DCM A/N: This week we have our first author to bring her own sinful picture prompt to SML, Kimmydonn. The image that she brought as her writing prompt for those of you that don't see it when it posts on the blog is dirtycheekymonkeys(dot)blogspot(dot)com/2010/11/squeeze-my-lemon-dec-29(dot)html Ready, set, squeeze!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Squeeze My Lemon~~~~~~~~~ 12.29.10~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: Thanks to my beta Ruthperk
The red scarf around his neck felt suddenly tight. He resisted putting a gloved hand to it, instead, stepping toward the creature that had caught his eye. The fake rapier hanging at his waist, banged slightly into his legs, but didn't trip him - thank God. Why had he thought Zorro was a good costume? Right, because his sister said the tight pants would get him the attention he wanted. Jon wasn't sure anymore.
On the other hand, those eyes still regarded him. Hidden behind a golden mask, they seemed brown, but a very light brown. She was dressed as some type of historic figure. French? Russian? He had no idea, but her strawberry curls were piled on her head, only the longest of them touching her mask. Her lips were ruby red and turned into a small smile as her eyes travelled down his body and back up.
"May I have this dance?" he asked formally, feeling his voice catch even at that.
The small smile grew. This close, he could see her eyes better. They were a very light brown, almost as gold as her mask and dress. "You may," she said. Her voice was that of a singer, melodic. He wondered what she was doing here in Nome.
She took his arm and he led her among the dancers. Halloween had brought out all manner of odd dress, and many were sampling the 'wicked' brew that was being offered. He'd had a cup himself, but only one. It was vile and hard.
Standing across from her, he noticed the music slow and gulped. He noticed she wore gloves as well; white ones that rose past her elbow. The contrast between his black ones was stark - hers shimmering satin, his matte suede.
"I'm afraid I'm not sure which queen you are," he admitted nervously, hoping she'd not be offended.
She wasn't, smiling again. "Anastasia," she said. "You like?" She pulled back just enough to swirl her skirt.
"Very much. Beautiful." He pulled her close again, hand on her waist.
"Your costume is quite becoming," she said in the same singing tone. He wondered if she always sounded like that. When she was yelling? Screaming?
Oh he really shouldn't have thought of that. He was now half-hard and pressed against the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Worse, her satin-clad finger was tracing the deep opening in his black shirt, toying with the end of his scarf.
"Quite becoming," she murmured again, putting her lips to the hollow of his throat.
He held his breath. He'd come tonight expecting to get wasted and dragged home by one of his coworkers. Instead, he'd found a drink that was actually too foul for him, something he was sure didn't exist, and the possibility of someone other than coworker taking him home. Not a coworker, not a friend... He definitely hadn't anticipated this.
Tentatively, sure he would scare her off, he put a finger under her chin and lifted it, tipping her face to his.
She exhaled and he felt faint, the room spinning and his knees wobbling. What was that scent? Not a perfume, not a food. It was amazing and he wanted more. Almost falling into her, he put his lips to hers.
He didn't presume and open kiss, but found his lip pulled between hers. They were cool, as though she had been drinking something iced, but she didn't taste of anything served here. She didn't taste of anything he recognized. Wrapping arms around her more tightly, he pulled her closer, wanting to feel her breasts against his chest, his hips beneath his hands. He wanted her, all of her, nothing but her.
His tongue brushed her lip and she pulled back enough to break the seal of their kiss. "Come with me, my masked avenger," she said, taking his hand and leading him away.
Looking over his shoulder, he saw several of his friends pumping fists and cheering. He'd have to thank his sister. Apparently, this costume was perfect.
Anastasia - he didn't have any other name for her - led him across the snowy street and into the motel on the other side. Pulling a key from her tiny hand bag, she opened the door and stepped in.
Jon grabbed the knob behind her and pulled it shut, putting her between himself and the solid surface. She sighed heavily, making her breasts rise and fall, his eyes drawn to them.
"You would take me by force?" she asked, nudging the sword with a hand.
