Chapter 15
Sharla
Sharla had gone back and forth trying to make up her mind about what to wear. She finally decided on ripped jeans and a tight, pink tank top—minus a bra. As she stared at herself in the mirror, she looked like a teenager. Felt like one too. Anticipation over her impending date with Marcel and what she had in store for him made her bubbly with excitement.
An hour later, when she welcomed Marcel into her home, he too was wearing jeans.
He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. She caught a whiff of that same citrusy cologne he wore the night of the dance.
A few curly wisps of chest hair peeked up from his black shirt. Sharla loved men with hairy chests. Not gorilla hairy but just a sprinkling. She got off on rubbing her nipples against the coarse hair, and couldn’t wait to do that to Marcel tonight.
“Nice place,” Marcel said. He presented her with a bottle of wine while glancing around the living room.
“Thanks. I don’t think I ever asked where you live.”
“Redondo Beach. As a Texas boy, I dreamed of having a beach house. But a couple of blocks away was as close as I could afford to beachfront property in Cali.”
Marcel followed her into the kitchen.
“I hope you like turkey lasagna. It’s one of the few dishes I make well.”
“Love it. Need any help?”
“Nope, everything’s ready. How about opening the wine? The corkscrew is in the drawer next to the refrigerator.”
As he turned his back to her, she admired his strong shoulders and wished she was bold enough to ask him to take off his shirt. It would be quite the turn on to eat dinner while staring at his chiseled chest. With that hard body, he must’ve spent a lifetime in the gym.
Sharla set the food in the middle of the dining room table, lit a couple of scented candles and they sat down.
Marcel took the seat at the head of the table. Sharla was about to take the opposite end, when he stopped her.
“I don’t want you sitting way over there.” He patted the chair to his immediate right. “Come sit next to me.”
Sharla did as he asked.
For the next hour or so, they chatted casually, discussing everything from politics to faith to family. Marcel was in the middle of a conversation about a deposition that had gone awry when Sharla couldn’t take it anymore.
“You know what I want right now,” she interrupted.
“What?”
“You.”
Marcel reacted with the cool seduction of a sleek black panther. He leaned over, kissed her, then pulled her to her feet. She started unbuttoning his shirt, anxious to feel his bare chest brushing up against hers. Reaching skin, she raked her nails across his pecs. She had never been with a guy who actually had abs as hard and ripped as a washboard.
Marcel lifted her tank top and Sharla eagerly massaged her nipples against his chest hairs. His hand slid past her unzipped jeans and into her panties and delicately fingered her. She was stoned with lust.
“Let’s go to the bedroom.” She took his hand and led him down the hallway.
Her crystal lamp with the blue light bulb provided the only illumination in the room. Marcel’s skin glistened as he pulled back the comforter and laid her down on the bed. He then proceeded to explore every inch of her with his hot tongue. He began at her ankles, licking and kissing his way up her legs. He moved at a snail’s pace as if he was determined not to leave an inch of skin untouched. She had never been licked from head to toe before and it drove her wild.
Marcel tugged her by the ankles until her butt reached the edge of the bed. Getting down on his knees, he crouched between her legs. His tongue flickered in and out of her navel, as he moved lower and lower. Sharla bit her lip and closed her eyes, anticipating even greater pleasure to come. When his mouth finally arrived at the place that longed for him the most, she gasped as his firm tongue lapped at her sweet spot, intermittently kissing her inner thighs.
Like a gourmet chef stirring the pot, Marcel took his time, patiently waiting for his brew to come to a boil. Just as he brought her to the brink of coming, his mouth pulled away.
Taking her by the shoulders, he set her upright. His large hands gripped her thighs, gently spreading them apart. She could barely keep her whimpers inside. Her head reared back, too heavy to hold up.
Marcel eased a long middle finger inside her, moving slowly at first, then deep and fast like a high-powered drill. His thumb whisked past her clit so quickly it left a trail of smoke. His middle finger continued rotating inside her, opening a spigot that sent her juices gushing down her thighs, soaking her expensive sheets.
Marcel’s tongue replaced his fingers, turning Sharla’s whimpers into screams. He knew how to teeter her on the ledge without allowing her to fall off. She lifted her ass, pressing herself into his mouth, craving more of his tongue.
When she began to tremble, a sure sign that she was close, Marcel pulled away and flipped her over, doggy style.
The change of position was so smooth, so swift, that she was on her hands and knees before she realized that she was no longer in a sitting position. The torn condom wrapper on the floor to the left of the bed caught her eye. She didn’t even see him put it on.
Marcel burrowed just an inch or so inside her.
“Ow!” Sharla screamed, pulling away. She knew from feeling him up in the elevator that he was big but not anaconda big.
“I know, I know,” he said, as if he was used to this reaction. “I’ll take it easy.”
“No! You’re too big! I can’t—”
His right hand tenderly kneaded the curve of her back as if to calm her down. “I’ll be gentle. I promise. Just relax.”
Sharla closed her eyes and bit her lip. Her entire body tensed as he tried to enter her again. It hurt, but she was so turned on she didn’t want him to stop. This was like giving up her virginity all over again.
“You okay?” Marcel asked, holding her gently by the waist.
“I think so.”
Sharla grimaced in pain as he slowly plunged inside her, stretching her in ways she had never, ever experienced before. Once she had consumed all of him, she boldly arched her back, joining him in an effortless rhythm. As he repeatedly slammed into her, she relished each blow, her pain melting into pleasure.
“Damn, you’re tight,” Marcel growled. He was a talker, which turned her on even more.
The naughtiness of their sex thrilled her. It was a chance to abandon her stuffy judicial role. No one would ever imagine she could be this uninhibited.
Marcel’s fingers tightened around her waist as he gathered speed, riding her like a bucking bronco.
How in the hell could he last this long?
Just as she was about to cry out for relief, Marcel signaled that he was approaching the finish line.
“Now, baby. Now!” he yelled, ordering her to come.
She spread her legs wider, closing the walls of her tunnel even tighter around him. Noticing the mounting intensity of his heaves and grunts, she timed her explosion to match his.
Marcel collapsed onto her back, his hot breath heating up her left ear.
“Damn, baby,” he exhaled. “Damn.”
He rolled over and they lay side by side. Sharla glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was 10:02.
Still breathing hard, Marcel snuggled closer to her, attempting to rest his head on her shoulder. Sharla abruptly pulled away and hopped out of bed.
“I have to be up early tomorrow,” she said, lifting her silk robe from the chaise next to the bed and slipping into it. Her tone wasn’t nasty, just indifferent.
“So I’m afraid you’ll need to leave.”