Everything She Does Seems to Come Out Right

"Babe!"

Her toothbrush stops buzzing. I hear her spit. "Yes, Cosima?"

"Why are there rubber bands on my nightstand?" Five packets of them, in fact, ranging in size from clearish ones maybe a little over a centimeter in diameter to the jumbo kind that are almost as wide and thick as bungee cords.

More spitting. Water splashes. "I bought them at the office supply store on the way home." She appears in the bathroom door and leans against the frame, still holding her toothbrush. My heart does a flip-flop. Even with her face washed completely bare of every trace of makeup, with her hair scraped back into a messy bun and her mouth full of white foam, Delphine Cormier is still the most ridiculously gorgeous woman I've ever known.

The fact that she is completely naked doesn't exactly hurt her case.

I manage to yoink my eyes back up to meet hers. She's got that expression on her face that I fucking love, like she's totally exasperated and yet on the verge of breaking out in giggles. "Okay. But, like, why did you put them there?"

"Because, chérie, I believe that you have something to prove."

"Um. What, that I can sort my socks so they don't get separated in the wash? Collate all of our condoms by brand, color, size and application? Improve my hand-eye coordination by shooting at your butt from across the room?"

"I was thinking of a somewhat less utilitarian application. And if you shoot me on the butt I will tickle you until you pass out."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, no need to escalate to DEFCON1. Oh, I know. I could use them to make you one of those squeezy stress balls. You could keep it on your desk at work and squish it during really boring meetings and presentations. Actually, I should probably make you a bunch of them so you can throw a handful at Rachel and we could find out if her hair actually moves. Felix has a theory that it's molded to her skull like a — "

"Do you remember what you said last night?" Her mouth gathers into a sideways smile that is the textbook illustration of the word smug.

My mind tries to hit replay and runs smack into a cloud of Platinum OG. The budtender at the dispensary hadn't been kidding when he'd said it was some heavy, heavy shit. "Kinda not really? I was stoned out of my head."

"Yes, I know. It made you very talkative. Among a great many other things, you went into a highly involved discourse about how wild it was that you had forgotten how to breathe."

"And you weren't concerned? I mean, considering my impaired respiratory function and metastatic lung tumors and all?"

"You kept it up for nearly ten minutes, so no, I wasn't. And then somehow you segued into a monologue about how the world would be so much better off if only people would poop in the woods like bears. This was all going on while you were lying between my legs not eating me out, by the way."

Something trips vaguely in my memory. "Shit, Delphine, I'm sorry. Why didn't you tell me? I would totally have made it up to you this morning."

"I was in meetings from 8:00 on and you and Scott were busy working with Marcus for most of the day to categorize your TPMT phenotypes. There wasn't exactly a good time to bring it up."

"My bad. Like, mea maxima culpa, dude." My eyes keep wanting to wander down her body. "Still not getting what this has to do with office supplies."

"After the pooping in the woods speech, you said, and this is an exact quote," she points her toothbrush at me for emphasis, "'Babe, I could get you off with a rubber band.' And then you complained that your eyelids were too heavy for your face, wrapped yourself around my thigh and went straight to sleep. Snoring."

I frown, trying not to pout. "I do not snore."

"Yes, you do, especially when you're heavily medicated, and it's very cute. But that's not the point. The point is that after I finally got you untangled and settled on your side of the bed, I had to, euh, take matters into my own hands before I could fall asleep."

It takes a good few seconds to make my brain let go of the image of her wanking off next to me. Mentally I give myself a shake. "So the rubber band thing is, like, your idea of payback for my leaving you, um, high and dry?"

"Not exactly dry," she says wryly with a flicker of her eyebrow. "And I assure you that I was very good to myself. But I've been thinking all day about what you said, and my curiosity is piqued about just how you would manage it. As I said, chérie," Delphine hitches herself off the doorframe, stalks over to me and wraps me in her arms, "you have something to prove." She kisses me deeply, deliberately smearing toothpaste all over my mouth.

"Uchhh! You bish!" Swiping my hand across my face, I break away laughing and run down the hall to my bathroom.

"I love you too, Cosima," she calls after me.

My head is full of squirrels as I go through my nightly routine. What the hell had my blazed-up self been thinking? More importantly, how the fuck am I going to make this work? 'Cause no way in hell am I going to back down from a challenge like that.

There's a little Super Lemon OG left over from the other day; it's a tad dry from sitting around in the chamber of the grinder but it'll do. I roll a tiny pinner and drag it down in a single pull. Sweet, lemony, earthy goodness. Ideas and images coalesce in my head like the smoke swirling in my lungs while I think about the possibilities. Already starting to feel relaxed and happy, I blow out a long thick white stream and drop the roach into my collection jar.

