Page 36 of The Cannon
For a few minutes I consider having Bristol give me a tour but the idea is ultimately rejected. I don’t want to copy another man’s moves. If Atticus and Charlotte hold it close to their hearts, then it’s their spot. I’m going to come up with something else.
Maybe I need to keep it simple. Our first time. My balls ache thinking about it. Tonight can’t come too soon.
* * *
Standingat her door I check my breath and tuck my shirt. Hope she likes classic. Black suit, crisp white shirt tailored to my body. My latest watch.
I knock.
Hearing the click click click of high heels coming closer on the other side of the door makes me smile. Then it opens and the smile turns into an appreciative stare. Bristol is a vision in blue. A short dress that skims her body. Sleeveless. The way the fabric drapes over her breasts is genius. Fuck.
“You look beautiful.”
She dips her head in an adorable gesture of shyness. I’d bet it’s an emotion Bristol doesn’t feel much. Her confidence is one of the things I like about her. But this small movement, eyes cast down, makes me feel ten feet tall.
“Thank you. I tried on different outfits. I wanted to pick one you’d like best.”
Is she kidding? I’d like her in a gunny sack.
I take her hands and wrap them around my waist.
“Let me show you how impressed I am.”
We come together in a kiss.The kiss.It’s on another plane, somewhere other than earthly. For a split second we come up for air and lock eyes. Fuck the fucking party under the moon. Fuck our well-chosen outfits. Fuck her perfectly done hair. My request and her agreement passes between us without words. It’s on.
Her fingers find the buttons on my dress shirt and make quick work of them. There’s no hesitation on my part. There’s just one move for me to make. The dress. But I pause to let her unzip my pants. Just to make her more comfortable, I’ll get naked first.
My shoes get kicked off. She pushes the pants down and I do the rest, stepping out of them and moving the puddle of fabric to the side with my foot.
Running her hands over my chest, she opens the shirt and I rid myself of it in a matter of seconds. Delicate fingers glide over my biceps and squeeze the hardness.
My dick is poking against the fly of my boxer briefs, looking for release. Her eyes are on it, and then her hands.Oh fuck. Yeah baby. Get at it.
I grab a fistful of the long braid she’s wearing and tilt her head back. She smiles and raises an eyebrow. I take the indecent kiss and trail my tongue along her alabaster neck.
There’s no conversation other than the clear message of rising breaths. This is beyond words.
As she’s pulling my waistband down, I’m gathering the material of her dress on either side of her waist. There’s the desire to see Bristol naked against the need to have my dick in her hands, mouth, pussy. They fight each other for dominance.
She lifts me out and begins to stroke the length of me. Fuck.
“The Cannon,” is all she says.
I need to interrupt one of the best moments of my life. The dress. It needs to come off. She lifts her hands in the air and I rid her of it. It goes sailing to the back of a nearby chair and slips to the floor.
Holy mother of all things sacred. She stands before me wearing only a silky blue thong. And high heels. Fuck me. Please fuck me, woman.
The breasts. Oh god. My mouth finds them like a magnet finds metal. No more waiting. Her nipples are as described, and they peak with the touch of my tongue. Hard.
Now a sound. She’s moaning and it’s making my dick twitch against her. Like a divining rod reaching for water.
Her hand finds me and begins a slow and fucking out-of-this-world rhythmic stroke. I’m kissing those soft lips. Our tongues meeting and exploring. Fuck this.
I scoop her up in my arms. “Point the way,” I command.
“Last door on the right,” she says, running her tongue around my ear. Chills.
The door is half closed, but I kick it open and stop it from returning with my shoulder. There’s only a few more steps and then I lay her down. For me. For my pleasure and hers. I remove her shoes and rub her bare foot over my cock.
