Beg For It

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Beg For It

Being Thalia

Chapter 22

By avenger-nerd-mom & devikafernando

AU Fan Fiction

In the sequel to Educating Thalia, the lovely Thalia Bareo is growing up, making her own way in the world after losing both men she loved, Professors Chris Evans and Tom Hiddleston. The sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago holds down a job in Madrid as she tries to deal with the real world. She continues her studies and freelances as a consultant for museums around the world. Being Thalia updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Warning: As a whole, this work contains adult content. If you proceed you have agreed that you are willing to see such content. Each chapter will not be coded with individual warnings. The overall story contains no hidden triggers.

If you are new to the series and characters, click here to the beginning of Educating Thalia.

If you are looking for other stories in the sequel, click here for the beginning of Being Thalia

Word Count: 4065

Summary: Tom’s past greets him at the door.

*****THIS CHAPTER IS NSFW****

Previous Chapter, Digging into the Past

Two nights later, Tom sulks in his room, attempting to focus on a book he found at the market that afternoon. Hearing the unexpected knock on the door to his room, Tom pulls back the book cover, closing it between the pages and laying it down on the table. The thunder rumbles the sky again as the rain beats against the windows. He murmurs his imminent arrival and runs his fingers through his hair, biting his tongue when he stubs his toe on the edge of the bed. Awkwardly perched in the middle of the room, it’s nearly unavoidable.

           When the knock echoes again, he calls out louder, “On my way!” Scratching his eyebrow in frustration, he looks around the unkempt room. He shrugs, barely opening the door, unprepared to let anyone see his untidiness. He sucks in his breath at her figure, her back to the door, admiring the architectural trimmings in the hall.

She turns when the door opens wider and smiles. “Surprise.”

“Thalia. I wasn’t expecting you-“

“That’s what makes it a surprise, Thomas.” She laughs as she steps forward.

“I just meant… Well you seem…” He stutters, floundering for his words. A thought is just out of reach, something he’s missing…

“The great Tom Hiddleston, at a loss for words?” Thalia teases as she brushes past him, pushing her way into the room, dropping an oversized bag at his feet.

“Well, truth be told, right now, you look like the ghost of an old dream I once had, a wonderful memory.” The coat is shorter, fire engine red, and she’s not in her country boots, but the look of determination is the same. He knows Thalia plans to take what she wants. And he’s ready for it. Desperate for it. His cock begins to stir and he’s thankful for the long shirt-tail hiding the evidence. “A vision of days gone by, of my sweet warrior princess.”

She turns on her heel to face him, like a goddess outlined among the books filing the walls of the room. Thalia ignores his comment. “I’m not surprised you chose this room. It’s almost pedantic. Always the intellect…” She tugs on the belt holding her raincoat tied closed. “I’m not a princess now, Thomas. I’ve worked my way up, earned my title. I’m a professor.”

Thomas. He remembers few occasions when she would call him by his full name, and again his cock twitches.

His eyebrow arches and he understands the stakes as she opens her coat, revealing a vintage polka dot dress. It clings to every curve, dipping low between her ample cleavage and barely covering the tops of her thighs, the lace trim of her hosiery showing, possibly the clip of a garter belt. Sweet and sin, all rolled into one. She lets the coat fall to the floor. He closes his gaping mouth quickly, hoping he doesn’t look like a stunned fish as she spins away, walking towards the shelves. “Stay there.” She commands without looking at him. “I ordered dinner. It’ll be here any moment.”

Watching her wide hips sway hypnotically, his Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps. He’s never wanted to lick the bottom of a woman’s shoes before, but something tells him if she asked tonight, he’d say yes. He’d gladly lick the bottom of those red-soled heels…

The woman before him is no longer the girl he once loved. She’s more exotic, worldly, powerful. She sometimes played at being a domme, but now he wonders where her travels may have taken her, what knowledge she has collected along the way… This woman, he needs to know. He feels it in his lungs, needing her like the air he breathes.

Dismissed, he stands quietly fidgeting with his hands, perching his glasses up higher on his nose to watch as she graces her hands thoughtfully over the spines of the tomes. Many of them are in languages he can’t even pretend to understand. He’d love to discuss them with her, for her to pull a novel, maybe by Cervantes or García Lorca, from the shelf and listen to her Spanish tongue wash the words over him.

When there’s a knock, she doesn’t react, pulling down a book and reading the back. He grins to himself and shuffles to the door. The delivery man in a yellow rain poncho stands with a large silver foiled packet and a tall, thin paper sack in his hands. Tom swings the door open widely and motions for him to put them on the coffee table, in front of the couch.

“The wallet’s in my purse,” she purrs.

Leaving the delivery to be set up, Tom walks back to her bag, picking it up and cringing at the wet puddle underneath. Pulling the handles apart, he looks down inside, thankful he hadn’t blindly reached in and attempted to pull out the wallet. He might have grabbed a vibrator instead. Or a bottle of lube, or one of many other untoward items resting on top of her wallet. He clears his throat, taking out the clutch. The man murmurs the total quietly. Walking to the couch, Tom counts out the Euros, dropping her bag on the modern furniture piece. The delivery man accepts the payment and handsome tip, smiling to Thalia and winking at Tom before exiting quickly.

“Dinner for two?” Tom presents, waving his arm out and drawing her attention to his delivery.

Over her shoulder, disinterested in the food, her shoulder drops and a wicked smile graces her painted red lips. “No clothes. I want you to have dinner with me naked.”

His eyes widen at her request. “But that’s just ridicu-.” Shit. He’d commanded it of her before, on their first true date when he’d pampered her in the hotel, all those years before. She’s not just teasing him, she’s letting him know she hasn’t forgotten a moment of their life together either. Their souls are tied as one. Blushing, he laughs out, soft puffs of air. “Eh, eh, eh.” He shakes his head. “Got me there, love.”

She turns and presses her back against one of the shelf supports, crossing one leg over the other and digging the toe of her heel into the floor. He watches her take a deep breath as she spreads her hands out to her sides, gripping the edges of the shelves. As he slowly unbuttons his wrinkled white shirt, he can’t help his nerves. He’s tried his best to keep in shape, but he’s older now, in his forties. He can’t stop the insecurities flitting through his mind, and his eyes are nearly blinded by shame, as tears well behind them. What if she’d felt that way before? That she wasn’t beautiful enough? She’d been brave, so brave not to hide, to share her voluptuous body with him, with so little coaxing…

A hitch in her breath clears his head and he notices the small, nearly imperceptible wiggle of her legs, crossing over one another. Bloody hell, she’s starting without him. He’d love to call her on it, but tonight she holds the reins. She’s the Professor and he’s simply Thomas. Whoever she needs him to be…

He pulls the shirt off, biting his tongue in frustration when his hand seems to get stuck in the sleeve. It was worth it to watch her crack a smile before her visage hardened again. He quickly unbuttons his pants, pushing them down to his ankles, lifting one foot out and stepping on the fallen leg, pushing the gathered fabric down, to free the other one. In his gray, faded boxer briefs, he’d have been better prepared if he’d known he was going to be the object of a seduction.

Leaning forward from the bookshelf, she nods her approval. Her breasts push forward while she arches her back, resting her ass back in place. Thalia raises her head up. “I can’t reach that book; the one I want. Can you get it for me?”

Holding back, eager to pounce across the room, her voice causes him to ache.

“Which one?”

“The blue leather, with the gold lettering, Romancero Gitano by Federico García Lorca.” He nods. “I’ve actually been looking for older copies, for a study of the Gypsy people, a project for the museum.”

He tilts his head, contemplating dropping to his knees to crawl across the floor to her. Frankly, the idea of the hardwood floors scraping across his old joints stops him. He pulls himself up tall, sucking in his gut a little as he strides towards her. Eyes locked on her face, he doesn’t miss as she visually eats him up, from head to toe, eyes lingering a moment too long on the tattered fabric which barely keeps him covered.

The book in question is directly above her head, and the only way for him to reach it is to stand right in front of her. Even at his tall stature, he can’t reach the edition without lifting onto his tiptoes, brushing his bare chest against her full body. Grasping the tome in his fingers, he slowly pulls it down, pushing his body against hers, whispering, “Oops.”

She runs her tongue over her teeth and smirks.

Stepping back, he can see her quickened breaths, her nipples peaking under the fabric of her sinfully tight dress.

Not knowing, or caring, if she has rules, he speaks out of turn. “You smell wonderful. The smell of orchids always remind me of you.” Retreating another step, he curtsies low and presents the book up to her.

“Thank you, Thomas,” she murmurs quietly, taking the volume from his outstretched hand.

“Will you read to me while we eat?” he inquires submissively.

Thalia dips her head, moving around him to the couch. She perches on the edge of the seat, slowly crossing her legs, allowing Tom a view of her uncovered pussy, already wet and wanting. Thumbing through the book, she ignores the food, chooses a passage and begins reading. Taking his cue, as her manservant for the evening, he walks towards the table, grabbing a pillow from the bed. He tosses it down to the floor before kneeling by the coffee table. He hides his chuckle when he realizes his hard cock rests perfectly on the polished surface, tented under the straining fabric. With a shake of his head, he begins pulling out various containers of foods, labeled in script he can barely read. Identifying the desserts, he leaves those for later, but begins to peel back the covers as Thalia’s lyrical, throaty vocal inflections fill the room. He chuckles at the seemingly American food, the concept reminding him of loaded potatoes. Thalia looks up from her reading, eyeing his personal accessory added to the table and rolling her eyes, a crooked smile gracing her lips.

“Best take out in town, from a little bar called Gandario. They’re tablas; yes, I know they look like potato skins, but there’s thick toasted bread on the bottom.” She points to the tin of what appears to be french fries, loaded with meats and small containers of dip. “Here in Madrid, they’re called patatas, not fries. One is chicken, el pollo, and the other is pork loin, el solomillo. I didn’t know what sauces you might like, so between the two plates, there’s nearly 12 different ones you can try.”

“If it tastes half as wonderful as it smells, I’m sure I’m in for a treat.”

She blushes when his eyes land on the apex of her crossed legs as he speaks and she scoots around on the couch, leaning forward to grab a potato piece with a chunk of chicken before dipping it into a green sauce. “If we were eating in the restaurant, their plates are designed to hold the sauces. If you ordered four, that would determine the size of your plate. If you ordered six, it would have six little dipping wells for the sauces.” He watches as she chews slowly, before licking the cream from her fingers and leaning forward for another piece. “Eat,” she tells him, grabbing a piece of the pork loin. “You’ll need your energy.”

