Wicedness

As I left Melissa's apartment building, the sun in my eyes burned for a second. It was later than I thought and I couldn't be late to meet Damon. I pulled up the app for a car.

On the drive my mind drifted back to the night before. It didn't seem real. I'd had enough dreams about Melissa in the last few weeks, this had to be just another one, right?

Except I could still smell her on my skin, taste her on my tongue. Her hair all messed up, her voice soft and commanding, then loud and begging. Her perfect tits under my hands, her wicked smile over me as my cock thrust into her. And not just the sex, but how comfortable it felt, holding her as we slept, being naked next to her, having breakfast together.

The car stopped and I dashed to my apartment and ditched my clothes. I'd get away with not showering again but the jeans and now wrinkled t-shirt I'd worn to the movies last night wouldn't cut it at the places Damon picked for lunch. So on with a button-down, trousers, leather shoes. I thought about finding a tie, but I still had to get across town and being late was the worse sin.

Damon was at the back table on the terrace. As I sat down, he raised an eyebrow at me, then waved at the waitress.

"Better be quick, I already ordered."

I ordered eggs and coffee and the waitress sauntered away again.

"Big night?" Damon said.

"Yeah, something like that," I agreed. He had that smug, amused look he gets when I mess up, but at least he wasn't lecturing me again. I tried to shift his focus away from me.

"Have you heard from Ramona lately? What was it this time, penguins?" I asked.

Damon's smirk got bigger. "Yes, mother is fine, the fundraiser for the

pelicans

was a great success. She found a new artist, though, so I doubt we'll hear much from her until she's ready to unveil him."

"Oh, that's good." Damon's widowed mother was a major philanthropist, on the board of half a dozen charities, and always had a new cause to champion.

"So you won't have to worry about your weekends being monopolised by her parties for the next few months." The waitress appeared with coffees and water. Damon continued, "I wonder what you'll do with all your free time."

"Um, I'm probably going to be busy for a while, I might have to cancel lunch next week," I blurted out. At least, I hoped I would be busy next weekend too. Laying the groundwork for an excuse couldn't hurt.

"You have a big project in the works? I didn't hear about anything new coming out of your department."

Crap, he was calling my bluff. "Oh, it probably didn't make it up to your level. Just some stuff Terry wants me to take care of. Nothing major."

The waitress returned with our order and I hurried to eat so I didn't have to answer any more questions.

"I assume you can still make time for training, the club tournament is coming up," Damon said.

"Oh, sure, no problem. We'll do great this year, promise." Ramona insisted that Damon participate in her club's tennis competitions every year, and he always dragged me in as his partner for doubles. We did okay, although I wasn't at Damon's level, I did need the practice.

Damon leaned back in his chair and said, "You should have worn a tie."

"Huh? C'mon man, are you really going to dress code me, like we're back in high school?" I retorted.

"No. But if you are going to run around with a hickey on your neck like a horny teenager, you should wear a tie. It would cover it better."

My hand flew up and Damon laughed. "Relax, there's nothing there. What's her name?"

"What? Whose name?" I stuttered.

"Anson, please. You got here late, you reek of flowers, and you have been grinning at your eggs this whole time. Oh, and the new waitress touched your arm twice and you didn't even look at her. You met someone. More than just met, since you used her shampoo."

I gave up. Damon always knew. Ten years since he'd taken me under his wing in high school, the rich popular jock protecting the poor scholarship student. I don't know why I tried to hide anything from him. "Melissa. I've never met anyone like her. She's... she's amazing."

"They always are. Will you be seeing Melissa again?"

"Yeah, tonight, I said I'd cook."

"Hmmph. Go to Voula's for the marscapone. They should have figs now too."

"Yeah, right, I need figs and mascarpone and olives... wait, how did you know what I'm going to make?"

"You always make tiramisu when you want to impress someone. So finish eating and go already, you need all the time you can get, the way you cook."

I shovelled down the last mouthfuls and bounced up out of my chair. "Thanks, Damon, I'll talk to you on Monday."

"Don't bother, I don't want to know," he called after me.

@@@@

I had texted Melissa my address and to come over at seven. At ten minutes to, I checked everything again: Table set. Ingredients prepped. Music. Clean sheets. No stray socks lying around.

Seven o'clock. God, I was sweating.

Did I need to change my shirt? No, it's fine.

