Fires Of Innocence

Lady Takersangel's Domain | home

*story used with permission from Lady Kai*

Cheryl sat towards the middle of the bus, wanting to be close enough to watch the driver, but not close enough to be seen watching. She pretended to look out the front windshield, sneaking furtive glances at the black-clad man steering the big yellow schoolbus down the busy street.

She, along with about forty of her schoolmates, were on their way back to school from a long, exhausting field trip to the desert. It had been early morning when they set out. It was now almost seven o'clock at night.

She had found it very hard to concentrate on the lecture and hike, her mind drifting constantly back to the man she was now watching. She had been fascinated with him since the first day of school 7 and a half months ago. He wasn't exactly the kind of man girls swooned over, unless it was from fear. He was almost seven feet tall and approximately 320 pounds of pure muscle. From what she could see, he had red hair that gleamed in sunlight and pale, almost translucent skin. She couldn't tell what color his eyes were because all the time she'd known him he'd always worn a wide-brimmed hat that was pulled low on his forehead, shading his eyes. It was as black as the clothes he always wore. What intrigued her most were his hands and his mouth. His hands were big, long-fingered and very sensual-looking. She could imagine him tracing them along her jaw, down her neck, leaving little shivers of delight in their wake. His mouth was full and sensuous, made for kissing, but he looked as if he didn't do much of it. As a matter of fact, he didn't look as if he did much of anything fun. He always had an expressionless face and rarely spoke unless forced to. She had only heard his voice maybe four times in the whole time she'd known him. She craved to hear more. His voice was deep and resonant, rumbling in his chest. It had a slightly gravelly and husky quality to it that made her insides thrum like a tuning fork.

As she watched him negotiate the evening traffic, she daydreamed about him kissing her, stroking her hair, murmuring her name in desire. She knew it was an impossible dream, but she couldn't help it. She wanted him. Even though she was only sixteen years old, she had amazingly mature feelings for this mysterious, alluring man. She was drawn to him like no other.

She didn't realize she was staring at him until she saw his head tilt up, revealing the glint of his eyes. He was staring back at her. She blushed and averted her gaze, looking out her window. She managed to avoid looking in his direction for twenty minutes. But she couldn't stand not seeing him. She turned her head and found herself looking into the gleam of his eyes again.

She bit her lip in embarrassment and looked down at her lap. She refused to look at him for the rest of the ride. What must he be thinking?

Mark Callaway was thinking that he had a problem. He could tell that the young girl that had been watching him so intently through the trip-no, for over seven months now-had a growing infatuation with him. He had never been the object of schoolgirl crushes before, knowing that he wasn't hunk material, and didn't know how to deal with it.

That wasn't his problem, though. His problem was that he was mildly attracted to her. He knew he had to squelch any thoughts or feelings in that direction. he was 34 years old and she was 16. He was more than twice her age and he could not only be arrested for statutory rape, but his conscience wouldn't allow it.

But he couldn't help watching her, any more than she could help watching him. She was a beautiful girl with long, blue-black hair that reached to her waist, high, full breasts, slim waist that flared gently into hips that begged to be grasped. Her legs were long and slender but curvaceous. She stood about 5 foot seven or eight, very tall for her age. Her head would only reach to his chest... He stopped that line of thought and turned his attention back to the road.

Twenty minutes later, the bus pulled into the school parking lot where the parents, friends and siblings of Mark's passengers waited to take them home. When everyone was off the bus, he drove to the garage on the other side of the parking lot. He checked the bus for any items left behind and then locked up. After turning out the light in the garage and closing and locking the door, he strode to his car, the only one left in the lot.

He had just driven passed the garage and was about to turn down the driveway to the street when he saw a lone figure trudging up the hill leading to the main intersection.

Cheryl sighed in resignation, knowing that she had to walk the three miles to her home. Her parents were out of town for the weekend visiting her aunt in Texas. It wasn't unusual for them to leave her alone. They knew they could trust her. She was a very responsible and conscientious person who never did anything that her parents wouldn't approve of.