Straightfaced, she resumes her reading as the pair eat with their fingers, delighting in the sinfully good foods. Spellbound, he listens to her words, the poetry telling of the sadness felt by the gypsies of the Andalusian culture, living on the margins of society, oppressed by the government of the early nineteen hundreds. As she reads, and they eat, he stops and asks her questions, words he’s unfamiliar with, and they discuss the metaphors found in the ballads. He’s surprised to recognize phrases in songs of the region that he’s heard on his travels and holidays in Spain over the years. Tom’s eyes well with tears as she reads ‘Muerto de Amor,’ the story of a young gypsy who dies of sadness from a broken heart.

Reaching over the table, he places his hand on hers, rested on the book, holding the page open as she reads. Choking back his tears, he whispers, “Thalia. I always thought that was something people said, ‘to die of a broken heart.’ I didn’t know it was true, it was real, till I walked out on you. I died three years ago; I beg you to let me live again.”
Her dark eyes fill with tears, and she tosses her head back, looking up to the ceiling. She chuckles softly, sniffling back her emotions. “Beg,” she repeats softly. “Dying was a choice. Yours. You left.” Her chest heaves, holding back the pain in her voice, little stabs to his own heart. “But you broke me… shattered my heart. Killed me… Dying would have been easier…” She swallows, tilting her head back and shaking out her hair, regaining her confidence. Looking him boldly in the eye, she repeats, “Beg.”

Wiping his hands on a napkin, he turns away from the table, dropping to his hands and crawling around the table. Pushing it out of the way, he buries his head in her lap, tears beginning to wrack his body as he cradles himself in the little warmth she provides. Despite her hesitation, he lets the tears flow, all the pent up sadness and anger he’s felt over the years. Even if she can only give him this, he feels his spirit healing again.

Not knowing when, he realizes her body has curved over his, her hands running through his hair as she whispers in Spanish, comforting him and telling him everything will be okay. He can feel her own body heave with emotion and he moves his head back and forth, trying to pull away, to stop her pain. Wanting to comfort her. She holds tight, not letting him go from her grasp, and he becomes aware he’s nudged up the hem of her skirt. He continues to move his head side to side, his beard scratching the tops of her thighs, covered in nylons and lace. The sensation seems to slowly dawn on her and she shifts, spreading her legs, pulling his hair, pushing him between her thighs. “Don’t stop,” she moans.

Strengthened, he lavishes small kisses over her olive skin. Running his hands up her sides, he grips her hips tightly in his grasp, pulling her to the edge of the couch. From the corner of his eye, he can see her raise one heeled foot, resting it on the edge of the table. “Let me make you forget all the pain, and bring back all the good we had together, Thalia.” He nibbles at her leg, snapping the top of her thigh highs between his teeth. “We were always so damn good together. Let me show you.” She squirms from his caresses, unaccustomed to his beard between her legs. Truth be told, a beard he grew purely out of lack of care for personal hygiene because he was so devastated by the loss of her. A loss they suffered because of his own doing. “Thalia, I beg you to forgive me for leaving.”

He bites higher on her thigh, first the right and then the left.

“I beg you to forgive me for anything I ever said in anger.”

He washes his tongue over her dimpled flesh, feeling the tight, defined muscles under her full figure.

“I beg you to forget all the hurt I’ve caused.”

He bites again, higher, leaving little marks, his claim on each thigh. His eyes land on the prize, her lips pink and swollen, already throbbing and demanding his attention. Her sweet scent lures him closer, his mouth watering for a taste. Brushing roughly against her skin, he marks her with his beard, little abrasions already forming on her skin. He feels her, tense in his hands, holding back, reining in her emotions, her responses.

“I beg you to let me love you again. I won’t hurt you this time, Thalia. I promise.”

A quiet sob from her throat echoes from the book shelves in the room.

“I’m so hungry, Thalia. Thirsty. Your nectar is what I need to soothe my soul. I’m parched, dry without it… Still a dying man. Save me, I beg of you. Let me have it, darling” he whispers, his breath hot across her mound, his tongue aching to touch between her folds.

Her body unwinds, relaxing finally in his hands and her legs fall open wider. “It’s yours,” she moans quietly.

Swiftly, Tom raises her feet, lifting them to his shoulders, the heels of her pointed shoes digging into his sinewy tendons. A delightful, twisted pain as he lifts her ass from the couch, latching his mouth over her dripping pussy. Sucking intently, he tugs her lips, pulling with his mouth before loosening his hold to slide his tongue through the length of her slit.

“Oh my, fuck,” she breathes out, gripping the edge of the couch.

Tom’s cock is hard against his thigh, twitching with desire. Ignoring his physical needs, he gives to her, washing his tongue over her lips, diving between them into the depth. Losing himself as he drowns in her, lapping her up, literally devouring her. So much wet, welcoming him home. Yes, he’s home, this is where he should be. With Thalia. Between her legs. Forever.

He snickers at the thought, his breath tickling her and she wiggles from his grasp, falling back to the couch, her feet dropping to the floor as she kicks off her heels. “What’s so funny, Thomas?” She asks, roughly pulling his hair, lifting his head.

“Just the laughter of a foolish, old man, realizing he had everything.” His tongue darts out and flicks across her swollen clit. He bites his lip at her response, her eyes wide. “I don’t intend to waste it this time, darling. I beg you to take me back.”

“Mm, hmm,” she hums, eyes rolling back, as he swirls the tip of his finger around the rim of her tight cunt.

He watches as her body contracts, a small gush of wet rolling out between her lips. Wiping it up with his finger, he pushes his long digit inside, curling it to hit her spot. Remembering every inch of her body… Her hands tighten in his hair, pushing his face back to her soaking pussy. Closing his mouth over the tender pearl, he slides his finger in and out, adding another while his beard adds to her pleasure. “Damn, you’re good,” she whines. “Love the beard.” She giggles, gripping his hair tighter. “Not sure about the hair.”

He shakes his head, brushing the curls from side to side, tickling her thighs. Pulling a plump lip between his, he sucks the tasty flesh. “More to grab,” he reminds her.

Lifting her foot to his lap, she presses against his cock, the shiny nylons teasing his sensitive skin. “Other things I prefer to grab,” she taunts, pressing her heel into the head of his rock-hard cock.

Flicking his tongue across her slit again, he pushes it into the tight space his fingers occupy and she sighs deeply. Releasing his mouth from her sweetness, he promises, “There’s time for that later, Mistress.”

The title comes to him as naturally as all the other delicious filth he usually whispered to her. Today, she IS his mistress. And she’s more than that. She holds his life, his joy, in her hands and he doesn’t even consider hesitating.

“Good boy, Thomas,” she praises, dragging her toe up his chest, and pushing him backwards with her foot. “I’m not hearing enough begging though…”

Scissorings his fingers, he watches the pulsing of her pink walls gripping his fingers, glistening with their shine. “Mistress, I beg you to let me push you over the edge. I need to feel you, dripping over my fingers, flooding my mouth. Remind me what a real woman wants; can take…”

Curling his long fingers, he forcefully pushes her walls, proud when her head falls to the side, in a trance. “That’s my girl,” he whispers. “Just relax.”

It registers dimly that he’s called her both ‘mistress’ and ‘my girl’ and she hasn’t protested. And that’s exactly it, that’s the magic of this new Thalia and what she causes in him. They can be so good together, like this. Top and bottom and everything in between, dom and sub and all imaginable bliss contained in one odd but beautiful arrangement.

Tenderly, he squeezes her foot with his other hand, lifting it for a quick kiss to the tops of her toes before gently placing it on the floor. Rising up on his knees, he crawls closer, using the hand to spread her legs wider. Her dress is bunched up around her waist, showing wet spots, evidence of their lovemaking. He’ll worry about the couch cushion later. Inhaling deeply, her scent fortifies him, makes him stronger. Diving forward, his ripe, pink lips wrap around her tight bundle of nerves. His hands work to loosen her, one kneading her thigh while the other caresses the smoothest spot, deep inside. She’s growing wetter and he takes it all as she drenches him, her hands pulling him closer, smothering him as his nose grinds against her mound.

Gracias, salveme Díos,” she moans, rising off the couch and thrashing against him.

He takes it all, licking it up, sucking her clean, his mouth never leaving her pussy till she finally pushes him away. She has the control after all, for the evening.

Rocking back on his heels and slowing pulling his fingers out, he lovingly pats her punished mound. Closing her legs, she effectively pushes his hands away from her sensitive center.

“What now, my sweet warrior Professor?” He laughs, wiping her essence from his beard, licking the side of his lip.

Leaning forward, she tugs the whiskers on his chin, pulling him to her and firmly planting her lips on his in a hard, rewarding kiss. “Don’t ever call me that again,” she giggles, pulling back lightly. “I can be your professor, or a warrior princess, but not both at the same time.”

With a small “eheheh,” he pulls her off the couch, into his arms, tangling his tongue with hers again, covering her sweet face with kisses. He likes that she’s not squeamish about tasting her own juices, and doesn’t complain about his tiny licks, spreading her mess all over. “God, I’ve missed this, more than I knew.”

She nods, understanding unspoken words. “Missed you too, darling,” she murmurs, grinding her ass against his crotch.

Thrusting up, he bounces her in his lap. “You’re overdressed.”

She holds his face in her hands. “You’re not in charge,” she warns with a sly smile.

Bowing his head, he replies, “Yes, Mistress. I beg for you to use me at your will. Any clocks you need hung up? Cabinet doors to fix?”

“You know damn well the landlord had to come fix the doors later that week,” she says, tugging her fingers through his curly hair. “Not as good at screwing things as you thought, I guess,” she teases as she pulls away from him, running to the unmade bed.

“Oh, so that’s how it is?” He laughs, chasing after her.

“Your hammer work was good…” She laughs, crawling up on the bed, wiggling her ass. “Always a good pounding. Why don’t you come over and remind me how good you are at it?”

Click here to read Chapter 23, Whatever You Need

Copyright © 2019 avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

Just Desserts

et Ch 28 Just Desserts June 7 2017

Chapter 28

Educating Thalia

Collaboration by @avenger-nerd-mom & @devikafernando

AU FICTION

A collaboration involving Professor Hiddleston and Professor Evans- The two are rivals at a posh New England university and have no idea they both have taken interest in the lovely Thalia Bareo. She’s a grad student with interests in language and history; a sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago.  Story updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Word count: 5553

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, BOOKS! (that’s porn), control, dominance, submission, food play, shower sex, biting, spanking, fingering, rimming, anal play, condom use, intercourse, discussion of physical abuse and BDSM, aftercare

Summary:  Thalia takes on a new role in her relationship with Chris and things move to whole new level, which leads to a serious talk.