Seven thirteen.

Did I miss a message? No, just a thumbs up emoji. She must be late. She's not coming. I messed up somehow -

Knock knock.

She's here!

I hurried to the door.

Okay, ready.

I opened it and she was there. Strappy top and short flowing skirt and sandals, a summer jacket, she looked casual but more dressed up than last night.

"Melissa! Please come in," I said. I wanted to throw her against the wall and bury my face in her tits. I took her bag and jacket instead and showed her in. I tried to remember what Damon had tried to teach me about courtesy and manners and how to be a proper host, but all I could think of was how much I wanted to taste her again.

"You look beautiful," I said as I took her hand and kissed it, and she gave me a tight little smile. I remembered those lips wrapped around my cock and my mouth went dry. God, keep it together, Anson.

"Let me get you some wine, dinner is nearly ready." I opened the fridge and tried to focus on the cool air. I took out the wine and the appetisers, and hoped my erection wasn't too obvious when I turned around.

"Figs, ricotta and honey," I said, pouring the wine into two glasses.

"Oh, yum, I love figs," she replied.

"Good! Eat up, I'll just be a second." I went back to the galley and stirred the spaghetti into the boiling water. I looked over my shoulder quickly. Melissa was biting into a piece of fig, her eyes closed for a second as she sucked the juices into her mouth. I stared into the pasta pot and tried to get control.

"Wow, that's so good. How did you find figs, it's not the season yet, is it?" she says.

"Oh, Damon told me to try that little place over on Archer Street," I replied.

That's better, just keep talking. Concentrate on what you're doing.

"Is that your brother? You said you were meeting family today," she said.

"He's not really family, I don't have any now my mum's gone." I drained the pasta quickly and stirred all the ingredients through while it was hot. "He's a friend, he looks out for me. He recommended me for a job at his company but he didn't want anyone to think it was a nepo-hire, so we don't talk at work. That's why I couldn't miss lunch today." I'm babbling a bit, I realised, don't babble so much.

"Oh, okay. I'm sorry about your mother," she said. It seems like more than a polite thing to say, she sounded genuinely sorry.

"Thanks, but it's fine, it was a long time ago." I plated the food with oil and parsley, and took it to the table. I raised my wine glass and said "

Salute

".

"

Salute

," she said back, sipping at the wine. "Gosh, this smells good. Mmm, and it tastes good too," after eating a big forkful.

She likes it! I took a big bite myself, yep, it's good.

"But, I'm getting some mixed signals here, Anson. You cook for me, do all this," she said, waving at the food and the table, "and it makes me feel like a princess."

"But then you serve puttanesca?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "I'm starting to think you have a darker purpose to this evening."

I choked a little on my food. Crap, she knows what this dish is? What it's called? Does she think that I think... no, she's laughing, she's taking another bite.

"You know what puttanesca means, huh?" I managed. "I swear, this is my best recipe for pasta, no ulterior meaning."

"Hmmm, maybe I believe you," she said. "Tell me about your work, then."

I relaxed, she was teasing me again. Everything is going great. We chatted back and forth, small talk mostly, over the delicious 'whore's pasta', and then the tiramisu, and then just sipping the last of the wine. She was smart, asked me questions, and liked my answers; I talked a lot more than I normally would.

As the conversation slowed, I sat back and looked at her.

"This has been really nice," I said. I wanted her so badly, but I wanted her to like me more. I wasn't sure what to say that wouldn't be crude, or going to seem like I only did all this to get her into bed again. She deserved better than that.

"You're thinking about how to get to the next part, without implying I'm a whore, aren't you?" she said bluntly.

"Uh, maybe," I said in shock. Crap, can she read my mind?

"Well, I'm not a princess either, I'm not going to vanish at midnight," she said with a grin. She stood up and pulled off her sandals, dropping them in my lap. "Here, you can keep my shoes just to be on the safe side."

I laughed, remembering how Melissa had stolen my sneakers so I couldn't leave her place last night. She nudged my knee with her leg.

"Come on, my handsome prince. You delivered on the tiramisu, now you have to keep your other promise."

She licked her lips and paused. My other promise? Oh right, from breakfast.

Lots and lots

.

I pulled her into my lap. She started to giggle but I clamped my mouth over hers. She tasted like wine and mascarpone, heady and sweet, and her tongue twisted around mine and I'm lost.

