Bootycall 2 Read online

  Everything goes black, and for a moment I’m not sure if it’s finally happened, if my fragile essence has finally experienced so much of Dylan that it’s extinguished itself; if my heart has finally been overwhelmed by the sexuality, tenderness, and passion I’m feeling.

  Then the screen lights up, and I come back to reality.

  I press myself down into the seat when the movie starts, my hands clasped tightly in my lap. There’s no chance I’ll be able to concentrate, but maybe I can use this time in the dark to compose myself a little more.

  That hope disappears when I feel strong, rough hands reach into my lap with firm gentleness. I look to the side and see Dylan staring at me, his face hard and serious, the determination of his desire written clearly on his face.

  I turn back to the screen, and Dylan separates my hands, taking one of them loosely and stroking my palm. It’s the slightest of brushes, the most gentle of strokes, and it teases all my wet, hot impulses to the surface. I try to pull myself back out of the haze of lust, but his fingers keep teasing, tying themselves with mine, not letting me come back from the waves of pleasure that Dylan is conducting inside of me like an orchestra.

  Finally I give in, letting myself get lost in the abstract joy that comes from Dylan’s fingertips. I put my other hand on his, and trace the veins over the back of his hand, the tough knuckles, the perfectly proportioned fingers.

  Then the lights go up. The screen is dark. I blink in the bright light, wondering if there’s a problem. Dylan’s fingers wrap around my hand as he stands up.

  “You okay?” he asks, when he sees how confused I look.

  “What happened to the movie?” I say, confused and startled.

  Dylan chuckles lightly.

  “It’s over. Wasn’t that enough for you?”

  “Oh,” I say, smiling with embarrassment. “I didn’t realize.”

  Dylan leads me outside, calling his goodbyes out as we go, his hand pushing softly against my back, sliding down my arm as he takes my hand, every touch sending chimes of excitement through me like hammered piano chords.

  He drives me back home, a silent promise between us, our desires too obvious, and so precariously balanced that words would only ruin them. He stops the car and kills the engine, not even looking at me as he steps out and walks over to the passenger side, where he opens the door and helps me out.

  We walk up the path in front of my building, my heels tapping on the concrete in a slow rhythm, a beat that signifies something big is coming. I shake and tremble with every step, my heart tumbling like a rolled die, my breath fizzing like poured champagne. I can’t bear it anymore, I’ve been holding my breath since I got out of the car, and if I don’t speak, then I’ll never breathe out.

  “Doing the gentlemanly thing again?” I say, as I step towards my door.

  I look at Dylan, his eyes narrowed with want, the lust in his face so powerful it’s almost threatening, dangerous, frightening.

  He grabs my waist in his hand and shoves his body against me, slamming me up against the front door. I let him squeeze me there, almost blown back by the force of his body’s peaking virility.

  “I don’t feel like being a gentleman anymore.”

  Chapter 7

  Dylan

  I don’t kiss her. Not yet. I can tell she’s been aching for this all evening – maybe even longer. I can feel the way her muscles are like tightly wound guitar strings under my hands, vibrating sweetly when I touch them.

  As for me, I feel like a raging bull they just pulled the gate open for. I’ve held back so many urges that I’m ready to explode, scared of my own power, trying to control my racing thoughts but too distracted by my need, not to mention the incredible woman that I’m pushing up against the door.

  I hold myself over her, our faces close enough for our short breaths to mix, close enough to smell her sweet perfume, close enough to stare deep into her eyes and chase away any doubts she might have, anything that might hold her back. I roll my hand from her neck to her shoulder, down to her breast, grabbing it roughly before I take her arm and trace it down to the hand where she’s clutching the keys. I take them from her, and without taking my eyes away from hers, slide them into the door lock and open it.

  The door swings open under the pressure I’ve been holding her up against it with, and she gasps, afraid that she’s falling backwards, but I yank her back up against me with the hand I’ve wrapped around the small of her back. She slams into me once again, and this time I can’t help it, I attack her mouth with mine, tossing the keys into the hallway and kicking the door closed. It slams shut with a loud noise, sending a spike into Gemma’s already-jangling nerves.

