Lydia hissed scornfully at the sight of Martin waiting at the end of the street, two blocks away from her house.
He saw her and covered the distance between them with quick log strides. “You are the most infuriating woman I have been the most unfortunate to meet.”
Lydia walked past him, feeling him follow behind her. “Look at the pot calling the kettle black! No one asked for your encounter; in case you didn’t notice. I made my displeasure very clear from the beginning.” She turned to him and glared angrily at him. “Just because you held my hand you think you have me. Own me! Can you just imagine?” Her eyes gleamed with anger. “Your ‘possessiveness’ is truly amusing, Vikram.” She said, livid scorn dripped like venom from her voice.
Some of Martin’s anger dispersed at the string of curses flying from her mouth, and the sight of her righteous march to the house. The short white dress curved sweetly around her hips swished angrily as she walked. He followed, blocking the door with his foot and pushed it aside easily even as she struggled to slam it on him.
Inside the house, Martin stood watching Lydia with growing irritation. “Your behavior is conservative even in this era. Stop acting like a judgmental bitch. Like a stuck-up virgin.”
“Ehen? And so what? At least virgins are respected.” she retorted. “I’m not the one who gets turned on by a mere footsie and a touch.”
“I believe you told me that yesterday.” He noted. “And you blushed, admit it. You liked it every bit as I did.”
“I don’t blush in case you haven’t notice my complexion, di anyi.” She scoffed, “Fuck off, Vikram.”
“My God, you’re really impossible. You won’t let me say your native name yet you call me by mine.” He said incredulously.
Lydia waved him off. “Save that shit for someone who gives a fuck, Martin. You’re the creep who stalks me any and every possible time he gets.”
Susannah sat cross-legged on a couch, watching the duo in front of her; green eyes wide with immense enjoyment and curiosity.
“Admit that you didn’t glance around to see if I was present. No? Not once?”
“No. I’m not that daft.” She admitted scornfully.
His brows arched with amusement, even as his eyes were calm. “So, you’ll admit you’ve acted quite daft in a way.” Martin closed the distance between them, blocking her view of everyone else. “You don’t get to flounce off anytime you please.”
“I can, since I live there.”
“Under Susannah’s roof.” He murmured, the remnants of annoyance left his eyes, the golden streaks glittered in stark contrast to the browns.
His eyes flicked to her lips and stayed. “You can’t avoid me, Lydia.” He said in a husky whisper “Any more than I can.”
“That is so corny.”
Martin tilted her jaw upwards with his thumb, training his gaze solely on her lips. “Life is a fucking cliché, cara. Everything we do, everything we say; someone somewhere is saying the same thing to someone else.” He closed his lips over hers, and felt her stiffen against him. Applying more pressure, and a small tilt of her head in the right direction for his advantage, his tongue pierced the seam of her full lips.
Her lips parted, stroking her tongue against his in invitation, granting him access to what he desperately wanted at that moment; Lydia against him complacent, and craving him in return.
Lydia groped the silky, coarse texture of his deep coffee curls and pushed against him in need of his warmth. His hands slid down her hips, reaching down to hook both her legs over his waist as their kiss turned fervently fetid with lust and desire, with heat and wildness.
Pressing her against the wall, he felt her heat seep into his jeans and his cock surged and hardened; tightening as a wave of lust blinded him and the strength of their scalding kiss disintegrated their senses.
Lydia’s grip on his hair tightened, the sole of her sandals dug into his butt, pulling him impossibly closer to her very wet core. A strangled groan left their lips in unison, the gyrations of their hips in tandem to their kisses.
Her purse fell to the floor and spewed its contents like spilled milk. She paid no need to it nor to anyone in the room for the matter. She was high from the pleasure of his kiss. There was no one left in the living room except them and they have passed any level of decency and shame.
Martin held her against him with ease, the pristine soft white cotton dress hiked up to the top of her thighs as sounds of moaning rent the air. “Where’s your room?” he rasped hungrily, his hands everywhere as he started for the stairs, taking her with him blindly over the lust-induced haze Lydia created.
“The third room to the right.” She said between a kiss and a moan.
They passed a thoroughly stunned Ebere standing the stairs with her mouth agape at the sight of her sister entangled with a man, wanton and shameless. The book she held fell from her nerveless fingers, shocked to her hair roots as she watched their fast-retreating bodies disappear. She glanced at Susannah who wore the exact expression she did, only tinged with a smile.
