Work Text:
Their dinner date hadn’t gone how he thought it would. If he’d been honest, he’d hoped to have gotten a little further than a stolen kiss over their half-empty plates, like up to his room; after all, they were both consenting adults. The abruptness of her leaving had left him bewildered. He’d been dumped before, stood up, turned down and even ghosted, but to have his kiss so eagerly reciprocated and then have some lame-arse excuse about democratic ancestors thrown at him was … He didn’t even know what it was. Hell, his brain and groin were still reliving the taste of her lipstick and the brief dart of her tongue in his mouth when she kissed him goodbye. Her politics didn’t put him off; he couldn’t believe she was so shallow. It wasn’t as if he was asking her to marry him, just to enjoy his company.
He stared down at the beer she had poured him, could still hear her teasing ‘yip’. It had been a long time since he’d felt so frustrated. The beer held no interest for him now. Tossing several bills onto the table, he rose and left, taking the same path out of the restaurant that Diane had previously strutted along, hips swaying, head high; blue dress clinging to her shapely figure. He let out a groan and mentally chastised himself. That boat had sailed. Shit, that boat had sunk into the dark, murky depths.
He didn’t fancy taking a walk, or going into the bar; he had no desire to mix with people, especially those involved in the various cases the SA’s office was currently prosecuting. The ballistics expert testifying against Will Gardner was also staying at this hotel, and discussing bullets and trajectories held no appeal. Instead, he headed for the bank of elevators, intending to go over his own upcoming testimony.
The tinny drone of some 80’s romantic ballad just aggravated his mood further and he wiped a hand along his neck as his free hand jabbed a finger for the fifteenth floor.
The mirrored wall showed a disappointed man with a pale rose smear under his moustache. He watched his reflection as his tongue slipped out and licked the final trace of Diane Lockhart from his skin. Damn, she could kiss. And again, his libido protested the prospect of another lonely night. It had been more than a few months since his last foray into the world of dating; the mother of one of his students had disaster written all over it from the start, but he’d allowed himself to be pursued and manipulated into a brief fling. His last proper relationship was more years ago than he cared to remember. The travelling for work certainly didn’t help, neither did his reluctance to talk emotions. Or talk full stop. Silently Stoic, Diane had called him, as she’d rambled about cowboys and national DNA. He’d kissed her as much to shut her up as because he had to taste her lips.
The elevator pinged, signalling its arrival at his floor. He ambled out, suddenly consciously aware that he did actually walk a little like Clint Eastwood in a western movie; and trying not to cast Diane as the sassy saloon gal with a pushed up bosom and fine pair of duelling pistols. He rolled his eyes at the ridiculous image; Diane was more of a rifle woman. Something long and sleek and powerful, like her.
His key card flashed green and he entered the room, turning the lamps on before tossing his jacket onto the armchair in the corner. He didn’t feel like working. He felt antsy. Pausing by the mini bar, he debated a drink. Again, he rubbed at his neck as he tried to decide what to do. He contemplated an adult movie, but then the idea of that showing up on his bill was enough to kill any lingering ideas of jerking off; and watching some guy get his cock sucked, when the very same thing was off the books for him, seemed to be a bit sadistic. A double scotch would help relax him, or goad him into drunkenly ordering the movie, regardless of the embarrassment of someone in the SA’s accounts signing off on his expenses.
He moved to the window, stared down at the city he didn’t like and told himself he wasn’t wondering if Diane had gotten home safe. A sharp rap on his door broke his attention from the vista of office lights. He wondered who it could be, he didn’t require the bed turning down and he’d certainly not ordered any room service or extra towels, and he really, really hoped that someone hadn’t followed him up to ask his advice about a case. Nope, he wanted to be alone. He wanted the scotch. He wanted …
The woman smiling nervously at him from beyond his door.
“Surprise,” she greeted, holding the clutch in front of her body with whitened knuckles.
“I thought you’d left?” He kept the half-open door between them, unsure if to let her in; his brain telling him to send her away, whilst his cock demanded he drag her inside before those ancestors showed up again.
“I changed my mind.”
He watched her front teeth bite into her lower lip. He liked her lips, liked their plump fullness. “What about all those screaming generations?”
Her eyes held his, challengingly. “I’m hoping my screams will drown them out.”
Oh yeah, his cock bludgeoned into life at that and his brain struggled to maintain the projected coolness. “Is that a fact, Ms Lockhart?”
“Yip.” Those blue depths twinkled. “Or I’ve wasted $50 bribing the young woman on reception for your room number.”
He finally swung the door open, stepping aside to allow her to enter with that sexy, feline sway of hers. “A whole fifty bucks. I’m not sure if I should be flattered or insulted.”
Kurt closed the door, and watched as Diane tossed her clutch onto the desk before approaching him with a sultry smile.
“Flattered. I’ve never paid for it before,” she murmured, taking his face in her hands and kissing him with breathy open-mouthed kisses, gently coaxing his lips and tongue into play, and tangling passionately when they did.
She no longer tasted of the white wine from dinner and he pulled back with a questioning look. “Bourbon?”
“A little Dutch courage in the bar.”
“Tastes good,” he smirked, covering her mouth with his and delving for more.
And it did. He wasn’t lying, but beneath the expensive liquor lingered her; her taste. His tongue licked over her teeth, not something he normally did, but something he’d been longing to do since the first time she’d smiled that wide, beautiful smile.
