Smut by Karina Halle
I really want to talk to her about Blake but somehow I keep it inside. It helps that when she gets high, she talks a mile a minute and about her own romantic endeavours. I learn that the single dad is gone, some foreign exchange student named Xan is in temporarily, and she’s seriously considering abstaining from sex and chocolate for the rest of the summer.
“You’re nuts,” I tell her.
She shrugs, her dark curly hair falling over her shoulder. She’s lying on her stomach on her ratty towel, reading the latest issue of Travel and Leisure with a dreamy look on her face. “I like a challenge. Don’t you?”
I thought I did. I turns out that the erotica is the easiest part of our whole deal. It’s Blake who is going to test me till the very end.
At just before six I get to the library and Blake is already there, the corner set up with his laptop and notepads and it’s like we’re starting our night shift at the perv factory.
He looks up at me inquisitively, hair rumpled, the slate grey sleeves of his shirt rolled up to showcase his strong forearms. He’s so utterly gorgeous, I have no idea how I’m going to survive tonight.
“I was worried you chickened out,” he says quietly as I take the seat across from him. My eyes linger on his strong jaw and I remember the way his stubble scraped against my sensitive skin last night, how badly I wanted him to keep going.
“We’ve got some smut to write,” I tell him, taking out my computer. “A world of horny women are depending on us.”
He stares at me for a moment, smiling faintly. There’s no masking the sheen of intensity in his eyes, the way they hold me in my place.
Please stop staring at me like that, I plead internally, ignoring the flash of heat between my legs. Say something.
He doesn’t say anything but he eventually looks away and starts typing. We both have our last chapters to write, which of course are pretty much nothing but sex, then there’s the epilogue from Ford’s POV, which again is full of weeping cocks and clenching pussies.
Only now I’m stuck, just as he was the other day. I really want this scene to pop but once again I’m wary that I’m not saying anything new. You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to find different words for dick and cock and pussy and cunt. After a while you just have to accept that erotica is going to always be a bit repetitive, even though you strive to be different.
“I, uh, need a new way to describe a cock,” I tell him.
He giggles at that, brushing the back of his hand over his mouth.
“Oh you’re so mature,” I chide him.
“Hey, I’m a twenty three year-old recent graduate. I won’t become an adult until I’m forty, if I’m lucky.” He pauses and puts his hand to his crotch, looking at me in all earnestness. “Want me to whip it out? Will that help?”
Yes.
“No.” I glare at him.
His dimples deepen. “Are you sure? I’d think if you were writing about a thick, veiny cock it would help to see one.”
Yes. It would.
“Keep it in your pants.” I pause, trying to keep my eyes from staying on his crotch. “Wait, are you saying you’re hard right now?”
He scratches at the scruff of his chin, eyes dancing. “Pretty much, considering what I’m writing. Just say the word cock again.”
“Fuck you.”
“Well what do you know,” he says lazily. “The word fuck works too.”
And the way he’s saying it, the way it rolls off his tongue all slow and languid, works for me too. But he doesn’t have to know that.
I look back to my work and do my best to ignore him, even though he’s right there, so fucking close and representing so much I shouldn’t have.
The chapters we have left are short though and I’m a faster writer than Blake so I push through my writer’s block by pulling out some secret desires and finish mine within two hours.
While he’s still writing, brow furrowed in deep thought, which I always find comical considering what we’re writing, I go and get a bottle of Diet Coke from the vending machine. I normally don’t drink anything with corn syrup and chemicals in it but I need something to stay awake.
Or do I? When I get back to the table, feeling the aspartame and caffeine leach into my system, I see Blake’s taken my laptop and is reading my chapter. My heart summersaults and I know it’s not because of the soda.
I stop by the edge of the table, tapping my fingers nervously along it until he eventually looks up at me.
“I can’t believe you just wrote all this,” he says softly. His voice is gruff, threaded with amazement.
“You like it?” I ask.
He murmurs an agreement, nodding as he looks it over again. “Darling. You’re fucking filthy.”
Is it strange to be proud of that? I give him a half-smile, feeling a little self-conscious. “You said it needed to go out with a bang.”
“Yeah but I didn’t think it would be an anal cream pie kind of bang,” he notes, clearing his throat a few times after.
“Those are the best kind of bangs,” I tell him, sitting back down. “Let’s see what you wrote,” I tell him, pulling my laptop away from him and reaching for his.
“No way,” he says, shielding it. “This is rubbish. I need to top you. You can’t out-smut me.”
“I think I did.” I take a sip of my Diet Coke and grimace at the chemical soup. Felt like a good idea at the time.
There’s not much for me to do while he fervently tries to up the smut in his chapter, so I get up again, tossing the almost full can in the trash and head down the aisles to my favorite section, fantasy. It’s tucked away in the library on this level and with the library being practically empty during these summer hours, it’s like a ghost town. In fact, I think Blake and I are the only people up here and even Treebeard isn’t anywhere to be found.
It’s just what I need. Writing the anal sex scene between Shasta and Ford in the principal’s office got me riled up enough but now that I’ve seen Blake’s reaction, that heat in his eyes, I can’t pretend I’m not turned on. I need the peace and quiet and the wonderful smell of old books to calm me down, regroup and refocus.