Cover images found on Pinterest

Click here for intro to Educating Thalia

“I knew I’d find you here.”  She’s a vision of loveliness, perched on the old- fashioned leather couch. Pouring through a book on the side table her elbows rest on the arm of the couch and her satin covered ass is in the air, posing on all fours.  Her “fuck me” high heels rest on the leather and she’s wearing his tie, done in a perfect Windsor knot at her lovely neck.  She doesn’t even pay attention to him but the little grin on her face widens and she shifts her hips from side to side.  He places the dessert trays on the coffee table and moves around to face her.  Playfully he rests his cock in the crease of the book. “Need me to point out a word for you?”

He pulls away quickly as she slams the book shut and giggles.  “Oh, my God, that is such a ‘guy’ thing to do,’ she scoffs.

Grabbing her chin in his hand he pushes his thumb roughly across her plump lips.  Her eyes turn serious and a heat of indignation flares behind them.  Chris honestly can’t decide between letting her have freedom of control or watching her push back while he controls her.  Mulling it over, he pulls down on her lip, but she keeps her teeth closed tightly.  Her breathing is controlled and her eyes challenge him.  Tugging down on the blue silk at her neck, her mouth pops open and he pushes his thumb inside.  He wants to laugh when her tongue retreats and she doesn’t play his game.

When he speaks again his voice is low and laced with sex. “You know this position has advantages from both ends…”  Moving closer, holding her stiffly he repeats the same caress with the velvety tip of his cock. With his other hand he runs his touch down her back and gives her plump cheek a quick slap.  Her sweet petals open in a gasp and she licks her tongue over his head. “That’s my girl,” he praises.

Head back, he breathes deeply recognizing the smell of orchids in the air.  He jumps when she nips lightly with her teeth.  Looking down on her, her wild hair falls over her shoulders and her dark eyes show a hint of playfulness.  He steps away, gripping her chin tighter.  “Alright, Miss.  I understand.  Where would you like me?”

Dropping his hands, he folds them neatly in front of him, hiding his cock from her sight.

Confusion passes across her face and bewildered she sits back on the couch.  She looks to the food and back to him and he can almost see her brilliant mind working, thinking on something she’s never really pondered before.

Blushing, she quietly speaks.  “Jesus, Chris, I don’t know.  I’ve never…” She waves her hands in the air as if reaching for words.  “Initiated play before.  I just-”

“Miss.”  His tone stops her and she looks to him for guidance.  His gaze warms as he looks over her body and his cock jumps behind his hand.  He wants her to see the power she has on him, to feel it, to use it.  And in his heart he knows he’s never given that to anyone before.  She truly is special.  “Thalia, what do you want?  I said that tonight you are mine, but that also makes me yours.  Anything;  just ask- no. Just tell me.”

Dropping her eyes, her hand flies to her mouth and she plays with her lip like she does sometimes when she is lost deep in thought.  His heart skips that he knows this about her; he knows some of her quirks.  “Tell me what you want me to do,” he repeats.

Truly at a loss, she says quietly, “I guess you can start by sitting here by me and sharing these treats with me.”

“You guess?”

Closing her eyes in an effort not to roll them, she tries again.  “Chris, sit here by me and feed me a bite of the damn cheesecake.”

Biting back his laughter and her slipped profanity, he walks around the table to the other side and sits on the floor at her feet.  His position is chosen on purpose and with a quick look to her Chris is aware she understands the significance.  The cheesecake is cut into small pieces and he lifts it to her as she leans forward to accept it from him.  Placing it into her mouth her tongue brushes his finger briefly and he isn’t sure if the moan she makes is for their contact or her favorite dessert.

Removing a pillow from the couch, he places it under him and moves one of the trays of sweets and fruits to place it next to her.  Turning, he wraps one of his arms around her leg and leans into her plump calve, resting his chin on her knee.  “Ready for more, Miss?”

She whispers, “I’m not sure if I like that,”  Louder she finishes her sentence, “but I will take more cheesecake.”  He feeds her a larger bite this time, while she reaches over and picks up a piece of his favorite chocolate cake and feeds him. He likes that she knows little things about him too.

They continue feeding each other and he massages her leg.  When she loosens and becomes more comfortable Thalia kicks off the high heels and spreads her legs, resting the other on the edge of the table.  Chris focuses his attention on the growing wet spot on her satin panties and her smell is unmistakable.  In her relaxed state, if she knows or cares, she doesn’t say a word.

“This is quite an amazing collection; have you read them all?”  Thalia asks, lovingly tracing her finger over the gold filigree on the cover of the book next to her.

Forgetting she’s in charge, his large hand slides up her inner thigh and massages her flesh.  “My grandfather passed away right before I moved in.  This was his collection; his handmade shelves.  It seemed pointless to have a dining room, so I put the space to better use.”  He looks around the old-fashioned library style den with wall to wall books.  “Actually, pretty much everything was Pappo’s.

“You can keep touching me if you tell me more about you.  What made you like history so much?”  The tenderness in her words tug at his heart and he opens to her, telling stories he hasn’t told in a long time, things he needs to remember to share with his daughter one day.  At some point in their discourse, her foot had lifted from the floor and was actually placed tenderly on his shaft, rolling her heel back and forth.

When silence falls, she whispers into the night, “Chris, I think you’re hungry for more dessert.” She falters, building her nerve.  “You may remove my clothing now.  But keep the tie where it is.”

#

In the early morning hours he wakes to go to the bathroom. His neck pops and creaks as he rises from the bed, pulling the covers up around her.  Running his hand over his beard, he realizes he’s head over heels for this girl.  This woman…  He tenderly caresses through her curls before wrapping his robe around himself.  He uses the bathroom down the hall for privacy and pads quietly down the stairs to the kitchen for a glass of milk.

Resting against the counter images flash through his mind: eating her out just as sweetly as they’d devoured the cheesecake;  Thalia riding on top of him, using the back of the couch for leverage; still not letting him come, her beautiful breasts in his face, him using the tie to hold her; leaning her over the arm of the couch, pounding her from behind until she cried out his name.  Chasing her up the stairs to his bedroom and falling asleep in each other’s arms…  With each orgasm she had, she became more bold in her requests and she thrived in her mission.  Three.  Their favorite number and he was still resting on the edge.  If he wasn’t sure his release at her creation would be the perfect undoing, he’d jack off himself right now.  Hearing noise from upstairs, he sets the dirty glass in the sink and climbs the steps.

The bed is empty and the shower is running.  Tapping on the door, he remembers his role and inquires, “Miss?  May I come in?”

The door falls open and she laughs, “It’s your house.  You’re still King of the castle.”

Princess pops in his head but he doesn’t want to go there.  The steam envelopes him as he steps inside, dropping the robe to the floor.  The smell of orchids is overwhelming and he finds contents of her big bag spread all over the counter.  Chris doesn’t want to know if she always goes out at night prepared to not return home.

The words escape before he can stop himself.  Bracing against the counter, he asks, “How come you’re always available for overnight dates when I wanna see you?  When do-”

The curtain shrieks along the bar as she slides it back.  “Don’t.  I’m in my ‘Chris bubble’ right now.  My school bubble floats over here.” She randomly points in the air, letting the curtain fall open and he can see in the mirror reflection the water running over her curves and valleys.  “I have a work bubble over here,” she moves her hands again pointing at other ‘bubbles.’  “Family bubbles, friend bubbles and ‘Other.’”  Her eyes plead with him.  “I keep them all separate.  If you wanna do this, let’s talk about it later.  I’m not demanding that of you,” referencing their play.  “But I care about you, and if you really want this conversation, I wanna do it right.”

His fist is so clenched he has nail marks in his palm when he releases it.  “You’re right. ‘Chris bubble,’ huh?  How’d you get so smart?” he asks moving to her outreached hand.  Clasping it, he steps over the edge of the tub to join her.  “Speaking of bubbles, wanna bath instead?” he asks.

“Not big enough, babe,” she admits with a blush.  “But that’s okay. I’ve already figured out the benefits of this ledge,” she teases with a wink as he pulls her close.  Reaching down she picks up the pink shampoo container with glitter and a cartoon princess on the front.  “This could lead to a lot of questions if I didn’t know your story.”

Grabbing it from her hand and clutching it to his chest between them, he huffs, “I’ll have you know, this is mine.  It is my favorite.”  One handed, he pops the top and a bubblegum scent escapes.  He snaps it shut quickly. “Damn, I never realized before that stinks.” Reaching around the curtain, he tosses it onto the floor.  While she twists her hair back and ties it on itself into a bun he regains his composure.  In that position her tit presents itself to him perfectly and he latches onto it for a sweet suckle, while pinching the other till she moans.  His tongue lathes over the pretty pink ink marked on her skin in memory of her friend.  “Simply beautiful.”   With his deep timbred voice he asks, “And Miss, just how exactly do you plan to use that ledge?  What would you like me to do?”

The depths of her dark chocolate eyes positively gleam with desire.  She nervously runs her thumb across her pink lips while her other hand plays with the beads of water clinging to his chest hairs. Her hesitation is endearing.

“Say it, Thalia.  What?”

Scoffing, she takes in a deep breath and strengthens.  “I really like that you’re strong enough to support me, Chris.  It’s a goddamn turn on.  I’d really like you to fuck me against this shower wall so hard, the tiles crack, and catch me if I fall.”

Pulling his lips back in over his teeth he bites down and hides his smile, a huff of air escaping through his nose.  She turns her body away from him, pushing her breasts to the tile wall and folding her arms above her head.  Her ass pushes out and brushes against his hip.  “Fuuuck, Miss. Ask and you shall receive.”

Taking her orchid scented soap, he lathers it on his hands and covers suds all over her body.  His hands run over her curves and love handles, soothing and cleaning every inch. Tracing over the pattern of stretch marks on her hip, he bends to kiss them tenderly.  Her quiet mewls and pants echo against the tiles. The increased soap slick allows hims to massage roughly into her shoulders, wiping away her tension.  Massaging down over her back, he takes his sweet time washing over her ass, taking the shower head to rinse away the bubbles simply to soap her up again.  Squeezing and pulling at her skin, he smacks it, loving the rippling bounce of her flesh.

“Again,” comes the muffled sound of her voice, her head resting in the crook of her elbow.

He smacks the other cheek, a bit harder than the first.  “Thalia, do you like that?”

