Part 9: link


    Gwen looks up from her laptop at the sound of the door opening and closing. Arthur’s back. She grins but stays put, listening as he locks the door behind him, drops his laptop bag on a kitchen chair, and walks back to the bedroom, the hard soles of his dress shoes clicking on the wooden floor.
    “Hey,” he says softly from the door. “Sorry I’m late.”
    “I heard about the pile-up on the motorway,” she says, smiling up at him as he crosses to her and kisses her. “But thank you for calling, too.”
    Damn but aren’t we domestic? she finds herself thinking.
    “You stole my favorite shirt,” he observes, seeing her wearing his Oxford tee again.
    “My favorite shirt now,” she grins at him.
    “Be right back. Gotta pee,” he says, kissing her forehead.
    “I imagine you probably do,” Gwen answers, returning her attention to her laptop.
    When he returns, clad in his shorts and a t-shirt, she is scowling at the screen.
    “What are you frowning at?” he asks.
    “My stupid genius cousin. I don’t know why I’m playing Words With Friends with him. I have yet to beat him and he’s completely diabolical.”
    “Oh?” Arthur sits, amused and intrigued.
    “I mean, look,” she turns the computer. “Cwms? Really? And the game let him play it.”
    “What is that?”
    “I looked it up. Welsh, obviously, meaning ‘basin.’ I am now accusing him of cheating, because there’s no way he knows that. Further, we’re playing in English, not bloody Welsh!”
    “Is he Welsh?”
    “He was born and raised in New Jersey, Arthur,” she sighs. “I mean, yes, he is a legitimate genius, finished school early and everything. But still.”
    She glances at Arthur, who is doing a poor job of hiding his amusement.
    “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
    “Well, considering I have yet to beat you at this game, yes, I am.”
    “That’s because you need to play words longer than three letters, darling.”
    “I always get all vowels and, like, a K,” he complains.
    “Poor baby,” she says, not very sympathetically.
    Arthur curls up next to her, watching as she makes her play and sends a chat message to her cousin accusing him of cheating. Once done, he reaches up and closes the laptop, removing it from her lap.
    She looks down at him, smirking, and he places a few soft kisses on her neck. “I bought something,” he says, sliding off the bed and digging into his bag.
    “Did you, now?” Gwen asks, watching him.
    Arthur pulls something from his bag, concealing it behind his back. “Close your eyes,” he says. She does, and then she hears him opening the nightstand drawer, remove something from it, and close it.
    What was in there that he would need? she wonders, something poking at her brain.
    “Open,” he says, and she opens her eyes. He’s standing at the foot of the bed, the purple vibrator in one hand and a set of fuzzy handcuffs – purple ones – in the other.
    Gwen laughs. “Somehow I knew you’d get around to getting those. Purple ones, though, I’m impressed.”
    Arthur grins at her, then raises his eyebrow at her, challenging.
    “Dare,” she says, biting her lower lip alluringly.
    “I dare you to pick one,” he says, lifting each item in turn.
    Gwen’s eyes dart between the two, then inspiration strikes. “Both.”
    “Ooo, naughty girl, I’m a lucky man,” Arthur says, his lips curling into a delicious grin. He drops onto the bed and crawls up over her body, kissing her once he reaches her lips, indulging himself for a bit. “I missed you,” he mutters against them. “Skype was fun, but it’s a poor substitute for the real thing.” He drops his head onto her shoulder for a moment, squeezing her close.
    “I missed you too,” she whispers when his lips trail down her jaw to her neck. He sets his items on the pillow next to her head and shifts, pulling the comforter back, exposing her long, slender, brown legs.
    He lifts his head now and appraises her. “You have got fantastic legs, have I told you that?” he asks, his eyes drifting down and then back up.
    “I don’t think you have, actually,” she says.
    “Well, you do,” he declares. “Now,” he says, pressing his lips together thoughtfully, “I think we need to take this shirt off.” He reaches down and grabs the hem of her t-shirt (his t-shirt) and pulls it upward. Gwen wiggles it out from beneath her and sits up so that he can pull it off in one swift move.
