Sinister Touch (erotica anthology) (4 page)

“What if she--”

I silenced him with another kiss, a desperate, pleading kiss that begged him to take me. I pushed my self up against him let him feel my breasts against his chest, pressing through my bra, through his shirt; let him feel my desire press against his hardening penis. I hooked my leg over him, ran my thigh from his chest to his hip, wanting him to feel my heat.

He pulled away again. Shook his head with a wry smile that suggested it wasn’t going to work.

I grabbed at him as he tried to turn, I grasped his hardened cock through his pants, tried to use it as a lever to pull him towards me. His eyes were aimed over my shoulder towards the living room door the whole time, even as I began to work my hand under his belt. I saw his eyes widen, his mouth hang open. I thought it was because I was getting close, my fingers brushing his pubic hair, working their way towards my prize, but then I heard Melanie moan.

I pulled my hand away, I must have taken a few hairs with me because he jumped backwards and emitted a small and surprised moan. I turned to Melanie, expecting her to be holding a knife and asking me to say my prayers. She was yawning, her hands held high above her head in pleasing stretch.

She was smiling when she opened her eyes, a sleepy, drunken smile.

“You still here?” she asked Dan, her eyes flitting momentarily towards me, registering a slight note of suspicion.

He hesitated before answering, then he turned around, making out like the was heading towards the door in an effort to hide his obvious erection. “Just leaving now,” he said, a worried squeal in his voice, a hurried kick in his step.

Melanie brushed past me, headed straight for him. I should have stopped her, saved him, and us, from getting caught, but I didn’t. She turned him around. I saw his horrified eyes glare at me before Melanie planted another goodbye kiss on his lips.

“I’m going to bed,” she said through bleary eyes. “Goodnight.”

She turned, headed past me and up the stairs. We both stood there, waiting until the sounds of Melanie’s footsteps had crossed the hallway, heading to her bedroom at the back of the house.

Dan still looked horrified, the bulge in his pants still showing.

I smiled at him, ready to tell him that there was nothing stopping us now, that no one would get in the way of our lovemaking, but he turned and left before I had a chance to say anything.

It didn’t matter. I knew I would get him eventually.

***

Melanie tried to set me up with one of Dan’s friends.

“You’ll like him,” she promised.

“I doubt it.”

“Trust me.”

I shook my head, unconvinced. “I don’t do blind dates,” I told her, almost disgusted that she would suggest such a thing. “I’m not interested.”

She looked genuinely disappointed. “Please?”

I shook my head, gave her a stern and definite answer.

“Shame. He was up for it. I was thinking we could do a double date.”

“Double date?”

“Me and Dan; you and John.”

“Oh,” I nodded, letting that sink in. I hadn’t seen Dan since I tried to fuck him in the hallway. I had tried my best to persuade Melanie to have him around again, had even tried to tag along when she went to his house, but it wasn’t working. I was getting frustrated, it seemed there was nothing I could do but phone him up directly and ask him to fuck me. It was ridiculous, risky, and Melanie wasn’t giving me his phone number.

“Okay,” I said with faked reluctance. “If he’s handsome.”

He wasn’t that handsome, he had nothing on Dan. He seemed more confident, was probably, somehow, more my type, but he wasn’t doing anything for me. I let him think I liked him for Melanie’s sake, but I didn’t want him to think I was actually willing to sleep with him, nor that I wanted to see him again. I nearly crossed the line when trying to play footsie with Dan and veering off course, but I reigned it back by pretending I had restless legs.

Dan barely looked at me all night. I wasn’t sure if it was because Melanie was sober and keeping her eyes locked on his, or if he was losing interest, but I grew increasingly frustrated as my blatant attempts at flirting weren’t picked up by him and, instead, were picked up by his ugly friend.

After the main course Melanie stood up, gently wiped her mouth with a napkin and then announced to the table, “We’re going to powder our noses.”

I gave her a blank stare and then continued picking at the remnants on my plate. She glared at me, I ignored her. Eventually she made an annoyed grunting sound and scuppered off by herself. The men looked at me unsurely, I returned their stares with a smile.

I quickly drank my glass of wine, made a show of putting it back on the table. “Do you mind getting me a drink?” I asked John.

He smiled, raised his hand to call for the waiter.

“From the bar,” I told him, gesturing to the bar at the back of the restaurant. “I don’t want anymore wine. I want whiskey.”

“Oh.”

“Is that okay?”

He grinned, eager to please now that I actually seemed to be showing an interest in him.

“Of course.” He moved so quickly that he nearly barged into a middle-aged woman on the table behind. He muttered an apology, grinned at her, at me, and then tried to act casual as he walked to the bar.

I glared at Dan. “What the fuck is going on?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

I kicked him under the table. “What do you mean,
what do I mean
?”

He looked confused.

“I thought we had something.”

“I’m with Melanie,” he said, as if I needed reminding of the fact.