“Yes, sir.” She replies.  “Sometimes.”

Sir.  That’s new.   His blood begins to boil but he stamps the thought down.   His jealousy is still felt in his harsh touch as he kneads over her ass and her cries of pleasure grow louder.  Plucking her skin, he watches it spring back into place.  Her peach-shaped ass is perfect and he longs to bite from it.  Washing away the soap, he kneels behind her and caresses along her divide.  Her sounds heighten and she moans louder as he separates her cheeks and swipes his tongue across her freshly cleaned plane.  “Oh, fuck,” she cries out as her legs shake.  “Chris, I-”

“Shh, Niña.  I’ll stop if you tell me to.”  His fingers reach up between her legs, meeting with her wet juices before he even dives into the prize.  Thrusting in and out of her dripping cunt, he swipes through with his tongue again across her pretty pink hole.  “But something tells me you don’t really want me to stop.”  His voice is low and quiet and full of lust.  He continues to plunge into her slick pussy, pushing her against the wall, but he rests his head against the side of the her thigh.  “Hey, look down at me…” Their eyes meet and her visible hunger is greater than her fear.  “Thalia, I mean it, if you say ‘stop,’ I will. But I promise, literally, you’re in good hands.  If I hadn’t studied you and learned enough about you over the last several weeks, I wouldn’t even offer this to you.  But, really, sweetheart, you have such a luscious peachy ass, so juicy and round, I really just have to have a taste.”  Flicking his thumb over her clit, the shivers ripple through her body as she moans, nodding yes.

“I want what you want.  I’ve just… never, and it’s-”

“It’s whatever two people want, Thalia.  This is just us, you and me.  There’s no taboo when two people agree.  No damn safewords, just tell me no and I’ll stop.”

Dropping her hand she pets the side of his cheek, scratching her fingertips through his scruff.  “I trust you.  I’m yours.”  Placing her fingers to his lips she makes a kissy sound and presses against him, delivering her kiss.

Impaling her a few more times with his fingers, he slides out and licks them clean, moaning at her taste.  “You taste tangy and sweet, delicious.”  His other hand teases across her hole gently applying pressure with his thumb, but not seeking to gain entry.  He turns the heat up on the water splashing down over them, resting the nozzle at the top of her curve so it sweeps down over her ass cheeks in tiny little rivers.  As his hands become more desperate over her flesh, her body arches against the tile wall and her ass is pushed towards him as she slides her feet apart a bit more, opening herself to him, giving herself.  A lovely gift indeed.

Pushing against her tight hole again her head hangs down and her heavy pants and moans fill the shower, echoing in his ears and causing his cock to jump and spring to life.  He wishes he could see her face, read her, share this with her in a more connected sense.  As if she hear his thoughts, she brings one arm behind her and caresses over the top of his buzzed head and tugs at his earlobe.

Ignoring the pain in his knees Chris divides her cheeks again and watches her anal ridges pulse.  She jumps when he washes over her with his tongue flat and wide. His beard brushes over her sensitive skin.  She keens loudly and he supports her buckling legs.  “Oh, hell, again,” she whines.  “Please.”

“My pleasure,” he announces before he dives forward again, his heart pounding in his chest.   Virgin.  First time.  His cock aches to be inside her knowing he’s too much for a first time tonight, but he can enjoy teasing her, warming her up to the idea.  His tongue continues to bathe over her as she balances and adjusts, her breathy gasps giving away her building heat.  With a last flick of his tongue over her taint, he brings his mouth back to her virgin hole, placing an open mouthed kiss, with a gentle push of his tongue.  Instinctively, she pushes back, her cries loud and desirous.  “Chris, fuck, yea.”  She grasps the top of his head, but there’s no hair to pull on and he silently curses the decision for a buzz cut as he so intimately kisses her again.

This time, his tongue penetrates briefly into the tight spot before she pushes him out.  Using his thumb for another try, he rubs over her while he gently nibbles the flesh around her delicate ass hole.  Sitting back on his heels and shifting his weight, he tugs himself a few times just to relieve his pressure and realizes she’s squeezing and pinching at her breast and she’s carrying herself to the edge.  “This time, baby, when I push in, you have to push back.  You’ll feel it; you’ll know what to do.  You’re doing great, Thalia.”

“But if I push out?”  Her voice is slightly tense, voicing an unspoken concern.

“No, baby, it’ll be fine, I promise.”  He knows he can’t promise that, but he wants to keep her calm as he caresses over her asshole again.

She groans and nods her head, trusting him, her legs still trembling.  She really can’t take much more.  With his thumb he circles tenderly around her ridges once aain before pushing against her puckered flesh.  Thalia whimpers but complies with his instructions and he sinks into her tight cavern to his knuckle, holding still before her body pushes him away.  “Ow, oh fuck, that was…”

Freezing, Chris caresses her cheeks, kissing sweetly on her tender flesh.  “Do you want me to stop, Thalia?”

“No. No.  Oh, fuck, Chris.  That felt so… different. Good going in, but not so great coming out…”

“Practice makes perfect, right?  If you want me to stop, just say so.”  Reacting quickly, he does it again, patting at her leg and whispering what a good girl she is, encouraging her.  Recognizing his good fortune of being her first he tenderly cares for her as he pushes with more strength. Her cries don’t falter and come in repetitions as her space opens and accepts him.

“Yes, yes, uhh-huh,” she repeats as his thumb slides all the way in and he holds momentarily giving her time to acclimate to the foreign feel. Pulling out carefully, he rises to catch her as her legs buckle and he holds her by pushing their bodies against the wall.

“Hey, beautiful.  I’ve got you.  You’re alright.”  He loses himself in her hazy eyes and craves making her feel that way again.

Driven by desire, over her shoulder her mouth hungrily seeks his.  He greedily accepts her kisses, their tongues dancing together as her cries are captured in his mouth.

Separating their lips, she presses her temple to his.  “No more, not tonight.  But you can finish fucking me and you get to come.  There’s a condom there, on the corner.”

While he washes his hands carefully and they rinse with the mouthwash on the ledge, he keeps his body pressed to hers.  She still trembles in her weakened state.  The water’s growing colder and it’s time to finish what she started hours before when they entered the house.

Sliding the condom on, he snaps it into place and adjusts it before positioning himself behind her, caging her against the wall with his powerful body.  Without a sound she folds her arms over her head anew, grabbing one wrist and raising her foot to perch on the shower ledge.  “This right here, I love his,” he growls in her ear, the wet tendrils of curls tickling his nose as he grabs her hips and pulls her back onto his cock.  He guides her to take a step backwards and her bottom tilts perfectly for him to curve into her waiting pussy.  “You’re so ready and hot.  You’re fuckin’ on fire, Thalia.  I love how your juice heats me.”  With his hands gripping her tightly, he digs into her flesh, sure to leave a mark.  He forcefully sinks into her over and over, each thrust deeper than the one before. He loves watching her ass bump against him when he’s in to the hilt, the way her skin rolls with each reaming.  “God, I could watch your ass all day, Niña.  It’s beautiful how it bounces against me.”

When he feels the blood rushing to his cock, he prepares for their finish.  Leaning over her, he runs one hand tenderly up her spine, watching goosebumps swell over her dark skin.  Placing his hand on her shoulder, he’s able to force her in a downward motion on his cock and his grunts increase as he powers into her.  Their sounds echo together in the shower and the noise fills the quiet house. Her fingers above flex and he uses the other hand to hold her in place, knowing she aches to tease her clit.  So he takes back control as her walls squeeze around him and he can feel her pressure build as she starts to come, her cries louder, unable to catch her breath..

Through her release Thalia becomes soft under him, more pliable as the muscles in her back relax and she loosens to take more of his pounding, her hand turning in his to lace between his fingers.  Strong and gentle, willing to bend her will to meet his, both sharing power in a delicate balance.  The cerebral thought of their togetherness is what does him in as he tips over the edge and he pulses streams of his come into the thin condom separating them.

Her walls still constrict around him, milking him and pulling all of the seed from him as he falls against her back, holding her up and supporting them both.  He peppers her soft skin with kisses feeling the water turn cold as she shivers in his arms.  Kissing the crook of her neck, he pulls out and tells her, “Stay, Miss, let me get you warm.”  Turning the water off, he steps out of the shower, discarding the condom and reaching for his robe and fluffy towels.  The air in the bathroom is still warm and steamy but it won’t last long.

Stepping back into the shower, Chris dries her off, gently lifting her legs and patting between them gingerly taking care not to hurt her tender parts   He dries her back and her mid section, lifting each rounded globe and drying carefully, playfully tweaking her nipples before wrapping a towel around her and tucking it in over her enticing breasts  Her arms are still above her head as he dries one, then the other.  His eyes darken and heat rises in his belly.

“Thalia, open your eyes.”  She follows his directive and she can see what he sees.  The dark marks on her arm, a large hand print wrapped around her bicep.  “I didn’t do that, and the punk in the hallway the other day had you by the other arm.  Does he hurt you?”

Her eyes drop and she shakes her head.  “No, it’s not like that.” Tears fill her eyes.  “It’s different, but he would never hurt me, just like I know you wouldn’t.”

The tears have him concerned and he turns her in his arms, holding her close.  Resting her head under his chin, her body still shakes in his arms.  He tangles his fingers in her curls and massages against her scalp.  He should have given her more time to come down from her euphoric high, but his concern for her overpowered him.  “Honey, if he doesn’t hurt you, then why are you crying?”

She scoffs and sniffs back her tears, “I guess it’s my damned Catholic school training, but shouldn’t there be something wrong in finding pleasure in the pain? I just feel like it’s so fuckin’ messed up, you know?”

Leaning back, he looks into her beautiful face and his mind whirls.  She’s not just talking about him.  What the fuck is she in to?  What does the other bastard have her do for him?  Stomach churning, he helps her put on the robe and ties it loosely around her.  “Walk to the door and wait for me there.”

Drying off quickly, he cloaks the towel around his tapered waist, running the other towel over his buzzed head.

“Did you just dry your hair?” she laughs, wiping her nose and a tear that escaped.  “You’re ridiculous.”

He walks to her, slipping on the wet tile and she reaches out to him.  “I told you not to throw your back out.  How am I supposed to explain that to the paramedics?”

“Using humor again as a defense now.  Nice… You’re not changing the topic this time, Thalia.”  Sweeping her into his arms basket style, he carries her over to the bed, setting her down gently.  He rests at her feet, putting a pillow under his knees.  “Thank God you’re worth it, cause you are hell on my knees…”  He wipes away a tear and reaches behind her to pull the knot loose from her hair.  It tumbles around her in waves, a tangled mess.  From the dresser by his bed he hands her another pink bottle and a large toothed comb.