    He looks down. “Red ones,” he observes, running his finger along the waistband of her panties, “I think we’ll leave this on for now.”
    “Awfully dictatorial this evening, Arthur,” she smirks at him.
    “It seems appropriate since I’m going to be handcuffing you to the bed, don’t you think?” he asks, dropping his head to kiss her again, his hand straying to her breast a moment. “You chose; I am merely complying.”
    He slides his hand from her breast, running it down her arm to take her hand in his.
    “Where is the key?” Gwen asks when he reaches for the cuffs. He nods at the nightstand, and she sees it sitting there within easy reach. “Okay, carry on,” she says, and he fastens the cuff around her slender wrist.
    “Okay?” he asks softly. She turns her hand this way and that and gives him a nod.
    He takes her hand and raises it over her head, close to her headboard, and threads the other end of the cuff through the wooden slats, gently cuffing her other hand in the other end.
    Arthur kisses her fingers then moves back to her lips, his tongue sliding against hers deliciously, his hands caressing soft secret places on her skin until she is squirming beneath him.
    “Let me know if you want me to un-cuff you, okay?” he whispers, and Gwen realizes that he’s a bit nervous. Good. I am, too.
    “Oh, I will, I guarantee it,” she says, and he laughs.
    He lowers himself and kisses down to her chest, nuzzling her soft skin, kissing and licking her nipples, enjoying his unfettered access to her body.
    “Take your shirt off, Arthur,” Gwen says.
    “Okay,” he says, cocking his head at her a moment before discarding his shirt to the floor beside the other.
    “I like looking at you,” she admits, and he grins arrogantly at her. “Okay, put it back on, then,” she says, laughing.
    “You seem to forget that you are at a disadvantage right now, Guinevere,” he purrs, reaching for the vibrator and switching it on. “Interesting,” he says, cocking an eyebrow.
    Gwen watches him, wondering where he’ll strike first. Being a man, it’s likely he’ll dive right in for the money shot right away, she thinks. But being Arthur, he may drag this out as long as he can, just to torture me.
    Arthur climbs onto the bed, the vibrator humming softly in his hand as he stretches out beside her. He touches the vibrator to her stomach, gently, and then he moves it. Slowly. Upward.
    Option B, then, she thinks, closing her eyes and leaning her head back as he drags it lightly over one nipple, then the other. She hums appreciatively, squirming a little.
    Arthur leans down and flicks his tongue lightly against one nipple, still moving the vibrator in small circles around the other. He draws it into his mouth, kissing, sucking, licking.
    “Arthur,” she breathes, pulling slightly at the cuffs, arching against him as best she can.
    He bites lightly and she cries out softly. Next he drags the vibrator downward, across her stomach again to press gently between her legs, over her panties.
    “Ooo,” she purrs, flexing her hips, trying to increase the contact.
    “You like that, huh?” Arthur murmurs, his lips against her stomach now. “I think we need to take these lovely knickers off, though,” he adds, switching the vibrator off for a moment.
    “About time,” she says, and Arthur laughs. He moves over her and peels the red lace garment down and off, tossing it carelessly to the floor. His movements reveal the erection now tenting his shorts, and she smirks at him.
    “What?” he asks, and she looks pointedly at him. “Well, yeah,” he answers, as if it should be obvious.
    “I haven’t even touched you,” she says. “Can’t.” She flexes her hands above her head.
    “Guinevere, you don’t have to touch me,” he tells her, shucking his shorts and boxer briefs in one fluid move before prowling back up to kiss her a bit more before resuming his torture. “All I need to do is…” he trails kisses down her neck, “think about you some days…”
    “Oh…” Gwen breathes, his words hitting her heart as well as her groin. She hears the faint click followed by the hum as Arthur turns the vibrator back on.
    He nips her earlobe lightly, then presses the instrument between her legs, softly at first, moving it around, exploring. Gwen’s legs part wider, allowing him easier access, and he is ready, moving the vibrator right where he wants it, right where she wants it.