Her hands migrated from his face to his hair, stroking and lightly tugging and he growled into her mouth and allowed his own hands to wander over the smooth, blue fabric that clung to all the right places; her shoulders, her back, down to the ass that had walked away from him. He grabbed it possessively, kneaded it, used it to press her against the ache in his groin. She giggled when the tight material thwarted his effort to hook her thigh around his.
“I think this would work better with less clothes, cowboy.”
He wouldn’t argue with that, instead he spun her around to get to the zipper, his mouth following the progress, showering her nape with kisses, and moving down her spine as each pale inch was revealed. She stepped away before he could remove it, turning to face him with a sultry, swollen smile. Holding his gaze, she slowly slipped the dress from her shoulders and shimmied free of it. Kurt’s mouth went dry as his eyes raked over her body; the perfect, creamy flesh crossed with strips of black lace and long, long legs encased in nude stockings, the kind that miraculously held themselves up.
“Wow.” It was an inelegantly, inept response and he felt his cheeks redden. He just hoped the room’s lighting hid that from her keen gaze.
“Your turn,” she whispered, stepping closer and deftly unbuttoning his shirt.
He stroked the delicate bones of her shoulders, tracing her clavicle, dipping his head to nibble her jawline. Her perfume was as intoxicating as the woman herself, a heady mix of botanics and something sweeter … vanilla, he determined, nuzzling the spot below her ear and earning himself a shiver. He mentally catalogued this.
His exploration of her hips and ass was interrupted by her insistent tugging of the shirt away from his wrists, swiftly followed by his undershirt. It was his turn to be studied. He wasn’t a young man anymore, but he’d kept himself reasonably fit. He watched her painted nails lick fire over his torso.
“I like a hairy chest,” she purred, watching his reaction as she stroked through the greying hair, giving it a gentle tug.
“Me too,” he quipped, earning himself a throaty laugh.
“Sorry to disappoint.”
His palms resumed their exploration of her body; arms, ribs, skirting beneath the fullness of her breasts. “No disappointment here.”
She cupped him through his jeans. “So I see.”
The heat of her hand burnt through the denim and he snatched her hair to pull her into another kiss, thrusting his tongue deeply into her mouth, mimicking what his cock was longing to do to her body. This time there was no restricting fabric preventing him from wrapping her thigh around his hip, clenching her butt cheek as he ground against her. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers again in his hair, her moans vibrating on his tongue. He gripped her firmer, raising her from the ground and turning to slam her against the nearest wall, dry humping her like an over-sexed youth on his first date. He needed to get some control before he embarrassed himself and came in his pants. It was her giggling into his mouth that finally slowed him down.
“Eager?”
He dipped his head, looked down to where her breasts were pushed up against his chest, and took a deep breath. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m flattered,” she said, unfurling her legs from his waist. Once steady on her feet again, she reached for his belt, the brush of the back of her hand against his simmering erection causing him to hiss the more she fumbled. “Er, a little help?” She chuckled, clearly flummoxed by the ornate buckle.
Kurt’s hand joined hers, easily flicking the clasp undone, before retreating to allow Diane to continue. Her eyes held his as she lowered both his jeans and her body. She was on her knees when she finally slid his boxers down.
“My goodness, that’s certainly impressive.”
“Thank you.” In truth, he felt a little exposed, his eagerness almost embarrassing, and not helped by the bob of his cock in response to seeing the tip of her tongue moistening her lips. And then she wrapped a palm around him, guided him to those glistening lips, planted a kiss to the head before sucking him into her warmth. She watched him; he always liked that, the intimacy of sharing his pleasure. Unconsciously, he rolled his hips, chasing the sensation of her tongue. She sucked cock as well as she kissed. Kurt groaned her name and tucked her hair behind her ear, not wanting anything to spoil the view of this spitfire of a woman with her mouth around his cock.
Diane arched a brow a mumbled something that felt incredible and then she was fondling his balls. Her mouth and hands were driving him to the edge. He needed to stop this. Instead, he heard himself telling her to pull on his balls.
Fuck, he really, really shouldn’t have said that. The tugging on his balls, coupled with her stoking palm and hot mouth, and those eyes that watched him with heated amusement, were pushing him to the brink. The last thing he wanted was to shoot down her throat like a teenager getting his first blowjob. Not that the thought was completely unappealing.
“Diane …”
“Hmmm?”
The vibration of her reply had his teeth clenching.
“You need to stop.”
“You not enjoying this, cowboy?” She purred, taking one very long lick of his length.
She would be the death of him for sure.
“Believe me, I am. Too much.”
He reached down to help her to her feet, stealing a kiss that tasted of him as soon as he could. “But I believe it’s my turn, Ms Lockhart.”
A tiny shudder ran through her. “Lose the shoes and socks,” she ordered, sauntering towards the bed and setting one foot on the quilt. Waiting until she had his full attention before rolling a stocking down a shapely leg.
Kurt hurriedly lost the offending articles and moved behind her, stroking the line of her spine, from her waist to her black bra clasp. As she moved to the other stocking, he opened it and lowered the straps. With the nylons and bra abandoned on the floor, she turned to face him, arms crossed teasingly over her breasts. He stared longingly at the pale flesh spilling over.
“Let me see,” he urged, unfolding her arms and drinking in the sight.