I shook my head slowly, looked around to make sure no one was watching and then sat back in my chair, thrusting my chest outwards, letting him see my breast through my low cut top. I peeled the corner of my bra down, ran a finger across the flesh. I kicked my shoes off underneath the table, traced my toes up his calf, to his thighs.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m showing you what could be yours.”

I thought the other night was…” he trailed off. “A one off.”

“A one off?” I said, halting my blatant flirting. “We didn’t do anything.”

“I know but we both had a bit too much to drink and--”

“Do you want to fuck me, or not?”

The middle aged woman at the next table darted a bemused glance our way.

Dan looked nervously around the restaurant, saw that Melanie and John were on their way back to the table.

He looked at me, a spark of desire and mischief behind his eyes. They returned before he uttered a word.

***

I didn’t see him or Melanie for a while after that. They went on holiday together, refused to let me tag along. I took some time off work, stayed at my parents’ house for a couple of weeks whilst Melanie fucked the love of my life on the shores of Spain and I pined for an unrequited love in my old bedroom.

When I returned Melanie was a different person. I tried to ask her about her holiday but she didn’t say much, didn’t even talk about Dan. I suspected that she knew, that he had told her about us, about every sordid thing we did and tried to do, but I no longer cared. She was a good friend and a good roommate, but I wanted Dan and was prepared to have him at the cost of our friendship.

She left her phone in the house when she went to work one night and I stole Dan’s number. It was Friday evening, we were both back from work, ready to start the weekend whilst Melanie, the thorn in both of our sides, had a long night shift ahead of her.

The phone call didn’t last long.

“I want you Dan, and I know you want me,” I told him sternly, refusing to play any games. “Let’s keep this simple. You tell me where you live, I’ll come over and we’ll fuck. Then we’ll take it from there.”

He stumbled over his answer, gave me a few sharp, stuttered words of affirmation and then gave me his address. I called a taxi, changed into my hottest, skimpiest dress, threw a long coat over the top to hide my seminudity and knocked back a glass of wine to calm my nerves.

He lived twenty minutes away by taxi, not a long drive but long enough for me to get worked up in the car. The taxi driver must have thought I was on drugs, smelling the alcohol on my breath and seeing my grey trench coat, flowing down to naked legs, he may have assumed I was some sort of drunken flasher or prostitute. I didn’t care.

The nerves had turned to an eagerness when I arrived at his door. I was ready to explode on him as soon as he opened it, ready to strip naked and let him take me in his porch.

He opened the door and greeted me with a smile and a peck on the cheek. He had dressed up for the occasion, taken a quick bath in cologne by the smell of it. His cheeks were flushed, I felt their heat transfer onto my face when I gave greeted him, we were both flushed, both ready. I just needed an opening.

He offered to take my coat and that was all the opening we needed. When he took it off my shoulders, hung it on a nearby stand and then turned to me, his jaw nearly hit the floor. I slammed the door shut behind me with a flick of my wrist, looked towards the stairs.

“Should we go upstairs?” I asked.

He nodded so fast it was like a blur.

He gestured for me to go up first, nearly tripping over my heels in his haste to follow. He showed me to his bedroom. It was neat, clean, trimmed to a pedantic level of cleanliness. There were a few red throw-pillows on the bed, an assortment of mildly suggestive art on the walls.

I felt his hands on my back, felt him strafe around me to get into the room. I watched him look around the room with an expression that seemed to say, ‘now what?’. He made a hesitant move towards me, perhaps to kiss me or touch me, but he backed away. He didn’t know what to do with himself.

“You look gorgeous,” he told me.

I smiled, slowly crawled towards him, watching as his eager eyes moved from my breasts, to my legs and back again before lingering on my eyes and my lips. I kissed him, softly at first, holding his bottom lip between my teeth, tasting him, before wrapping my hands around him and pressing my lips, and my body, firm against him.

We fell onto the bed. I could feel his excitement pressing up against me, could feel that he was as ready for me as I was for him. I directed his hands towards my buttocks, told him to play with the flesh there, to run his finger up and down the cleft, to direct it through the material on my dress and into the place that excited me the most.

I pulled away, breathless, desperate, and ripped off my dress, tossing it across the room. When I took off my bra and slipped out of my knickers, he tried to join me, to slither out of his clothes, but I stopped him. When I was naked, warm, wet and ready, I rested on top of his fully clothed body and slowly began to pick his clothes off his flesh.

I used my teeth to pry open his pants, stuck my tongue inside his zip, tasted the pressing material of his underpants, his burning cock tight against them. After I tore off his pants I put my tongue under his shirt, dove underneath on an excavation, kissing and teasing his flesh, feeling his entire body react to the gentle nibbles of my teeth; the feel of my lips.

He was desperate for me, I could feel the pulsations in his penis. I ran a forefinger over its tip, traced a sensuous line over his testicles. I took it in my mouth, moistening the member with my lips and my tongue, dragging my salvia over his scrotum. Then I let him enter me, a moment that passed a juddering wave of delirious ecstasy through us both.