My hands moved on her warm skin. I pushed under her skirt and cupped her cheeks. Was she even wearing underwear? I couldn't feel anything. I slid my hand higher and my fingers brushed across satin, it's a g-string, taut across her ass. I moaned into the kiss and gripped her cheeks tighter.

Melissa shimmied her skirt above her hips, which felt very exciting, and then lifted her top over her head. I stared at the tiniest pink bra I've ever seen. I took one finger and ran it along the edge of it, lightly flicking her nipples peeking above the soft fabric, then down the line of her stomach, to caress where the fabric disappeared between her legs.

"Pink," I breathed. God, she looked so girly, so meek in pink, so different to the aggressive tease who had taken me home last night. "You wore this for me? I think you do want to be my pretty princess, after all."

She didn't answer, just bit her lip and stroked my neck and shoulders.

Screw manners, I thought. I stood and lifted her in one movement, tossing her over my shoulder and letting her legs dangle as I carried her to the bedroom.

"Time to storm the castle, princess!" I declared. She laughed as I tugged off her skirt and dropped her on the bed. I unbuttoned my shirt and she bounced forward to help me with my pants. I kissed her and pushed her down, laughing with her, kneeling between her legs and fondling her in long strokes from her thighs to her shoulders.

"I have been thinking about this. All. Damn. Day." I reached up to kiss her jaw, her collarbone, her breasts.

"It's only been a couple of hours!" she giggled.

"Too long, princess," I murmured. I licked around her areolae and watched her nipples stiffen more. The contrast of her smooth skin and the hard nub under my tongue was even better than I remembered. I wanted to suckle at both at once, to hold and play with them, feeling their warmth against my face and in my hands, listening to her heartbeat quicken and her breath catch.

Melissa's hands in my hair were pulling me closer, and I obeyed, sucking first the right breast and then the left. I relented enough to pull back and lick just the tip of her nipples, then blew on them to make them cold. I was rewarded with a gasp and an extra wriggle, and then again dived into the yielding flesh and tried to devour as much of its perfection as I could.

I pulled myself away and laid a line of kisses on her ribs and along her torso, and lower, until I got to the pink panties. I pressed my lips into her cleft, rubbing along the satin, licking at her clit thru the fabric. Already, she shuddered at each touch.

I used my fingers to brush along the insides of her thighs, dipping beneath the thong and tugging at it to stimulate her clit, then hooked the string aside. Her lips shone with her wetness, and I licked around them, first scribing soft curls with the tip of my tongue, then harder strokes with the flat, brushing around her hood. Her legs trembled and I paused, lifting my head. Her eyes were closed and her hands were roaming over her torso. I changed direction, kissing her soft thighs, moving my hands under and around her arse, and pulled the tiny scrap of fabric away and down her legs.

"Such a pretty pink pussy," I growled at her, burying my tongue in her slit.

"Oh, god, Anson," she squealed. Her hips bucked and I pressed my hands against her stomach to hold her still. I switched my mouth to her clit, sucking and pulling, and shoved my fingers inside her roughly.

"Fuck!" she gasped. My cock twitched, hearing her reaction. I used my free hand to grasp her ankle and push her leg back, opening her wider.

"I want all your cum, Melissa. I'm going to suck you and fuck you until you gush with cum, and then I'll lick every drop out of your pretty pink pussy."

"Oh yes, Anson, suck my clit harder, do it!" she cried out. She gripped my hair and twisted her hips into me. I redoubled my efforts and moaned happily into her as I felt the tension in her muscles and her pussy starting to clench on my fingers.

"Harder, Anson, fucking

now

," she screamed. Her moans died away, but I kept fingering and sucking, and instead of fading, I felt her heat rise again, and she exploded again, screaming wordlessly, squeezing my head in her thighs, then collapsed. Hot drips of cum eased out of her pussy around my hand and I greedily licked up each one.

"How do you do that?" Melissa asked me, blearily.

"I just have a talented tongue, I guess," I said, waggling it at her.

"No, well, yes," she said, lifting up on one elbow and playfully trying to catch it with her other hand. I dodged, then let her stroke my face and play her thumb over my lips.

"I meant, how do you go from so proper and polite I feel like I'm about to deflower a virgin, to making me so wet, I should throw you a lifejacket before you get washed away," she said softly.