They were perfect. He cupped one, his thumb drawing a circle over the tight bud. It hardened further. He watched her eyes close on a sigh as he rolled both nipples, listened to her breathing change when he pinched them, saw the thrust of her chest silently asking for more when he kneaded and fondled her fullness. He loved how responsive she was. She was visibly squirming and he could smell her arousal. His thumbs rubbed over her nipples as he continued massaging. She moaned his name and her fingers dug into his biceps.
Kurt dipped his head to kiss her neck, working his lips towards her ear. “Are you wet, Ms Lockhart?” There was that shudder again. His use of her surname turned her on. Interesting. "Still waiting for an answer,” he drawled, tracing the shell of her ear.
“Oh, just shut up and fuck me.”
“On the bed.”
He watched her scramble into the middle of the bed, blonde hair fanned over the pillow, those perfect tits reddened and swollen, much like her mouth, from his ministrations. She was flawless and he didn’t know if it was her confidence or her body or her mind that made her so irresistibly sexy. He’d had more than his fair share of women, many younger than Diane, but he couldn’t remember ever being so turned on before, so desperate to lick and fuck a woman. He only hoped he could please her.
“Are you coming?” she asked, raising herself up on her elbows.
“Not yet,” he growled, climbing on the bed and hovering above her on his hands and knees, the tip of his cock drawing a damp line on the skin of her belly.
Her laughter was as beautiful as she was. He needed to be careful. A man could feel dangerous things for this woman. Kurt distracted himself with another deep kiss, following her as she relaxed back into the cushions, enjoying the feel of her bare breasts against his chest, her nipples like diamond points in his skin. He wanted to explore every inch of her until his name ripped from her throat.
“Time to make this Democrat scream,” he said, his mouth moving determinedly over her jaw and down her neck.
Her chest thrust up to meet his lips and tongue and he spent long moments sucking on her hard nipples, his palms moulding and kneading the soft flesh. He lightly bit the one in his mouth and was rewarded with her nails scratching his shoulders and a deep moan of appreciation. Experimentally, he tilted his head, watching her as he chewed a nipple between his molars. Her reaction was instantaneous. Head thrown back, she pushed her breast into his mouth and let out a low groan, which could have been his name — he was too busy feasting on her to really concentrate.
The wriggling of her hips reminded him that she had other delights to offer. And it was time to lose the panties.
“Are these expensive?” he asked fingering the lacy edges as he kissed lower.
She pushed the strands of damp hair from her forehead. “Wha—?”
Not bothering to wait for a coherent answer, Kurt ripped the panties from her body, growling as the scent of her arousal filled his nostrils.
“They were new,” Diane panted, allowing him to part her thighs.
“I’ll buy you some more,” he promised, licking the taste of his pre-cum from her belly and tracing his tongue lower.
He settled between her spread legs and took a moment to study the beauty before him. She was swollen and wet, her clitoris already peeking out from beneath its hood, and her scent drove him wild. Hooking his arms around her thighs, he pulled her onto his watering mouth.
“Fuck!” she cried.
She tasted incredible, hot and salty and sweet. His head shook from side to side, nuzzling deeper, his tongue penetrating to drink from the source. He eyed her over the jagged rising of her belly and chest; loved how she met his gaze, not hiding her obvious enjoyment, it was sexy as hell. One of her hands was tangled in her own hair, the other tangled in his. He gripped her thighs harder and ate like a starving man, sweet juices coating his chin to seep onto the bedding.
Diane begged and bucked, riding his face and snatching at his hair in an attempt to redirect him to the angry looking bud demanding attention. He hunkered down further, flicking his tongue against her inner walls, and giving her clit a swipe with his thumb.
“Oh God …” she moaned.
He finally took pity on her and licked his way up to her clitoris, watching her as he lapped wetly around it, before sucking hard with his lips.
“Fuck!” she screeched, jerking into the contact. The screech turned into a scream when his middle finger penetrated her, quickly joined by another.
Diane Lockhart was definitely spoiling him for other women; the openness of her enjoyment, the ownership of her sexuality, the lithe body writhing in his bed, the magnificent breasts and the tang of her taste. If heaven didn’t look and feel like this, he’d rather go to hell.
Her desperate moaning had him working her harder and harder. His jaw ached and his fingers pistoned in perfect counterpoint to the wet sounds echoing around the room. She was like a goddess and he a slave to her nectar.
She thrashed wildly and suddenly she froze, her body taut, his name a hoarse scream torn from parched lips. A moment later, she twisted, trying to escape his mouth, legs closing around his head, her belly still tense. His shoulders spread her thighs, his lips and tongue changing pace, flicking and sucking furiously, the fingers of his free hand reaching up to pinch and pull a nipple. And she came again, with a rush of fresh juices.
Kurt eased up on his ministrations, gently petting her quivering flesh with his tongue and slowly withdrawing his fingers. As she lay panting, he kissed and nuzzled his way back up her body, finally settling beside her, his head resting in his palm.
“You okay?” he asked, lightly tracing her heaving ribs.
He watched her lick her lips and it seemed to take a while before she could answer.
“Bastard.”
“So that’s a complaint?”
Her head lolled lazily towards him. “No, but I need a moment before we …” Again she licked her lips.
“I’m in no hurry,” he said, rising from the bed.
Diane watched him. “Where are you going?”
He opened the door to the minibar. “Figured you could use a drink. What with all that screaming,” he teased, holding up a bottle of water and a small bottle of scotch for her to choose. She chose the scotch. “Not as fancy as the stuff you had earlier. The SA keep a close watch on their budget.”