"I would..." he said, his nose moving along hers. It was cold, too, probably from the run outside. It was bitter out there. Winter came early in Alaska. "Any way I had to," he murmured, barely thinking. Was there any blood left for his brain? He didn't think there could be. It all seemed to be pumping into his cock. It throbbed with his pulse; his breath filled with her scent.
Those lips parted in another smile. "You don't need force," she told him, unfastening his belt and making him groan. "I'm very willing, Don."
"Jon," he said correcting her. Suddenly, he realized she meant Zorro and cringed.
"Jon," she said, rolling his name over her tongue, as though tasting it. He liked the way she said it. He'd like to hear her say it again, louder, in ecstasy.
He traced one of his gloved fingers over the neckline of her dress, low and scooped, stopping just a moment in the cleft between her breasts. She still wore that golden mask.
Reaching up to it, she stopped him, pulling his hat instead and slipping out through the opening on the side where his hand was raised.
He watched her skirts sway as she set the hat in a chair and stood next to the bed, covered in white blanket and sheets. She reached up behind herself to the lace of the bodice.
Jon strode quickly, taking the tie in his fingers and pulling while his lips trailed down the column of her neck, perfectly white. It was cold, too, but he barely noticed, entirely distracted by the smoothness of it, the scent, and the spreading expanse of skin as he pulled the laces free.
Reaching her waist and the end of the lace, Jon pulled back, letting the gown fall in a pool of gold fabric. His breath caught as the skin continued uninterrupted down her back, her perfect bottom, rounded and white, held no covering - only a pair of stockings on her legs.
She turned, and he hadn't looked up yet, still fascinated by the skin of her ass, but now he saw more, the round hip, the triangle of strawberry blond hair between her legs.
His mouth was hanging open and he was staring like an idiot. He took a deep breath and forced his gaze up, but his breath continued to catch. Her navel, her breasts, they were all as perfect, all white, all flawless.
She sighed slightly. "Yes." She seemed to be exasperated. "I am very pretty, but so are you," she said smiling again, gloved hands reaching into his shirt and pulling it open, popping buttons. He gasped, her lips covering his chest as the sleeves of the shirt caught on his gloves. He pulled off his gloves behind his back, longing to touch her.
Her hands hadn't stopped, and his sword and belt fell to the floor in a clatter. Jon's hands, now free, found the top of each of her gloves, pulling down.
She yanked one hand from a glove and drew and Z on his chest making him shiver. "Will you mark me, I wonder?" she asked, looking up at him from behind her mask. Her hands seemed so fast, but his pants were open, if not pushed down his legs, and her fingers wrapped around him.
His mouth fell open. Her hand was cold - bad circulation? - but he was so hot it didn't matter. Clenching his jaw, he cracked open an eye to see her smirk and then bend to lick the tip of his head. His hands found her shoulders, holding on to keep himself upright.
She was too beautiful, too soft, smelled too good, and this wasn't her first blow job. He grunted, feeling his balls tightening. His fingers curled into her hair as he arched back.
She licked her lips as she pulled his pants off the rest of the way. He stepped out of them and his boots gratefully. He lifted her by the arms to sit on the edge of the bed. She seemed a bit startled, but didn't move from where he placed her, merely crossing her ankles, keeping her legs together.
Jon's eyes seemed stuck there again. The view was interrupted by her mask, which she tucked between her legs.
Her eyes weren't as amused when his came up. "I'm sorry," he murmured, putting lips to her jaw, kissing his way to her ear.
She sighed then. "You are forgiven, provided you keep doing that." She leaned her head aside, her fingers on his arms, pulling them around her waist. The mask fell to the floor as she spread her knees enough for him to kneel between them.
"How about this?" he asked, kissing down her neck and collarbone.
"Yes, that, and more?" she asked, untying the scarf at his neck, the only thing he wore aside from the masked bandana.
"More," he murmured, brushing fingers along the outside of one breast, taking the nipple between his lips.
"Ah, harder," she begged, sliding the scarf down his back and wrapping the excess in her hands.
He bit down, nipping, and she gasped, obviously pleased.
"You are amazing," he murmured, fondling her left breast as he continued to taste the right. He pinched that one hard as well and her knees tightened on his hips. His cock twitched, thinking about joining in again.
