Darci
I check my makeup in my rearview mirror one last time. Tidying along the line of my lips, I use my fingers to make sure my bright red lips are painted perfectly. My tongue runs across my teeth, making certain my plan to seduce Bennett isn’t thwarted by red-stained teeth.
Seduce.
Bennett James.
I close my eyes against the embarrassment, against the uncertainty those simple words bring.
Darci Walker attempting to seduce Bennett James.
“This was a bad idea,” I whisper to my own reflection, eyes wide at the thought of what I’m doing. The anticipation is killing me. But I’m stuck. My feet not yet able to move, my nerves far outweighing the strength of my body.
I can’t even say I feel ridiculous because I don’t. I feel sexy. Every nerve ending under my skin tingling with the way my scantily clad body makes me feel. Every brush of lace against my nipples, every shift of material against my naked ass. My arousal magnifies with every dirty thought.
How will he react? How will he touch me?
But the nerves are bubbling under the surface, whispering power into my doubts. What if he rejects me? Is he still mad enough to say no?
Frankie assured me to trust myself and my brain and heart say he won’t be able to say no. That he’ll find this as hot as I do.
Throwing my car door open, I delicately remove myself from my car, making certain I keep my long coat tight around my body so no one can see my lack of clothing underneath. Not that anyone’s watching and the dark of the night would certainly hinder the ability for anyone who may happen across me in that moment to actually see anything, but still….
A quick exhale of nerves and I turn toward Bennett’s home, my stilettos echoing along the pavement toward his front door. The sound seems to grow louder in my ears as I get closer and wipe my clammy palms along the unforgiving vinyl of my red coat.
I knock before I allow myself the doubt not to and my hands automatically move to my glasses, pushing them into my face as I wait.
The deadlock clicks and I could swear, in that single moment, my hearts stops beating.
“Darci,” he drawls, his grin tweaking at the corner of his lips with intensity. His well-built body fills the entire doorframe, blocking my entrance as his eyes scan my body, starting at my black high heels, up over my red stockings, resting on the mid-section of my coat before finally resting on my eyes. “Nice stockings.”
“Thank you.” I swallow deeply, wishing right now I was braver than I am and could reply with a breathy promise of what’s hidden under my coat.
Stepping aside, Bennett waves me into his apartment and facing him, I slide past in the limited space he allows, causing my over sensitized skin to brush against his. He’s dressed casually, jeans and a dark shirt covering his broad shoulders, his feet bare on the cool tile of his floor. It’s not fair how effortlessly attractive he is. So handsome. So masculine. So delicious.
“Can I get you something? Drink? Something to eat?”
An orgasm. Or five. Every day for the next three to four months?
“I’m good.” I smile, directing my feet toward his living area and the armchair in the room.
He watches my movements from his doorway, his side still pressed against the front door as his eyes assess my intention. His eyebrows rise, ever so slightly, at my choice of seat, but sighing, he closes the door before joining me in the living area, on the couch, on the other side of the room.
“Before I actually get to the reason I’m here, I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”
He nods softly at my apology, his body leaning forward, elbows to knees as he watches me cautiously.
“I know I’m a mess. I know I’m confusing you and I hate that. But my mind is a jumbled clutter of confusion. I like you, Bennett,” I admit, not for the first time and he smiles faintly, a breezy air of laughter breaking from his lips. “A lot. So much, in fact, and I just want to be certain it’s true. That my feelings, or yours for that matter,” I gesture toward him, my voice rising slightly, “aren’t skewed by the feelings we share about having a baby together.”
His warm brown eyes mollify in their gaze, understanding evident in the shaded light. “I know I’m giving you whiplash.” He laughs at the statement, his head dropping before he lifts his head again to let me finish. “I don’t mean to do it. Honest, Bennett.”
“I’m sorry too. For snapping at you last time we were together. Just a little stuck on how to break through your walls, Lady Paradox. I trust my feelings, Darci. One hundred percent. I’m just at a loss as to how to get you to trust yours.” He assesses my posture, his eyes scanning the awkward way I’m perched on the edge of the chair. He sighs at my defensiveness, watching me expectantly.
“I do, to an extent. But it’s not just you and me we have to worry about. If this goes bad,” I motion between us, “our baby girl suffers.”
He smiles acquiescently, his posture sagging as he moves backward in his chair. His legs are stretched out in front of him, arms braced at the back of his head, his shirt spreading tightly over his wide chest.
His stare is guarded, teeth dragging over his full bottom lip. I shamelessly feast upon his stretched-out body with my eyes and he lets my eyes wander in heavy silence.
“What ‘cha doing here, Riding Hood?” The drawl is back, his tone effortlessly shifting from concerned and intrigued only moments before, to the laid-back growl of words I just heard.
Here. Goes. Nothing.
Or everything, if he decides to reject me.
