Audra and Mark lay entwined on the floor. Audra still wore the blindfold Mark had put on her when she entered the hotel room, along with sheer, black thigh-highs and black high heels – and nothing else. Mark was still fully dressed, having concentrated first on pleasuring the beautiful woman now in his arms. He could hardly believe she had climaxed so quickly and so intensely. It must have been the combination of their earlier foreplay, the new situation, and the blindfold, which encouraged her to feel rather than see. He stroked her blonde hair gently as her breathing gradually returned to normal.
His eyes idly traveled down her nude form. The subdued lighting played gently across her golden skin, the curve of her hip. His hand followed his gaze, possessively caressing her and holding her closer against his body. Her skin felt sweetly pliant under his fingers. Her breasts were full and soft, with wide, dark pink areolae that made his mouth water.
Now that her heart was no longer pounding, Audra's thoughts returned to the man at her side. No one had ever pleasured her so thoroughly; in fact, now that she thought of it, she blushed at the memory of how her fluids had gushed forth. She'd been too far gone to be self-conscious at the time, but now she worried that he would be put off. However, she had no intention of bringing it up: if it
had
bothered him, the best way to deal with it was to distract him.
Gently shifting her leg, she lightly pressed her thigh into Mark's groin. His arousal was easy to feel, even through his slacks. A warm sensation spread over her, partly from desire but also from the knowledge that he was patiently and lovingly delaying his own gratification for her. At her touch, Mark drew an audible breath and tightened his arms around her.
Caressing his chest lightly through his shirt, Audra whispered, "I feel something I like."
He chuckled softly. "You're welcome to take it off, then."
"Silly," she said. In a more sultry tone, she said, "You know I wasn't talking about your shirt." Sliding her hand down across his abdomen and below his belt, she very lightly grazed her fingertips over his hardness. Mark's hand stilled on her hair, and he seemed to be holding his breath.
She slowly lowered her hand, lightly touching either side of his cock with her fingers and thumb, tracing his length down as far as his trousers would allow, then back up toward the head, which now threatened to escape his waistband.
"Oh, I see," he said, a bit breathlessly. "You're welcome to take those off, too."
Audra giggled, then slipped out of his arms and stood unsteadily. Holding out her hand blindly, she said, "Come on, we've been on the floor long enough."
Expecting him to take her hand, she squealed in surprise when instead he scooped her up in his arms. When she rested her head against his shoulder, she could feel a growl of desire rumble through his chest. She could only imagine the picture they must make: a professionally-dressed man carrying a mostly-naked, blindfolded woman, her long, golden hair swinging in time with his strides.
Reaching the bed, he set her feet on the ground, letting her body slide against his in the process. For a moment, they simply stood, arms wrapped in a tight embrace, suspended in a hushed, hypnotic awareness of each other, hearts almost beating as one, her cheek against his chest, his against her hair.
Audra felt Mark's arms leave her back and rise to cup her face. His mouth descended on hers in urgent passion, tongue insistently and repeatedly stroking hers. His back felt taut under her hands as if it took all he had to control himself. His passion excited her, made her feel helpless as a minnow swept along a raging river.
Audra reached up with trembling hands and began to unbutton his shirt. Too impatient for this, Mark broke the kiss and picked her up again, this time depositing her on the bed. Audra finally pulled the blindfold off, desperately wanting to watch him, to see his body and the expression on his face. He dragged his shirt off over his head, threw it on the floor, then undid the button and zipper on his pants. In one fluid motion, he pulled his trousers, underwear, everything off.
She drank in the sight of him in that instant. He had the pale skin of someone who works long hours indoors but was lean and well-built. Her hungry eyes focused on his erection, which she had seen many times on his webcam. It seemed larger in real life, deliciously real and thick and
here
, in front of her and soon to be inside her. She reached out and wrapped her hand around it.
Mark moaned deep in his chest. Her hand felt so small, so soft and warm around his cock. He had fantasized about this moment for so long that it seemed almost unreal that it was actually happening. For a moment he wondered whether he might have just fallen too deeply into a fantasy and merely
believed
she was here, touching him. But no, that sweet, insistent hand moved so differently from his own, wonderfully strange and new . . . he could feel each individual finger on the underside of his cock, her little thumb caressing the front and occasionally brushing the tip.
As wonderful as it felt, however, he gently removed her hand. It was one thing to make her come first by herself, but he wanted his first orgasm with her to be something they shared, to be inside of her and feel her body shuddering in time with his.
Climbing onto the bed, Mark stretched his body next to hers. Her eyes, a deep forest green in this light, locked on his. Even though he felt as if he would burst if he held back a moment longer, he searched her eyes for any hint of doubt or reservation.
"Are you sure you're ready to do this?" he asked. Audra could hear the ragged note of need in his voice.
She reached up to bury her hands in his hair, to caress his cheeks and the back of his neck. Softly, almost shyly, she replied, "I've been ready for you for a long time. I am a little scared, but . . ." She trailed off.
"Why scared?" he asked gently.
"I don't know. I guess scared that this will change everything for us . . . scared of what will or won't happen afterward . . ."
Mark lowered his head and kissed her, this time slowly, meditatively. He trailed small kisses across her cheeks and nose and forehead, almost as a parent kisses a child. But his stomach twisted uneasily. He could
feel
the answers he wanted to give her, or at least he thought he could. He wished he could open his mouth and spill out all the secret things he had been yearning for, the tender protectiveness he felt toward her, the promises he half-recklessly wanted to make.
But he had never been that good at expressing himself verbally. Instant messaging was something else . . . he could sit and think and type and think and retype again, only sending a message forth when he was sure it said what he meant. The spoken word, however, was uncomfortably immediate and irrevocable.
He focused his eyes intently on hers, wishing he could open a window into her mind and simply deposit, in one neat little package, all the jumbled-up things he felt for her, and about himself. Instead, he said hesitantly, "I don't know what's going to happen either."
Damn
, he thought. He knew she was probably worried that he would use her, then walk away and never look back, but he didn't know how to reassure her without making rash vows. He tried again, "You know we can't make any promises to each other right now, but I want to see . . ." He desperately cast about for the right words, then continued more softly, "We both want something real. I want to see if that can happen with us."
It was enough. The little tense corners of her eyes softened. He lowered his head, and again they melted into something less a kiss and more a shift into someplace where the lines between them blurred and swirled, and time seemed to drift like smoke in still air.