Right now, she was wishing they'd left the car so she wouldn't have to walk home in the dark. She didn't like being the only one out at this hour. She would be glad when she reached the main street where there would be plenty of traffic and noise to reassure her. She might even take the bus partway home. She was just beginning to hum to herself, feeling a little better about her trek when a car pulled up beside her. She glanced at it and felt her heart kick in her chest.

It was Mark! He had followed her. She halted and waited to see what he would do.

He stopped and leaned over to roll down the window closest to her.

"What the hell are you doing?" he rumbled, his mild tone not matching his angry words.

"Ex-excuse me?" she stammered, not understanding what he was driving at.

Mark opened his door and stepped out, striding around the car to stand in front of her, arms crossed over his broad chest.

"Don't you know it's dangerous to be walking around alone after dark?"

Cheryl relaxed slightly, realizing it was concern for her safety that prompted his anger.

"Oh, that! I'll be all right. I walk home all the time. Nothing's ever happened." She shrugged in dismissal of his concern.

Mark reached out and grasped her arm, pulling her toward his car. "Just because nothing's ever happened before, doesn't mean that it won't happen in the future. Get in the car and I'll take you home"

Her first instinct was to wrench her arm from his grasp, but when she heard his last statement, she relaxed and let him shove her into the car, slamming the door behind her. She watched him walk around to get into the driver's side, putting the car in gear and speeding off down the street. After she gave him directions to her house, they were silent for most of the trip. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, feeling his overwhelming presence next to her. She glanced at the hand that rested on the gear shift lever not more than four inches from her thigh. She wondered what he would do if she laid her hand on top of his. He'd probably do nothing. He didn't seem the type of man to be surprised at anything, no matter how unexpected or odd it was.

Mark was finding it hard to concentrate on his driving. He was intensely aware of the innocent but sensual girl next to him. His nostrils flared as he breathed in the scent of her subtle perfume. Roses. And beneath that, the scent of woman. Woman? No, she was just a naive, little girl. He had to remember that.

They arrived at her house and he saw that there were no lights on.

"Your parents asleep at this hour?" he asked. She shook her head, her hair lightly brushing his forearm. It was the texture of silk.

"No. They're out of town for the weekend."

Mark's brows lifted in surprise. It was the first time he'd shown any expression of his inner feelings. "Out of town? And they left you here alone?"

Cheryl smiled at his dubious tone. "My parents trust me, Mark-I mean, Mr. Callaway," she flushed at her slip. She had called him Mark so much in her mind that it seemed only natural to call him that out loud. She hoped he didn't notice.

He'd noticed and was startled at the rush of heat it sent through him, settling in his lower belly. "They trust you, hmmm?"

She glanced at him, sensing the disbelief in his voice. "yes, they do," she said firmly. "They know I don't give wild parties or invite boys over or anything like that."

He only stared down at his hands that rested lightly on the steering wheel, his disapproval plain in his brooding silence.

He abruptly got out of the car, walking around to her side and opening her door. She climbed out and, without looking up at him, walked to her door, rummaging in her purse for her key. She sensed him following her, but didn't look around. When she pulled her keychain out of her purse, she was startled to feel him reach around and take it from her, stepping up to the door and opening it, before entering. Cheryl hurried after him, her heart racing in alarm and confusion. "What-what are you doing?"

Mark switched on the lights in the hallway before moving on, peering into every room, turning on all the lights, then switching them off again when he was satisfied that there was no one lurking in the shadows.

She followed him from room to room, feeling her pulse quicken when he reached her room. He stepped inside and switched on the light, then halted, his body becoming still as a statue. She watched him look around her room. She wondered what he was thinking.

