CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“I’ve never been down this end of the house before,” said Clarissa as we climbed up to the second floor, still holding hands. The softness of her palm and the heat from her petite hand generated electrical currents through me.
When we landed on the second floor, I asked, “Would you like a quick tour?” Clarissa, absorbed in the artwork, glanced up at me. She looked flushed as she always did when staring at art.
I loved her creative spirit.
“I would love that.” Clarissa smiled.
Knowing of her father’s literary background, I directed her to the library first. Her surprised delight made the room even more special. Her eyes swept about the room. “Wow… this is incredible.” Clarissa ran her finger over the spine of a gold scrolled book. “It has that distinct smell of old books.”
I just stood and watched, thrilled at seeing Clarissa overjoyed.
“Oh my God—Celtic scroll. How magnificent.” She peered down at a glass table housing the medieval text. “Did you buy this at an auction?”
I shook my head. “The whole collection came with the house. I fell in love with it. The former owner, a famous 1930’s Hollywood producer, was an avid collector of original editions and rare books.”
“And he sold the entire stock to you? It must have cost a fortune,” she said, sounding all breathy and sexy. “Do you mind if I touch it?”
Only if you let me touch you.
“Please. You can borrow one if you like—I don’t mind. I love the idea of them being read, enjoyed.”
“Why didn’t he auction them? I wonder,” Clarissa said.
“It was a deceased estate. The son had debts up to his ears. He wanted an easy transaction, a quick sale.”
Her eyes danced with amusement. “Ah… the prodigal son.” She giggled, sending a warm buzz through me.
Just seeing her perched over the glass table, those glorious breasts spilling out, leaning on her slender arms, put my mind in a haze of desire.
“Consider this room open access to you and your father. Twenty-four, seven. In fact, I have a proposition.”
Clarissa looked up at me, her eyes glistening with interest. I could have eaten her, she was so ravishing.
“I need these volumes catalogued. My insurer has been on my back for a while now. Do you think your father would be interested?”
Her mouth dropped open. I added, “With compensation, of course—a proper contract befitting a professor of his standing and a little more.”
Clarissa hadn’t blinked. Her rosy, full lips parted, all moist, crying out for my mouth. “That would be amazing.” I noticed her eyes misting over.
I held her. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t. It’s just that this would be such a wonderful gift for my father. He’s been struggling for a while. And it would be a dream job for him. That is… if you…” She pulled away from me. I needed her back. Her soft body had become an addiction.
“If I what? Anything—just come here again.” I took her in my arms again.
“Would he be able to take his time and read as well? You wouldn’t have to pay for that, of course.”
I laughed, my heart spilling over. “You’re a kind and caring daughter. I hope my daughter one day has a heart as big as yours.”
Our lips finally met. My need for Clarissa was so intense I had to avoid crushing her. With much reluctance, I undid my hold. “I’ll never leave this room… if we continue doing this.”
“My father would love that job. I noticed you had Bleak House. It’s one of his most cherished books.” Her face filled with wonder. She was such a pure soul.
“Come on.” I crooked my finger. “Let’s get a drink.”
Clarissa paused and pointed at a door. “What’s in there?”
“Just some toys,” I replied dismissively. The night was leaving, and I needed this girl in my arms, naked.
Clarissa’s natural curiosity filled her face. “I’d love to have a look.” That luscious smile had me capitulating in a flash.
“Just keep looking at me like that, Clarissa, and you can ask anything of me,” I said, brushing her cheek.
When I turned on the light, the space with wall-to-wall guitars came alive.
“Do you play?” Clarissa approached the wall, where every single model of electric guitar ever produced was on display. On the ground were even more guitars in hard cases.
“A little,” I said, sighing. The talk of music always produced the same result: frustration.
“You do?” Clarissa tilted her head, looking impressed.
“I’m not that good. My father”—I pointed to a framed photo of him— “is the musician.”