After pouring two servings into a cut glass, he rejoined her on the bed. “Didn’t think you’d mind sharing,” he said, offering her the glass and silently observing her taking a long swallow before intending to have some himself.
Her hand covered his wrist, pausing the rise of the glass to his mouth. Holding his gaze, her hand moved to cup his nape, bringing his head down until she could lick the residual stickiness from his lips and moustache, slipping her tongue inside to taste his and giving a moan as he ardently kissed her back.
“Mmm, I taste good on you,” she whispered, nuzzling for more.
He hurriedly dumped the scotch on the side then rolled her beneath him, hungrily kissing her. It always turned him on when a woman wanted to kiss after he’d eaten her out. Most shied away from it and he’d usually end up wiping his mouth on the bedding; or, onetime being made to wash his face - and didn’t that kill the mood. But here was a woman eagerly lapping her essence from his mouth and chin.
“Jesus,” he groaned, feeling his cock stabbing blindly at the heat between her thighs and just as she pushed her hand down to guide him in, he jerked back. “Should I use something?”
Her eyes twinkled in amusement. “Worried you’ll knock me up?”
His stare was serious. “No.”
She cupped his face. “I’m clean …”
There was an upward lilt in her voice, forming an unanswered question.
“Me too.” Truth was he always used protection, unwilling to leave potential fatherhood to chance or to the current lady in his life.
“Good, because I want to feel this monster,” she breathed, massaging him.
He settled between her spread thighs, watched as she stroked his cock along her wetness. His fist covered hers and together they bumped her clit with the swollen head.
“You ready?” he managed.
Her free palm touched his shoulder. “Slowly, okay? It’s been a while and you’re hardly standard.”
The backhanded compliment made him smirk. “Okay.”
There was a bit of clumsy jostling and shuffling but finally Kurt felt her body stretch as the tip pushed inside. He gritted his teeth against the sensation and the urge to plunge deeper, distracting himself by flicking his thumbnail on the underside of a nipple. Shifting his weight, he slipped in an extra couple of inches; and felt the answering sting of Diane’s nails as they bit into his hips.
“You okay?”
Her bottom lip was snagged between her teeth, growing whiter by the second.
“Diane?” He paused, awkwardly bent over her.
“Just give me a minute,” she panted, eyes tightly shut.
He felt a lousy bastard. “We don’t have to…”
Her eyes flashed open. “Are you kidding me?”
“I don’t want to hurt you.” His thumb migrated from her breast to her lower lip, his palm cupping her jaw.
Her eyes held his as she drew his hand from her neck towards her mouth; sucking wetly at his middle and index finger before guiding it down between their bodies to where they were joined. Kurt broke the intensity of their gaze to watch her fingers guiding his over and around her clit; their combined movements produced more slickness, coating his cock as it thrust and withdrew. He continued watching, almost obsessively, as his glistening hard-on speared her swollen heat; the way her thighs cradled his hips, their fingers messily circling. He groaned from the combined attack on his senses; the feel of her snuggly enveloping him, the sight of them, the smell of her sweet arousal.
“Fuck,” she murmured, head tossed back as he finally bottomed out.
Hips and pelvises tightly meshed, Kurt grunted, hoping he’d be able to ignore the incredible pulsing of her muscles long enough to bring her to a third climax.
Her hand left his and sticky fingers tugged on his nape, bringing his mouth to hers for a tongue-tangling kiss, whilst her free hand and her legs wrapped tightly around him, chests pressed together, matching their mouths and groins. He sucked on her tongue, chased it back into her mouth to lick over her teeth and palate, tasting her and the lingering scotch. His tongue, mimicking the rhythm of his hips, thrust steadily, swallowing her moans until she tore her lips from his.
“Fuck, you feel so good … where have you been all my life?” she gasped, arching into the pillows as she matched his pace.
“Out shooting … and Republican rallies,” he taunted, raining kisses along her exposed throat.
“Oh shush!” she panted, snagging his hair and dragging him into another toe-curling kiss.
The sound of their bodies echoed loudly, skin slapping wetly, accompanied by noisy kissing and ragged breathing.
“Tell me what you like,” Kurt rasped, mouthing hotly over her clavicle.
“Hard … I like it hard!”
He buried his head into her neck, holding her tightly as he increased his thrusts, still sane enough to be wary of hurting her.
“Come on, cowboy, don’t hold back.”
Her fingers clutched his ass, their grip and the urging of her thighs around his encouraging a still faster pace.
“Jesus …”
He pounded into her, surrendering all rational thought to her urgent begging and counter-thrusts. His balls stickily slapped her ass. He was drowning in her. Fire licked his skin where it pressed and rubbed against hers, sharp prickles of heat threatening to consume him. He gritted his teeth, willing his climax to hold off; he’d get blue balls before he’d come without her.
“Are you close?” The question, like his breath, hovered over her mouth.
“Almost … please … more …”
Reaching behind him, he grabbed her ankles, used them to reposition her legs over his shoulders, bending her almost double and jackhammering into her.
The change of angle had Diane clawing at the bedding and her hair and whichever part of him she could reach. He watched in fascination as her eyes rolled back, tightly shutting as she thrashed beneath him, moaning non-stop.
The muscles in his arms hurt from the prolonged supporting of his weight, his thighs burned in sympathy; but he ignored them, focused entirely on the wildcat bucking beneath him. She was something else. The way she looked at that moment, locked in pleasure that looked as if it bordered on agony; the quivering heat of her sex clutching at his cock. Just a few minutes more, he promised his balls.
