Nothing More Beautiful (41 page)

He nodded, out of breath.

Waiting, I played with the plastic pink
cock, pumping up and down the shaft.
I wonder if this is what
it’s like to masturbate as a man.
My thought was interrupted as
Vince handed me a glass. He gulped his down in a hurry.

We rested for a few more minutes before
Vince crawled over me. “Are you ready?” he asked, touching the
plastic cock.

I nodded. “I’m so horny, I feel like I might
come just sitting here,” I replied. I leaned forward and kissed
him. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For coming into my life. For getting me to
open up. For sharing all these experiences with me. All of it.” My
words were a touch sentimental, but I couldn’t control it—they just
rushed out.

He kissed me back, harder. “I love you.” He
turned around on all fours.

My heart pumping wildly, I took the bottle
of lube and squirted until my palm was full. I rubbed it on his
anus. He moaned. “Does that feel good?”

“Feels real good,” he answered.

I poured half a bottle on the dildo, making
sure it was as lubricated as possible, then stuck the fake head
between his ass. I applied a little pressure on his hole and he
sighed in pleasure.

“A lot of nerves,” he breathed.

“Too much?”

“No, keep going.”

I slowly inched into him and he
oohed
the entire time. I paused about an inch in, checking in with him
again.

“It hurts,” he said, “but in a good way. A
really good way.”

I started again at his signal, pausing after
another inch. I continued with the routine until most of the dildo
had disappeared.

Vince was breathing pretty hard by then,
trying to control his breaths. “I’m okay,” he said. “It’s just
different, that’s all. It feels good, but it’s different.”

I began making gentle circles as per the
instructions of
The Guide
. He let out more gasps and a few
grunts. Even though the cock was fake and not attached in the same
way, I loved the feeling. I loved gyrating my hips with him in
front of me. I bit my lip in anticipation for when I could start
thrusting.

“I’m ready,” he said after about five
minutes with the dildo all the way in.

“You sure?” I could barely contain
myself.

“I’m very sure.” He started moving back to
show me he meant what he said.

I pulled all the way out as slowly as I
could manage, then applied about half of what remained in the
bottle on the dildo, inching in again, then out just as slowly as
before, building up the speed with every plunge. I switched on the
vibrator at that point, and the sensations—combined with the rush
of thrusting—shot a bolt of ecstasy right up my back that swelled
into my forehead. The pressure stayed there, building. I pulled
down the corset and leaned over so that my breasts grazed his back
as my hips rocked back and forth.

Vince moaned as my nipples slid up and down
his skin. “Softer,” he cried out, so I slowed my efforts, lost in
the moment for a second.

After a minute, I pulled out again and
applied the rest of the bottle, then entered in one smooth motion,
Vince exhaling through it. “Fuck—me—fuck—me,” he said between
breaths. Putting the corset back in place, I grabbed on to his
hips, slipping down his ass and pinching. The little bullet nearly
blinded me with pleasure. With so much blood down in my pussy, my
eyes were swimming. I threw back my head, calling out Vince’s
name.

The three other bottles sat on the
nightstand, and after a few minutes of gentle thrusting, I opened a
second one and poured more on. As I was replacing the bottle, I
noticed that Vince’s cock was now rock hard, so I dumped a handful
of lube into my palm and greased him up before entering his ass
again.

The vibrator never stopped during any of it,
which slowed down my actions—the constant pulsing diverting my
concentration. I shoved the dildo all the way in, hugged his back,
and reached around to his throbbing cock. My brain was everywhere,
my hips thrusting, my hand stroking, my clit taking a heavy assault
of gratification, all the while the pressure in my forehead and
temple continued to build.

I felt like a shaken champagne bottle about
to explode.

The pressure became too much for me to
continue with my hand, so I latched on to his hips, losing myself
in a sea of sensation. The cork blew. A surge raced straight to my
head, and I could feel the veins popping out of my skin, the
intensity so powerful I lost my breath for a few seconds as my body
went rigid.

I fell onto Vince’s back, whimpering,
gasping, utterly consumed by the orgasm. Panting into Vince, I
could hear him grunting while his body shook, then he erupted in
orgasm, coming on the sheets.

