An Erotic Collection Volume 2 Read online

  “You told me to surprise you.” He hooked his thumbs into the fabric but didn’t pull it off.

  I couldn’t deny it. Instead, I parted my legs wider and gave him a full glimpse of my body. I slipped my fingers down low enough to find slippery fluid. He licked his mouth again.

  “I love to watch you touch yourself,” he said.

  “Let me see you do the same,” I breathed.

  Dan put a hand over the bulge in his pants. He stroked himself a few times through the cloth. Then he reached inside and stroked again. His face tightened and he bit his lower lip a little.

  “No fair!” I said.

  Dan’s laugh came out a little strangled. “Fine.”

  He pushed his pajamas down, finally, and stepped out of them. He gripped his erection as he kicked away the bottoms. When he stroked down, slowly, I couldn’t decide where to look: at his face, taut with desire, or at his cock, so deliciously hard.

  My body responded. My breath came faster, my pulse sped up, my clit grew harder beneath my fingertips. The curved wood beneath my bare ass had warmed to my skin, smooth, and I slid on it as I set the chair to rocking.

  We’d fucked on this chair, more than once, and I thought of that now. Of how Dan’s prick felt inside me as we rocked, of how good it felt when my clitoris rubbed his stomach. How easy it was to thrust and move with the chair helping us.

  * * *

  Dan’s hand moved up and down on his erection. I did love watching him. There was something singular in him jerking himself and in watching how he moved his hand to bring himself the most pleasure. He added a twist to his wrist as he stroked the head of his cock. I caught a glimpse of pre-come glistening as he stroked. He stood with his feet spread apart to anchor himself, and it was easy to imagine myself on my knees in front of him.

  I knew how he’d taste and the sound he’d make when I closed my lips over his penis. I didn’t, though. I watched him stroke himself, instead, as I brought myself closer and closer to climax.

  We could have finished that way, watching each other. But when my cunt gave its first spasm, hovering on the edge of coming, I pulled my hand away. I wanted to squirm on the chair. I wanted to push my cunt against the air, or squeeze my thighs together, keeping myself from tipping into orgasm, but only barely.

  “Dan,” I said.

  That was all it took. He crossed to me in two strides. I almost came when he pulled me to my feet. The world tipped a little as pleasure swooped over me, but I breathed deep and managed to hold it off. Dan took my place on the chair and pulled me onto his lap. I slid onto his prick, my clit against his belly, our mouths locked. I cried out, the sound lost against his lips. He fucked upward as his hands cupped my ass.

  I was already coming. My body jerked. My fingers dug into his shoulders. He thrust harder as the chair rocked. The floor squeaked. He said my name. My orgasm became all-encompassing, immense, enormous. The world. The universe. Pleasure overtook me.

  Dan yelled when he came. His final thrust lifted me up, and when we settled the chair kept rocking, though we’d stopped. He put his arms around me, tight. I felt him throb inside me as my cunt fluttered in climax. I couldn’t always feel it, and tonight it seemed especially appropriate that I could.

  I thought of him spurting inside me. Dan’s body had made sperm, small, wriggling and invisible, that even now were swimming mightily up the convulsing corridor of my vagina to seek the cavern of my womb. Would it welcome them? Had my body created an egg, waiting, even now, to be conquered? It wasn’t likely, but neither was it impossible. Many women who’d counted themselves “safe” had ended up getting pregnant.

  Dan had buried his face against my chest with a happy sigh. His hair tickled my nose. Our bodies glued together, sticky from sweat, as the chair rocked to a stop. I didn’t move, too content to bother.

  We didn’t have secrets anymore, and I was glad for that. Even so, I didn’t tell him I’d forgotten and then deliberately not taken my pill. I wasn’t sure there’d be a point in telling him we may or may not have made a baby.

  “I love you.” Dan kissed my collarbone.

  “I love you too.” So easy to say it, now.

  Easier to mean it, too.

  * * *

  “Fuck me with a barbed-wire dildo!” Marcy’s voice echoed through the tiled hall, and nobody blinked an eye. “Where the fuck is Wayne?”

  “I’ve left a message with his secretary, on his voice mail and on his cell,” I told her. “He’ll be here.”

  Marcy let out a low, guttural groan. Sweat had plastered her hair to her forehead. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and the corners of her mouth had cracked a little. She gripped my arm with fingers like talons, but I didn’t dare show a wince. I wasn’t the one getting ready to push a bowling ball out of my body.

  We’d been walking for an hour as she labored. Marcy had called me when her efforts to get in touch with her husband had failed. She’d driven herself to Harrisburg Hospital and I’d met her there, not because I had any burning desire to watch my friend give birth, but because she’d had nobody else.

  Funny how Marcy hadn’t considered me her last resort, though. She’d hugged me fiercely when I got there and chattered on and on in a bright, happy voice as we got her settled in. It took me twenty minutes of listening to her babble for me to realize Marcy was terrified.

  Her water hadn’t broken yet, so she’d been encouraged to walk up and down the halls to help with her labor. The first half an hour had been fine. She’d been upbeat, if still a little manic, but as time wore on and the contractions got harder and Wayne was nowhere to be found, Marcy had ceased with the little Susie Sunshine act.

  “God damn him,” she said. “I fucking told him to keep his motherfucking phone charged…. Fuck!” She clutched her belly and stopped, hunching. She breathed in a series of rapid, whistling breaths while I stood by, helpless to do anything but watch.

  “He’ll be here,” I repeated. Please God, I prayed. Let him get here. Soon.

  When the contraction stopped, the tears started. Marcy turned to me with a desperate look. “Thank you for being with me, Elle. Thank you.”

  Guilt stabbed me. “Of course I’d be here for you, Marcy. You know that.”

  She gripped my hand as another contraction rolled over her. Her lips thinned to pale lines in her face. “Fucking hell!”

  Marcy wasn’t the only woman in labor. I could hear the burble of television sets in some of the labor and delivery rooms, and an occasional grunt or cry. There were women giving birth all over the place here. The air was thick with the odor of blood and fear and joy; my stomach kept trying to turn and I wouldn’t let it.

  “I’m so glad you’re here.” Marcy gripped the wooden handrail along the wall. “You’re always so together, Elle. You’re always so calm.”

  I was anything but calm, but hell, Marcy was expecting me to be something for her and I could give her that, at least. “It’s all going to be okay.”

  She nodded and then looked up at me, her face a mask of surprise. I didn’t know why until a second later when the rapid patter of liquid hitting the tile floor caught my attention. We both looked down, though I doubted Marcy could see past her belly.

  “My water just broke!”

  “It’s okay.” I gripped her hand. “Let’s get you into your room.”

  It all happened very fast after that. Nurses and midwives showed up to do their jobs. Wayne, tie askew and hair windblown, arrived with a story about traffic and dead cell batteries. Marcy forgave him at once. The looks on their faces when he held her hand and kissed it was like something from a movie.

  Wayne’s eyes rolling up in the back of his head and him hitting the tile floor with the sound of a pumpkin breaking open was somewhat less glamorous.

  I’d been edging my way out of the room at that point, preferring to leave them to their privacy, but when Wayne hit the ground Marcy shrieked my name, and I found myself at her side in a second.

  “He’s okay,” I t