Diane’s sudden twisting was accompanied by a throaty scream and if he thought his cock was already sheathed in heaven, the sensation of her coming on it had his eyes crossing in agonised pleasure; the tight rippling massaged and demanded his release. He gave one more deep thrust and growled as his orgasm rushed hotly from his balls to spurt violently inside her. It felt like it would never end, that she’d milk him dry, leaving a husk of Kurt McVeigh spent on the bed. His arms shook and weakened, causing him to slump heavily onto her folded body, his semen continuing to fill her in spasmodic bursts.
When his brain began working again, he became aware of lying in her arms, her legs now lazily cuddling him, her lips nuzzling his ear as he gulped oxygen from the small gap between her throat and the pillow. Inside his chest, he could feel his heart hammering; he’d need to work out more if there was going to be a second date. He caught himself; one mind-blowing fuck didn’t mean she’d want to see him again.
It was another couple of minutes before he could lift his head and meet her gaze. At least she was smiling. And she was equally out of breath.
“Hey,” she murmured, stroking the hair from his sweaty forehead.
“Hey,” he panted, returning the favour and moving a blonde curl from her damp cheek and tucking it around her ear.
“That was …”
“Yep …”
“Guess the yoga paid off,” she chuckled.
“Oh yeah,” he drawled, rolling onto his back and leaving a trail of their combined fluids over her thighs and belly.
“Wow.”
“Yep.” He was incapable of forming a fuller response, his entire brain working solely on breathing.
“I mean …”
“Yep.”
She rolled her head toward him. “Yip,” she teased.
Kurt chuckled. “Funny and great in the sack.”
Diane stood up and staggered a little. Had he offended her?
“You leaving?” he asked, leaning up on an elbow.
She eyed him over her shoulder. “Not yet. Unless you want me to?”
“No.” It was a woefully short and inept response, hiding his longing for her to stay forever.
“Good,” she smirked, walking a little unsteadily to the bathroom.
He watched her, admiring the perfect alabaster canvas that was her skin. He rubbed a palm over his face. One great fuck and he was in danger of falling for this impossible feminist.
The toilet flushed and she returned, walking around to his side of the bed, again that sexy swaying of hips already showing the dark circles of his primal passion.
“I hurt you?”
Diane followed his gaze. “No. Just the curse of pale skin.”
“I like your skin. It’s soft,” he said, caressing the thigh closest to him as she sipped from the scotch. She smiled and offered him the glass, waiting for him to take a swallow before replacing it.
“Scoot over,” she instructed.
His lips curled in amusement. “I get the wet spot? This is my room,” he countered, moving anyway.
“Exactly, I’m your guest and it’s your fault it’s wet.”
“Mine?” he drawled, lifting his arm and inviting her into his embrace.
“Yes.” Diane pulled the comforter from the bottom of the bed, covering them as she snuggled into his chest.
“Care to elaborate on that, counsellor?”
She adjusted her position and looked up at him. “Fishing for compliments?”
He merely shrugged, his fingers absently caressing her shoulder, whilst hers moved to stroke his jaw.
“You were great, Kurt.”
The blue/green of her eyes reminded him of the ocean, a dangerously enticing mix of calm softness and crashing power that had the ability to drown him. As her body pressed against his, all that warm, supple flesh that called to his lips and hands, he could only wish that he were twenty years younger, maybe thirty; young enough to fuck her until they completely ruined the mattress. The loud cackle from her swollen lips was the only clue that he’d spoken that last bit aloud. He felt his cheeks flush.
“You wouldn’t have gotten me here if you’d been younger; if you’d even noticed me.”
“I’d have definitely noticed you.”
Diane rose up on one elbow. “So there’s a Mrs Robinson in your past?” she teased, referring to the film that every young college dude wanted to experience in the day. “Kurt?” She snagged his chin, breaking his intense eyeing of her bare breasts. “My eyes are up here, cowboy.”
Ignoring both the question and the ribbing, he hauled her over him, his mouth immediately latching onto a nipple, whist his fingers teased its twin. Diane gave a squeak followed by a low moan.
“Don’t think I’ll forget that you haven’t answered.”
His lips broke the suction just enough to murmur ‘shush’, before drawing her areola between his lips, his tongue flicking the fattened nipple; his hand squeezing her into his devouring mouth. Diane watched his feasting, saw the obvious pleasure he got from pressing her breasts to his face, the way he mouthed hungrily at her flesh, the sharp teasing of his teeth on her delicate skin, the audible grunts vibrating through the taut buds.
She balanced her weight on one elbow and threaded her fingers through his hair. “Oh God, why’d you have to be a Republican?”
He rewarded her slight with a less than gentle nip.
“Ouch! You’re gonna pay for that, cowboy,” she warned, and yet despite the protest, Kurt felt a new rush of fluid coating his abdomen where she was subtly rocking her hips.
He gave the nipple in his mouth a long, hard suck, stretching the areole and the breast tissue, noisily eating her flesh before the nipple popped free of his lips, jiggling back into place only for a moment, before being snagged again.
“Fuck, Kurt …”
He repeated the action on the other breast, fingers moving to pinch and roll the released tip. She was squirming non-stop, her essence flooding his chest hair. He groaned. He might not be thirty, but he could certainly pleasure her again and again. Giving no warning, he grabbed her ass and dragged her higher, his mouth now longing for more of her taste.