I swallow the fear and nerves wanting to spew forth.
“I’m so turned on, Bennett.” I shock him with my brazen declaration, his molten brown eyes darkening instantly, an unconscious movement of his hips bringing attention to his widened thighs and therefore, his crotch. “All the time,” I refocus, “and I need…” my words pause on the very edge of my tongue and he sits up, legs still in an extensive stance, his heavy gaze pinning me in place.
“Tell me.” His words are hoarse, lacerating through his vocal cords.
My thighs clamp together impulsively at the sound, a small groan caught in the back of my throat. “I’m so confused as to where this baby leaves us and I’m not sure what we should be doing, but I’m so horny and I need you. Nothing I do for myself,” I admit with a pink shade gliding over my cheeks, “feels good enough. I hurt all over, Bennett. Make it better. Please.”
My plea sounds as desperate as I feel and I watch the thick column of his neck struggle to swallow with the effect of my words. His breathing comes on harsher, his chest heaving with the effort. But he says nothing. Nada. Nil. His hooded eyes bore into mine, daring me to continue.
Standing slowly from the comfort and safety of the armchair, I resist the urge to fiddle with my glasses.
Confident. Sexy. I repeat the words in my head over and over, meeting his heated gaze. Wetting my lips, I manage to break his focus, his eyes dropping down to my painted lips, watching the movement of my tongue.
My hands make fast work of the belt inched along my waist and Bennett lazily drops his gaze lower, watching my hands intently. The craving, the hunger and the thirst evident in his dilated pupils.
The lapels of my jacket fall open, gifting him the view of my near-naked body, dressed only in blood red lace, garters and stockings. The sound he makes is something liken to a groan and a cry, the twist of noise is eager and frantic. His large palm meets his mouth, hard, his hand sliding down his chin and massaging his jaw rigidly.
“Fuck. Me.”
Dropping my arms back, my coat pools at my high-heeled feet and reaching back, I pull the hood of my silk cape up and onto my head, letting him see my outfit in its entirety.
Palming his cock through his jeans roughly, he growls my name, following it with a pained, “Riding Hood.”
“That’s what I was going for,” I whisper.
And I was. My feet encased in black stilettos, trailed upward by the red knee-high stockings covering my legs. The red lace garter belt compliments the natural color of my skin, moving into a lace that streams up my rounded stomach and over my heavy tits into a halter-neck. Finished with a red silk cape, hood and all, cut off just above my ass; Red Riding Hood was definitely my aim. An adult-only, X-rated version, but still, Red Riding Hood.
Crooking his index finger, he beckons me over slowly. His eyes are cloaked with need, the heaviness in his arousal causing his eyes to smoke over with a raw sexuality that makes him every bit of the big bad wolf he resonates with.
My feet move on their own accord, my body’s natural reaction to him overwhelming any nerves threatening to spill over. This is his power. He controls my mind and body. He has the ability to overtake every atom of my being, every neuron of my mind. He directs me without pause and I follow without hesitation. A single look. A blink of his dark colored eyes. A show of the devastating smile he teases me with. A slight brush of his body against mine. A wink. A stroke of tongue against his soft lips.
I have no defense.
I want no defense.
I want him to control me. My mind. My body. Everything.
“Turn around.” His voice, abraded from his throat works a wicked power over my very stimulated lady parts. My very eager, needy, shameless, licentious lady parts. They are, solely, who I blame for my lack of willpower when it comes to Bennett James. They’re oversensitive to his face, his smile, his voice, his body, his heart and his more than extraordinary sized appendage.
“Riding Hood,” he prompts again, voice hoarse. “Turn. Around.”
I follow his instruction, my body burning with anticipation. Red-hot with the need for his touch. I watch his reflection in his TV, the black screen muting our image, silhouetting us into clear shadows.
He sits upright, bringing his chest almost flush with my legs. Almost. I can sense his imminent touch and I whimper at the lack of actual feeling. I need him to connect. I crave his skin on mine.
His breath warms my back through the silk cape draped over my shoulders. It’s hot and sticky, and I arch my back, ever-so-slightly, tempting his mouth closer.
He clicks his tongue in reprimand. “Naughty girl.”
I know he’d be smiling. Wide, teeth bared, his predatory gleam coming on full force.
“You know, you, like this,” he groans, his face moving slightly from behind my back to allow me a glimpse of his desperate face. “Will star in every fantasy of mine going forward.”
He catches our reflection in the television, his eyes doing a double-take. “Look at you, Darci.” His hands skim the outline of my body, without touching and I swallow the distressed whimper in my throat. “Fucking look at you. Your body. Covered in lace. For me.”
He growls. The rough sound ricocheting along my skin causing goose bumps to break across my body. His shirt hits the floor before I even see him remove it, the sound of his belt buckle chiming in my ears, causing wetness to flood the apex of my thighs. I should be embarrassed by my overly aroused state, but my anguish, my need for him to touch me is too much for me to care.