Clarissa studied the image of my younger father with a guitar on his lap. “It’s a fantastic shot. He looks like you,” said Clarissa with surprise in her voice.
“Well, he is my dad.”
My legs locked as Clarissa continued to study the picture. “You sound sad,” she said.
“I’m not.” I painted a smile.
She studied me closely. I sensed she was too intuitive for bullshit. “I’d love to hear you play.” She stroked the machine head of the guitar standing up. It was such a sensuous gesture my skin puckered.
“You chose my most revered, the Ferrari. You exude fabulous taste, Miss Moone.”
“Ferrari? Is that what it’s called?” Clarissa’s lips curled with amusement.
“No. It’s a name I made up for it. It’s all shiny, red, and living up to its fine appearance. The guitar is a fiery little monster.”
Clarissa giggled. “That’s so cool. I’d love to hear you play it.”
“One day,” I said, taking her by the hand. I wanted to leave the room.
She remained fixated on the guitar as if she was trying to learn something from it. It was strangely moving. “I still don’t get why you’re sad.” Clarissa looked up at me.
“I didn’t think I was.” My chuckle was tight. I lost myself in her large brown eyes.
“Why didn’t you want to enter this room?” “Because I missed my chance at doing something I love. Doing it well, I mean.” I sighed. I didn’t want to do this now. Our power had shifted. She was in control. And for some twisted reason, I desired her more for it.
“But music is eternal,” she murmured softly.
I shut the door to the room. “That’s profound,” I said in a weak voice. Clarissa had hit a nerve.
I flicked a switch, and the lamps in my bedroom all lit up at once. It was a massive space, taking up the entire area of the top floor.
“Oh…” Clarissa sighed. “How splendid.” She turned about, and her dress flared out.
“And that is even more so,” I said with a smile. The time to play was nigh. My emotions had already had more airing than was comfortable. I needed to suckle on those nipples, which provoked me as they pushed out of that eye-catching floral dress.
I headed to the bar and opened the fridge. “What can I offer you? Wine, champagne, beer? Something stronger?”
She shrugged. “What are you having?”
I opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. “How’s white wine sound?”
Distracted by my busy space, Clarissa nodded. “I so like the color of the walls. Not quite turquoise but not pale-blue either. Nice.”
“I’m glad you like it. I only just had it repainted. It was a pale lemon before.”
Her eyes settled on the painting facing my bed. “You moved the Godward from the ballroom.”
I passed the glass of wine to her. “Yes, well, I had to have it in here. She’s you.”
Clarissa turned and looked at me. A line formed between her eyebrows. “I’ve got the same hair, I suppose.” She examined the painting.
“You’re more beautiful. But the other night when you were asleep, I realized how alike you were, especially with your hair out.” My eyes seared into her. “Only you were naked.” I lifted her heavy plaits. “When do we undo these?”
Clarissa’s lips curled gloriously as she let me unravel her hair. After that, she ran her fingers through the waist-length black hair.
As she stood before me with waves in her hair, I shook my head. “Clarissa, you’ll be my undoing.” As I took her into my arms, she molded into me effortlessly. Our lips met. Hers felt hot, moist, and soft—pure sensuality. When that word was invented, they had Clarissa in mind.
I tried to take things slowly, but when I felt her tongue, my need went up a gear. My hands ran up her smooth, naked legs. Her panties were so wet I hissed. I waltzed her to the bed, and we fell onto it, entwined. I released her so I could remove my jeans. All the while, Clarissa watched me. Her eyes traveled down to my hard cock. She bit her lip, and her eyelids grew heavier.
“We need to get you naked,” I said, finding it hard to speak from the anticipation. I lifted her dress and nearly swallowed my tongue when I saw her soft flesh primed for the taking. Her breasts were barely covered by a red lacy bra. Clarissa allowed me to remove her tiny panties. Oh my.
Her heavy tits fell into my hands. My heart felt like it would leap out of my chest. Her erect nipples had me salivating. I sucked on them, played with them with my tongue, her body undulating as her breathing becoming heavier.
