Page 13 of Monarch
“Good,” I rock my hips up to prove it, “it feels really good.”
“Tell me, Mari,” she says, still in that authoritative tone. “Have you been tested recently?”
“Uh-huh,” I mumble. “A few weeks ago. Got the all clear. Haven’t been with anyone since.”
Apparently, full sentences are too difficult for me when the heel of her hand is rubbing quick circles against my clit, and I can feel my own dampness on my underwear.
“Very good,” Roos says, satisfied. “I also tested negatively. Recently. Ish.”
“Okay,” I say, and I’m surprised when a clear and important thought emerges through my fog of arousal. “But…do we… Should we still use a condom? I’m not on birth control.”
“In theory, you shouldn’t need it. I don’t produce much cum, but I definitely think condoms are always a good idea,” she says, and she reaches across my body to a bedside table. She rummagesaround, all while still pushing her hand against me, and then a box of condoms and a bottle of lube are thrown onto the bed near my head.
With all that settled, I have a very sudden urge. “Kiss me,” I say, and I hold my arms open for her.
She gives me this stunning smile - bright and wide and revealing – and then she crashes into the side of my body, bringing her lips to mine.
Roos’ kisses are like none I’ve had before. They’re deep and slow and sensuous. Even when they’re quick and passionate, there’s still a sense of timelessness to them, like she’s rushed to have me but not in a rush for it to be over. It’s like she could never tire of my lips, could never get bored of my taste, and I come alive with the way her tongue flicks against mine before she sucks my bottom lip into her mouth.
I moan, loudly, and I feel that pull up the corners of her lips into a smile.
She grazes her teeth over my tongue, and I reach up and grip her head between my hands, my fingers getting lost in her hair.
“Shit, wait,” she says, pulling away. Both her hands come up to her hair. I mourn the loss of her palm on my cunt, but not as much as I worry I’ve done something wrong.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, it’s just… I’m wearing a wig.” She blushes and looks away. “I have this fucking awful hairline I hate. But also, I like wearing wigs.”
I smile. “I love that for you. Do you want to take it off?”
“Not really,” she says, and I can tell when she looks into my eyes again, it’s with effort. “I like having long hair like this. Especially when I’m…being dominant.”
“But would it be best if I didn’t touch it too much?”
“Exactly,” she says with a much smaller smile than I’d like to see.
I place my hand on her knee. “Whatever makes you feel more comfortable.”
“Okay,” she says, and then she looks down the length of my body. I feel the air in the room grow more charged, denser, electric. “Now lie down and take off your underwear.”
I do as I’m told with a happy sigh. There is something special about slick and smooth scenes where hook-ups happen almost seamlessly, without any interruptions or hiccups. But personally, I like this version of sex much more. When we stop, when we talk, when we share what we like, what we don’t like, what feels good. This feels raw and unfiltered and real, and I’ve been looking for something to feel real for a very long time.
When my boxers are off my body, Roos gets up and moves to stand between my open legs that hang off the bed. With one of her knees, she nudges my legs further apart, and this has me tilting my hips up to her. She flashes a wicked grin down at my crotch, not even bothering to direct it to my eyes, and I watch without blinking as she elegantly bends at the waist and inhales me.
That’s it. That’s all she does. She doesn’t touch me. Doesn’t kiss me. Doesn’t make any contact at all other than sniffing the air immediately in front of my cunt. For some reason, it makes my belly quiver and feels more powerful than if she’d covered me with her mouth.
She must like what she smells because she finally makes eye contact with me, flashing that mischievous smile.
“You smell good enough to eat,” she coos, still sternly somehow.
“Please eat me,” I beg, thrusting my hips again. I’m desperate for her tongue. “Please.”
“Begging already?” She cocks a dark blonde eyebrow. “What if I’m not hungry?”
“Then use your hand, your fingers,” I blurt. “Anything. Just please touch me.”
“What about this?” She brings her hand between my legs and pinches my clit. She pinches it with a cruel twist that has me jolting up from the bed.