When I return to the bedroom, Delphine's lying on her back with the covers turned down all the way. She gives me a look and I know she's arranged herself on purpose, putting herself on display for me. Right on cue she stretches and arches like a cat. A big lazy criminally hot naked French cat. My heart catches in my throat. Her pale, perfect skin glows in the warm light from my lamp, which carves shadows along her ribcage and in the hollows of her hipbones. Her breasts rise and fall slowly; while I watch, riveted, she slides her hands down to knead them and play with her nipples, which are already like pencil erasers.

"Out fucking standing," I say, just loud enough for her to hear. She smiles at me and reaches behind her to loosely grab a couple of the wrought iron bars of the headboard.

Not that I don't love it when she takes charge, because holy shit does she run a damn fine fuck. But if she wants to play pillow princess tonight, I'm good with that, too.

I drop my glasses on the nightstand and climb into bed, scooching over to lie on my side next to her. Squinting, I take my time admiring every detail up close.

"What?" she says with a slow-burning smile, not the least bit self-conscious about my staring. I fucking love that about her.

I reach to caress her cheek, letting my hand slide around to cup the nape of her neck and knead the corded muscles there. "Hey, lady."

She groans as my fingers work out little knots. "Hey, yourself."

Nuzzling at her throat, I kiss my way up her neck and capture her mouth with mine. Slowly and softly, our tongues dance together. "You're so goddamned beautiful," I murmur against her lips.

"And you're stalling. Va, au travail!"

"Tch. Do you have to be so linear, Dr. Cormier?" God, I like that, though. I've never known anyone who can go from zero to dripping faster than my girl. I reach for her face. The skin at her temple is so satiny, my fingers almost skate over it. I brush them over her cheek, along her jaw, around the little beauty mark below the corner of her mouth, down the side of her neck. Brief detour to feather a touch along the rim of her ear, making her shiver. Leaning in, I kiss each eyelid, laughing as her lashes tickle my lips. "So what do I win?"

"What?"

I'm inordinately pleased to see that she's already breathing harder. "What do I win if — when I get you off with my rubber bands?"

Focusing again, she gives me a withering glare. "You get the satisfaction of keeping your word on a promise?"

I wind my fingers in her hair, playing with it and scritching her scalp. "Not exactly rewarding in itself since I don't even recall making it. For all I know you could be yanking my chain in the name of moral suasion."

"Getting me off isn't reward enough?" Her eyes drift closed and the corners of her mouth are twitching. She can pretend outrage all she wants, I can almost hear her purring. Especially when I reach that spot near the back of her head.

"For you, it will be."

Delphine manages to shrug while still holding onto the headboard. Anybody else in that position would look like a bear scratching an itch against a fencepost; she makes it seem quintessentially Gallic. "Fine. What do you suggest?"

Bending to press my lips to the hollow of her throat, I leave tiny kisses like a trail of breadcrumbs up the side of her neck to nibble at the soft spot below her ear. She leans her head back with a little kitteny sound. I grin inwardly. "You're gonna get baked with me this weekend. Not just shotgunning like you usually do, I mean you've got to get completely shitfaced."

I can't see her eyes but I'm pretty sure they're rolling. In French.

"Is that your answer for everything?"

"Pretty much. Except for the SATs. They needed a bit more reading comprehension than I would have been capable of if I'd been high."

She starts giggling and I know I've got her. Kissing her with a smile, I nuzzle my way down. Sometimes I wish I could draw or sculpt, because that curve where her jaw meets her neck is a fucking work of art. I inhale, breathing in the warm scent of clean skin, the traces of her shower gel, the smell of arousal — hers, mine, ours.

My mouth makes the descent from her throat to her breasts. They're small but so responsive, especially when I just barely brush my lips along both sides and the under-curves. The contrast between the smoothness of the skin there and the firm pebbliness of her areoles and nipples just begs to be explored. It's not long before she's making little high-pitched breathy sounds in time with the rise and fall of her chest.

Drawing one nipple into my mouth, I swirl my tongue around it, then suck hard until she moans. Scraping the nipple with the barest edges of my teeth, I drink in the sound of total abandon that starts out, like, somewhere below her belly button.

I move to pay homage to her other breast while stretching out an arm for the rubber bands, dropping them within reach. Tearing open the packet of the smallest ones, I pick out a couple. I try looping one around a nipple but it's a little too loose and kind of just dangles there. So I give it a twist and make another loop so that it pinches and tugs, but only a little. I watch carefully but the nipple stays pink. Warm, too, when I press my lips to it, which makes her whimper. Grinning, I snare her other nipple in its own rubber band. With the edges of my teeth, I nibble at each of them in turn until they're bright red and she's arching toward my mouth with every slightest touch.

Ohhhhh, I am so going to have fun with this, Dr. Cormier.