“Shit.  I’ll say it again, and it’s not meant to be creepy, but detangler by your bed?  You are a really good dad,” she giggles.

“I take care of the people important to me.  Now what’s this all about?  Tell me, Thalia.  Because honestly, right now I wanna beat the shit out of whoever makes you feel this way.”

The detangler works like magic and she slowly works the comb through her hair, relaxing her.  Chris leans forward and crosses his arms on her thighs, resting his head and turning to watch her as she works.  “There’s no one to beat up.  It’s all in my head and that’s why it’s so fuckin’ scary.”

“Are you hurt?  Have I hurt you?  You said pain.  I’m a little confused. What are you talking about?”

She sighs and drops her head, embarrassed.  “Chris, it’s just all so damn confusing and too much, especially without telling you things I don’t want you to know about me.”

“So you like some kinky stuff, it’s not a bad thing,” he reminds her, gently caressing her exposed leg.  “I just prefer you do those things with me, that’s all.  You’re mine, remember?”

“Yes, I’m yours,” she smiles. and sighs  “Except when I’m not.”

His heart feels stomped on.  But he remembers, he does seem to get more of her nights than the other man, and he wonders again if she’s seeing someone who is married.  Brushing it aside, he asks again.  “What do you mean about the pain?”

“I don’t know.  It just all seems odd to me and maybe I’m too young to get it, but why do some spankings feel so good, why do I let myself be told what to do, why do I like bossing you around so much?”  Resting the comb in her lap, she laughs, rubbing over the top of his head and scratching behind his ear.  “It just doesn’t make sense and seem right to me when I lay down at night and truly let myself think about it.  I’m a smart, intelligent woman.  I can do things on my own.  So why am I letting a man control me?”

“Shit. Ok?”  Chris rises to sit in the middle of the bd, resting against the headboard.  He pats his chest and indicates for her to crawl into his space.  Enveloping his arms around her, she snuggles next to him.  “You want the psychology of it?  Every three semesters, I teach History of Sex.  You should sign up for it in the fall.  Very popular class,” he jokes.  “Niña, like I said earlier, it’s whatever two people choose.  What’s right for you and me might be wrong for you and someone else.  It’s all about the care and respect two people share.”  He kisses the top of her head and sweeps her hair back looping his fingers through the curls.  She lifts her leg, resting it on across his Adonis to feel closer to him and he pulls her thigh, resting her leg in a better spot, hugging it to him.  “As for why you like it?  It doesn’t make you dark and twisted, or dirty, sweetheart.  Think about your day.  You live alone. You take care of yourself.  You’re far from your beloved family back in Chicago.  Your brain moves a hundred miles an hour all day long as you move from class to class, and prep your work for the class you TA.  You’ve got your research with the British ‘arse;’ your work at the bar; you’ve got a few friends you make time for; somehow you juggle two boyfriends and you work relentlessly sending out resumes to museums and dig sites in all corners of the world.” He pauses taking a deep breath.

“Fuck, I’m getting tired just thinking about all that, and then you come home and sleep and wake up the next day to do it all again.  Man, I’m a real shit head for pulling you in to work with the History Department.” He chuckles and she taps his chest, winding her fingers through the smattering of hair.

“So I’m always on the go.  Tell me something I don’t know,” she replies sarcastically, running her fingers over the raised skin where a famous quote is etched, his tat dark against his pale skin.

“Yea, and you do it all alone.  Maybe I get a few hours every few days to make sure you eat, or sleep, or get laid.  But you’re alone and you’re making all the decisions.  That’s tough; it’s a daunting task.  And it’s amazing you do that; it’s fuckin’ sexy, Thalia.  But when you find time to relax, to wind down, you just want someone else to take charge, tell you want to do.  It doesn’t make you any less powerful.  Ultimately, even in those type relationships the submissive partner is the driving force.  Even when I tell you what to do, you have the power to say no, and I wouldn’t really ask you to do anything I didn’t think you’d enjoy.  And when you power over me, it’s just so damn sexy.  And for me, when you do, I like watching the way you think, how you get flustered at first and then grow into it as a woman and let yourself take control.”

“It works because of trust,” she states simply.

“Trust and care, yeah.  I considered jacking off earlier, but I knew you cared enough, and I trusted you’d make my pain and suffering all night worth it.  And it sure fuckin’ was, Thalia.  You’re worth it.”

Sighing, she kisses along his ribcage.  “Thank you, Chris.  That does make me feel better.  I guess because I’m surrounded by people, I don’t realize I am alone a lot of the time.  It is nice when you take care of me.”

“Good; I like it too.  You better now?  Can we go back to sleep?”  He doesn’t want to think any more about the other bastard.  Getting her mind all twisted like that… The morning sun begins to break through the window and his voice is sleepy and lazy.  “No class tomorrow, but I need to put in some office hours.  What time do you need to get back?

“Well, I gotta go home and change and get my computer.  I don’t know.  Can we leave around eleven, maybe grab a bite to eat?”

“Perfect.  Sleep beautiful girl.”  Other words and thoughts float in his head but he chokes on them.

“Goodnight my man,” she whispers and the two quickly fall back asleep tired from their exploits in the early morning hours.

Click here to read Chapter 29 Warped Fairy Tales

Copyright © 2017  avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando

Dinner for Two

et ch 8 dinner for two april 2 2017.jpg

Chapter 8 – Dinner for Two

Educating Thalia

a collaboration by @devikafernando and @avenger-nerd-mom

AU fiction

A collaboration involving Professor Hiddleston and Professor Evans- The two are rivals at a posh New England university and have no idea they both have taken interest in the lovely Thalia Bareo. She’s a grad student with interests in language and history; a sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago

Word count 5336

Warnings: Language, Adult Situations, food porn, images of Tom dancing, NSFW, masturbation, nipple play, discussion of consent and BDSM

summary:  Tom continues pampering Thalia after the bath, pulling out all the stops. Dinner and dancing lead to intimate talks and another sexual awakening for Thalia.

Click here for the main page for Educating Thalia

For auditory inspiration, listen to Vente Pa’ Ca by Ricky Martin

Thalia executes a mock salute at Tom’s insistence that she wear only her lingerie to dinner, which makes him lift a brow. She stifles a giggle, and her embarrassment is adorable. He takes her panties and kneels on the rug, tapping her leg.

She watches with unveiled interest as he slides her underwear up after she’s stepped in, dressing her with the same gentle firmness and erotic undercurrent with which he usually undresses her. He places butterfly kisses all over her thick thighs and then one right on her now covered center, making her suck in a breath. Then he grabs her bra and moves her this way and that to put it on, licking his lips at the way the cloth pushes her luscious breasts up so the globes are practically begging for attention. He rubs his cheek over them, nuzzling the place where he could happily spend a small lifetime.

A resolute knock at the room door makes them jump apart like frightened horses.

“Room service.”

Tom holds up a finger, grinning widely at the thought of food and at the face she’s likely to make when she sees all the delicacies he’s ordered.

“Stay right here, darling. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

In record speed, he pulls his trousers back on and quickly shrugs his white dress shirt on over his still damp skin. The fit is snug, but at least he’s covered. He hurries off towards the door after closing the bathroom door behind him.

With a skip in his step, he lets the trolley-wielding waiter in to arrange all the dishes on the coffee table.

“Thank you ever so much.” With a smile and a generous tip, Tom sends the efficient man away and surveys his feast.

He walks to the bathroom and opens the door, bowing with a flourish and sweeping his hand for her to pass.

“Milady, dinner is served,” he says in a nasal, deferential tone, which causes another fit of giggles.

“I don’t feel very ladylike in this,” she protests, gesturing to her set of bra and panties and eyeing the white fluffy bathrobe on the back of the door longingly.

Tom entwines his fingers with hers and pulls her to the table.

“Nonsense, love, you’re downright regal with that scrumptious body. Now give me that defiant lift of your chin that you’re so good at, and I’ll be your fawning servant all throughout dinner.”

Thalia shakes her head, but he can see her smile, and there’s a gleam in her eyes that makes her even more beautiful to him.

She stops mid-step when she’s close enough to see the table, her free hand rising to her gaping mouth.

“Oh my god, Tom, did you order the whole buffet or something?”

With a sheepish grin, he pulls her on. “I might have, in a way. I wasn’t sure what you’d like and I wanted it to be a real treat, so I had them bring a bit of basically everything on the menu.”

Pulling her hand out of his grip, she fixes him in a serious stare.

“Honestly, you shouldn’t have done that. It must be costing you a fortune. And you’ve already paid for the room, and…”

Tom steps up and places his long fingers over her mouth, silencing her protest.

“I’ll have none of that talk, Miss Bareo,” he says, using the stern, deep voice that makes her comply most of the time.

“What kind of a cheapskate would I be if I gave you a half-boiled date?” He narrows his eyes at her when her lips open against his palm.  “Not. A. Word. I’m perfectly capable of spending a bit of money on the woman who drives me crazy, and I won’t have you ruin my moment. I promised you some pampering, and this dinner is part of it. If you mention money one more time, I swear I’ll make good on that threat and give you a real spanking.”

He leans even closer, watching her pupils dilate in a mix of fear and arousal. “Or I might just tie your hands behind your back with my tie and have my merry way with you.”

Her breath whooshes out, warm against his hand. He pulls it away and gives her a devilish smirk.

“Now, are we having dinner or not? You’ll need all the sustenance you can get, believe me.”

Flushing beet-red and mumbling something in barely audible Spanish, Thalia all but flees his presence.

With a chuckle, he watches her ogle the spread of five-star food, ranging from small bites of seafood and cold meats to exotic salads and lovingly arranged cuisine from all over the world.

Sitting in the chair, he motions to the seat opposite him.

Thalia doesn’t have to be asked twice. The sight and smell of the food seems to destroy her last reserve and she tucks in with as much gusto as him.

For the next few minutes, she eats heartily, allowing him to feed her with a tasty morsel off and on. She’s making all those delighted noises again that travel straight to his groin, so Tom slows down a little and begins asking her questions about her life in Chicago and family in Puerto Rico. Once she warms to the topic, she’s unstoppable. Gesticulating with her free hand, she shares insights into her past that he’ll treasure forever.