“Kurt!” she shrieked, wobbling and grabbing the headboard to balance.
She smelt delicious. “Ride my face,” he managed, tugging her onto his waiting mouth.
“Fuck!”
He was drowning in her; her thighs around his head, her sweet pussy grinding over his mouth, her ass cheeks moulding to his grasp. She tasted of them together, his seed still lingering, a saltiness to what he knew to be her warm sweetness. His lips and tongue explored and suckled, tasting every inch of her swollen folds, slurping and sucking and pressing deeper, spearing her to plunder the source of her juices. His nose bumped her clit, she was his air and his suffocation. He would happily die with her fucking his tongue.
He looked up, caught her gaze, watched her biting her lower lip as she rolled her hips over his face. He wasn’t a poetic man, but she was like a phoenix rising from the flames, unashamedly chasing her climax, one hand braced on the wall, the other alternatively squeezing both breasts, leaving whitened pressure points. He growled his approval and licked the front wall of her vagina, the roughness swelling with every swipe. Her thighs pressed tighter, muffling her cries. She was close, he could feel the rippling on his tongue. He doubled his efforts, groaning encouragement, drowning in her wetness. And then she was there, furiously grinding down on him, hips moving violently, chasing the tormenting pleasure that gripped his tongue, and spilled hotly over it.
She let out a low groaning ‘Ohh’, then slumped sidewards, breathless, an arm thrown over her eyes. He rolled over, using the movement to wipe the fluids he couldn’t reach with his tongue on the bedding. He settled beside her, head in his palm, and watched the rapid rise and fall of her chest; especially the jiggling of the breasts he was quickly becoming enamoured by.
“Still with me?” he teased, lightly stroking her shuddering abdomen. “Diane?” he prompted when no answer was forthcoming.
Her arm fell away, revealing her flushed face and eyes still dilated and sparkling with tears. “I …”
She seemed vulnerable, exposed in that post-coital way that was more intimate than the act itself, and Kurt drew her into his arms, neither caring that he was still sticky from her arousal. His lips pressed soft kisses into her hair, his legs moved to tangle with hers, wanting to protect her until she gathered herself together.
“That was hot,” he whispered and she nuzzled closer. His hands softly caressed her hair and back. “Very sexy.”
He paused for a beat before adding,
“Of course, it’s a shame you’re a Democrat. My Great, Great, Great Grandaddy must be …”
Diane moved swiftly, rising up and smacking his chest. “Hey!” she squeaked indignantly.
He blocked her blows and laughed. “You’re not the only one with screaming ancestors.”
She studied him for a moment. “You like teasing me.”
“I do.”
Again, his eyes fell to the swell of her cleavage.
“Oh, no,” she warned, pulling the comforter higher and concealing the view.
“Spoilsport,” he grouched, tossing his half of the cover back and standing, giving a pause to stretch before ambling towards the mini-bar. He crouched to survey the stock, reeling the list to Diane. There was one more scotch, some wines and a few beers; plus the usual peanuts and chips. He rose, holding two beers, surprised by her choice; never in a million years expecting a woman like her to enjoy a Bud.
“Glass?”
Her eyes quickly moved higher to meet his. “No.”
“Counsellor, you’re staring.” He put an extra swagger into his hips as he returned to the bed, fully aware of the swinging of his cock and the light bounce of his balls.
“I am.”
“Now who’s stoic?” he smirked, handing her the beer and leaning back into the pillows. They chinked bottles and he watched as her lips surrounded the top, tipping her head back to expose her throat as she swallowed a mouthful.
“So,” she began, “the Mrs Robinson thing? You never did answer.”
He dipped his head and smirked. “Kinda figured I’d gotten away with that.”
“I’m relentless.”
“Yeah, I noticed,” he hotly drawled, earning himself another slap. “And violent,” Kurt added with a chuckle.
“You bring out the worst in me and you’re still avoiding the question, Mister McVeigh.”
The coupling of her teasing lilt and arching of her brows made him and his balls realise that not only was the night still young, but evidently, so was he.
“Kurt?”
There was no way this impossible woman was going to drop this, and so Kurt heard himself awkwardly recounting his major crush on one of his high school teachers. And how a few years later, on a trip back home, he’d talked her into a movie, which had ended up with them on the rear seat of his dad’s Buick. It had been a brief, but intense affair.
“A blonde, huh?”
He stared at her. “That’s what you’re taking from this?”
Diane shrugged and took another pull from her beer.
“You women are so … unpredictable.”
Her eyes sparkled. “The word is mysterious.”
“The word is strange,” he intoned, giving her a look and letting that comment sit for a moment. “So, who was your first?’
“We’re doing this?”
He shrugged, feeling a bit of an asshole. “You started it.”
Diane leant closer and batted her lashes. “Would you believe it was you?”
“Nope,” he shot back, making her laugh. “So?”
She settled further into the pillows. “It’s pretty boring, and predictable. He was the typical football jock and I —”
“— a cheerleader —”
“Head cheerleader, actually,” she smirked. “We lost the playoffs and I wanted to make him happy.”
Kurt gave a low chuckle. “Did it work?”
Diane’s eyes clouded for a moment. “No. But the blowjob from my best friend an hour later apparently did.” She gave a self-depreciating smile. “I lost my virginity, my chap and my best friend all in one day.”
He nudged her shoulder. “Don’t forget the playoffs,” he ribbed, trying, and succeeding, in lightening the mood.