Making sure to visit every single freckle, I kiss my way down her belly. The tension building in her body is almost audible. Her hands are white-knuckled around the wrought iron bars, showing off the definition in all the muscles of her chest and arms. I'm trying not to cackle because I know damned well it's taking every bit of her self restraint to not simply shove my face into her crotch.

Gently I urge her legs apart. Not that she needs a lot of prompting. She spreads herself wide, giving me an awesome view. "Fuck, babe, you're so wet."

She grunts — a "no shit, Sherlock" sound — and not so subtly rocks her hips toward me. I take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her and swallowing hard with anticipation. Kissing my way slowly up one thigh, I slide a single finger along her wetness, humming low in my throat at the sensation as I run it softly over her folds, dipping into her cunt and teasing in the flood of her arousal. Her entire body shudders when I butterfly my thumb around her already distended clit. "Oops, did I do that?"

I can hear her gritting her teeth. Heh.

Opening the packet of the largest rubber bands, I start to wind one around two fingers. It won't stay in place unless it's pretty tight, though, and I quickly realize that my fingers are going purple and getting numb. Suddenly I get an idea. Stripping off the rubber band, I scoot backward from between her legs and roll out of bed.

Delphine pops her head up like an indignant gopher. "Where the hell are you going?"

"Right back, babe," I say over my shoulder, heading toward my dresser and the tray I use to dump all the stuff I collect in my pockets throughout the day — the one she got me after I'd sent one too many pens through the wash. A few seconds of nearsighted rooting produces a few quarters, which are just about the right size.

I sit on the edge of the bed, making sure she can see what I'm doing. Wrapping two of the quarters in place along the undersides of my index and middle fingers with a few twists, then two more quarters on the backs of my fingers gives them plenty of support against cutting off circulation as I keep looping and twisting until a final stretch snaps the rubber band into place. Adding a few more rubber bands, deliberately creating irregular ridges and valleys, I wind the last one around just the tips of my fingers to make a thick, lumpy "head." "What do you think?" I wave my improvised cock at her, making it dance until she laughs. "Ribbed for her pleasure."

"Very creative. Now, are you actually going to do something with that or just talk all night again?"

"So you don't want me for my witty repartee?"

"I want your tongue for its other, much more practical and beneficial skills."

"Fine." I sigh dramatically. "I knew you were only using me for sex." I find a condom in the nightstand drawer and roll it on over my rubber band cock. Kind of weird looking, but I have a pretty good idea what I'm going to do now. Settling between her legs again, I spread apart her folds with the flats of my hands and breathe her in.

"Cosima! What are you wait— "

Her voice cuts off with a strangled sob when I place the softest possible kiss directly onto her clit. Not licking or sucking, just worrying at it with the insides of my lips and feeling it thrum and swell. This teasing taste of her is enough to make my mouth water. Fuck. I want to bury myself in her, surround myself in her heat and wetness, feed on her until she shakes and screams and begs me to never stop.

Reaching up, I pinch a nipple through its rubber band. Her outraged yip ends in a reluctantly voluptuous moan as my tongue starts to work her clit, circling, painting her wetness up and down each side. Her thighs slap together around my ears, so I brace with my elbows to keep my head from getting mashed as I tug at her lips and dart my tongue into the shocking heat of her cunt. I wallow in her, letting her arousal soak my cheeks, my chin, the ends of my dreads. Slowly at first, then more insistently, her hips start to hunch as my mouth matches the rhythm of her cat-in-heat writhing.

Moving downward, I press the flat of my tongue to her asshole, moving it in tiny pulses and wriggling it up and down and back and forth. Her breathing hiccups. I feel the tightening of the muscles in her buttocks and legs. The tremors jittering through her body seem to emanate from her spine. Hands fist painfully into my dreads. The thick pour from her cunt coats the lower half of my face and drips into the sheets. By now she's moaning constantly, hips rolling and jerking with every flick of my tongue.

It's tempting to stay right there and keep teasing her ass — almost nothing gets her hotter or makes her come harder than getting rimmed and tongue-fucked — but I have other plans tonight. I drag my tongue back up through her folds, greedily gathering up as much of her come as I can, then lick up and down each side of her straining clit. Without warning I suck hard, lashing my tongue across it from side to side; as I'd intended, she comes quickly and powerfully in short, shocked bursts. Instead of drawing out her orgasm, though, I move my mouth away. Instantly she protests with a forward thrust of her hips.

"Please, chérie. I need you. Inside."

Simple words, stripped of everything but raw, bald-faced hunger. I am so fucking whipped.

Fumbling in the nightstand drawer for a bottle of lube and gobbing it all over my rubber band cock, I press the thick head not into her cunt where she's expecting me but instead against the tight entrance to her ass. It's still pink and twitching from my earlier attentions but I give her plenty of time, not moving, just keeping consistent pressure while she deliberately deepens her breathing and pushes out steadily against me. I watch in awe as she slowly, slowly opens; she has an almost yogic control over relaxing the muscles there that I have yet to be able to emulate. The throbbing of her clit against my lips feels stronger than my own heartbeat as I resume cradling it with kisses and the circling caress of my tongue, letting the motion of her hips open herself further. We both feel the judder that jolts through her body when the head of my cock pops through her ring; she cries out softly with pleasure as her ass clings to me, pulsing helplessly.