Cheryl's room was average sized, with a full size bed draped in a multicolored comforter. It stood against one wall, a nightstand beside it with a little lamp and clock-radio on it. Against another wall was a dresser with scattered items such as perfume bottles, hair pins, earrings and other things, atop it. Next to it was a desk with schoolbooks, papers and an IBM computer on it.

But she knew it wasn't these things that had caught his attention. On every available space of wall, there hung dozens and dozens of pictures. Pictures of Mark.

She knew that he didn't like to publicize that he used to be a professional wrestler and tried, quite diligently, to detach himself from that former career. But she had found out, quite by accident, and had sent for every available poster, trading card, picture--everything relating to Mark Callaway, or as he was known in the wrestling world, The Undertaker. She never dreamed that Mark himself would ever see her room and felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. She must seem like some little girl with a huge crush. He would never take her seriously now, not that he had before.

Mark turned to her, his face still shadowed by the brim of his hat. "What is all this?" he asked, his voice empty of expression.

She swallowed, knowing by the tone of his voice, or rather by the lack of tone, that his patience was hanging precariously by a thread.

"I-uh," she cleared her throat, not knowing what to say. Mark waited, his steady gaze making her uneasy. "Well, I found out you used to be a wrestler and...um . . ." What was she supposed to say. What would satisfy him without revealing her growing obsession with him. "I really admired your ability...and I began collecting memorabilia, and..."

Mark made a gesture for her to stop. He walked over to the life-sized poster that hung on the door. He stared at it for a very long time, his eyes wandering over it as if looking for something. He then turned to her so suddenly that she stumbled backward, falling against the doorjamb.

"What exactly is it that you want from me?" he asked matter-of-factly.

Cheryl gaped at him in shock. "Want from you? Why would I want anything from you?"

He studied her face. "You have been watching me ever since you've been on my bus, your eyes follow me wherever I go, you fill your walls with pictures of me, you even kiss my poster-" Cheryl gasped in astonishment at this-"and I can only come to one conclusion. But I can tell you right now, I'm not going to be your fantasy man. I'm too old for you. You'd be better off being infatuated with someone your own age."

Cheryl's shock turned to hurt, then to anger at his callous words. "Why does everyone think that just because a person is young, they don't know what they want?" she asked, her anger making her step toward him, hands on hips, glaring up at him.. "I may be sixteen, but I'm old enough to know that I want you, Mark Callaway, and it's not some silly schoolgirl crush or infatuation as you so condescendingly put it. What do you have to say about that?"

Mark just stared down at her, entranced by her flashing eyes, darkened to the color of molten gold, and her heaving breasts and flushed face. His mouth went dry and he wanted nothing better than to pull her against him and kiss her until her eyes turned from the heat of anger to the heat of desire. He turned, intending to leave the house, to get away from his dangerous attraction to this girl-woman. She blocked his way.

"Answer me, Mark," she demanded, hands pressing against his chest to keep him from leaving. "I want to know what you think of my wanting you."

"I already stated what I think," he gritted out, ignoring the flare of heat from her touch. "I'm too old for you. I won't be responsible-"

"I'm not asking you to be responsible for anything," she said softly, noting that he hadn't said that he didn't want her. She slid her hands up his chest, enjoying the feel of hard muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt. She could feel them tighten under her splayed fingers, feel his heartbeat under her palm. "I just want you to kiss me, to hold me...to make love to me"

Mark groaned, feeling himself respond to her words, growing hard and throbbing in his jeans. "You don't know what you're saying."

Cheryl smiled seductively up at him. "Oh, but I know exactly what I'm saying. I've been thinking about it, dreaming about it, fantasizing about it for over seven months now. My feelings have only gotten stronger over time."

Mark knew he had to get out of there pretty damn fast. His resistance was quickly fading and he knew that if he let himself do what he dearly lusted to do, he'd regret it later...and so would she.

But she had other ideas.

While he struggled to control himself, Cheryl had unbuttoned his shirt, sliding her hands inside to explore his smooth, warm skin. She pressed her nubile body against him, kissing his chest, reveling in the musky male scent of him.