"I

think

that's a compliment," I laughed. "Did you think about me today?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

"Did you get wet?" I asked.

"A little," she answered.

"Did you touch yourself?" I asked, leaning down and kissing her belly again.

"A little. Just my tits. Not anywhere else," she said.

"No? Why not?" I asked, moving up to kneel over her, hands by her head.

"I wanted to wait for you," she said, looking up at me over her.

"For me?" I said, "Your pretty pink pussy, all wet and waiting for my tongue all day? No wonder then, you were all pent up," I bent and kissed her neck.

"I've been saving something for you too," I whispered. I leaned back and straddled her torso, and showed her what I meant. My cock was aching from being ignored, the head swollen and almost purple.

"Your tits look pretty in pink too, princess." I had to use my hands to push it low enough to touch her breasts, drawing a lazy line of precum across them, sliding across the satin bra cups.

"Oh, I'm so glad you like it, my prince," Melissa played along with a mocking tone. She neatly pulled her bra band up and slipped my cock underneath, then pushed her breasts up to surround it. "I've been waiting so long for you to return to the castle." She squeezed her mounds back and forth along my shaft, and I placed my hands over hers and squeezed harder.

"I missed you too, my princess," I said. "But I have a great treasure to give you for being so patient." I thrust forward and drove my cock in between her breasts. The sensations of the satin, her soft tits, the jolting of my rigid shaft along her breastbone made me groan.

"You know I only want you, my prince. I was so lonely while you were gone, I had to play all by myself," she said sadly.

"Show me how you played while I was gone," I demanded.

"Oh, like this," she said, slipping a hand from her breast, to put two fingers in her mouth. She sucked to wet them, then teased out her nipples. "Mmmm, it felt so good, but not as good as when my prince plays with me. It's so much better playing with you and your mighty sword."

She held her head off the bed as high as she could, and waited for my movements to bring my cock head to her lips, licking and kissing what she could reach on each thrust.

"Uh! If you keep playing with my sword like that, princess, I won't be able to hold back very long."

"Then, don't hold back, my prince", she said.

I pushed my hips hard, shoving my cock as far into her into her mouth as possible, and held it there. She sucked me, greedily, and I almost came immediately. I held my breath, until my cock felt so engorged it was almost painful, and gasping, I pulled back to a kneeling position again. I freed my cock from her gorgeous tits with a grunt and stroked it, high above her sweet face. I ran my free hand along the skin between her breasts and her collarbone.

"Are you ready for your treasure, princess?" My jerking became more desperate.

"Oh yes! Please give it to me, my prince, I want it so much!" Melissa cried out, throwing her head back. I sprayed my cum across her face, narrowly missing her eyes, in her open mouth, down her chest. When she dared look, my fist was still slowly pumping my shaft, squirts of cum oozing over my fingers.

"Fuck, that's hot," Melissa said. She slid her hands along my thighs and stroked my hard stomach.

"You too, princess. Look at how pretty you are. Pearls suit you," I grinned at her.

"You're the pretty one, my golden gallant prince," she said, drinking in my approval. "So strong and brave and sexy." She pulled my hand to her mouth so she could clean the cum drips off my fingers, and with her other she massaged my cum into her breasts. "So much lovely treasure, you must have missed me an awful lot."

"Oh, I missed you terribly, wicked thing." I moved off her torso and propped next to her, watching her fondle herself. I love the way she looked, wearing my cum. There's a glob in her hair, but I don't tell her, I want to see it there.

"The way you moan when you cum, the way you feel under me. Your wicked little mouth," I added, leaning over to kiss her. Faint traces of myself on her tongue, mixing with the salty flavour of her on mine.

I broke away and just stared into her eyes for a moment. "But this was the worst part." I said, touching her face lightly. I lay on my side, putting one arm under her neck and the other around her waist, pulling her into my body, and pressed my face into her shoulder. "All the wicked things you make me think of, and all day I just wanted this again," I murmured.

"Oh," Melissa breathed. She relaxed into my embrace, putting her arms over mine, intertwining our fingers and squeezing as hard as she could.

After what seemed an age, I eased my hold on her. I stroked her hip and thigh, and pressed breathy kisses into her neck.

"I like this too," she said, kissing my bicep. "I love your arms."

"Really?" I whispered.

"Of course, so big and strong."

"Hhmph," I made a pleased noise into her hair. She smelled like flowers and sunlight.