I cry out as soon as his hands meet my hips, my body ready to explode with a simple hard caress of his palms. His breath skates along my upper thighs to the underside of my ass that’s peeking from my cape and my eyes roll back into my skull. The wet heat of his tongue meets the point where my ass meets my thigh, where his breath just kissed and I’m so turned on, so ready, my orgasm starts building through my body, hanging there, on the precipice, ready to snap and buckle my body.
“Fuck, Riding Hood. Darci, you’re there. Already. I haven’t even touched you, baby.”
He treats my other leg to the same slick caress of his expert tongue and I cry out his name, loudly. “You weren’t lying, my dirty girl. Your body hurts without my cock, my hands, my tongue.”
“Yes,” I moan as his teeth bite into my ass, my knees collapsing underneath me.
Faster than I imagined possible, Bennett catches my fall, my body dragging backward, his cock fitting itself tightly along the crease of my ass. He pulls me deeper against it, his hand spanning my lower stomach, resting, only briefly before his fingers entangle in the lace leading downwards, pulling it upward. The sensation against my clit is too much, my body shaking, my head flying backward onto his shoulder. His free hand, the one not assaulting my pussy, moves to the nape of my neck, forcing my head up and eyes forward.
“Watch,” he commands on a snarl. My eyes flutter, but I do as he says and my eyes focus on the mirrored image projecting from his television. “Pull your knees onto the couch.”
I follow his instruction, the move widening my position on his lap, causing me to cry out in pleasure. Situated, he bites my neck. “Now move. Grind your hips, Riding Hood. Watch yourself come, perched on my lap with nothing but my cock nestled between your ass and this tiny scrap of material massaging your clit.”
I rock back and forth, my eyes glued on our image staring back at me. We look so sinfully sexy; this beautifully muscled man wrapped around my artfully dressed body. Our shaded forms writhing in pleasure. It’s the single most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.
Certain that I won’t redirect my eyes, Bennett’s hand moves from my neck, sliding around my body to pinch one of my laced covered nipples.
I groan loudly, my hips moving faster, my arousal now coating my inner thighs. “Bennett,” I moan. “Honey, I’m gonna come.”
His fingers tighten in my lace, pulling it tighter against my core, his knuckles whitening with the pressure. I come loudly. Screaming into the room with praise to a god that looks undoubtedly like Bennett James.
Before I’ve had time to come down from the euphoria my orgasm brought on, Bennett’s fingers untangle from my lingerie, a single finger sliding the material aside, making way for his throbbing cock.
Moving my body as he wishes, he lifts my hips, edges me forward and finally, after what feels like forever, the angry head of his length pushes at my entrance.
“Never been this hard, Riding Hood.”
I push back and I watch his body in our reflection, drop back against the couch, leaving me in control. I inch down slowly, letting the iron of his hardness stretch me to a point of tenderness. It takes time as I pull out, then slide back down lower. Repeating this action until he’s buried deep inside, hitting a point within my body that has to be virginal. Untouched. Oversensitive to the push of his presence.
“So deep,” he grinds his words, flexing his hips to hit me deeper still.
Circling my hips, he moves deliciously inside of me and we groan simultaneously. The tangle of our sounds fraught with our need to feel it again.
I circle and grind in unhurried strides. I feel full of Bennett after far too long apart and I take my time enjoying him, enjoying us.
His posture remains languid, body relaxed against his couch in unhurried gratification as he watches me do my thing. His groans are long and drawn-out, drowsy in their sound. His hands grip my hips, the silk of my cape bunched along his hands as he watches my ass rock back and forth.
“It’s like your cunt communicates with my dick, baby. She throbs against me so hard, telling me she’s close. She likes it when we come together. She wants to feel me spill inside of you while she convulses.”
My hips move faster, chasing the cliff of my orgasm, wanting to jump right off and feel it course through my entire body. “Ready, Riding Hood?”
“Ye-es. God. Yes. Bennett.”
“Come, Darci. Soak my dick, Riding Hood. Let me feel you.” His arms move upward, one clasping heavily onto my shoulder the other flicking a nipple.
My climax crashes into my body and I fall forward, bracing my hands on his knees. Bennett follows, his grasp on my shoulder pulling me down onto his body as hard as he can, impaling me onto his cock as he empties inside my greedy body.
“Fuck. Riding Hood. That was the hottest fucking thing, shit, baby, you feel good?”
I can’t seem to muster any words, so I hum in agreement. He laughs softly, sitting upright to kiss my shoulder. “That help with the hurt?” he jokes, nibbling my neck. “Satisfy you enough?”
I walk my hands backward, sitting upright on his lap and looking over my shoulder, I kiss his lips. “Not even close, up for round two?”