Mark's control abruptly snapped. There was only so much a man could stand! He grasped her beneath her arms, lifting and turning her so that she was pressed up against the door, against his poster. He stared down at her for a long time, a small voice at the back of his mind telling him he still had a chance to escape, to save himself . . .

But then Cheryl reached up and removed his hat, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing the corner of his mouth. The gesture was so sweet...and so damn arousing. There was no turning back.

But before he completely succumbed to his desire, he vowed that he would at least leave her innocence intact. He would take his pleasure from her-and give her pleasure-but he would leave her a virgin if it killed him.

With his conscience at least largely satisfied, he bent his head and kissed her. He brushed his lips gently over hers, silently urging her to part them for him. When she did, he eased his tongue inside, wanting to introduce her slowly to lovemaking. But his plans were quickly scattered when Cheryl boldly took command, stroking his tongue with hers, running her tongue over his teeth, thrusting it deep into his mouth and exploring it so thoroughly that he almost felt ravished. He was certain that she was innocent, but the way she kissed him made him wonder where she learned how to do it. He was surprised to feel a spark of jealousy at the thought of someone else kissing her, tasting her sweet mouth . . .

Cheryl was drowning in a sea of sensual delight. She had never thought kissing could be so stimulating. She enjoyed the taste of his tongue, the texture of it and his mouth. She moaned in pleasure, curving herself against him, entwining her free hand in his thick hair.

Mark's hands drifted down her body and grasped her buttocks, lifting her high against him until their hips were aligned. He felt her gasp as he ground his hips into her, letting her feel the hard bulge pressing into her soft belly. He took control of the kiss then, explored her mouth just as thoroughly as she had his, coaxing her tongue into his mouth, where he began to suck it, at first gently, then strongly, gratified to hear her moaning, the vibration thrumming against his lips. He angled his head so he could deepen the kiss further, his hands slipping down to guide her legs around his waist. He turned and walked over to the bed, climbing onto it and falling forward, letting his weight come down on her, groaning as his body crushed her breasts and pelvis against him. Her legs tightened around him, bringing him closer to her. He slid his hands under her shirt, stroking her soft skin, moving around to cup her breasts, rolling her hardening nipples between his fingers through the lace of her bra.

Cheryl arched her back, whimpering at the unfamiliar and powerful feelings coursing through her. She was a little frightened at the intensity of the sensations, but not enough to make him stop. She'd waited too long for this. When Mark lifted his head, she gasped his name, telling him how much she wanted him, begging him to make love to her.

Mark groaned and buried his head in her hair. He raised her shirt, unfastening her bra and cupped her full, warm breasts, squeezing and kneading them, flicking his thumbs over the hard sensitive peaks. He sucked in his breath as her arms and legs tightened even more, her hips tilting up to rub against his straining, throbbing bulge. He lowered his head and captured a dusky-rose nipple between his teeth, flicking his warm wet tongue over it before enclosing his lips around it, sucking gently. He was surprised to feel the strength of her reaction, nearly unseating him with her writhing and bucking. She was making a low mewling sound in her throat that excited the hell out of him. He moved to the other breast, drawing it deeply into his mouth, sucking, nipping, swirling his tongue around and around the turgid peak. His hands moved lower, sliding under her skirt, clasping her firm buttocks, kneading them, gripping them, then hooking his fingers in the waistband of her skimpy panties. He slowly...very slowly eased them down over her hips, his fingers smoothing the skin the silky material exposed. He reached behind him and loosened her ankles from around his waist. He quickly removed her underwear, tossing them aside. He raised up on one elbow, staring down at her as his hand moved over her stomach, down to bury his fingers in the downy thatch of curls between her thighs.

Cheryl's hips arched upward involuntarily, her fingers clutching his head in desperation. "Oh, God, Mark! I can't take any more!"

