My body welcomed that with a surge of wet.
I felt pressure on the back of one knee and got the message.
I welcomed that and climbed on his lap.
Rix spent some time under my skirt, arranging it just so over his lap and legs and the bed and even up his chest.
There was something tender about that.
Tender and excruciatingly sexy.
I slid my hands to his jaw and recaptured his attention.
“After all my adventures on the high seas, or bringing order to the Wild West, why is it not a bummer I ended up the damsel-in-distress sex slave?” I asked.
His answer was simple and so Rix.
“Your captor’s got a big dick.”
I laughed softly and murmured, “Oh yeah. Right.”
“He needs that dick in you, wearing this dress,” he murmured back.
“As his sex slave, I’m powerless to stop him.”
Rix grinned, and his hand worked under my skirt again until what I felt straining against my damp panties was freed.
He slid the gusset of those panties aside and rubbed the head of his cock against me.
I bit my lip.
He positioned, wrapped his fingers around my hips, and agonizingly slowly, he took me.
And he kept doing it. I did none of the work, his strong hands guided me.
I watched the heat build in his eyes, my heart tripping faster, corresponding to his breath coming more and more heavily.
No noise. No grunts. No mews. No whispers. No kisses.
Just labored breaths.
Breathing into each other.
Breathing each other.
Our eyes remained locked as Rix made me make love to him on my bed, where I’d spent hours while growing up, absolutely dreaming of the shadowed, dark, strong, protective savior who would love me for me and sweep me away into a world of adventure.
I knew he was almost there when his thumb shifted to my clit.
My orgasm was massive.
But it came out as a sigh.
I watched and saw his was powerful.
But it exposed itself only as the cords of his neck tightening.
When we were done, he again took pains to keep my skirt as it was even as he pulled his hands out from under to wrap his arms around me.
I rested my cheek on his shoulder, my face in his neck, and whispered, “You really like this dress.”
“I really like this girl who can sleep under the stars and glide along lakes and show kids the beauty of trees and then command every man’s attention in a bar in the big city and be the only one in her entire high-class family who’s lousy with grace.”
I closed my eyes in order to fully feel all that his words meant to me.
But I said, “I didn’t command every man’s attention.”
He gave me a squeeze. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m okay you think that, baby, even though you did. It’s all sorts of good for me you don’t notice that shit.”
I loved that moment, with Rix, in that room.
But I’d come hard, so had he, we’d gotten up really early, and our trials and tribulations had just begun.
In other words, I needed some rest, and I needed to take care of my guy, who probably needed some too.
So as much as we could be in that room, in that mood, and I could sit on his cock forever, I actually couldn’t.
“Do you want to sleep here?” I offered.
“No. I want my only memory of this room to be you on my cock in that dress on your bed.”
Again tender.
And sexy.
Though, a little strange, because it didn’t have the personality of his, but I thought my room was kind of neat.
“Okay,” I agreed.
He pulled me off him and set me on my feet. He held me until I was steady then he tucked himself away, zipped and got up.
And holding hands, we walked back to our room.
Elsa Cohen
“The Elsa Exchange”
Celebrity News and Interviews
YouTube Channel
* * *
“Oh, my wonderful watchers, things are always interesting in the world’s most thriving metropolis, but I must tell you I am veritably agog with how exciting things are going to be this week!”
Picture on screen, full-body of Alexandra Sharp in an elegant, Grace Kelly-esque dress, magnificent earrings and stunning strappy sandals gazing up at John “Rix” Hendrix who’s wearing an impeccably tailored charcoal gray suit and an open-necked black shirt as they stride into a fabulous hotel on which, everyone who is anyone knows, the rooftop terrace is to-die-for.
Cut to picture of Alexandra and Hendrix tucked close together, gazes aimed at the camera, Hendrix looking brooding and protective, Alexandra smiling a Cheshire cat smile.
Cut to another picture of Alexandra and Hendrix, she has her hands up in front of her, he has his on her waist. She’s leaned into him, head tipped back, the skirt of her remarkable dress is tangled with his legs. His mouth is on hers.
Cut back to Elsa.
“That’s right, my wonderful watchers, our current favorite couple have winged their way to the busy, bustling city, and don’t they clean up good?” Elsa fans herself. “Oh my. If they weren’t so…impeccably…fabulous it would be embarrassing how they’re showing up the locals.”