouthful, but as she lowers the bottle, a drop drips, runs from her lips down her chin. She catches it with her fingertip and offers it to me. No hint of a smile. Just a pure desperate lust in her face.

I move to step up into her space, and before her hand is even properly extended, I catch it in my palm, her fingers held out, my thumb pressing against her palm. I lean in, my eyes looking straight into hers and move my chin towards her finger, except I don’t...

Instead, I exhale deeply, letting my guttural breath warm her collarbone, taking her by surprise as my tongue extends and the very tip drags up the soft skin of her throat, curling upwards under her chin and catching the faintest hint of champagne still left on her chin, licking all the way up and only pulling away the second my tongue touches her bottom lip... letting her watch as it disappears back in my mouth and I savor the taste.

She gasps; her breath caught as my touch takes her by surprise. She can feel me on her skin, the line I have drawn burns. I watch her body react instantly. The jolt of my touch reverberates through her. She nearly drops the bottle, I see it slipping from her fingers, much like her control. She wants me. Her green eyes drown in mine and they beg wordlessly take me.

I can see the submission in her once proud and defiant eyes. As the bottle begins to drop, I catch it in my hand. I'm sharp as a tack and don't miss a thing. My fingers brush against hers as I take the bottle from her. My other hand reaches up to her neck, gently stroking her throat where my tongue just was, curling around to the nape of her neck and turning her body a half turn. My other hand assists after I set the bottle on the table, and I twist her around and step up, giving her that first feel of my body against hers as I settle her against the glass, her ass pressing into me.

Only inches from the floor to ceiling 85th-floor windows, she feels the push of me, and her hands instinctively move up to the glass to stop herself—we are viewing the blacks and gold and whites of the darkened city and the flickering lights—her palms slide up along the crystal-clear glass. I want to make her feel like she is being stretched out and put on display to the city below. I feel her shivers against my lips as my lips brush against her neck, sending goosebumps down her arms. I push my body into her, pressing her forwards, knowing she will feel the cold glass against her nipples through the thin fabric of her dress. She presses against the glass, a slight push, and her ass rocks back against me, the curve of her cheeks brushing the swell of my clitoris, letting me know she feels my desire too.

My left hand slides up her ribs while my right hand slides down from her collarbone. They meet at her breasts— full, phenomenal breasts that spill over the top of the deep red dress—just aching, begging for me. I take two handfuls, squeezing them together, kneading, letting her feel that pressure and angsty hunger exhibited by my hands.

And then my thumbs hook the top edges of her dress and pull down so slowly... so fucking slowly… so just her nipples peek out, and I press myself against her firmly, shunting her body forward so her nipples kiss the cold glass directly this time.

She lets out a low moan as her nipples feel the cold. I know she needs attention between her legs—a touch, a lick, anything. I continue to peel her dress from her skin, slowly riding that curve and discover her secret. No panties, no bra...

This Hollywood star is just a slutty girl in a red dress for me; Now she is only in stockings, and heels and the remains of the dress bunched at her hips. And she is all mine to tease, toy and play with.

Her head turns to the side and my lips capture hers. I know her lipstick leaves deep red stains against my skin and I don’t care. I can feel her lust bubbling to the point where she is losing control.

I break away from the kiss and scrape my teeth against her shoulder. Her body has been slowly bared and put on display, her dress bunched at her hips, her heels causing her ass to rise up and out, welcoming me home. I glide my hand across her breasts and squeeze a nipple, delighting in her gasp and moan.

My other hand moves, fingers searching just for the heat of her sex and her wetness. My fingers press against the fabric of the dress and touch the tip of her labia through the fabric. She tries to adjust her stance so I touch her clit, but I let her burn. She’ll feel me when I’m ready. Finally she hears my voice, the lowest whisper, like a breeze, but deep. I’m sure she can hear my desire.

"Do you want me to touch you, Dahlia?"

She nods and gasps, “I need you. Please.”

Her voice is weak.

That’s all I want. My right hand reaches back up and settles on her throat, keeping her where I want her. With my left hand I help myself to wriggle out of my own dress.

Then I use the full, warm stroke of my fingers between her soft thighs. And I feel her wetness drip down onto my palm.

Fuck, she is so wet.

"Reach down. You may touch them. Feel my fingers against you, guide them, Dahlia."

One of her hands stays on the glass, the other snakes down, riding over her breasts, her dress, sweeping down to her pussy.

My own pussy aches for her as I watch her in the mirror-like reflection of the window.

She takes my palm with soft delicate fingers and guides my fingers with hers between her labia, coating them in seconds, she is dripping with lust. My fingers smear, touching everywhere. She feels so good. She moans and it catches in her throat, vibrating against my fingers as I hold her there.

I sway gently forward and back, her fingers slippery and delicately wrapped around mine. I can feel the pulsing heat coming from inside her, testing the limits of my restraint.

I can’t wait to be inside her. I want it more than I have ever wanted anything.

The contact has been made— there is no stopping now. My fingers stroke over her clitoris before pulling back and circling, teasing, threatening to penetrate her.

She is dripping and shaking, her legs tense as she balances in her heels, the angle awkward, her ass jutting out. It is a sexy display for me and indeed for anyone looking up at the 85th floor. And that thought makes me moan. Her desperation for me is in full view as she lets out a whimpering cry. "Please ... Alexa…” she whimpers and her ass pushes back at me again. She is so open to me.

Fuck. You are mine, I think to myself. My finger gives a firm rub of her clit, a circular rub, and with each press of her clitoris, I can hear her moan. Fuck, I love it. I hold her pleasure entirely in my hands. My hands become needy in seconds. I move faster, my fingers sliding easily between her legs.

I push her legs outward, making room, and then I begin to push my fingers inside of her. I want her to feel totally opened wide and stretched for me as I push deep inside of her as far as my fingers will go.

Fuck. Her head turns and my mouth seeks hers out, and the kiss consumes us both as my fingers impale her. She is hot and hopelessly slippery as I thrust in hard and deep. I feel her adjusting around my fingers, two and then soon after, three. The angle is awkward, but I make sure my fingertips are hitting her G spot as I fuck her. She gasps and bites my lip, but I don't pause, I add a fourth finger and continue fucking her. Hard.

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