I pulled away, and she glanced at me imploringly. She didn’t want me to stop. Good, neither did I. “I must show you something,” I said, so aroused my legs were weak.
A sheet I’d placed by my bed fell into my hand. Life was too short. I could not deprive myself of skin on skin with this little angel.
Clarissa frowned. “It’s a blood test. Why are you showing me this?”
“It proves that I’m STD free.” I removed the document from her hands and held her again. “It means, gorgeous girl, that I can feel you properly,” I said, caressing her heaving breasts. “You mentioned that you started the pill, a week ago. Are you protected?”
She nodded sweetly.
Our lips met again. She opened her mouth suggestively, her velvety tongue wet and ready. She was pure sex, unconsciously so.
My fingers moved down her soft thigh. She opened her legs for me. The image would never leave me: her eyes shut, lips open, nipples erect. Hungering for her musky earth flavor, I needed to make a meal of her cunt. When my tongue landed on her swollen clit, I felt her flinch. Her legs stiffened by my side.
“I probably should shower,” she murmured softly.
“You’re not going anywhere. You’re like a rose,” I muttered, my head still buried low.
She was slick and sticky to my touch. I fluttered my tongue over her swollen bud and felt her pelvis rise gently. She gyrated, her moans vibrating through her. My tongue rotated, licked, and devoured, supping on her creamy nectar. Her juices flooded my mouth. As she scaled the throes of deep pleasure, my tongue was relentless. I wanted her crazy and desperate. Clarissa’s agonized legato moans were pure music, my prize.
I entered her through a thick, creamy slick. One finger first. “You’re so tight, my angel.” I entered her with two fingers. “How’s that? I need to fuck you badly, but I don’t want to bruise you.”
“It feels really nice,” she purred.
I held my heavy cock in my hand. There was hunger in her smoldering dark eyes, breaking me. I would not last.
One inch at a time, I entered her. And my, she felt incredible, my groan reflecting every little inch of bliss. Blood raged through me. Fighting the urge to thrust hard, I eased.
“Please, don’t stop,” she whimpered. The need in her voice impelled me to enter farther. As I did, Clarissa widened her legs and clasped onto my ass, impelling me to fill her. Her moans strengthened.
“Are you okay?” I asked, struggling to speak. Her wet cunt strangled my impatient cock
“Yes,” she rasped.
I pushed in as far as possible—not balls deep, she was too small for that. Even so, the pleasure was so extreme that my breathing became heavy. I pulled out slowly and then pushed in again. Clarissa vacuumed me up with her tight little muscles.
Her panting increased. With each entry, the heat, her creamy sex devoured me. Our breathing merged into one tormented sound. I was losing myself in her. My little supple goddess had her legs wide apart, urging my thrusts to accelerate.
Within barely a minute, I shot out and filled her in what seemed an endless deluge. An entire week of fantasies flowed out of me. Skin on skin, the sensation, indescribable. Blood coursed through me, my heart banged hard against my ribcage, as I cried out her name.
To avoid crushing her, I rolled Clarissa onto her side. For the first time all week, my muscles slackened.
“I’m sorry I came so quickly. I didn’t make you come,” I said, pushing a strand of ink-black hair away from her face.
“I orgasmed.” Her eyes held a wicked smile.
“Why, Miss Moone, I think you enjoyed that,” I said, stroking her cheek.
“I did. Only…”
“Only?”
“I could go again,” she said, looking up at me, eating me with her passionate wide gaze.
“I may need a few moments,” I said, tapping her dainty nose. Normally, it would take me a while to harden after fucking. But with the need in her eyes, her mouth-watering hardened nipples, the way her long black hair fell provocatively over her white breasts, Clarissa had my cock under a spell.
“I can take you in my mouth if you like,” she said girlishly. Now, that clinched the deal—I was rock-hard.
“That would be something else.” I ran my finger over her cushiony soft lips. “Only, my cock needs to be inside you again.”