Sweat runs down her sides, its sharp tang mixing with the raw scent of her come. Concentrating on working her clit and pumping my fingers through the rhythmic grip of her ass in sync with the undulating movements of her body, I can hear her cunt clasping wetly at nothing. Her ass clamps down on me with every little movement; by now she's fully warmed up and at her most sensitive and I know she's exquisitely aware of every bump and dip in my cock's surface. There's a steady current of hunger threading through her body and the raggedness of her breathing lets me know how desperate she is for more.

My cunt is pouring and my hips want to grind into the bed. I keep them still, though, because there's a kind of violent joy in seeing and feeling and hearing her come without being blindsided by my own pleasure. Instead I focus on fucking her with short strokes that push and tug at the tight ring of her ass. She's crushing my fingers now, limiting their motion, and I am drowning in the unbelievably rich smell and taste of her. Bearing down harder, I push through the clenching of her ass and worship her clit until her head snaps back with her lips parted in a half snarl and the cords of her neck cable-taut. Her breath hisses through bared teeth. For a glorious moment the unbearable tension arches her body into a backward bow, tenting every muscle. And then she howls.

Even though my wrist is burning and the convulsions of her ass are squeezing my fingers bloodless, I am determined to keep fucking her through her come. I know I'm being too rough, I know my mouth is too possessive, but I can't stop, not while Delphine's still writhing and bucking and contorting out of control.

Christ. Finally her movements slacken. Her body is spent, totally liquid except for the powerful clenching of her ass around my pulverized fingers.

Pressing one last kiss to her rigid, scarlet clit, I rest my head on her leg; the muscles tremble under my ear. Stroking the curve of her butt cheek with my free hand, I brush tiny kisses into the incredibly soft fold where her hip meets her thigh, tasting salt and sex. "You okay?"

"You have to ask?" she laughs, her voice still unsteady. A hand tugs weakly at my dreads. "Too far away," she mumbles.

I grin to myself. "Hang on." Carefully I sit up, resting on my knees, and help her roll onto her side. Moving as slowly as I can, I pull out of her ass. Her inner muscles contract with every bump and ridge along the way; by the time her ring reluctantly lets go of my weirdly lumpy cockhead, she's squirming again. Stripping off the condom and the rubber bands, I toss the whole mess in the general vicinity of the wastebasket. The quarters bounce around on the rug while I wiggle my fingers to get some blood flow back into them. "Damn, babe." I show her the circular marks imprinted into my skin; you can just about make out Queen Elizabeth's face in one of them. "I bet you could pick up bowling balls with that thing."

"Let's not try that tonight, hmm? Come here, dammit."

Smiling, I scoot up to spoon her from behind. "Better?"

"Yes. No. I can't kiss you like this." She flops over onto her back, shifting me so that I wind up draped atop her. Her mouth welcomes mine. Shaking arms and legs wrap around me, holding me close. Perfectly happy being her prisoner, I murmur quiet nonsense against her lips as minutes elongate languidly, twist and turn back on themselves until the pounding of her heart gradually calms down.

Her nipples are dark red. Fuck, I'd almost forgotten about them. "Um. Babe. Shit. I'm sorry, but this might hurt a little."

"What might — oh!" I roll one rubber band off and immediately latch on, soothing the rush of returning circulation with my tongue. I repeat the actions with her other nipple, sucking just a little harder until she cries out. Not in pain, though; I can hear the surprised pleasure in her voice and the rasp of her breath as she practically launches herself toward my mouth. Whoa, okay! Going back and forth between her breasts and trying not to get flung off the bed, I almost don't notice when she grabs my wrist and slides my hand down her belly. She guides it straight to her clit. Immediately I trap it in the vee of two fingers, fucking it roughly until she comes yet again.

"So, Dr. Cormier." I nibble my way up the side of her neck, thoroughly enjoying her jellylike state of exhaustion. "What do you think of my rubber bands now?"

Still quivering and panting, she tilts her head back to give me better access to her throat. A laugh vibrates against my lips. "I can feel my pulse in my nipples. I think you must be a little bit evil, chérie."

"Maaaaaybe." Sinking my teeth into the juncture of her neck and shoulder, I bite down just hard enough to bring pinpoints of blood to the surface. She moans softly when I lap at the tiny marks with the tip of my tongue. "But," I bend to claim her mouth, nibbling her lip gently, "I seem to be your kind of evil."

SonnetCXVI, this is ALL YOUR FAULT. ;)