  I love that I can feel everything she’s feeling from the tremors in her body. I love that I can read her curves like a blind man reads braille. I rub my hands over her body, the silk dress doing nothing to hide all the fantastic promises her sleek shape is making.

  She draws back, grabbing the lapels of my blazer as she does so and pulling me deeper into her apartment, deeper into the dancing lines of her body, into the shimmering light that plays across the dress as she steps backwards slowly. She licks her lips, breathing a hot fire. I let her pull me slowly toward the bed.

  We tumble onto the sheets, me on top of her. She writhes beneath me as I run my hands down her body. I lower myself to the hem of her dress and stroke her legs, lifting the skirt up slowly. I plant small kisses up the exposed flesh like little bombs of hot, wet sensation. She purrs as I get closer, lifting the dress slowly, her breath hitching as my tongue licks and soft sucks move closer to the source of her hotness.

  I press her dress up over her hips, exposing her navel, and continue licking and biting, savoring the taste of her soft skin, moving teasingly close to her dampening panties, up to her trembling stomach. I work my mouth up slowly over her breasts, which fall beautifully into their firm, round shape when I reveal them, causing my cock to stiffen and press against my trousers with an aching restraint.

  She slides down, helping me pull the dress off her. Her body is pliable and liquid, melting already in the steamy pressure of her lust.

  I pause for a moment. Somehow managing to stop the tidal wave that’s urging me to swim into the rolling mounds of Gemma’s tits, holding back from the electric force that’s compelling me to put my mouth on her juicy lips, her beautiful nipples, her sensual flesh.

  My mind races with all the possibilities, a million contradicting urges fighting each other inside of me. I want to worship her, and I want her to submit. I want to see every perfect pore of her skin, and I want to close my eyes and navigate around her winding curves by feel alone. I want to give her the sweetest high she’s ever had, and I want to take every last drop of pleasure from her perfection that I possibly can.

  For a few seconds, while she gazes up at me with beautiful innocence, mouth parted in anticipation so sharp it’s almost painful, the battle rages inside of me. Light and dark, cruel and kind.

  Darkness wins. Darkness always wins.

  I grasp at my belt, flipping the buckle and sliding it off with a dangerous whipping sound. Her bottom lip trembles when she sees the steel determination that’s flickered into my eyes, the clenched jaw of a man who’s going to do it his way.

  I kneel back on the bed and pull her up to a sitting position in front of me. I move my hard gaze to her excited one while my hands grab hers and wrap them behind her back, tying them together with the belt.

  “You’re mine now, Gemma. All fucking mine.”

  I shove her back onto the bed, onto her tied hands, and move down towards her panties – the only thing she’s wearing now apart from her heels. I bite at her pussy through the soft cloth. She moans, digging her high heel into the bed. I run my nails from the exposed part of her foot all the way up to the underside of her thigh.

  I continue biting and pulling on her panties, like a dog in a fight, the adrenaline starting to make me lose control, the smell of her juices making me go feral, the s
ight of her squirming driving me crazy, the sound of her moaning enthralling me to get wilder, rougher, harder. My cock burns like a red hot poker, and I can’t stand to keep it away from her any longer.

  I stand up, tearing off my clothes roughly, my eyes fixed upon her mouth as it gasps for air and she struggles against the belt holding her hands together behind her back, though I can tell by the fire in her eyes that she likes it. That some part of her has been yearning to let itself go, to experience the freedom that comes from submitting yourself totally, freedom from thinking, from concerns, from all the bullshit that she carries inside her. I will fuck her and bend her to my will – and she won’t even have to worry about being good enough, because I’ll make sure she is.

  I stand naked beside the bed, my cock hard and high, almost fucking noble. Then I grab the back of her head and pull her to her knees on the bed, guiding her salivating mouth right where I need it. Her tongue feels like white-hot fire, burning away the cravings that have gathered in my cock. I let her work her spit over it, let her probing tongue explore the intimate contours, throwing my head back as chills run from the base of my balls up the back of my spine. I look down at her, and see her eyes rolled back, partly out of the ecstasy she gets from tasting me, partly so that she can see the look in my eyes.

