Page 61 of Van Cort
Lighter heels move in the room. “Everett, we’re here to find out more about each other, aren’t we? What did you call it? Compatibility? Show me something I’ve not seen yet. Play. For me. Please.” Oh, that’s good. Throwing it back at him. Maybe she’s more intelligent than I thought.
“Fine. I will if you will.”
“What?”
“Play. Take your clothes off.” I smirk and turn my head towards the door, pushing at it slightly. I can’t see anything yet, but I will when the moment’s right. He’ll make sure the view’s clear for me.
“Why?”
“Because I asked you to.” He steps across the room, and I hear the sound of the strings loosely played. “We might as well use the privacy to full effect. Make yourself come.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not.”
“Here? What about dinner? And women really don’t do that sort of thing on command.”
A chord gets strummed, and then another, before it abruptly stops. “They do if they try. Are we playing or not, Andie?”
“You want me to strip?”
“Yes.”
Stillness permeates the air, and I doubt if she’ll play along, but then the sound of ruffled clothes dropping to the floor makes me smile, and before long he’s playing a sombre tune on the guitar, one I remember well from our youth. Soft mewling comes after that, and I tip my head back against the wood and imagine her hand between her legs, her fingers delving deep, her mouth as she wets her lips and pants and moans.
My smile widens as the music stops, and I listen to his footsteps. “On your knees. It’s my turn,” he says. I push on the door to ease it open a little further and watch him drag her chin towards him until she’s in a better position for me to see. She reaches for his belt, apparently not needing instruction, and makes short work of getting him out and into her mouth. Part fury, and part fascination, make me watch every move she makes around his dick. She takes him all the way in, and all the way out. Slow, deliberate strokes, like she enjoys teasing him. My own dick rages, and before long, I’ve got it in my hand, mirroring her movements on him.
He stiffens after a while and pulls her up, pushing her to the still sheeted piano. She’s bent over it, and he plants her face on the surface facing away from me. Within seconds, he’s burieddeep inside her and groaning his pleasure, fucking her from behind. His other hand lifts, finger crooking at me. The move makes me frown and take a silent step, unsure what he wants.
His whole palm goes up as I enter the room.
Stop. Watch.
So I lean back on the wall inside the room and watch, my own hand wrapped around my dick as he fucks her hard. She jolts against the piano every time he flexes his hips, pounding against her ass. His name, annoyingly, sounds out as breathy groans and moans every time he bites into her back. It’s been so fucking long since we’ve done this, and yet every drive in from him feels like it’s me somehow. I can feel her around me, feel her skin against mine, feel my own hand on her cheek to keep her head where I want it - where we want it.
Eventually, the mewls and the groans and moans, including my own, stop, and a heavy silence fills the room alongside the smell of cum. I lick my lips and watch him run his own cum over her back and ass before he spanks it a few times. She shrieks, but laughs afterwards, like he didn’t really mean it. He did. And that earns her another, harder one to prove it.
“Everett?” she says, as she tries to lift off the piano.
He plants her head harder.
“Stay still. I’m not done with you yet.” His finger flicks at me.Leave.I do, tucking myself back in my pants, and then I listen to the sound of his tongue inside her and her moaning in response. It goes on, and on, until I finally hear her crying out another orgasm. Lucky girl. She’d have been even luckier if he’d let me inside her.
“You were making dinner, weren’t you?” he eventually says.
I hear her moving around, probably for her clothes. “Actually, we were. And it’s going to be ruined.”
“I’m sure you’ll find something else to throw together.”
I lean my head back on the brick in the passageway, closing my eyes.
“Are you alright?” she asks. He’s fine. Thinking. “Everett?”
“What?”
“You’re staring into space again.” He’s remembering. Like I am. “Everything okay?”
“Fine. Just remembering.”