Our bodies convulsed into each other’s, the
aftershocks fusing our skin as the waves rolled on and on,
lessening in the minutes that passed. Quickly reaching down, I
turned off the vibrator, its attack now too much for the sensitive
area. I gently pulled out and collapsed on my back, finding my
breath.

“It’s never been like that before,” I said
after a minute or so. “It was all in my head, and so—so
intense.”

“It was good then?” he asked, lying beside
me. His ragged breathing made him sound as if he’d never catch his
breath.

I rolled over and kissed him as passionately
as I could, trying to show my gratitude. “How’s your prostate?”

He gave a small laugh, and then smiled.
“They weren’t lying when they said it’d feel good. It rubbed it
perfectly, and the small vibrations from the bullet massaged it. It
was a completely different orgasm for me, too.” There was a certain
satisfaction written on his face that eased my nerves about how
he’d feel afterward.

I freed myself of the corset and harness,
wobbling next to the bed. “I feel like I could sleep for days.”

“Do you want me to change the sheets?”

I shook my head. “It’s just semen.” I closed
my eyes and they rolled back into my head. The world became warm
and heavy, and I curled up in the comforter that was suddenly on
top of me. Seconds later, in the distance, I heard the shower turn
on, and I fell asleep to the steady sound.

V
ince was horribly sore
Sunday and Monday. He didn’t work at all either day. By Tuesday, he
was feeling more like himself.

“So what are you making?” I asked him
Tuesday night. I sat at the island as he prepared dinner.

“Steaks,” he replied, leading me out to the
east terrace. He opened the hood of the grill. Two big steaks
coated in a black rub cooked over the blue flames. Two cobs of corn
also cooked on the upper rack. A shell of aluminum foil sat between
the steaks. “With some veggies, and I’ll whip some potatoes in the
mixer.”

“Smells wonderful,” I said, taking in a big
whiff. I gazed out over the terrace. We hadn’t spent much time on
the east wing, mostly basking and relaxing on the western side,
near the bedroom. I hadn’t even touched the life-sized chess
pieces. I walked over to the giant board that was the tiled floor.
“Care to play a game?” I had never been into chess, but playing
with pieces that came up to my knees seemed like it might be
fun.

“Actually, I had a different type of
activity in mind,” he said, his eyes burning with lust.

“Oh?” I leaned against the king with my ass
facing him. I turned my head and batted my eyes.

“Well, technically speaking, we had sex
outside when we crossed off sex on the beach, but I don’t think two
for one is the point of the list, do you?”

I pretended to consider the question. “I
suppose not. Are you saying you want to fuck me on the
chessboard?”

He turned the knobs of the grill to their
lowest setting. “Right now.”

“Right now?” I said, nervous. “It’s still
daylight.”

“The walls are high enough,” he said, with a
smooth, coaxing voice. “If anyone
sees . . . well, they’ll get a good show.” He
unbuttoned his pants as he walked over to the chessboard.

He was right about the walls: they were much
higher in the corner, even taller than me. But the hill to the
north gave the taller buildings a good view. In the end, I figured
someone would really have to be looking, probably with binoculars,
to see the action.

My tight jeans proved difficult to pull
down, but eventually Vince wiggled them off. He pushed me back
against the king, and then turned me toward the knight, sliding
down my panties before nudging me down. I sat on the horse’s head,
its curve a perfect seat. His arms held half of my weight, my legs
too far forward to hold me completely.

Vince kissed up my thigh, teased my clit,
then down the other thigh. It was one of his favorite foreplay
moves. He made a few more passes before his tongue began its
rotation, massaging my clit in short circles. After a minute
though, he switched it up, pressing his nose hard against me,
shaking his head side to side. The motion drove my clit wild. I
rocked my hips into his face. “Fuck, I love your nose,” I said. He
replied by shaking faster.

When I was dripping wet, he stood up,
pulling me off the chess piece before I tumbled over. My legs were
weak and trembling. I knelt on the tile and yanked down his pants,
releasing his erection. I tasted the saltiness at his tip, then
swirled my tongue around the head. Running my tongue down his
shaft, I licked his balls, staring up into his yearning eyes.
“Baby, that feels good,” he breathed. He had never called me “baby”
before, but I liked it, and I began twirling my tongue faster and
faster in response.