“I no imagine that one, ni?”
†
Martin slammed Lydia against the white painted door, dragging his lips to the sensitive column of her slender neck, inhaling with greedy gulps the warm scent of woman and caramel as he trailed his lips to the dip of her dress, to the soft space between her breasts while Lydia fumbled with the door handle and opened it, causing them to stagger for a little for balance.
Slamming the door with the heel of his boot, Martin pressed her against it, letting her slide a little from his grasp. He reached behind her for the small head of her zip and slowly dragged it down, and came in contact with the warm, sweet curved of her back.
He drew back, taking in her disheveled appearance, his eyes glued to the rapid heaving breasts. One sleeve of her gown sagged to her arm, baring the black lacy bra cupping her breasts to perfection. Like a second skin. Her lips parted and swollen from his bruising kiss. Slowly, he slid the arm off to bare both breasts to his gaze.
His fingertips gazed lightly over the heavily throbbing tips of her nipples, drawing a strangled groan from her. A powerful thigh wedged between her legs, his face twisted into a grimace at the slick heat of her core coating her panties, drenching her inner thighs and his jeans. “Fuck.” He breathed harshly dipping his nose to the slender curve of her shoulder, dragging his lips to nibble at the skin there.
He pulled back and pinned her with heated wild eyes which darkened at the wetness dripped from her channel to his jeans, “That’s it…” he growled, dropping a kiss to the top of her lacy clad mounds, one hand cupped her left breast and toyed with the nipple, pulling and stroking it hard. “Ride me. Let me feel your hunger.”
Large hands cupped her hips, holding her in place. His tongue captured a bud beneath the sheer bra. So sheer, he could see the dusky skin of her areola. He took her into his mouth, growling at the sweetness of her. “God, you make me insane. Ride me harder, baby.”
Her legs dangled on either side of his hips as he grinded hotly against her. A thin wail escaped her lips. Martin rode her furiously through his jeans; the scorching heat of his cock against her core wreaked delicious havoc on her clit; her moans were smothered by his tongue in her mouth.
Martin raked his teeth over her nipple, pulling it in deep suctions into the warmth of his mouth, his other hand palmed the other breast and stroked the painfully sensitive bud to perfection. He yanked hard at the tip he’d suckled, exposing the firm globe to his gaze.
His hand grazed over it with quiet reverence, the pressure on the other nipple eased into a massage. His head dipped to the fast-rising globe and kissed the tender skin of her areola close to the taut bud.
Lydia slipped a shaky hand to the soft, thick coffee brown curls of his hair and gripped for balance. The feeling of his clothed body slightly damp with sweat against her near naked ones nearly took her off the brink. The rough rasp of his cotton shirt over her skin had her crying out. She didn’t know what to do.
Her hand tugged at his shirt in a silent whisper and helped him out it easily, letting it drop to the floor. Reaching behind him, Martin removed her sandals, whilst she released the buckle of his belt. He peeled the rest of her clothing, leaving her panties. “What do we have here?” his fingers slid between her thighs, rubbing the swollen folds through the material of her jeans all the same watching the various expressions on her face.
“You’re soaking wet, Lydia. What are we going to do about it?” he murmured wickedly into her ear, and she shuddered.
Lydia jerked with a cry of surprise. His nail purposefully gazed her aching clit. Her back arched so high, his tongue could lash out and taste her. “Oh God, stop teasing me, Martin.” she half cried, half snapped.
“I will. Only if you tell me what you want.” He said “I need to hear you say it.” He braced a hand on the door watching the sweating woman straddling his hips. “If not…” his hand moved to the chaps of his jeans and unzipped his fly. “I’ll get it out of you. One way or another, Kaanyimara.”
Lydia watched him through hooded eyes. “I told you not to use that name.”
“I think we’re past that. Don’t you?” he replied with an artless grin. Martin released her and stepped away with tight smile to release himself from his jeans although he didn’t need to. Lydia had already seen burgeoning head peaking from his jeans. “Come here.”
She did, moving closer to him with question in her eyes. He dropped one hand lightly to her shoulder, and gently pushed her down to her knees, lining her gaze directly to his cock and began stroking himself. She watched more clear liquid seep from the tip over the feral growl belonging to Martin.