He realizes he’s entirely too used to the sound of his own voice. Whenever he’s not lecturing, he’s discussing something or other with the people around him. It’s oddly freeing to do the listening for once, especially as Thalia has such a wealth of interesting knowledge to share. He’s torn between wanting to close his eyes and imagine what she’s conjuring, picturing her as a young girl full of spunk, much more carefree than now, and between wanting to stare at her so he won’t miss a thing.

He’s half-forgotten to eat because he’s noticed something fascinating: The more she immerses herself in her stories, the more pronounced her Latina accents becomes. It’s always there when she speaks, in the way she draws out vowels sometimes or will roll an r when she’s emotional, but being in her company regularly has sort of desensitized his ears to it. Right now, she slips into the lilting cadence and rapid rhythm of it as if diving underwater. It’s so sexy it should be illegal, and part of him has the weird urge to eavesdrop on her having a Spanish conversation with someone.

Before they know it, they have devoured most of the delicacies and polished off another glass of wine each.

Tom sits back with an exaggerated groan and pats his belly.

“I’m so full I’m going to burst.”

Thalia reaches over automatically, her fingers gliding over the hard ridges and indents of his abs.

“Liar. I can’t detect any bulging stomach at all.”

Delighted that she’s touching him – which happens much too rarely yet for his liking – he captures her hand in his. Slowly, he pushes it lower so her fingers graze over his pants.

“That’s because the bulge you’re looking for is quite a bit lower down,” he murmurs, one brow quirked suggestively.

There it is again, her lovely, freckle-speckled blush. But she doesn’t draw her hand away. When he places it over his cock which is half erect from listening to her talking so sexily, she strokes him lightly through the material.

Tom hums in appreciation and pulls her in for a kiss, tasting a myriad of food on her tongue when it tangles with his.

He leans back, shifting so that her fingers aren’t touching him so intimately anymore. Making a mental note to himself to encourage her to touch, explore and have her fill of him some time soon, he tries to keep his cool because they haven’t even made it to dessert yet.

“You know, I’m surprised you haven’t criticized me for another humongous dating mistake I’ve made,” he teases, mischief dancing in his blue eyes.

She frowns. “What mistake?”

He feigns shock, happy when she laughs at his scandalous expression.

“Why, what’s a date without dancing?” he asks, leaping from his chair and tugging her up with him.

“Dancing?” She looks at him as though he’s suddenly grown horns.

“Here? Now? But…but…” she splutters, “We don’t even have music, and…”

Tom holds up a finger. He leaves her standing there, watching him in a daze as he flits around the room and grabs his iPhone. Within a minute, Latin music is playing. Thalia’s eyes widen even more as the first words of Ricky Martin’s Vente Pa’ Ca can be heard. She shakes her head at him, a slow grin spreading.
He clicks his finger and shimmies to the almost hypnotic beat, advancing towards her with his hands outstretched.

“Come on, darling, dance with me.” Searching for the half-forgotten words of Spanish from his high-school days, he coaxes her with “baila conmigo” in a low, inviting tone that promises much more than just a dance.

“You’re unbelievable,” he hears her say more to herself than him, but her feet are already carrying her closer.
“I’d never have guessed the prim and proper British professor listens to music like this,” she confesses, and he throws his head back to laugh.

“What, are you doubting my dancing skills? It’s all in the hips, darling. Hips don’t lie.”

Tom grasps her hands and pulls her closer, moving to the beat and grinding his hips against her to prove his point.

The next song is a bit slower, so he shifts to embrace her and hold her close, one hand on the small of her back, the other holding hers. They sway and gyrate, and twice he takes command to make her twirl on his arm. His hand moves lower until he can dip his fingers beneath her panties and fondle her ass while he presses closer and feels her full tits strain against him.

At the end of the third song, he dips her low and leans over her to kiss her.

The kiss goes on and on, and they both resurface breathless.

Taking a step back although he doesn’t want to break their connection, Tom kisses the top of her head.

“Ready for dessert yet?”

She nods, her breath coming out in ragged pants that fuel his desire. God, it’s becoming increasingly difficult to control himself around her. It’s like his body needs to have her, any and every way he can, all the time. But he doesn’t want to overwhelm her.

Pampering and seducing, Hiddleston, not shagging like rabbits, he reminds himself.

Grabbing the tray laden with decadent dessert, he walks over to the king-size bed. He places the tray down carefully, plonks himself down across from it with crossed legs, and crooks a finger at Thalia.

“Come over here, love, let your man feed you some treats that are almost as sweet and sinful as you taste when you come all over his tongue.”

He can see her shiver when she joins him on the bed. After some consideration, he picks out a tiny fruit tart and holds it out.

The sight of her mouth closing on the berries and cream is something he won’t forget soon, as is her low moan of appreciation.

“Did you know that the strawberry has been considered a potent aphrodisiac ever since the times of Ancient Rome?” he asks, licking his fingertips and choosing a tiny glass with caramel pudding next.

“I did, actually.” She grins at him, smugly lifting her eyebrows.

Tom grins back. “Why am I not surprised?” In a more serious tone, he adds, “It’s such a huge turn on how smart you are. Don’t let anyone ever dumb you down because they’re scared of your wit or jealous of your intelligence. If a man can’t handle the sharpness of your brain, then he isn’t worth the softness of your body.”

Thalia blinks at him, and something glitters in her eyes. “You say the loveliest things,” she whispers.

“And I mean them.”

They stare at each other for a moment. To lighten the mood, Tom dips a long finger into the creamy pudding and holds it in front of her face.

He doesn’t even have to prompt her; she darts out her tongue to lick the sweet treat from his digit, completely surprising him when she adds a none too gentle bite at the end.

“That’s my girl,” he praises her softly, his voice a low purr. He chooses a small triangle of gateau and takes her hand. This time, he dips her finger in it before leaning forward and sucking it into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it.

The rest of the dessert is devoured in the same manner. They share some more sensual kisses in between, but Tom makes sure to keep the pace slow and steady.

Finally, they’re done with dessert. He draws back from a nut-and-chocolate-flavored kiss, nips her chin and licks a wet stripe across her throat.

For now, he wants to keep her in a state of arousal but let it simmer beneath the surface for a little while longer before they act upon it.

He leans back and settles himself on the bed more comfortably, pushing the dinner tray to the side. Thalia takes that as a sign to be more at ease. She crosses her legs, and it pleases him that she’s now a little less self-conscious about only wearing her set of matching bra and panties.

“Tom, can I ask you something?”

“Anything, darling. Ask and ye shall receive.” He smiles, wondering what it is she might want to know.

“Why did you come to America? I heard you had a pretty nice post at Cambridge. You don’t seem to know anyone here… I mean, not that I’d know that, but…there’s no family or anyone here to connect you to the place, is there?”

He shifts, not exactly eager to discuss this. He’s been a family man for most of his life, but once his sisters got settled in their marriages and his friends moved all over the world, they’ve all lost touch a little. And he’s discovered that being a loner isn’t so bad either.

“I left England because I got into a spot of bother at campus,” he admits.

A worried look crosses Thalia’s face, and he realizes how his words could be misinterpreted.

“No, no, no, nothing like that. I didn’t get into trouble with women, if that’s what you think.” He sits up and gesticulates to make her understand, because it’s important to him that she sees how special she is. “I don’t make a habit of having affairs with students, believe me. This with you…it’s one of a kind, and I can’t even really explain it.”

She looks relieved, one hand playing idly with her hair.

With a sigh, he spills the beans. “Actually, there was this pompous duke whose good-for-nothing son was in my class. You know the type, those insufferable spoiled brats who are born with a silver spoon and think the rest of the world was made to bow to their every wish and lick their shiny loafers.”

They share a chuckle, but the memory throws a shadow over his mood. “He was a horrible student, probably because he never bothered with any homework. But his father was none too pleased with the low grades. Instead of telling his offspring to get his bloody ass into gear and study, he stormed into my office, simpering glorified secretary in tow, and demanded that I make an exception and give his boy a better grade.”

Anger tightens his jaw, a muscle ticking. “He had the cheek to offer me money when I refused.”

He glances at Thalia, who’s staring at him wide-eyed. “I may have become a bit loud after that.” Shrugging and grinning sheepishly, he admits, “Lost my temper because his behavior summed up so much of what I think is wrong in this world of class and privilege. To cut the long story short, he had me expelled and my name dragged through mud, though there wasn’t really anything bad to spread about me.”

“Oh, Tom, I’m so sorry, that’s so damn unfair!” Thalia reaches out and squeezes his hand, and it makes him way too happy that she’s taking his side.

With another shrug, he tries to let the past rest. “I guess I got what I deserved. It was foolish of me to think I could change what has been festering away in the English society for centuries.”

He leans away and drinks the rest of his water, licking his lips and noticing her gaze drop to them.

“Anyway, a friend of mine who was working here and held the same position I’m holding now wanted to be transferred to Canada as he’d fallen in love with a Canadian woman. Remember Professor Harelson? He suggested I should leave all the fuss behind and start anew. I was a bit worried they wouldn’t accept me, but the Dean had a hearty laugh at the story and urged me to accept. So…here I am.”

He spread his arms wide, and they smiled at each other.

“I love that about you Americans,” he added. “You’re not strung up on any of that hoity-toity stuff. Although I have to say I’ll never get over the way you lot are butchering the English language and haven’t got the faintest idea about the art of making a cup of tea.”

Thalia laughed and rolled her eyes. She playfully punched his arm. “Oh my god, you’re such a snob. Next you’ll be expecting me to curtsy and bless everyone who crosses my path after saying sorry for at least three things I didn’t even do.”

Tom snatches her hand and brings it to his mouth, scraping his teeth across her knuckles and then her palm.

“If you roll your eyes at me one more time, young lady, you’ll get a real spanking, I warn you.”

She yanks her fingers out of his grip. Despite her blush, he can sense her grow worried again. She gnaws on her lower lip, making him itch to do the same before placing love bites all over her delectable body.

“Darling, what’s the matter? You can always tell me if something bothers you.”

She lowers her gaze, one finger tracing invisible patterns on the sheet. Her fidgeting has him intrigued and waiting with bated breath to know what she has to say.

“Are you… do you… I mean, um… Are you one of those men?”

He quirks a brow at her and places his hand on hers to still the nervous movement. “One of which type of men, darling? There are so many of us,” he laughs, trying to put her at ease. “Thalia, talk to me, I’ve told you how important it is for what we’re sharing.”

After drawing in a fortifying breath, she nervously forces the words out in a rush. “Are you into the whole BDSM thing? One of those men who need to dominate women and cause them pain to get it off?”

The slight quiver of fear in her voice unsettles him, but he also has a hell of a time keeping a straight face because it all strikes him as so funny too.

