Page 24 of Sustain

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Like Real People Do

Ian

My pulse thrums as Mackenzie fixes me with a heated gaze, lower lip caught alluringly between her teeth. “Let the games begin,” she says, voice dropping an octave.

I track her slow progress crossing the room, injury forcing an enticing sway to her hips. She glances back coyly as she settles onto the couch. “You coming?”

Wetting my lips, I choke down a raunchy reply, trailing after her in a daze. Is this actually happening? After our continuous charged but restrained attraction, rational thought melts away as I imagine where this might lead.

I always did have an overactive imagination.

“So...” I begin croakily once I join her, grasping for some shred of eloquence but failing miserably. “You, uh...mentioned a game?”Smooth, Romeo,I scold myself even as Mackenzie’s mouth curves into a smile that short-circuits my brain even further.

She leans in conspiratorially, bracing a hand on my knee. “I thought we could revisit a certain book you introduced me to last night.” Her gaze flickers salaciously down my torso again. Sheneeds to stop doing that, or this could accelerate quickly. “If you think you can handle where that might lead.”

I swallow hard, all remaining blood flow redirected decidedly southward. Handle it? At this rate, I may bloody well combust. But if this exquisite torture is my fate, so be it.

“Shall I go first?” I ask, sliding the book off the coffee table, and flipping the pages while holding her gaze. Her eager anticipation is infectious, and my dick twitches in response. “Right. Here we are. If you had to name the smallest space you’ve ever had sex in, what would it be?”

I glance up, determined to no longer be embarrassed by these questions. We’re both adults here. These are normal topics of conversation between consenting adults. Sort of.

My internal assumption that it would be a tour bus bathroom is quickly dismissed when she says, “There’s a green room closet at The Wheelhouse in London that is barely two feet by two feet. It’s not even big enough to store a mop and a bucket. But some creative positioning...”

I’ve been to shows there, both my own and while scouting, but don’t recall ever seeing this closet she’s talking about. “Indeed. Creativity can come in handy sometimes.” My mind starts reeling again with imagined sexual scenarios with Mackenzie, here in the cabin. Positions…

She interrupts my thoughts by stealing the book from my grasp, shutting it, and opening it quickly, letting the pages spread naturally. Pointing to a random spot on the page, her fingers tremble slightly as she reads the question aloud. “If you had to name the one person who most truly tested your sexual self-restraint, who would it be?”

Glancing up at me, her violet eyes flash with interest, and maybe I’m imagining this too, but I think I see hope. She has to know my answer. She has to know that it’s her. Right this very minute.

Slowly, I take the book from her and place it on the table. She doesn’t resist, and this encourages me more.

Leaning close, I reach up to touch her neck, precisely sliding my fingers from the point just below her ear that I know she likes and around to gently pull her closer. “How about I show you?” I say, brushing my lips against hers. I pull back to check her reaction, and her eyes remain closed, lips parted. My cock strains against the restriction of my boxers, putting my aforementioned self-restraint to the test.

Surprisingly, Mackenzie slides her hands up my chest to my shoulders and pulls me down into a deep, soul-searching kiss, sending my pulse into overdrive. Our tongues are in sync, and it’s not like the usual ‘we’ve never kissed before’ awkward discovery of the other person. We kiss like we’ve done it a thousand times before, and it’s what we live for.

What we would die for.

A moan, deep in her throat, spurs me on, and I slide my hand under her t-shirt, grazing the soft skin of her torso with my fingers. Goosebumps rise in my wake as I cup her breast, her nipple erect and sensitive to my touch. A slight squeeze and her body arches, forcing our kiss to end as she inhales sharply.

Her hands grope under my own shirt, nails dragging along my back as I kiss a hot trail down her throat, stretching the neck of the shirt to get to her collarbone. Another small twist of her hard nipple, and one of her hands immediately and deftly finds my cock through my sweatpants, her fingers tracing the outline and finding the end of it protruding from the waistband of my boxers. When fully erect, I cannot be contained by mere underwear. The only thing between her hand and the most sensitive part of my cock is a thin layer of jersey.

She inhales a breath at what I hope is a pleasant surprise at her discovery. Gently, I lean her back on the couch lengthwise, being extremely careful of her brace, and lift her shirt up toexpose her beautiful breasts. The cool air of the room stiffens her nipples even more, and I have to taste them. Pressing one between my fingers, I devour the other with my mouth, tongue swirling teasingly as I suck. I lavish the sensitive peak, utterly lost now in sweet torment. Her back arches, and she grinds her pelvis against my hip, seeking friction.

I know that desire because I feel it too. I want to be inside of her more than I want to breathe at this moment. I need to worship every devastating inch of her until we’re both drunk on pleasure. I’m drowning in our sexual tension and only crave release. A release only she can give.

I release the other nipple, and my fingers skim lower of their own volition to her inner thigh, feeling her stomach clench beneath me as I caress her slowly. She pushes against my hand as she kisses my shoulder, grazing her teeth along the fabric of my shirt.

We need to lose these clothes.

A sharp knocking on the cabin door freezes us both in place. We’re breathing hard and glance at each other in confusion.

“Did you hear that?” I ask. Maybe I imagined it.

Before she can answer, another knock echoes through the room.

Fuck.Who could be out in this weather?

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