Lydia stared in awe at the man above her, pinning her with solid, wild eyes as he pumped himself. The sight turned her on to no measure.
Martin’s eyes moved to Lydia and stiffened at the sight of her there. Quiet and pliant like a love slave high on a sexual induced drug. His eyes dilated as she stroked herself slowly. “Fuck, Lydia.” He gasped grabbing the thick base of his cock to hold back the cum boiling his balls.
He held the tip out to her, placing it on her lips. She parted and he pushed the flared, heavily veined crest inside with a fetid curse. His teeth, fighting back the sensation coursing his body, begging for release.
He stared down at her. “Suck me, sweetheart. Like this.” He guided her head to his shallow thrusts. “Just like that…yes.” Oxygen escaped his lungs at the slide of her tongue on the underside of his cock. “Fucking Christ…”
A hand brushed a spongy lock from her face, stroking her jaw and throat to relax her. He tilted her face upwards, “Relax for me, sweetheart. Take all of me, Lydia.” he said in guttural whisper.
She removed her fingers from her cunt, hooking slick wet fingers on the hoops of jeans, sucking him slowly; her tongue and lips to their limit over the thick stalk embedded in her mouth. She whimpered at the minute spills of semen on her tongue and the brutal thrusts of his hips.
He pulled free, ignoring her whimper and carried her to the bed and placed her there, crawling over her. He tore the flimsy material of her panties to see her bare lips. His stupefied expression moved to her face. “You’re bare.”
“Yes.”
Lydia screams resounded the walls of her room. His mouth against her core was something she tried imprint into her subconsciousness. God, I’m dying. Her hand grabbed his hair, holding him close to ride his lips.
Martin’s fingers her thighs as he ate her sweet core until she withered under him, arching her hips harder against his open, torturing mouth.
“Harder, Gian. Please.” She wailed.
He paused at the sound of his other name and slowly lifted up his lashes to pin her with a hooded gaze. He rose to his elbows, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand watching her a crooked smile. “Down to Italian names. I love the way you say it.”
“I’ll use it once.” Was her brusque reply.
Martin chuckled, his head bowed down. He slid two fingers into her pumping lazily only to hear the immediate intake of breath above him. He glanced at her with a slight frown of concern as his fingers bumped the barrier inside her. “You’re a virgin.” He whispered softly, surprise suffused his face.
She raised up to her elbows, staring at him. “Is that a problem? Haven’t you taken one before. I told you downstairs.”
He hadn’t. But knowing that he was her first left him feeling humbled…honored. “It’s really rare at your age. I thought you were joking.”
“Well, I’m not loose. Plus, men are total pigs.”
“Yet here you are.”
She threw a pillow at him.
He dodged it easily with a smile. “For that reason,” he kissed her lips stroking her tongue with his “…I’ll be gentle.” He muttered against her lips.
He guided himself to her entrance and gave her time to mentally prepare herself for the pain. At the grip of her fingers into his forearm, he pushed. His eyes quickly snapped to her face. “Are you alright?”
She nodded with a pained grimace. “Yes.”
He ground his teeth at the tightness of her cunt. “Christ.” He breathed, pushing past the barrier inch by inch until he was deeply seated inside her.
Martin’s head dropped to her shoulder, breathing in her sweat mixed scent, and waited her to get used to him. His lips kissed the stiffness of her face. “Relax, Kaanyimara.” He gasped, groaning at the tightness of her body and the deep contractions of her inner walls around him.
“God! You’re pronouncing it wrong.”
“No. I’m not.”
Lydia gasped at the feeling of being stretched almost to her limit. “Yes. You are.”
“Let’s just drop it.” He said drily.
His hips moved in slow nudges, increasing to the heavy impalements she clearly wanted. He dragged and pounded; hot and heavy. Until she felt smoldered.
Her screams graduated to thin wails at the brute force he exerted on her body. His heavy impalements and snarls of pleasure filled the air. Her eyes widened as her climax broke out. Still, she rode him, the throbbing vein on his neck taut as a bow string protruded when he finally shuddered.
Large spurts of liquid warmth flooded her channel, filling her. Lydia held him as he fell apart from the euphoria of his orgasm. He fell weakly on her and she welcomed his weight, however stifling and wrapped her legs around his waist, her fingers stroked his back into tranquility.