Page 20 of Hearts Etched in Glass
Bobby lines me with her entrance as his hand pushes on my lower back, easing me into her.
I haven’t been with a woman in so long and she feels incredible. “So, fucking tight,” I mumble as I begin slow strides in and out of her.
“She feels fucking incredible. Life altering.” Bobby whispers in my ear, “Don’t you love how she grips your dick when you’re fully inside her?” He’s holding both of my hips and urges me forward. Tilly clenches around my cock, making it hard to keep myself together.
“Now watch, when you slide out. Just leaving the tip in, her cunt beckons you. Tries to grip you and pull you back in.” I follow his direction as he keeps his hands at my sides.
“Fuck, Bobby, I’m not going to last.” The movement becomes faster as his fingers dig into my hips and help me move in and out of Tilly with such passion.
“That’s it, keep going. I want you to fill her up, darling.” He leaves my side, but before he does, he kisses my cheek. Then he is hovering over Tilly, praising her as he laves over her peeked nipples.
“That’s right darling, take his cock. Your needy cunt needs to be filled, doesn’t it? Well, you must come again, if you want that.” With his words and my movements, she unravels before me. A guttural moan escapes her as she tightens around me. It feels like she is fucking sucking the come from me as I spill inside her. The pleasure shoots through my body as all my muscles contract. Ilay atop Tilly as we pant in unison, and Bobby strokes his hands through our hair.
“You both were so good, my darlings.” Then he kisses us softly. “Thank you for making my fantasy come true.”
Chapter 10: Tilly
Bad For Me,Meghan Trainor feat. Teddy Swims
Staring at my reflection in the mirror I begin chastising everything I see. My red lipstick, black skirt, with a gorgeous, long sleeved, gray button top. With a decorative bow around the neckline, the tag had a French label on it, which originally made me feel classy and sophisticated, but now I am readying myself for all the horrific comments I shall receive from my parents at this luncheon.
I should have rescheduled.
Waited until Bobby came back to town, to be there and protect me from their harsh criticism. He said hewould be gone for a couple weeks, and unfortunately, we are halfway there.
A rapping at my bedroom door startles my web of thoughts. Marcus. He leans on the door frame in a three-piece tweed suit, a flat cap on his head and a cigarette hanging from his mouth.
“You well, love?” His face shows some concern as his cinnamon eyes fix on my attire. “You look stunning.” He says it so breathlessly my voice catches in my throat. I can feel my pulse picking up as I remember the last time we were in my room, the way he caressed me. The way he touched Bobby. How he felt inside me at the boutique. My skin warms as I begin to blush at my memories. Rushing out of the room, I try to squeeze past him and cheerfully lie, “I’m fine, everything is fine!”
He grasps my upper arm, lifting an eyebrow at me.
His scent of leather and cedar warms my soul as I lean into his touch.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, lowering his head to whisper in my ear, his nose nudging my temple. A light touch glides along my lower back, as his other hand encircles me gently.
“We are going to see my parents,” I exclaim with a nervous swallow. “They are going to judge everything. It makes me feel small. They have never seen me in anything but pink clothing and for goodness’ sake if that isn’t the right shade they scold that.” My words come out a little faster as I explain more and more.
Marcus kisses my forehead. “May I join you?”
“Is that an option?” I quickly remark. His smile widens as he tilts his head high, with pride.
“I’d be honored.” At his answer my body throbs with temptation and lust. A lewd thought crosses my mind as I trace his lips with my gaze. Though, it would feel wrong to do anything without Bobby here. It just wouldn’t feel right.
“Thank you for coming with me,” I mutter and begin ascending the stairs. We leave in his Crossley for the luncheon I've been regretting all week.
Once we join my parents at the cafe, their faces fall when they see my outfit.
Marcus places two fingers discreetly on my lower back to provide silent reassurance, but my stomach aches with dread with each step towards them. Their faces grow darker and more solemn the closer we get.
As we approach the table they do not stand. They do not smile. They sit with their hands in their laps, judging.
How predictable.
“This is Marcus, he is my bodyguard.” My mother scoffs, “Hi”, as my father nods at him. How unbelievably rude. At their house parties, they would lick the feet of those that are elite and posh, but Marcus is of an insect in their eyes and a spark of rage knocks on the recesses of my mind. Marcus and I take a seat and the interrogation ensues.
“Darling that is not pink. That is hideous.” The words come through gritted teeth as my mother eyes me up and down. “You look like you are going to a funeral.”
“Yes, not very lady like,” my father adds. “You look like a widow, even though, technically you were deceased a year or so ago.”