His arms reached back and found the bishop
behind him, leaning, shifting his weight. His cock stuck out, hard
and throbbing, so I swallowed it up, all the way to the back of my
throat. I had gotten much better at not gagging, and it almost
never happened anymore unless Vince thrust too wildly. My hand
usually stopped that, pumping away, limiting how far back his shaft
went.

I returned to his balls. “Suck on them.
Yeah, like that. Ooh.” He started breathing hard as if he were
about to come, so I retreated, giving him some air. He nearly fell
over, but caught his balance before he did, gasping.

“Take off those shoes and pants,” I said,
“and fuck me doggy style.” I leaned over the queen, which was about
the right height, angling my hips for deep penetration. He tore off
his clothes, now completely naked, and gripped his cock, sliding it
along my wet lips before ramming inside.

I gasped from the suddenness. Vince grabbed
my shoulder with his right hand, palming my ass with his left,
thrusting hard from the start. I closed my eyes and let the red
deepen as the pressure built in my neck. His hand cruised from my
shoulder down my spine, adding a tingle that pimpled my skin for a
second.

His grunts grew louder, about to climax. “I
want it—want it in my mouth.” He pulled out in a hurry, and I spun
around, dropping to my knees, taking his head in my mouth, stroking
his shaft like he’d showed me how to do. My mouth filled with one
hot shot after another, and I swallowed as it came.

I peered up at him, but his head was back,
his mouth open in orgasm. When he finally looked down, I was
swirling my tongue around his now sensitive cock. He inhaled
deeply. “That was hot,” he said in a husky voice. “Really hot—and
unexpected.”

I smiled at him, licking my lips. “I just
wanted it all of a sudden.”

He pulled me up to his mouth for a deep
kiss. “How did you taste?”

“Sweeter, until you came,” I said. “I liked
it enough to do it again.”

He kissed me again. Checking on the steaks
after we’d dressed, we found them nice and charred—just the way I
wanted them.

I ALMOST MADE IT
to work on
time on Thursday. No matter how hard I tried, I never made it there
before 4:46. It just wasn’t possible. The morning went by with a
crowd of people, unusual for a Thursday, but not unwelcomed.
Bridgett and I were relatively back to normal, talking like we used
to. She was once again telling me about her nightly escapades at
various bars.

Both of us were excited about Saturday and
Danielle’s bachelorette party. The night on the town would be one
to remember—that I didn’t doubt. After the lunch rush, I took a
break in the office, playing with the marble like I often did,
while I contemplated the future.

Despite all the sex and all the cuddling,
and how close Vince and I had gotten over the months, we still
hadn’t talked about where this relationship was heading. This
wasn’t necessarily a bad thing since I had no interest in rushing
things. Yet, there was a part of me that wanted to
know . . . I wanted to have
the
talk
.

Glancing at the clock, I saw that it was
1:23 and laughed. Still not a day went by without seeing 23
somewhere. I decided that this was as good a time as any to end my
break, when Joey, a line cook, burst into the office. “FIRE!” he
screamed. “FIRE! THERE’S A FIRE!” I pocketed the marble, running
out of the office, following Joey to the main kitchen. People
scrambled to exit the restaurant. Blocking my view was a man
wearing a tattered jean jacket. When we reached the kitchen, the
second stove was a column of fire. Bridgett was there, along with
Tabitha, using the fire extinguishers to no avail. The smoke
detector blared like a siren. It was so loud, it made me
cringe.

Observing the flames as they shot for the
ceiling, it was clear there was no stopping it. “EVERYONE OUT!” I
yelled. “OUT NOW!”

Joey and Tabitha rushed out, but Bridgett,
as stubborn as I, wouldn’t leave until the third extinguisher was
empty. “WE HAVE TO GO—NOW!” I clawed at Bridgett’s arm and yanked
her out of the kitchen. I had never seen so much smoke in such a
small place. My eyes burned and watered, and I could barely
see.