He lifts her chin with his free hand until she meets his gaze.

“Have I shown any trouble with getting it off so far?”

She blushes a deeper shade of crimson and shakes her head.

“And did I hurt you when we were together?”

“No.” This time, she looks surer of herself.

“There’s your answer then.”

Tom leans in for a slow and heated kiss, making love to her mouth until tension has left her body and she moans for more.

“I do like being in control,” he clarifies softly. “But no, I’m not ‘into the whole BDSM thing’, as you so nicely put it. I tried it out once though.”

It’s his turn to blush and break eye contact, but he needs her to hear this. “It was…an interesting experience, let’s say it like that. An eye opener. I tried out both, being a dom and being a sub. And neither was really my cup of tea.”

He looks at her again, noticing her surprise. “While I do enjoy some milder aspects of it, I will never do anything to cause you pain. And I’ll never force you to do anything you don’t want, though I might test your limits a bit off and on. Are you okay with that?”

“Yes,” she says immediately, her voice husky as if the thought arouses her more.

He wants her, so fiercely he’s burning up from the inside. But he needs to make something clear first.

“Thalia, what you said about BDSM…”

She notices his serious tone and starts fidgeting again. “Yes?”

“It may seem like that because of a certain bestselling book and the media, but BDSM isn’t about pain. And it certainly isn’t about getting off on someone else feeling uncomfortable. Quite the opposite, actually.”

Confusion knits her brows. “What do you mean? All that hitting and tying someone up and denying them pleasure…”

With a sigh that shows his frustration with himself and general misconceptions more than with her, Tom runs a hand through his hair.

“It’s…complicated. Ultimately, a dom may challenge his sub and dare her to try out new experiences or even test her pain threshold, but at the core of it is his wish to give her unimaginable pleasure. And a true dom will always respect his sub’s wishes. If she says no, then that means no.”

He wonders how he can really get through to her. She’s listening intently, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

“Coercion isn’t part of it, Thalia. Whatever is done when two people play a game, whether it’s tame roleplaying or hardcore BDSM, is done on mutual agreement. And a real dom will always take care of his sub afterwards.”

He lifts her chin to look into her eyes. “Do you understand what I mean?”

“I…I think I do, yes. It’s fascinating in a way, but it’s always also kind of scared me,” she admits.

Giving her a tender smile, he says, “Yes, it can be a bit overwhelming, especially if you’re in the wrong hands or simply rely on what the public portrays wrongly.”

Leaning forward, he adds in an urgent, low tone, “This is why I have asked you before to voice your consent, to say ‘yes’ instead of nodding. I want you to know what will happen, even if you might not have experienced it before and cannot truly ‘know’ in the sense of the word. And I promise, I’m never going to do anything that would hurt you or that you do not agree to.”

She swallows, the frown slowly easing. “O-okay. Thank you for explaining it to me, Professor. You’re a good teacher.” Her lids flutter half-closed as she gives him a shy but alluring look from beneath them. “I think I enjoy handing over control to you when we…when we are together.”

Tom can’t help himself, he needs to steal another kiss. He lowers his hand to unsnap her bra, and gropes and caresses her plump globes. His thumb brushes over her hardening nipples, eliciting soft whimpers. His mouth follows the path of his fingers, making her quiver.

“A tiny bit of pain can work wonders, you know,” he murmurs against her skin before clamping his teeth around one beaded tip and tugging once.

“Unhhh…”

Thalia arches into him, and he chuckles, treating the other nipple to the same mix of pleasure and pain.

“I see you get my point.”

Shifting, he pushes her onto her back and lies down beside her, propping himself up on one arm. His other hand continues to tease her breasts.

“I take it you’ve never tried anything even remotely BDSM?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

She shakes her head, lids fluttering as she struggles to keep her eyes open while he strokes and tweaks expertly. Tom leans in and licks the shell of her ear. He dips his tongue in, making her squeak. When he bites the lobe, the startled sound turns into a drawn-out moan.

“Do you ever pleasure yourself, darling?”

Her embarrassed giggle morphs into a whimper when he bites down at the sensitive spot where her neck meets her shoulder, soothing his tongue over it repeatedly.

“Ye-esss.”

“Good girl. Do you have any toys?”

He feels her freeze against him. One hand comes up to shield her flushed face, but he moves it away.

“No hiding, Thalia,” he scolds her gently. “You never have to be embarrassed with me, do you understand?”

Her voice is breathy when she finally replies. “Yes. I… I have a vibrator. B-but I don’t use it often.”

Fuck, thinking of her with her toy is going to be enough to get him through his lonely nights. He’d give a fortune to see her like that. Will she maybe even let him use it on her in the future?

Tom doesn’t hold back his groan. Her confession has his thoughts running wild and he wants her to see how desirable she is to him. He continues to lavish attention on her body, kissing a nipple and sucking it into his mouth. He pauses and looks up at her beneath hooded lids.

“Do you ever think of me when you pleasure yourself?”

Her teeth dig into her lip in that gesture he finds so arousing. She nods once, sucking in a breath when he nips her pebbled bud again.

“God, darling, that’s so hot,” he growls.

Instead of moving lower and giving her what her shifting, bucking hips beg for, he withdraws and stretches back out by her side.

Leaning close but stopping short of her mouth, he whispers roughly, “I want you to do it now. Touch yourself for me. Make yourself come while I watch and listen.”

Thalia whimpers again, but he can see the uncertainty in her dark eyes.

“I’ve never done that before,” she says, “with anyone watching.”

He slicks his tongue over her parted lips. “There’s a first time for everything. And I have a feeling a lot of them are going to be with me. Let me teach you how wonderful sex can be. You deserve it.”

After a passionate kiss to quell her doubts, Tom leans down and removes her panties, planting gentle bites along her legs as he draws them off. He pushes her thighs apart and gives her one long lick that has her curse and writhe.

“Come on, darling,” he coaxes. “Do it to please me. Didn’t you want to be oh so naughty this morning when you taunted me in that outfit? Now’s your chance to let your naughty side out to play.”

Tentatively, she moves a hand to her breast and toys with a chocolate-colored nipple, and it’s enough to make him rock hard.

“That’s my good girl. If it helps, close your eyes and tell yourself it’s me who’s touching you.”

She does just that, and gradually her touches become bolder.

While one hand fondles her breast, the other travels down to her glistening cunt. She runs a finger through her folds, making him ache to do the same. Collecting some of her wetness, she rubs slow circles around her clit, dipping down and up, swirling her fingers faster.

Her moans mix with his.

“There you go, darling. You can’t imagine how beautiful you are like this. Come all over your hand while I watch you being so deliciously naughty.”

When she mewls and slips a finger inside, gyrating her ample hips, Tom can’t resist anymore. He chucks his pants quickly and takes himself into his hand, stroking his cock in sync with her movements. Her eyes fly open at the sound and her moans grow louder. As if hypnotized, her gaze stays on him fisting his length while she brings herself closer and closer to the edge.

“Ah…fuck, you’re so sexy,” he groans, quickening his pace.

Thalia spreads her legs wider and rubs her clit with one hand while using her other hand to finger-fuck herself. It’s all he can do to not spill his seed immediately.

Cursing and grinding his teeth, Tom waits for her to reach her peak first. When she does so with desperate keening, he squeezes harder and faster, leans over and shoots all over her thigh.

Before she has a chance to become shy again or come down from her high, he brushes away one hand and replaces the finger on her clit with his tongue. He inserts a digit into her slick heat alongside hers, and the new sensation of both of them touching her so intimately makes her shout.

Thrashing and gasping his name, she comes a second time, drenching their joined hands.

It takes him a while to catch his breath, and he’s sure the sight of her pleasuring herself and coming so beautifully will be emblazoned on his mind for the rest of his life.

Jesus fucking Christ, how incredibly hot.

Weakly, he drags himself off the bed and staggers into the bathroom to clean up. He returns with a warm washcloth to wipe their come from Thalia’s body and press a few gentle kisses onto her exposed skin.

Silently, he disposes of the wet cloth and climbs back into bed next to her.

“Sleep now, darling.” He moves with her in his arms so he can spoon her and keep her close, and she sighs softly. When he nudges a long leg in between her thighs and slings an arm around her, she grabs his hand and entwines their fingers.

“I could get used to this,” Tom thinks to himself, feeling so blissed out he doesn’t want to move for ages.

“Me too,” comes the soft whisper, and he realizes with a start that he’s said the words out loud.

Shit. Not the wisest thing to do, because they both know this will be difficult. He doesn’t want to ruin the mood, but there’s no way he can just let it hang like this.

“Thalia?”

“Mhm?” comes her sleepy reply.

Tom shifts, which only makes her snuggle closer into his embrace.

“I…I’m not sure how often we can manage an escape like this. We… it’s important for both of us that we don’t get caught, and…”

Dammit, he’s fucking this up royally.

She gives his fingers a squeeze, and her tone is a little more alert when she replies, “I know, Tom. I’m no small child dreaming up fairy tales.”

That hurts. With a sigh, he nuzzles her neck, breathing in the scents of her shampoo and their sexual activity.

“I wish I could give you a fairytale, my warrior princess,” he whispers, and in that moment, he means it with all his heart. But he knows that harsh reality will catch up with them soon enough, so he forces the next words out.

“We should probably, um, see other people off and on, just to throw people off, you know.”

He can feel her tense and automatically brushes his thumb over her hand soothingly.

“See? As in date?” she asks, and he can’t read the emotion lurking in her voice.

Nodding against her hair, he explains reluctantly, “Just a date here and there, so it looks less suspicious when we’re together so much for various fake reasons.”

“Yeah, would probably make sense.”

Tom leans up a little to make out her expression, but she’s half-hidden behind her wild mane of hair and he can only see that she’s closed her eyes.

Deciding to let the matter rest, he briefly disentangles his fingers so he can pull the sheet over their naked bodies.

“Sleep now,” he commands softly again, and after a few moments, her breathing evens out.

Click here for Chapter 9, Dating Fiasco

Copyright © 2017  avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando

 

Brownie Batter

brownie batter cover aug 8 2016

Brownie Batter

Part 2 of Summer Vacation

A Mrs. Evans Story

*a Chris Evans fan fic*

By avenger-nerd-mom

Future Chris and his wife enjoy some time alone in the RV

Warnings: NSFW, language, adult situations, food play, analingus, fingering, penetrative sex

Word Count: 2207

Part 1- Summer Vacation

Summer 2034

Humming a little tune, I stir the brownie batter and whip it as smoothly as I can, missing my stand mixer and some of the other comforts of home. I smile to myself when the door to the RV flies open then shut, and Chris curses when the door won’t latch.  I look over my shoulder at him, laughing.  “You’re gonna have to get that fixed.  You keep telling the kids not to slam it so it won’t break and you’re the jackass that broke it.”

