Syria's Seduction: A New Adult Introduction to the Boudoir Sessions Series (4 page)

Now his knees bent a little, and she smiled to herself. The belt hit the floor behind them and she reached for the button, tugging it loose. His zipper broke the silence of the room and his breathing sped up a notch.

Syria wasn’t sure what to do next, pull his pants down where they’d get caught on his shoes, or just reach for him? After a hesitation, she peeled the front of his pants away and grasped the elastic band of his boxers.

It didn’t take much to release him, long and lean and now pointing straight up. She couldn’t see a lot in the dim light, but the end glistened. She formed a circle with her fingers and thumb and surrounded him, trying to decide how tight was too tight to hold on.

The skin actually moved, surprising her. She’d expected it to all be, well,
attached
. He groaned a little, so she repeated the movement, now alternating between tighter and looser grips. “Syria,” he whispered. “I need you in my bed.”

He pushed down his pants and kicked off his shoes. Syria released him, watching him undress without any shyness. His chest was lean, light muscles leading to nice hard arms with decent girth. His belly was flat with just a tiny amount of hair near the bottom as it led down.

Syria swallowed the lump in her throat as she watched the boxers come off and she could see clearly what she’d been touching before. She’d seen diagrams in sex ed, and the occasional random porn shot on the internet. But the real thing, up close and personal, was so different.

Anthony got the pants and boxers off and away and stood there a moment, watching her. She was fascinated by his body, by all the things she could explore. She reached for him again, continuing the grasp on him that he had liked. What would it be like to do the same thing with her mouth? Was that too much? Would that make her a slut?

She didn’t care. She wanted to do it and she would. It’s not like Anthony was in her circles. He knew her name but not her phone number or where she lived, or anything about her. She could walk away if need be. Tonight she’d do whatever the hell came into her head. She knelt in front of him and slid her lips where only her hands had been.

He responded immediately, sucking in a gulp of air and then groaning as she made her way down. He was sticky and fleshy, both sweet and tangy, not like anything she’d ever tasted. But she liked it, especially when she tightened her lips and he grasped her hair, his knees bending.

The bed was close, so she pushed him toward it, breaking away only for a moment to let him fall back, naked on his bed, while she was fully clothed. This felt powerful, as though this were her moment, and only she got to do what she wanted.

She bent down and brought him back into her mouth, letting her hands go everywhere, his chest and arms and belly and hips. She grasped the bottom part of his shaft that she couldn’t get to with her mouth, and cupped the soft round balls beneath it.

Syria couldn’t stop herself now that the dam had burst. She wanted everything, to do it all, even the things she couldn’t quite fathom. She worked faster, sensing him creating a rhythm with her. The little veins began to twitch and then he pulled her away. “I want to last,” he said. “I want to be with you all night.”

The fire in her blasted all the way through her body, and she let him roll her over. Her shoes hit the floor and his hands were on her knees, pushing up that skirt. “I can’t believe you did this,” he said when he got her bare again, pressing his thumbs against her mound. “It’s so damn hot.”

He rose up on the bed, back to her face, and kissed her. Now lying down, their bodies in full contact, his skin hot beneath her hand, the kiss was much more, like a starter rather than something that stood on its own.

Anthony grasped at the spaghetti straps of her dress and pulled them down her shoulders. She hadn’t worn a bra, since the dress had built-in support, so when he peeled the bodice down, he freed her breasts. “Jesus,” he breathed. “Beautiful.” He lowered his head to capture a nipple in his mouth and so many sensations shot through Syria that she gasped and jerked upward on the bed.

His hands kept working on the dress, taking it to her waist, even as he moved from one breast to the other. Syria clasped his head, trying to hang on, overwhelmed by everything she was feeling. Her hips moved on their own, making a slow gyration against his waist. He broke away from her and pulled the dress the rest of the way off, and now she was as naked as him.

No one had seen her his way, not even her mother, not since she was small. He braced himself over her, just looking. Syria felt self conscious of her bony hips, the flare of her thighs, a couple nicks on her skin that bothered her, caused by crossing through barbed wire too many times when she was young.

