“Candle? They can't hold a match!” I said in mock horror.
“True story. What else can I do to get ready?”
“Pour the wine.”
“You're too young to drink, Fiona.” He scowled at me but it was all for show.
“You won't tattle if I have one little glass will you? It would be a shame to start college never having had a drink.” Even I couldn't keep a straight face and we both laughed.
“Sure. No alcohol has ever passed those pretty lips.” He caught himself and he turned quickly from me. I chose to ignore it. It wouldn't be healthy to keep coming unglued over something as simple as attraction.
“Nope. Never. Now you can get the salad dressings for me, too.” I used by best bossy voice and totally ignored the flush of shame on his handsome face.
He did as asked, gathering the bottles from the fridge. “And?”
“And sit and put your feet up. You were in the hot sun all day.”
He sat, sipping wine from the plain glasses I had chosen. I could feel his eyes on me. When I dropped a fork and bent to get it, his eyes on me was like a touch. I felt my pussy grow wet, my nipples go hard, my heart rush to life. It was all a swirling red mist of want and I had to suck in a breath to think. The feel of his gaze on me was almost like being penetrated.
At the table talk turned to college. “You realize we have a rocking university here,” he said, teasing me. “Why would you want to go all the way to Southern California?”
I shrugged, sipping my wine and rolling my eyes at the perfectly sweet sauce. “I have no clue. Marielle was going there and some other people and I felt no pull or loyalty to a particular campus so I thought it would be fun to surf and see the other coast while I learned to pick apart people's brains.” I grinned.
“That's it!” He shook his head. “All that to surf?”
“I'm not even sure I want to surf. I just...I don't know.”
“Hmm. That's a lot of money to not know.”
“Jack says he has it and not to worry.” Jack is my stepfather. We get along well for stepdaughter and new dad. Better than most.
“Ah, good man Jack.”
“Mom's happy.”
“And that's what matters.” The phone rang and he tossed his napkin on his plate. “Dare I say as good as Jean's. She'd spin in her grave to hear me say it, but it's true. You're a talent, kid. I'm gonna grab that.”
I felt ridiculously proud of myself when he kissed the top of my head and bolted. I started to clear.
“I'll get all that,” he yelled.
“I don't mind.” I said. It would give me something to do so I didn't turn the kiss on the head to something more. Say, me and him spread across the dining room table as he fucked me hard and messy. Face to face this time. Lips to lips. Cock to cunt. I wanted to watch his face as he cameas he fucked me and touched me and made me come too.
After my shower, I heard him muttering to himself. In the bedroom. I passed by, refusing to pause for any length of time. I feared spying on him again and knew if I caught him doing anything like the night before, I wouldn't have any control. I would watch. I caught the words
young
and
bad
. I shook my head.
I darted into my room, hoping I hadn't left too much water on the hardwood floor. I'd have to go back and wipe it up. Where the hell was my nightgown? The birds in the pear tree were going berserk again. Every night at dusk, they went insane for some reason. Uncle Ed had told me maybe it was the cats in the neighborhood. Rumor had it, though, that some neighbors had spotted a fox but I doubted a fox could climb a tree. Could they? Who knew. I rummaged through my dirty clothes pile, I'd have to do laundry tomorrow. No nightie. Not in my drawers. Nowhere. I picked up my salvaged pile from aunt Carole's clothes and remembered her pale pink cotton baby doll. It would have to do. I couldn't very well walk around naked.
You could wear a tee and boxers the way you do at home.
I let it go. I'd wear her nightie. It was pretty and would look nice with my tan. I had a date with a good mystery and some TV on for background noise. Maybe some ice cream if I couldn't resist the urge. Actually, the urge was pretty bad. I pulled on the nightgown and my short robe. I'd go down and get a bowl and scoot back up and leave uncle alone for the night. Maybe he just needed a night off from seeing me. Maybe I was not a positive for him right now. But when I passed his door I rapped softly.
“Come in.”
“I'm going to get a bowl of ice cream,” I said, peeking my head in. I spotted my nightgown there on is bed. He was in nothing but boxers, his face set in that angry upset way. I pretended not to see the nightie, and I refused to speculate what he might need it for, but I knew. My mind leapt to seeing him, cock in hand, calling out my name. I rushed on,” Can I get you some? We have the kind with the brownie chunks in it.”