That was his sentiment. He was nearly bursting out of his pants with the want of her. He slid his thumb into the wet heat of her and found her clit, stroking, massaging, bringing her to an unbearable pitch. He eased a finger into her, feeling the tight, slick walls of her sheathe. He watched her as he dipped his finger in and out, slowly increasing the rhythm until he was thrusting, plunging it deep and withdrawing again. His breathing was harsh, ragged as he pulled his hand away and settled between her legs, sliding his knees beneath her thighs, spreading her wide. He pressed himself snugly against her before grasping her buttocks and beginning to grind his hips into her, humping her hard and fast, pressing himself against her throbbing clit again and again, rapidly bringing her to the brink, feeling her body stiffening, hearing her scream his name as she suddenly arched her back and convulsed. He could feel the wetness of her release and that was what sent him over the edge. He threw his head back and growled his orgasm, spurting long and hard into his jeans. He collapsed atop her, both breathing harshly and shuddering in reaction.

After a while their heartbeats calmed. Mark heard Cheryl's breathing become steady and deep. She was asleep. He lay over her a little while longer, enjoying the feel of her beneath him.v Finally, he eased away from her, climbing off the bed. He removed the rest of her clothes, tossing them in the chair by the window, picked her up and laid her properly on the bed, her head on the pillows, and pulled the covers over her. He stood for a long moment, staring down at her. He then looked down at himself, seeing the wet patch on his jeans, a mixture of her and him. He knew he should be disgusted with himself, but he didn't. Rather, if he admitted it to himself, he wanted nothing better than to rip off his clothes and get into bed and make love to her properly, virginity be damned!

He whirled on his heel and strode to the door, flicking off the light as he went. As he left the house, he turned the lock on the doorknob, closing it firmly behind him. He drove away, not looking back.

Two weeks later, Cheryl climbed on the bus, as she had every day, hoping this time that Mark would at least acknowledge her existence. Ever since the episode in her bedroom, he'd ignored and avoided her as much as possible. When she got on his bus, he didn't so much as glance at her. When she said good morning to him, he only stared straight ahead, his silence deep and cold.

She knew he was regretting what had happened, his conscience highly developed so that he thought that avoiding her would solve the problem and absolve him of guilt. Cheryl wasn't willing to let him forget or ignore her for very long.

A week later, Cheryl had a plan. This time, she was going to seduce Mark. She had been following Him in the evenings, wanting to know his activities and schedule.

It was the weekend of the 12th that she had targeted for the seduction. Her parents were going on a business trip and would be gone for three days. She would sneak into Mark's house and then... well, then...she'd have him.

Friday the 12th dawned bright and hot. Cheryl got on the bus and greeted Mark as usual. As usual, Mark ignored her and she smiled to herself. 'You won't be ignoring me tonight, sweetheart,' she thought.

After school, she bade her parents goodbye and then took a long, leisurely soak in the tub, using her best bath oil. She then dressed in a pair of jeans and T-shirt (she didn't plan on Mark seeing her until she was ready). She packed an overnight bag and then went to the car that her dad had left for her. She drove to Mark's house, parking a few houses down and waited for him to leave.

Fifteen minutes later, he left the house, a gym bag over his shoulder. She knew he went to the gym every day at this time to work out for 2 hours. She had even followed him inside, careful to stay out of sight. She was impressed and aroused by his strength as he lifted heavy weights and swam laps in the pool. He had amazing endurance and she was fascinated by the rippling muscles of his tall lean body. She couldn't wait to explore his tempting form.

` When Mark was out of sight, she went to the front door and began hunting for a spare key. She was pretty sure he had one. Almost everybody had a spare key hidden in case of being locked out or something. It took almost ten minutes to finally find it. It was hidden in the mouth of a ceramic frog that sat near the corner of a potted palm. She opened the door and returned the key to the frog. She stepped inside.