“You’re amazing,” he said, his expression reverent. “God, I hope you let me photograph this tomorrow. I won’t let a soul see them other than me, I swear.”

Syria felt like parts of her were weeping, she was so wet. Anthony leaned down and kissed her belly button, then went down lower, like she had with him. Her legs opened without her consciously telling them to and then he was there, his mouth between her thighs, tongue flicking against her.

He slipped a finger inside and her head fell back. The two things at once caused something crazy to happen to her, something she’d gotten close to a time or two by rubbing herself, but never could quite reach.

Anthony felt her responding and sucked harder, drawing a bit of her into his mouth. This time, when he flicked his tongue across it, she knew something was happening, a strange intense feeling, like when you lift a box that is too heavy and you’re straining. It built up between his fingers and his mouth, rising, tightening, and now her hands were grasping fists full of the sheets. Her calf tried to cramp so she shifted it down, hoping she didn’t move Anthony, because now something was really starting to go.

Then she was over the top, across the rise, and instead of everything being tight and intense, it all came loose, pulsing, cascading. She could feel the muscles contracting against Anthony’s face. Holy crap, this was an orgasm. She’d just had one!

The room seemed filled with tiny spots of light. Her head was rushing even as Anthony slowed down, knowing, she guessed, that his had happened. Her body relaxed against the bed and she stared at the dim ceiling. Wow wow wow wow!

She wanted to laugh. How could they do it again? Syria pulled Anthony up closer to her. “Oh my God! You did that!” Now giggles did burst out of her. “That was unbelievable!”

Anthony grinned. “I live to serve.”

Syria held on to his jaw, looking into the shadows of his eyes. “I can’t believe it.”

He braced himself over her and began grinding against her thighs. She opened for him and he rested against her, the head of him just touching her folds. There was more! Of course there was. Her heart hammered as he played on the edge, just barely pushing in. He wouldn’t forget the condom!

He reached down and slid against her, slippery and wet. She relaxed, getting used to the feel of him moving from outside to in. When her breathing had gotten faster again, he pulled away and reached beside the bed to a little table. She heard a tearing sound and relaxed. He was taking care of it.

She watched him unroll the circle along his length until he leaned over her again.

“You sure? It might be a little uncomfortable.”

Syria had read it could hurt, and she could bleed. “Your sheets!”

“Don’t worry about it. They’re washable.”

She lay back, more tense now. “I want to.”

He pressed against her again, sliding just like he had before. Syria had a harder time relaxing this time, though, anticipating the pain.

Anthony pressed against her and now he was really in, pushing gently, taking his time. “You okay?”

She nodded, her hands on his back, holding on. He pulled out partway, then lowered in again, this time just a touch more. “I can feel the resistance,” he said.

“I can too.”

“Not too late.”

Syria pushed on his back, encouraging him to go farther in. She wondered if it were better to do it like a bandaid, and just go for it, or to take it slow.

“Take the plunge,” she said, readying for the shock, like jumping into a lake before the water warmed up. “I can take it.”

Anthony pulled back one more time, then thrust with more force. Syria felt something give way with a sharp pinch that make her suck in.

Anthony instantly stopped. “You all right?”

“Just keep going. I think it’s better if we work through it.”

He rolled out and in again, and this time the ache was more dull. Syria relaxed a little and found that this helped immensely. He went in and out a few more times, and now she could handle it fine. “It’s okay now,” she said.

Anthony pressed down on her, kissing her forehead. “You are amazing.”

He moved over her, his eyebrows drawn together. Syria like what they were doing, but it was nothing like when he’d touched her. His movements got faster, and the muscles in his arms tightened. He switched to one arm and now his fingers found that magical spot, the one he’d worked with his tongue.

Syria really engaged then, pleasure bursting in every direction. She didn’t think she’d orgasm again, not in time, but this was way better, and now she got it, she knew whey people did this, why it was so addictive. Anthony’s body stiffened and he held his position, his breath coming out in one long exhale that ended in a shuddering groan. Syria gripped his back and waited, loving that she’d done this for him, make him feel like he had done for her.