His face colored and he put his hand back too fast, clutching at the white fabric I'd just been searching for. “No, Fi. Not tonight. Thanks for asking, though. Just not the mood for sweets tonight.”
I shrugged. “Wish I had your self control,” I said.
He blew out a sigh and shook his head as if that had been a jibe. I'd meant ice cream, not sex, so I let it go. I blew him a kiss, something I had done for over a decade and hurried down the hall feeling somewhat sad and also emotionally drawn. I wanted to go back in there and comfort him. Hold him, put his head in my lap and stroke his hair. But I also wanted to lay back and pull him on top of me. Put his cock in me, wrap my legs around his waist and have him rock against me until I couldn't stand it any more and I came. And then I wanted to push him to the point of no return. Biting at his skin, kissing his pink lips, touching his abs, his arms, his ass as he fucked me and tightening my pussy around him so that he lost control and lost the battle and came.
I hurried down the steps before I did an about-face.
Ice cream is no substitute for sex when you are turned on and the object of your desire is in the same house. I watched the neighborhood, kissed by purple light, and ate the fudge brownie decadence straight from the container. Mr. Williams across the street dragged his trash cans to the curb. Mrs. Blakely next door put her cat out on a tether. Funniest damn thing ever. A big black cat with a white face and paws that was roughly the size of a Thanksgiving turkey tied to a thin black string so he couldn't run off. Judging by the looks of Felix he a) could not run and b) would never leave his steady source of food.
When I looked up, licking the last of the fudge from my spoon and fingertips, I caught the flash of reddish gray streak from across the street at the Browns to right in front of us. The fox.
“Well, I'll be damned.” It was so pretty and didn't seem scared at all. It stood at the boundaries of the yard as Felix hissed and seemed to triple in size when his fur went up and his back hunched. It glanced up at me and then trotted back from where it had come. It clearly knew what it wanted and had no fear about getting it.
“If we could all be that way,” I said to my spoon and dropped it in the dishwasher. I tossed the ice cream container and shut off the lights. Most likely uncle Ed would watch TV in his room and I would in mine. I made sure all the doors were locked and the AC kicked to life even as I heard the first crack of thunder in the sky. Probably another mid-summer storm coming our way.
I tried to be quiet as I passed but the floorboards announced me again and the master suite door swung open. “Any left?”
“Um...I ate it all.”
He laughed. “Look, I'm really, really sorry about—”
“Don't,” I said.
“And I'd understand if you had to leave—”
“Don't,” I repeated.
“I mean it, Fiona. It was wrong of me.”
“Do you want me to leave?”
His eyes had caught the nightie under my robe and he stopped for a moment, breathing hard like he'd been running. “No, I don't.”
“You certainly didn't have sex alone down there,” I said.
“But you said n—”
“I was lying and we both knew it.” His gaze never wavered and I realized the power this piece of clothing had. I walked forward, stood on tiptoe and kissed his chin. He sighed like an exhausted man.
“Fiona, you can't touch me,” he said.
“No? Not even a little?” I asked pushing the flat of my palm along the hard hump of his cock in his boxers. I wanted so bad to slip my hand past that waist band and slide my hand along the silky warm length of him. Feel every vein and dip and swell of flesh in my hand. I wanted to touch him so that he didn't think but fucked my hand like a greedy man with a huge appetite. I did none of that. I tracked my fingers over cotton only.
“Fiona, I have just lost—”
“Edward Mitchell Briggs, you have not lost me, I'm right here.” Aunt Carole always called him by his full name when she felt he was being silly.
He jerked and startled like a movie come off its reel. “Fiona—”
“Don't call me that,” I breathed, walking forward so he instinctively moved back. Back into his darkening room. Back to where his bed waited for us. I passed the bureau that had been my aunts. I grabbed her long string of pearls as I passed. Worth a fortune, when I slipped them over my head they dangled all the way down to my navel. I wrapped them once more around my throat and slipped my hands into his boxers like I wanted. I gripped his hard cock and stroked him like I could make him forget it all. I wanted to.
“Oh, god. I can't...” His mouth was on mine then. His tongue stroking past my lips, tangling with my tongue. He touched my hair, my face, my breasts. Pulled down the pink cotton bodice and dipped his head to suck my nipple into his mouth. the other nipple he pinched so hard my body flushed hot and my cunt gripped tight to nothing.
