NYC - Part 4

NOTE: The NYC Series starts with Face to Face. If you haven't been following along, you may want to start there.

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The debate on going out for dinner or ordering room service didn’t last long. After all, leaving the room meant putting on clothes. It was enough of a hardship for Steve to wrap a towel around his waist to answer the door and sign for the food.

Sprawled out on the bed, they fed each other bits of calamari and sweet potato fritters. A half-empty bottle of Bombay Sapphire was nestled in a cooler of ice, two martini glasses—empty now—sat on one bedside table.

They touched and teased, kissed and fondled while they ate. And when they were full, they dozed.

He was a cuddler, she discovered. Not something she was used to, since she was a sprawler, herself. But having his warm, hard body pressed against her back—one possessive arm wrapped around her waist, his hand cupping a breast—was peaceful and comforting.

She dreamt of him, as she did most nights, but now the dreams weren’t just a fantasy she concocted while fingering herself, but based on reality. The afternoon of sex played over in her sleep, his hands roaming over her, that eager mouth possessing.

She was wet and needy when she woke, pleased to find his fingers already rolling a nipple. His lips teased the back of her neck, teeth nipped. She’d never told him, but it was a sensitive spot for her and it put all her sensors on alert.

His hand moved down her belly, fingered the tiny triangle of fur. “You left this for me,” he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Grew it back for you,” she corrected. “You said you don’t like clean-shaven.” She already planned on waxing it off when she went home, but for him, for this weekend, she’d left it.

“But it’s like an arrow,” he mumbled against her throat, his hand sliding down, fingers opening her lips. “It guides me. How would I find this wonderful pussy, otherwise?”

Her dream was enough foreplay and she was ready, needed immediate release. Emily pressed her hand against his, forced his fingers into her cunt. “I’ll show you the way.”

She guided his fingers in and out, tried to set a fast pace, but his fingers were stronger—so fucking strong—and he slowed her down.

“Morning sex should be slow,” he whispered. “Not rushed. You don’t even want to fully wake up. And when you come,” he pulled his fingers out, rubbed them over her clit in slow, hypnotic circles, “ it should be slow and heavy, satisfying, but leave you wanting more.”

“Mmmm,” she moaned, as his fingers built her up, dragged her with him. “Yes. Yes.” She floated through the orgasm as her cunt throbbed.

Steve pushed his fingers into her, making slow, easy strokes. “See?”

She understood now. He’d let her have control last night but today was his. She accepted it, let the current build inside her, drifted with it.

“That’s it,” he said, when her hips began to rock. “That’s it baby. No, no, slow down, yes, that’s it.”

The next orgasm washed over her, slow and easy, released in a full-body shudder. She pressed her hand against his, forcing his fingers deeper. “More,” she begged.

“As you wish.”

He lifted her leg, pushed his cock against her. She was so wet, he simply slid into her.

“That’s what I want,” she moaned.

She let him lead, let him set the easy pace, let him drag her up toward blissful release. His hips bumped against her ass as his cock slid in and out of her cunt. She needed it faster, harder. He shoved her hand away when she made to rub her clit.

“I want to come,” she pouted. Jesus, she needed to come!

“I know you do, just relax and enjoy this. You don’t like what I’m doing?”

“I like what you’re doing very much, but I really liked what you did last night.”

“Let’s try this.” He lifted her leg, swung it back over his hip. He didn’t increase the tempo, but the new position amplified his thrusting and he seemed to sink deeper.

She closed her eyes and smiled. “Yes, that’s nice.”

He reach around and stroked her clit. “How nice?”

She hooked an arm around his neck as his fingers circled faster. “Very nice.” His cock maintained an easy pace but his fingers rotated around her clit faster and faster, building the pressure.

“Yes. Yes. Yes.” She chanted it over and over until she came with a loud grunt.

He continued to thrust into her until she felt him spasm, his warmth filling her.

She turned her head, kissed his mouth for the first time that day. “I don’t mean to criticize,” she started, and stopped when he stared at her. His look was intense, almost angry. Under different circumstances, she would have found it intimidating.

She fixed a serious look on her face. “But I only came three times.”

He rolled onto her, nipped at her shoulder, made mock growling noises that had her giggling. “Well, then, we’ll just have to do something about that.”

The NYC series continues here


  1. I have a guilty pleasure in exploring your little tale, (I am not sure if I have spelled that right). My only criticism is that that the tales do not have enough light and shade. Perhaps if he lifted the blinds one day he would notice the way the light played on her skin or hair and commented on it, which might make the writing a little more literate rather than literal...It's no good, I am not fooling you am I?

  2. Tail, indeed, oldegg! What a delicious thing to say! And I agree, there should be more to the story. In truth, I am testing erotica for my novels, with focus on the act itself. In my manuscript, there is much more light in the darkness. But, after reading your suggestion, perhaps there should be more. After all, it's not all about my own pleasure, is it?