He sighs deeply and rolls his eyes.  I turn back to my task of mixing and he comes behind me, pushing my hips against the counter, his cock already hard and pressing against my ass.

“I thought we ordered pizza so there wouldn’t be any dishes to clean.  Why are you baking brownies?” he asks, brushing my hair over my shoulder and nibbling my neck.

“I wanted the batter.  I needed something chocolate and sweet.”

“I got something sweet for you,” he suggests as he pushes against me again, his hand coming up to cup under my breast.  Noting the lack of bra, he asks, “You showered?”

“Yup,” I reply, looking over my shoulder at him.  “All ready to watch a movie and hang out with you till the kids get back.”

Chris reaches his other hand over my shoulder and dips his finger into the batter.  He pulls it up and the chocolate gooey mess drips from his fingers as he brings it to my mouth.  A glob lands on my chest right above the lace trim of my tank top.  He turns me slightly in his arms and eyes it lustfully.  Diving to lick it away, a wicked grin graces his face as he raises his cocky eyebrow at me.  My breath catches, and my nipples harden at his touch, straining against the thin fabric of my top. “Damn, I still fall for that eyebrow,” I laugh, caressing it with my thumb.

“Still got it, babe.” Winking, he places his finger in my open mouth, wanting to share with me.  My tongue wraps around his finger as my mouth closes on him, sucking the chocolate from his warm skin. I savor the flavor and tease my tongue on the lightly calloused pad of his finger tip.  I giggle as he pulls his finger lose, scraping against my teeth as his body shakes from a slight chill, his reaction to my tease.

Dipping his finger back in the batter, he moans quietly, “My turn.  I wanna taste some.”  He drags his fingertips across the top of my shoulder, the chocolate covered finger held out of the way as he moves the spaghetti strap down my arm before smearing the chocolate down the side of my neck.

“Aw, Chris, now I’m gonna be a sticky mess!” I fuss, secretly pleased with his attentions.

His mouth starts on my shoulder, kissing and licking up the sweetness, moving towards my neck.  His teeth gently drag across my skin, his tongue leaving a trail of wet in its wake.  His other hand reaches under the edge of my short shorts and teases along the edge of my lace panties.  “Mmhmm… You’re wet,” he whispers in my ear, a chill running down my spine.

“Door locked?”

“Yup, and Bud and I had a chat. He knows NOT to bring the other two back early this time.”

“Chris!”

“What? How can he be fourteen and not realize ‘old people’ still have sex?! Doesn’t he live in the same house with us? How did he not know?!  And your son called us OLD!”

“Yea, that was a dumb,” I laugh, turning the sweet sound to a moan as his lips nip at my flesh again. “You didn’t say it, did you?”

“No,” he sighs bitterly, licking the remaining chocolate from my neck, his beard tickling me.  “But really, how often do you get the opportunity to say ‘if the trailer’s rockin’, don’t come knockin’?’”

I take a spoonful of batter and seductively lick the spoon as he watches me.  “And you wonder why the kid needs therapy?”

He pushes me into the counter, a little roughly. “Hey, mood killer? Wanna talk about taxes and funeral plots, too?”

“Sorry, sorry,” I push my ass back against him. “Stupid ‘mom brain.’  Got any ideas on how to clear it?”

Pushing my shorts down quickly, he turns us so he can push me onto the bench seat at the table in the confined space. “All fours, babe,” he orders. I tug my top over my head, revealing my toned naked form to him. I bite back my laughter when he hits his head on the hanging lamp and curses.  “Chocolate and sweet?  Hmmm… I like that idea,” he announces.

The metal mixing bowl clangs against the counter as he pulls it to him and I instinctively shy away when the cold batter dribbles across the top curve of my ass.  “How many squats today?” he asks, appreciatively.

“Two hundred and fifty. Tomorrow’s a rest day,” I answer as he runs his finger through the mess of chocolate he’s making.

I look over my shoulder and the look on his face is pure Evans.  “Are you finger painting?” I ask with a smile.

“I always liked art. Edible just makes it more fun.”  He pushes down on my back, lowering me to crouch back on my heels.  I stretch my arms out in front of me, pushing back against the wall, enjoying his playfulness.

I hear his belt buckle hit the floor and his foot hit the cabinet.  “Dammit,” he mutters. “I shoulda just carried you to the bed, but I didn’t wanna hear you bitch about brownie batter on the sheets.”

“Shut up, Evans.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He kneels behind me, wiping his hands on the kitchen towel.  He grasps my hips and massages me roughly, pulling me back to him.  Goosebumps cover my flesh when he begins to use his perfect tongue to clean the chocolate mess.  His wide oral muscle makes quick work of the cleaning process, his lips following after each swipe to deliver gentle kisses.  His moans hit to my core and I’m practically dripping on the leather seat, writhing and pushing myself to his face.  He chuckles at my silent message.  “Almost clean,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin. “Good things come to those who wait.”

His hands spread my cheeks, tugging and pulling as his mouth continues to cover my skin, moving closer and closer to my hole.  I hold my breath in anticipation and I’m not disappointed when his lips cover my sweet rim and he kisses me intimately.  One hand reaches through my legs, seeking my other entrance, plunging in two fingers quickly.  With his hands and mouth working his magic, he knows how to quickly bring me to the edge; he’s had years of practice and tonight there is no time for games.  “Shit,” I hiss. “It’s not enough, I need you to fuck me, babe.”

Chris chuckles, his lips pulling away from the suction on my pretty pink asshole.  He remedies that quickly by returning to his kisses, making use of his tongue as he dips gently inside.  I moan in pleasure and a thought enters my mind, “Not this time, mister.  No licking brownie batter there.  It’s good for five minutes, but not worth the troubles later.”

He taps my ass, acknowledging he heard and understood me, and I look over my shoulder again, just seeing the top of his spiky summer hair.  His fingers pick up speed, twirling and scissoring, and curving against my walls in our own practiced rhythm. I crave a verbal release, but we’ve learned over the years that’s not acceptable in family oriented campgrounds.  I quietly hum as his tongue pushes a little deeper in one space and he teases around my clit in the other.  So close to the edge but I need more.  “Chris,” I whine. “Help.”

A third finger isn’t what I had in mind, but it does the trick.  I shatter and come, but not hard enough, not with the relief I need.  His mouth releases its hold on my ass, but his hands still work their magic.  His foot hits the cabinet again and I can hear him changing position on the floor.  He quickly pulls out his fingers and grabs my hips, pulling me off the bench and down on the floor, into his lap.  My pussy still clenches, needing more, needing to be full.  He rests me momentarily on his thigh and I twist to kiss him, ravenously taking his mouth, not caring where it’s been.  He holds his stiff cock, so beautiful, in place, as he guides me with his other hand to slide down on him.

Chris leans forward, holding my back against his chest, reaching to grab my tits with his free hand. I am seated on him, pulling my feet behind me, resting against his legs, gasping as he fills my need.  My space stretches for him, swallowing him deep inside.  His hands slide down my ribcage and hold tight on my hips, pushing and pulling me against him.  I lean forward on his strong thighs and grind against the base of his cock, turned on by the rapid sounds of his breathing, and the quiet moans he makes.  He uses his strong hands to bounce me on his tool, sliding one hand down between my open legs, reaching for my sweet button to signal my release.

Her growls in my ear, “I wanna play forever, but the kids…”

“I know,” I whine. “Roll me; fuck me into the floor.”

“Whatever you say, Mrs. Evans.” He obliges my request quickly, hooking one arm under my leg and raising it before thrusting deep inside then pulling out slowly. “Just a few of those,” I sigh, smacking his ass, the sharp sound of my flesh against his like music to my ears.

He grunts, repeating his actions and I reach for the side of his face, drawing his attention to my eyes.  “I love you, baby.”

I can’t take much more of being pushed into the hard floor.  His eyes focused on mine, I smack his ass again with my other hand.

“You’re bad; that’s it,” he grits through his teeth, letting go of my leg and falling to me, his mouth on mine, hot and wet, sweat clinging to his beard. His hard chest pushes against my breasts and I arch into him. I never exactly know quite what his last minute move will be, but it’s always just what I need, and not always the same, as he pummels into me, pushing me over the edge.

Rising up for his own release, he hits his head on the underside of the table. “Dammit!” he barks, continuing his penetrating bursts before his seed spills into me, filling me and when it’s too much, his heat runs between my legs, pooling on the floor under me as he falls next to me.

I wrap my arms around him, holding him tight.  “Good job for an old man,” I tease, stroking the patch of gray in his hair that I adore so much. He chuckles and nips at my breast, rolling to reach the bowl of brownie batter.

“Not too bad yourself,” he teases.  “See.  Old people can still do it.”

“Stop!” I fuss before he can reach into the chocolate batter.  “Your hands!”

Confused at first, he stops himself in mid-air, sitting up before setting the bowl on the bench we didn’t just fuck on.  “Yea, I got it,” he nods.  “Why don’t you go shower again? I’ll wash up, myself and the leather seat, maybe mop the floor,” he grins when I flip him off, “and get the brownies in the oven, and when the kids get back we can have ice cream with them at the campfire?”

I smile when he uses the spoon to drop one last glob of rich chocolate onto my breast, suckling it clean, before helping me to my feet. “Cut the roll of cookie dough in the fridge. We can’t use sex brownie batter for the kids; that’s all kinds of wrong,” I laugh.

Before I step into the other room, I turn back to him and catch him licking from the spoon. A dribble of batter clings to his lip and I step back over to kiss him. “I love you, Mr. Evans. Thank you for an enjoyable fuck; I needed that.”

“And thank you for letting me fuck you.   I mean, I’m sure the creeper across the way would have been available.” When I punch his arm, he grimaces, laughing and rubbing the spot.  “Hey, that arm still hurts sometimes, you know.”  He rolls his eyes, lit up with mirth and a tease to his voice. “Still not into being a swinger? No? He watched you all afternoon-“

“Shut it, Evans. Enough, you’re the only man, or cock, for me.”

“I am quite desirable, and lovable.”

“And an asshole,” I call over my shoulder, stopping again at the door, smiling at him.

“Babe, that was quite memorable…  Go shower.  I love you, too, Mrs. Evans.”

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