“You can. Just listen to me, Edward. I'm gone. You're not doing anything wrong. You're a man.” I slid my hand up and down, up and down, jacking him off as I talked in his ear. We were still moving and his knees hit the bed and he buckled. He thrust up into my hand and I bit my tongue to keep from crying out. I was vibrating from my need. I needed him to fuck me. I had passed want at the bedroom door. I pushed him back, my hand moving, moving, moving. I released his cock, dropped to my knees, the pearls sliding and rolling between his body and mine. I pushed my lips to his cock and looked up. “And a man has needs,” I said and swallowed him, pushing his thick blushing cock into my mouth and past my tongue. I sucked, harder, pushing myself further, gagging a bit, feeling the tears spill over my lids and run down my face.
He pushed his hands in my hair, running long blond pieces through his fingers. He thrust up to my waiting lips, harder and harder until I put my hands on his thighs and licked up the back of his dick. Circling the tip of him with the tip of my tongue, I watched his perfect tortured face, bruised in the darkened room, sad and happy, sexy and troubled. All at once. “Do you like that?”
“Yes, FiCarole. Yes.” He thrust toward my face and I took him back in as deep as I could. Memorizing him with my fingertips, the hard swell of his thighs under his skin, the curly ginger hair on his legs, the smell of summertime and salt water on his cock.
“Fuck my mouth, Edward. Faster,” I wanted him to just let go. Into her and into me. I wanted him to see it was all okay. I was a woman, he was a man, she was gone and he had to let her go. “This can be our good bye, my love.”
Some say mind fuck, I say therapy. I sucked him until he broke. His face going from troubled to spiritual in a heartbeat. His dark tanned fists clutching at me, my hair, my face, the sheets. He twisted them in his hands and yanked like he was dying. “God, oh, God, Good-bye.” He said it over and over again like a prayer, like a mantra. And I hoped it was real.
I sat back on my heels. The pearls had slipped down into my nightie and they tickled my belly, nearly brushing the top of my mound. My heart pounded in my ears so it was a struggle to hear his harsh breathing. It was fully dark, nothing but the light from the streetlamp outside to light us. The AC hissed on again and blissfully chilled air billowed the skirt of my nightie from the wall vent behind me. I yelped in surprise, laughed softly. His hands came out of the darkness and touched my face. “Come up here, sweetheart.”
Suddenly I was afraid. What if that had been the wrong thing to do? What if he thought me callus or cruel or God help me, just plain nasty? I hadn't meant it to be kinky per se but could understand how some might think that. What if he did?
I went though, took his hands and stood, crawled onto the high antique bed beside him. I couldn't see him, but I knew the bed. It was the first time I'd been in this bed since I was a little girl and a thunderstorm had driven me to huddle under the sheets between them, the then happily married couple. The sheets were high count cotton, the mattress firm, the bed frame walnut, the man cherished.
I laid back facing the ceiling that I could feel but could not see. Holding my breath, I waited. Would he be happy or mad at me? I felt him roll to me, his face right up to mine, breath mingling with my breath. His cock brushed my thigh. He was hard again. No talking. Kissing. Kisses that warmed me and lit me up on the inside. Kisses that made me take him in my hand and turn to press his length to me. My lips felt bruised, my heart somewhat bruised as well. A steady thump of desire filled my pussy but anxiety filled my chest.
Uncle Ed put his hands to my waist, pushed the nightgown high and off. His hands worked me up the mattress and the whole bed rocked before a small splash of light ignited in the darkness. The nightlight on the baseboard glowed like a single gentle match. He took the pearls in his hand, his mouth crushing down on mine. Fingers found my pussy and he shoved into me, tugging the pearls gently so that I couldn't quite draw a deep breath. Blissful flowers of pleasure bloomed in my cunt, up into my belly. I sighed, arching up to his hand. “Yes, please.” I knew what he was doing and I wanted a little more.
“Good, good girl. Shh. Let me take care of it.”
His fingers slipped into me again and he pressed and nudged my G-spot with the tips of his fingers until I gasped for breath, then he tugged the pearls again and my pussy flickered around his fingers. So close to coming. It was a thick surreal kind of pleasure, almost tangible like fog. It filled my head. His cock nudged my opening, gentle this time. None of the anger from earlier. The steady beat of his heart against my breast and the insistent smooth pressure of the pearls at my throat had me swimming in a thick syrup of arousal. God I wanted him to fuck me. God, I would give anything. “Please, Uncle...”