“I saw him, a few years ago, at some fundraiser.”
“Did he recognise you?”
“Not straight away, until Stern introduced him as a potential client. He was on his third divorce and the family money was getting eaten up in alimony cheques and settlements. He wanted to hire me. Can you believe he even tried the ‘for old time’s sake’ shit too?”
From the sound of the selfish jerk, Kurt could. “What did you tell him?”
Her shoulders straightened and Diane Lockhart, powerhouse lawyer, appeared in his bed.
“I told him that whilst everyone deserves a defence, not everyone deserves my defence.”
The fire in her eyes was incendiary and he knew that should he ever need a lawyer himself, she was the one he’d want fighting his case; the passionate fire coupled with her icy intellect and compelling persona, wrapped in a gloriously sexy body caressed by high fashion. Forget it. Should he ever need a lawyer, and should she agree, he’d be held in contempt for having an erection in court.
“Did you play football?”
The question jolted him from his musings.
“Nope.” A short answer, chased by a swallow of beer.
She shifted around and eyed him. “No, I don’t imagine you as a jock. More the quiet, studious type, holed up in the library, studying cowboys and the wild west and guns.”
He laughed. “I did study. But I was a pitcher.”
“Baseball?”
He liked how surprised she appeared. “Yup. Won the league too. Twice.”
“And no girl gave you her virginity?”
“Gotta scholarship from it.”
His yearning to attend college had always been at odds with his parents’ modest earnings and weekend and evening shifts at the local seven-eleven were never going to bridge that divide. He owed his entire career to his ability to throw a descent ball from a sandy hump.
“Kurt …” There was a softening in both her eyes and her tone.
“It was no big deal.”
“Hey,” she snagged his chin, “don’t downplay your achievements. I saw how hard the scholarship kids had to work at my college. I bet your parents were so proud of you.”
He shrugged. “I guess. We’re not big talkers.”
“Yes, so I gathered. You still have them?”
“Mom’s gone. Cancer. Dad’s … managing.”
She stroked his arm. “I’m sorry.”
“You?”
“Both gone.”
“Siblings?”
“No, just me.”
His large hand covered hers. “Sorry.”
Diane held his gaze for a moment before breaking it and giving a nervous chuckle.
“I should’ve left after we’d fucked. I suck at pillow talk.”
He waited for her eyes to meet his again. “I like getting to know you, Diane.”
“Can we blame the alcohol?”
He squinted. “For you being here?”
“For my lousy small talk.”
“Okay.”
Diane looked at him, as if trying to figure something out, and he remained his normal, silent self as she did so. Gentle fingers moved up to stroke his salt and pepper hair, the tips massaging his scalp. Her intense gaze never wavered, studying him with those mesmerising blue/green depths. Eventually, seemingly content with whatever she was searching for, she leaned in and kissed him; soft and gentle with her full lips.
Kurt happily allowed her to set the pace, enjoying the movement of her open mouth over his, the way she nuzzled his lips, teasingly nipping them with her teeth until she prised them open enough for her tongue to slip inside and thoroughly taste him.
His free hand fell to her butt, squeezing lightly as she explored every part of his mouth. She was a hell of a kisser; soft, full lips and a tongue that twisted and tangled around his. Someone moaned, the sound was quickly swallowed, and Diane threw a shapely leg over his hip, straddling him, her nakedness pressed to his.
The beers were hastily dumped as hands came into play; his roaming her back and ass, squeezing and massaging the globes, whilst hers raked through his hair, holding him to her greedy mouth.
“God, what are you doing to me?” she rasped, her mouth moving from his to taste his jaw, his neck, the shell of his ear.
“Kissing you,” he grunted, returning the favour and nibbling her collarbone.
She arched under his ministrations, momentarily abandoning the lobe she had been suckling. Kurt hunkered down, taking the audacious, and inexplicable, liberty of branding her; something he hadn’t done since his twenties.
Diane jerked back. “Did you just give me a hickey?”
He felt his cheeks redden. “Sorry.” He was anything but.
“Oh, you are so going to regret that,” she promised, laving hot, nipping kisses down his throat, lavishing both sides equally before moving lower, tormenting his chest and nipples with her sharp teeth and hot, darting tongue.
Kurt was sure, in his fifty-three years on the planet, that his nipples had never ached and throbbed like they currently did under her teasing ministrations. But then, he couldn’t remember the last time a lover had spent so long tasting his skin. He stroked her golden hair and watched as she blew chilled air over his left nipple, before warming it again in the heat of her mouth.
She spent long, torturous moments on his nipples, keeping the neglected one hard with flicks of her painted nails. He felt a sharp pull and grunted when she playfully tugged his chest hair with her teeth.
“Just getting started, cowboy,” she purred.
Kurt laid back helplessly as she pressed hot breathy kisses over his stomach, tracing patterns known only to her into his skin with her tongue. Lower and lower, hair, nails, lips, teeth and breasts making love to him. He felt drunk on the emotion and watched her through heavy-lidded eyes. His hips began moving, his hardness demanding attention, aching and throbbing for her touch.
Another sharp pang jolted him. “Did you just give me a hickey?”
Diane’s kiss-swollen lips formed into a devilish grin. “Yip.”
He raised himself onto his elbows and strained to get a look at the reddening mark on his pelvis, just above the dark, sex matted curls leading to his cock. It turned him on; the branding, and if he never got the chance to fuck her again, at least they’d both be wearing each other’s mark for the next week. And she’d certainly not held back.