Giving the rooms she passed only a cursory glance, she searched for Mark's bedroom, wanting to ready herself before he got home. She found it at the back of the house. Turning on a light, she undressed and pulled out an almost transparent white negligee, slipping it over her head with a sigh of pleasure at the cool silky material on her skin. She stuffed her clothes in the bag and shoved it halfway in the closet. It was then that she decided to explore the house.

After investigating every nook and cranny of his house, she looked up at the clock and saw that he should be home soon. She went back into the bedroom and climbed onto the bed. She tried to decide how to arrange herself, wanting him to see her as a sultry, sexy siren. She settled for just lying down with one leg bent at the knee.

She had just started to doze off when she heard the front door open. She moved up onto her elbows, waiting tensely for him to enter the room. She held her breath when he walked in, her heart giving a leap as she saw his tall, lean frame stride across the room. He tossed his gym bag in a corner and went directly to the window, where he drew the drapes back, letting in the cool night air. He stood there for a while, raking his fingers through his hair and rubbing his neck wearily.

She noticed him suddenly stiffen, as if realizing that something was wrong. He whirled and their eyes locked. He stared at her, face expressionless, but eyes ablaze with anger.

"How the hell did you get in here?" he said, his voice low and almost conversational, but Cheryl couldn't mistake the fury underlying his mild tone.

"Oh, I figured you'd have a spare key around," she said with studied casualness, then smiled at him. "I was right."

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his arms crossing over his massive chest.

Cheryl knew he was trying to intimidate her and she forced herself to ignore his menacing look. "Isn't it obvious?" she shot back, spreading her arms wide. She was pleased to see that his eyes dropped to her breasts, then lower to the barely covered shadow between her thighs. His jaw tightened. "Get dressed and go home, Cheryl," he said through gritted teeth.

She sat up, wrapping her arms around her upraised knees. "I don't think so," she said thoughtfully. "At least not until I get what I want."

Mark raised an auburn eyebrow. "And what is that?"

"You," she said simply.

They stared at each other for what seemed like hours when he broke the silence.

"If you won't leave of your own accord, I guess I'm going to have to force you to."

She watched him with mild amusement as he walked toward her. When he reached for her, she threw herself at him, entwining her arms and legs about him.

Caught off-balance, mark fell, crushing her into the mattress. He immediately rose onto his elbows, looking down at her. "Are you all right?"

She gasped as her breath came back. She nodded. "I'm fine." She realized that Mark was lying on top of her. This was her chance to seduce him. She tightened her hold on him and began kissing his throat.

"Stop that," he commanded, grasping her wrists and attempting to free himself. He managed to move himself onto his knees, still bent over her, elbows on either side of her head.

She ignored his order and stroked her tongue along his collarbone, loving the scent and taste of him. She raised her head and looked up at him. "Mark, make love to me," she whispered huskily.

He groaned inwardly, seeing the desire in her molten gaze. He knew he had to get away from her before something really bad happened. He pulled her wrists from around his neck and was about to unlock her ankles when she began to arch her hips against him rhythmically, unbuttoning his shirt and raking her nails over his chest. He sucked in his breath sharply as he felt himself grow hard at her undulations.

"Damn you, stop it!" he growled. "What happened that night was a mistake, and so is this."

Cheryl smiled, letting her hand glide down until it grasped the growing bulge between his legs. "And is this a mistake, too?"

He gave a muffled groan, closing his eyes in distress and pleasure. He grabbed her wrist, but she forestalled him by tightening her hold, curling her fingers into the hardness until it was almost painful. He loosened his grip and she did likewise, stroking him in the process. She was gratified to hear him groan again, his fingers moving lower to cover hers, guiding her strokes, his hips arching into her hand.

He suddenly wrenched her hand away, his breathing ragged as he moved up onto his knees, trying to unwrap her legs from around him. She sat up with him, grabbing his shirt and pulling him down again.

"No, Mark," she murmured. "Come here and finish what I started."