"Mmmm, am I? You seem to be amazing me." She leaned back, pulling his shoulders with the scarf. He dropped further, and felt the silk snap on the back of his head as she fell further back, held up by it. She laughed and let the slack go, falling to the mattress. Her laugh was musical, too - like wind chimes.
Squatting further, he put his head between her knees, a hand behind one, lifting it to his shoulder. The slight elevation opened her further, showing him the pink lips of her pussy, glistening. The scarf circled his head again, this time pulling his nose right into it.
He smiled and hummed, not at all displeased to be pinned here. She smelled even more strongly of that amazing fragrance - not flower, not food, something of both, fruit maybe? He had never been able to tell one from another, but knew this was his favorite.
How could her pussy be cold? It didn't matter; it tasted divine. Lifting a finger the same time he lifted his tongue, he circled the entrance to heaven and licked the hard bud of her clit, rubbing his tongue flat along it.
The scarf tightened, and he knew he must be doing well. He pressed the finger in, rubbing gently while he used teeth as well as lips above. She hadn't seemed to mind biting on her nipples.
She really didn't mind him nipping her clit either, crying out for him. "Gadno," it sounded like. It wasn't "God, no" he was certain of that. "More," she said, huffing a little. "More... fingers."
He didn't need telling. Taking her clit in his teeth again, he added two more fingers, moving slightly to so he could stroke in and out of her.
She tossed those strawberry curls on the white spread. He couldn't wait to be above her, to see her properly.
"Gavno," she said again, tightening around his fingers. Damn, she was strong; she was pulling hard. That was going to feel incredible on his dick. He couldn't wait much longer.
His free hand started fumbling for his pants. He wasn't prepared for this, but he always kept one in his wallet. Hopefully, it wasn't too old.
"No. No worries," she muttered, pulling him up by the chin when he tried to look behind him. "I can't get pregnant," she explained.
Awesome. He had a momentary worry for something else, but it fled at the look of her, spread before him. God, he needed to feel that. Rising to his feet, he pulled her knees up and out, slipping easily into her. He lifted her ass right off the bed to meet him, but she didn't look at all discomforted by it.
"Yes, God." She bit her lip, but he didn't notice the color flee the way it should. He thrust anyway, feeling the cool slickness around him. Cool?
Oddity after oddity presented itself and was pushed away by her beauty, her scent, her taste.
"Fuck. Shit, Anastasia."
"Tanya," she said, surprisingly calmly.
"Tanya," he groaned, pumping into her again. "Fuck, Tanya... I'm going to..." He was riding a wave now, feeling the building in the pit of his stomach, the bottom of his sack, curling through him, coiling, ready to strike out. Around him, she squeezed, bearing down on him. Hard, harder, almost painful, but oh so sweet.
"Da, ugh, Aaaaah!" She cried out as he did strike, throb after throb shooting into her, buried deep inside her.
He was bent over her now, his nose almost touching her throat. Sagging a little further, he kissed that white column. "That was..." He leaned on the edge of the bed to keep himself from collapsing on her. Her panting cut off almost instantly, and she rolled from him, helping him onto the bed.
"Here, lay down." She gently slipped the bandana from his head and kissed his temple.
Feeling more faint than he had expected, Jon let consciousness go.
He woke with the sun streaming through the window. An odd sparkling filled his eyes, and a hand slid over his jaw.
Soreness filled his muscles. It felt like he'd worked the day before, instead of partied, his dick worst of all. It reminded him of the time his sister had tried pulling it off when she was three. He'd almost kicked her down the hall before his Mom told her to let go.
He opened his eyes to find Tanya standing in the shadow near the motel room door. She was wearing her gold dress again and a fur trimmed cloak.
"I hope I will meet you again, Jon." She opened the door and stepped out, pulling the hood close.
Who had she been? A night he would never forget, that was certain.
"I hope so, too."
DCM A/N: Oh wow, Tanya, the succubus that we all love. Please leave Kimmydonn some love and make sure to check out her incredible other stories that she writes.
Next week we start off 2011 right with MsJessicaCullen.
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