Kurt’s further musings were abruptly interrupted as her tongue wetly traced the length of his cock.
“Jesus,” he groaned.
Balancing his weight on one elbow, he reached out to caress Diane’s face and hair, resisting the urge to pull her more forcefully onto him, no matter how maddening slow her pace.
She held his gaze, watched him as she bathed every inch of his bobbing hardness; saw him panting when she mouthed lower, sucking on his balls.
He was torn; his eyes roaming between what her lips were doing and how her upturned ass wiggled enticingly. He’d bet his farm that she was dripping wet. So much for that article he’d read about women over a certain age needing artificial lubrication. They’d obviously never met Diane Lock—
Holy fuck!
Head bent, Diane had swallowed him into her throat, holding him deeply there as her muscles rippled around the intrusion. Kurt was fighting the overwhelming order from his cock to fuck this new warmth. Easing back, she again met his gaze, before devouring him again. His teeth gritted. She was testing every bit of control he had. He’d rarely found a lover that could deep-throat him, the curse of a larger cock, but this woman was eating him alive and moaning as she did so. He was losing the fight with his cock’s demands.
“Diane,” he begged.
Again, she pulled off, a trail of her saliva and his pre-cum hanging between her chin and his swollen glans. He was on fire, burning for more; half of him wanting to come in her mouth, over those perfect lips, shooting the last ribbons over her exquisite tits; the other half wanting to fuck her into another climax, feel that tight, perfect pussy spasming on his cock.
Hell never felt this good.
Taking the decision from him, Diane crawled upwards and shared his taste with him in a deep, messy kiss. His fingers grabbed her hips, uncaring at that moment about bruising her.
“God, what you do to me,” she panted, then reached between her legs to gather her juices onto her fingers before offering them to him.
He sucked them eagerly, meeting her tongue as she suckled from the other side. Yep, she was definitely going to kill him. The earthy sexuality was the last thing he’d expected from this classy lawyer.
Kurt watched, in stupified lust, as Diane gripped his cock and lowered herself onto it, taking him all the way in until the lips of her pussy nestled into his pubic hair. She took his hands from her hips and pressed them to her breasts, squeezing once to show him what she wanted.
“Let’s ride, Hoss,” she managed, throwing her head back and rolling her hips.
He clung almost manically to her tits as she moved and writhed over him, feeling the painfully delicious ripples of her inner muscles, each movement massaging a different inch of his shaft. Again, he was torn between watching her face, the way she bit her lower lip, the flush on her cheeks, and the glimpses of his cock, all slick from her arousal, as it repeatedly speared her pussy
She kissed him again, altering the angle as she did so; her butt bouncing over him faster. His palm found the curve of her spine, held it tight to encourage a still faster rhythm, his own hips thrusting wildly, feet planted firmly against the mattress for leverage.
Her teeth grazed his ear, her breathy moans warm against his sensitive flesh. She was flat on him, her body slickly moving over his, her sweet arousal coating his balls. She completely owned him. She swamped his senses; her scent, her body, her husky calls, the bouncing of her hips, and he held on for dear life, rutting desperately, wanting one more climax from her before he’d surrender.
A stream of profanities whispered over his throat. She was close. Gripping her hips he ground her harder against his pelvic bone, and begged, through gritted teeth, for her to come.
Several hard slams later and Diane arched and squirmed, calling out to whatever God she may believe in, and spasming hard around his cock, wringing his own climax from his grateful, blue balls.
They slumped bonelessly, a pile of sweaty limbs, seeping fluids and laboured breathing, and it took several minutes before she slipped off him, separating their sticky sexes.
“Fuck,” she managed.
“Reckon my balls burst there,” he countered, earning himself an exhausted chuckle.
“That good, huh?”
He struggled to turn his head, completely spent. “Oh, yeah.”
“I need …” she licked her lips and tried again, “Shit, I can barely move.”
“Then don’t. Stay.”
She looked at him, through the lock of hair sweatily clinging to her cheek. “I hog the blankets.”
“Don’t care.”
“I have to leave early.”
“Me too. We can share the shower.” He tiredly pulled the covers over their chilling bodies.
“No sex.” She nestled closer.
His arm curved naturally around her. “You’ve a one-track mind, Ms Lockhart.”
There was a half-hearted tap to his chest. “You’ll pay for that remark.”
“Good, I like how you seek revenge.”
It fell silent and Kurt was almost asleep when he felt a soft kiss on his chest.
“Night, Kurt.”
* *
The room was quiet when he awoke, the bed empty. He reached out and felt the sheet; cold. She’d obviously left without waking him. He wiped a hand over his face, more than a little disappointed by her departure. He tried to reason with himself; they were both consenting adults and she hadn’t promised anything more than last night. It wasn’t as if he was a total stranger to one night stands, but he had hoped last night was a beginning, rather than an end. Clearly her political beliefs and those screaming ancestors prevented her from getting to know him further. He scoffed at himself; there was very little left of him she didn’t already know, carnally at least.
Reluctantly, he swung his legs out of the bed and gave a grunt as his back objected to the physical exertions of the previous evening. He felt old and disappointed as he slowly walked into the bathroom. Flicking on the light he squinted at the mirror. Housekeeping wouldn’t be happy, but he certainly was. Because right there on the glass there was a message scrawled in red lipstick.
My house. 8pm. Call me x
The End