He relaxed on her body, face buried against her neck. She felt swollen around him and a little sore, but she couldn’t wait for them to try it again.

Anthony pulled away to roll on his back and pulled her up against him. “This has been the luckiest day of my life,” he said.

Syria snuggled her face against his neck, remembering the day had begun with her getting kicked out of the phlebotomy program, and that she had nowhere to go next. “Mine too.”

Syria slept fitfully, waking when Anthony got up to toss the condom, then again when the early morning light began streaming through his half-open blinds.

She turned to her side, realizing he wasn’t there.

Sounds from the kitchen filtered down the hall. Coffee beans dropping into a grinder, then the buzz of the machine. She pulled the sheets to her chin, not sure if she should wait or go find him. It seemed silly to put her dress back on. The words “Walk of Shame” began to take on new meaning.

Syria rolled over, noticing that she still felt full and swollen down below. She pressed a hand between her legs and this calmed the ache, like when you touched a finger against your skin after plucking eyebrows. Syria had to do this almost daily, thanks to the Indian features.

Anthony came back into the room and slid across the sheets. “You’re up, sleepyhead. Do you drink coffee?”

She nodded.

He pulled her up against his chest. He’d only put on a pair of boxers, but his skin was still warm. “It’s a lovely day for that shoot, if you’d like to try it. Warm enough to keep you comfortable. Nice light.”

Syria wasn’t as sure now that the torrid night was over and didn’t answer.

Anthony seemed to understand her reticence. “Or maybe another day.” He tugged the sheet away from her. “Let me see if you’re as beautiful as I remember.”

He exposed her breasts to the morning light, cutting across her in slits from the window. “Now that’s a picture.” He ran his hand across the stripes of white, bending with her curves. He rolled to the edge of the bed and rummaged on the floor, returning with a camera. “May I?”

Syria nodded, crossing her arm across her eyes, feeling crazy shy. He shifted around, making the mattress dip, then she heard a few faint clicks. No one ever photographed her, much less bare-breasted. The attention was frightening, but intoxicating, and heat rushed through her body. She felt her nipples tighten. “Now that’s it,” Anthony said, and she heard a few more clicks.

He lay down next to her. “Would you like to see?”

She lifted her arm away from her eyes. Anthony held the back of the camera to her. In the display she could see herself in deep shadow, her face hidden. Cutting across her body were the curving stripes of light, highlighting the curves of her breasts, two taut nipples interrupting the perfect lines. “It’s beautiful,” she said.

Suddenly she wanted to be able to do that, to take an image like this one, whether for her own memory or for others. If he could make her look like that, then anyone could be beautiful. She sat up, grasping his wrist. “Teach me how to do that. I want to learn.”

He powered off the camera. “Let’s go! Let’s do it!”

She held on more tightly. “Can I photograph you? Or at least try?”

“Definitely. I can’t think of anything more fun to do. Do you want to stay here?”

Syria looked around. “No, we can do that later. I liked your idea, by the lake.”

“Then let’s head out before the sun gets anymore awake.”

Syria let go of him and tried not to be too shy about sliding from the sheets. He watched her though, every movement, as if he couldn’t look anywhere else. She searched around for the bright peach dress. It was going to be wrinkled beyond belief. Anthony crawled across the end of the bed and retrieved it from the floor.

While she slid it back on, he grabbed some shorts and a t-shirt and packed the camera in a bag. “We’ll take just the basics, nothing like all the gear I had for Sharon.” He snapped the reflector onto a loop on the camera bag.

Syria located her shoes beneath the comforter, which had fallen off the bed. Anthony was watching her again, his smile crazy wide.

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” she asked.

“This is the best day ever. Well maybe second best, after yesterday.” He slung the bag over his shoulder. “I can’t wait to show you this spot.”

Anthony pulled off the highway and onto a gravel road, his old Volvo bucking up and down as they crossed ruts from water run off.

Syria had been to other parts of this lake. There was park on the opposite side, undeveloped, but with parking spots and a grassy section that led down to a beach. It had once been built up with sand, but time and negligence had left it rocky again.