He tried feebly to peel her hands from him, but finally, resignedly, he gave up and lowered his head, branding her mouth with his searing invasion. His desire was fully unleashed now and nothing was going to stop him from taking what she offered...including his conscience.

Cheryl released his shirt to grip his head, wanting to taste every crevice, every slick surface of his mouth. They melded into a long, mind-blowing kiss that left both breathless.

Mark wrenched her negligee up and off, tossing it away, wanting to feel her soft, satiny skin. He cupped her breasts, wasting no time in capturing a nipple in his mouth and sucking hard, wanting to draw all of her inside.

She arched her back, moaning in pleasure. When he moved to the other breast, she gasped as she felt deep, sharp stabs of heat between her legs.

He feasted on her breasts before moving lower, nibbling at her ribs and belly, dipping his tongue in her navel and then lower... He raked his teeth along the sensitive tendon of her inner thigh and heard her suck in her breath. He finally spread her wide and gazed at her, glistening wet and pink. He bent his head and flicked the tip of his tongue over the throbbing nub of her clitoris, bracing her legs apart as her hips jerked upward. He felt her hands tighten in his hair as he circled his tongue around and around the hard peak, finally closing his mouth over it and sucking, stroking it. He slid his hands under her, lifting her up for better access. Cheryl whimpered as her body was inundated with such powerful sensations. They were so intense that they almost scared her. But she didn't ever want him to stop. It felt too good.

He dipped his tongue into her, thrusting it deep inside, withdrawing and plunging deep again. He felt the walls of her sheath spasm around his tongue and he growled in need. He couldn't take much more of this. He lifted himself easing up her body and taking her mouth in a fierce, demanding kiss that left both of them gasping. He reached down and unbuckled his belt, unzipped his jeans and released his engorged erection. He slipped his hands beneath her and lifted her, spreading her legs wide on his thighs, settling her buttocks in the cradle of his crotch. He gently eased into her, rocking slowly back and forth, letting her body get used to his large size. He was a quarter of the way in when he came to a barrier. He grasped her buttocks and gave a hard, snapping thrust, breaking through the barrier. He swallowed her cry of pain, softly soothing her, stroking her back, lying still atop her. He kissed the few tears she'd shed, moving back to her mouth. When he judged that her body had adjusted, he began to move, withdrawing almost fully before gliding back in. The pace was slow and steady, almost lazy. She began to meet his easy thrusts eagerly, the friction of him moving inside her almost unbearably stimulating. His pace began to quicken, his breathing becoming harsh as his control was rapidly fraying. He gritted his teeth and tried to regain some of his control, but the sounds she was making and the way she was writhing beneath him all conspired to unravel his composure. He drove deep, grinding his hips against her before withdrawing almost completely, then plunging deep again.

Cheryl was feeling a little desperate. She craved speed. She wanted him to move faster. Her body thrummed with a need she couldn't quite put into words. "Oh, God, Mark! Please...I-cant...I burn-"

His self-control snapped at her words, sending him into a frenzy of lust. He began to drive hard and fast, slamming into her with such force, she was shoved a foot across the bed. Neither of them noticed. He pounded himself into her, unable to ram himself deep enough, hard enough, fast enough. He growled as he felt her orgasm approaching, the spasms tightening on his cock like a warm, slick fist. She suddenly bucked upward, screaming his name as her hips wrenched hard against him just as he was driving into her. He groaned loudly, his whole body bowing back as he exploded, erupting in excruciatingly intense spasms that left him convulsing atop her. He spurted deep within her, his throbbing shaft remaining hard for a very long time before subsiding. He collapsed over her, shuddering and moaning. He felt her arms close more firmly around him as he turned his head into her neck.

"Dammit, Cheryl," he grumbled softly. "What am I going to do with you."

She grinned lazily, totally sated and content. "Why, Mark, baby, anything you want. Anything you want."

He grunted dubiously, then he was silent. After a while, she realized that he'd fallen asleep. She smiled, pleased with herself and him, drifting into a satisfied slumber