  When I see her face it’s like the first time – and something deep and heavy inside of me shifts. She’s fucking amazing. I could look at that face for the rest of my life. A face so striking it burned itself into my memory the first time I saw it. Now it’s right where I want it – on the end of my dick.

  I tighten my grip on her hair and ram myself between her lips, my cock so hard and hungry for her even the scrape of her teeth can’t take away the sweetness. I thrust myself forcefully into her face again and again, driven by the fires Gemma’s glazing eyes have lit inside of me. I fuck her mouth so hard it sends trembles along her body, her ass cheeks shaking magnificently like shimmers on the seafront.

  I can feel the orgasm coming on like a religious experience, like a rapture that makes years of hard living worthwhile. I thrust one last time, holding the length of my cock in her throat, Gemma moaning and thrashing around it like she’s being possessed. I hold her there for a few seconds that feel like flying, the moments before the crash, moments before the explosion, then pull her away and throw her back on the bed just before I come, forcing myself to hold back. Not yet. Not just yet.

  I step toward my jacket as she watches me, panting and sweating, a heady cocktail of fear and excitement in her lust-glazed blue eyes. I pull out a condom from my inside pocket and put it on slowly, making sure I do it right, making sure that Gemma gets a few moments to prepare herself for what’s about to happen.

  I walk to the foot of the bed, my chest heaving slowly. Our eyes lock, and Gemma’s legs brush against each other. I grab her feet, still in those high heels, and flip her onto her front in one swift gesture. She squeals with surprise, and I move over her, grasping at her hips like a pilot taking the controls, like a man wielding a weapon, dangerous and powerful, steadily and strongly.

  I pull her panties to the side and push my cock inside her. It enters her smoothly and sweetly, her wet pussy squeezing and relaxing as her body reacts to mine. I reach around and grab her beautiful tits – too long ignored – and pull her up, enjoying the way her pussy moves against my dick.

  “You like that?” I growl.

  “Fuck me,” she moans, in between half-breaths and purrs. “Fuck me, Dylan!”

  There’s that dirty mouth I can’t get enough of. I pull and scratch at her tits, urging her to slam herself against my cock, desperate to fuck her as deeply as she can go, unable to hold back.

  I let her fall forward, her face pressing into the pillow as she moans, steadying myself to fuck her harder.

  “Shit,” I say, as I press her head into the pillow, working all the muscles in my ass to ram her as sweetly as a pussy like hers deserves. “I want all of that pussy, Gemma. Every fucking inch of it.”

  She whimpers and groans with pleasure, biting the pillow as I make my thrusts long and slow, letting the head of my cock work her walls a little before sticking it deeper inside of her. I close my eyes, unable to hold back anymore. I smack her ass, grabbing and pulling at it hard, urging her to come along with me, to let go before I do.

  “Come for me, Gemma,” I urge her. “No holding back.” I feel her tense for a split second and I know she can’t fight it anymore. “That’s it. Good girl.”

  She comes long, hard, and slow, her screams muffled by the pillow, her back arching and flicking with each wave of essence that flows out of her. I let go a second later, clutching the tied hands behind her back and squeezing myself deep into her, her pulsating pussy pulling every last drop of cum from me.

  I pull out and stand up as her body buries itself into the wrinkles of her sheets. After taking the condom off and tossing it into a wastebasket I drop my body heavily next to hers, gazing at the lines in her back, at the red mark where I smacked her ass, the suck marks I’ve left on her. I run a now-cool hand up her thigh gently, along her side and then down her arm, where I undo the belt and toss it away. She turns her head to face me, her eyes reflective and silver, like the ocean after a storm, before bringing her face towards mine slowly, and giving her lips a deep, slow kiss.