    “Ah,” she gasps, writhing, pulling at the cuffs slightly. “Oh…”
    Arthur grins smugly, moving it up and down a few times, staying with her squirming body, enjoying the squeaks and coos and cries that are escaping her lovely lips. He slides it down and inside her now, pumping it in and out, slowly, a few times until she groans.
    “Stop,” she gasps when he withdraws it, closing her legs, “stop…”
    “What? Guinevere, is something wrong?” he asks, puzzled.
    “No, nothing’s wrong,” she answers, breathing heavily. “I just… don’t want to…”
    “You don’t?”
    “I want to, but I want you to give it to me, not that. Not this time.”
    “Oh,” he smiles, switching it off.
    “Turn it back on,” she says, a sly look crossing her face now.
    “What?”
    “You heard me.”
    He narrows his eyes and gives her a sideways look, but follows instructions anyway. Thinking a moment, he says, “Dare.”
    “Use that on yourself,” she says. “Touch it to him,” she indicates who he is with her eyes.
    Arthur props himself up on his elbow, on his side beside her, and gingerly lowers the vibrator down, running it along the length of his shaft.
    “Bloody hell!” he exclaims, jerking it away quickly, and Gwen giggles madly. “I’ve got to try that again,” he whispers, touching it to himself again, falling back onto the bed. “Shit,” he groans.
    “Pretty intense, hey?” she asks, turning as best she can towards him, watching as he writhes now.
    “God, I’ve got to stop,” he regains his senses and switches it off, tossing it aside as he climbs over her.
    “Do you want me to un-cuff you?” he asks, poised over her entrance, hovering there.
    “No,” she says, her eyes twinkling at him.
    “Naughty girl,” he says as his sinks into her, his voice low and seductive.
    “Mmm,” she agrees, lifting her hips to meet him, draw him in.
    Arthur moves slowly and deliberately, sliding in and out. He leans down to kiss her, tugging her lower lip gently between his teeth while one hand finds her breast.
    “Guinevere,” he breathes her name, brushing his lips down her long neck. He opens his eyes a moment and spies the discarded vibrator on the bed next to them.
    Hmm.
    Arthur leans back, kneeling between her legs now, pushing in deeply, splaying her legs wide.
    She looks up at him and sees the sly look on his face, and she blinks. “What?”
    He reaches over for the vibrator and switches it back on, placing it between them, against her mainly, as he continues to thrust into her.
    “Oh! No…” she gasps, pulling in earnest on the handcuffs for the first time now. “Oh, yes!” she shouts
    “Make up… your mind,” he admonishes through gritted teeth, but his eyes are twinkling with an incredibly sexy combination of lust and humor.
    He grips her thigh with his free hand and moves faster, Gwen’s pants and cries both encouraging him and signaling that she is close.
    “Oh, God… oh… Arth… oh shit… oh!”
    Mercifully, he removes the vibrator as she clamps her thighs tight around his hips, her bottom lifting from the bed as she comes, powerfully and loudly.
    “Bloody…” he mutters, the curse dying on his lips as he falls with her, burying himself deep with his climax. He drops his head on her chest, spent.
    A few moments later he reaches over and nabs the key from the nightstand and frees her hands.
    “Thank you,” she says, bringing them down around his shoulders, holding him. He is still laying on her, and he turns his head to kiss her neck.
    “You have amazing skin,” he mumbles, sliding his nose against her shoulder.
    She giggles and toys with his hair, loving its silken texture, the way it slides so easily between her fingers. Not like mine at all, she notes.
    “What’s funny?” he asks, lifting his head.
    “Nothing specific,” she says, squirming under his weight now, and he rolls to the side, pulling her against him. “I’m just happy.”
    “Good. How are your shoulders?” he asks, his voice full of concern.
    “A bit stiff,” she admits.
    “Here,” he shifts and rolls her onto her stomach. As Arthur massages her stiff shoulders, Guinevere drifts off into blissful slumber.

Part 11: link