  Chapter 8

  Gemma

  It’s been a long time since I sang to myself, but as I lay out some bacon and eggs to fry up, I can’t help myself. I feel like I lost ten pounds, solved all my neuroses, and won the lottery in one night – actually, I may have just done all of those things. I giggle at my own silliness as I turn on the stove and put a pan on it, swaying gently to the aimless tune I’m humming to myself.

  I look over the counter towards the bed. Dylan’s been purring happily and lolling about in bed since I got up about fifteen minutes ago, and I’ve been making the most of getting up first by sneaking looks at his gorgeous body – pacing myself so that I don’t get too excited.

  Except Dylan’s not in bed anymore. The smile I didn’t even know I was wearing drops, and a pair of hands cover my eyes. I scream. Dylan laughs.

  “Shit, Dylan! You scared the fuck out of me!” I whirl around and punch him playfully in the stomach, but my fist just bounces off his abs.

  “I was going to say ‘guess who,’ but I suppose you already have,” he says in an Irish accent as thick and as heady as their whiskey.

  I takes my shoulders and he’s so close I have to place my hands on his chest to steady myself.

  “It’s not hard. You’re the only guy I’ve had back to this apartment.”

  “You sure?” he says, moving his head close to my neck, smelling me. “’Cause I feel like a different man after last night.”

  “Well don’t change too much,” I say, my head leaning forward and nuzzling his shoulder. “I was just starting to like you.”

  I squeal again as Dylan lifts me up easily, his hands on the backs of my thighs, and settles me on the edge of the counter.

  “Dylan…” I say, as he slowly unbuttons my loose-fitting shirt, kissing softly at the spaces between my breasts that he’s slowly exposing, one button at a time. “Dylan…Dylan! I have to make breakfast! And then we have to get to work.”

  His kisses flutter and nip around my breasts, arousingly close but unbearably far from my hardening nipples. There’s a fuzziness to his kisses, a sleepy, dull warmth that makes me feel like I’m slipping into a dream.

  “You’re making breakfast?” he says, between soft sucks that hit all the right places, surprising me with each one. “You didn’t ask me what I want.”

  I bury my hand into his thick hair, scratching and grabbing gently as he sends dizzying butterflies across my skin. I feel like I’m falling under some kind of spell, enchanted by the rhythmic stroke of his hands against my thighs, by the enticing feel of his hair in my hand.

  I giggle; a little because of his joke, and a lot more because of the brush of his cool l
ips on my sides and thighs.

  “Well what do you want then?”

  Dylan’s eyes look up at me from the space between my legs. He smiles knowingly as his hands grip the sides of my panties and pull them off, smoothly but eagerly.

  “There’s only one thing that can satisfy the kind of hunger I’ve got.”

  I gasp a little, all the protestations and rational thoughts getting stuck in my throat, lost in the cravings that are growing inside of me. Dylan’s tongue flicks and probes around my clit, mischievously building up my anticipation. His fingers move and press softly against my pussy, and I grasp out at the counter for something to hold me steady, clattering eggs and cups onto the floor noisily. The dull shocks of pleasure that his fingers press into me make me pant with impossible yearnings.

  When his tongue moves over my wet opening, lapping against me and into me, I’m already moaning deeply, the vibrations starting from his tongue, and only turning into sound when they reach my throat. He flattens his tongue and rolls it from the inside of my pussy over my clit, tasting my juices. Over and over he sends chilling spasms through me like shooting stars. I shudder when he rolls my aching clit between his lips and pulls.

  I grab his hair, meaning to push him away, but instead the feeling of his beautiful head pressing itself into me just makes me pull him in deeper, harder. I rock my hips against his face, his tongue and my pussy grinding against each other, sparks of pleasure shooting out from the friction between them. I can feel myself losing control, every nerve inside me coiled tight and hot, needing more and more, and getting it, until there’s nothing I can do to stop myself from coming, hard and fast, gasping loudly as I lean my head back against the wall. My moans only make Dylan tongue me deeper, and he groans as I pulse blissfully into his mouth. I never want this to end.

  Finally, I yank him away by the hair, throwing both him and myself back into reality with a bump.