But even as I flick through a few Terry Goodkind novels I haven’t read, my mind tumbles through the world of ‘what ifs’. What if the book sucks and doesn’t sell a single copy? Will we write another one together or is that the end of it? The end of us?
But what if the book does amazing? Am I prepared to keep writing more? Will we work as a duo still?
Will I be able to handle being around Blake over and over again without anything more happening between us?
What if I can’t?
I have no answers.
What I do have is his sudden presence at my back. I feel his heat, his height, his strength, his build standing right behind me. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts I didn’t even hear him coming.
I swallow hard, gripping the worn copy of Sword of Truth in my hands like it’s a life raft. I’m too afraid to turn around and he’s right there, waiting for something, for me. I can hear his raspy breath, smell the sage and salt, and the electricity thrumming between us.
He doesn’t speak. I feel him shift and his hands are at the back of my head, fingers carefully sliding the elastic down the length of my hair. I close my eyes and try to steady myself as he runs his fingers through my loose strands, spreading it out on my shoulders and breathing it in, before pushing it to the side, leaving the back of my neck bare and exposed.
I inhale sharply, my skin prickling in nervous anticipation.
He places a soft, warm kiss at the back of my neck and my limbs immediately want to turn to jelly, the current of his touch running down my spine.
Stop him, I tell myself. This wouldn’t happen otherwise. You’re both just getting high on your own supply.
Yet I want to get higher.
I want to stop thinking.
I want to be free.
And I want him to show me.
Carefully, as if I’m made
I try to turn around, to meet his mouth, but he holds me in place with a hand at my waist before it slides slowly down my side, over my hips and down to the hem of my skirt. He slips his fingers underneath the fabric and starts bringing his palm up along my thigh, so large and warm against my sheltered skin.
I have a hard time swallowing. Thinking. I want this so badly but I know we shouldn’t and we shouldn’t do it here but as his fingers curve in between my legs and brush my cleft, I nearly fall over, almost delirious.
“Fuck,” he hisses at my back, withdrawing his hand. “You’re bare.”
“I was at the beach earlier,” I tell him, as if that’s a reason why I’m not wearing underwear.
“That’s even hotter. Imagining grains of sand in all those places.” He grabs both my wrists, the book dropping to my feet, and raises them above my head so I’m gripping the bookshelves, my back still to him.
“Just hold on,” he whispers gruffly.
I don’t need to ask him what he’s about to do.
I could give you an orgasm in thirty seconds, he’d once said. I smile to myself, resting my forehead against a few copies of Patrick Rothfuss novels, grateful for their soft spines. Even if his claim was all bullshit, I want him to try.
I feel him drop to his knees behind me, his hands running along my ass, squeezing and kneading until they slip under my skirt and gently tease the bottom curve where the cheeks meet the thighs. I stiffen, my skin so fucking sensitive, like a hair-trigger. Yet I’m wanting more, afraid for more, knowing that things are moving so fast and needing them to move faster.
“Patience,” he whispers, his voice choked as his fingers slide between my legs. “Do you realize how wet you are?”
I do now. Slowly, deliberately, he drags his long fingers over my clit and I gasp as the bundle of nerves threaten to shatter me.
“God, you’re like silk,” he murmurs, groaning. “So perfect.” He presses the rough pad of his finger back over the swell and makes a small circle.
Over.
And over.
Again.
Fuck.
Everything inside me tightens and I feel like a rogue bomb that could go off at any second, right here in the fucking school library. He keeps moving his finger, adding more and more pressure until the tension is nearly unbearable and my skin feels licked by flames.
My skirt lifts up higher and he’s adjusting his position behind me. Suddenly I feel his nose, the scruff of his chin on the back of my thighs and I nearly yelp from shock.
“Just relax,” he says huskily. “Bite on a book if you have to.”
I might have to. He parts my ass with his hands, squeezing my sensitive flesh hard and I grow rigid in anticipation, waiting, waiting, waiting before I feel his wet tongue snake out between my legs.
The shock makes me shudder.
He’s licking my cunt.
From behind.
His face practically buried in my ass.
I hate to be one of those virgin erotica heroines that say oh gee golly but…
Oh. Gee. Golly. And fucking then some.
But before I can come to grips with it, with what’s actually happening to me under the bright lights of the library, one of his hands goes to the front of me and his fingers start tapping along my clit, sensitive beyond belief, as his tongue keeps fucking my cunt and I am going lose my fucking mind.
He growls into me, muttering something animalistic, about how I taste like the ocean and his tongue is relentless and I can feel excess dripping down my legs. My thighs start to shake, trying to keep me upright as my body tenses and tense and tenses and…
Spills.
I grip the shelves for dear life as the orgasm slams into me and if I weren’t holding on I’d be writhing and rolling on the floor. A scream claws up my throat and I bite into the top of a paperback, trying to muffle it. Even though we’d just talked about being vocal the other day, I’m still aware we’re in a public place.
He just tongue-fucked me.
From behind.
In the fucking public library!
I don’t even know what planet I’m on because I’m not even feeling the slightest bit ashamed. It’s like all my dirty fantasies about this place have finally come true.
“That was so fucking hot,” Blake says with a groan and I hear what sounds like the crinkle of foil. I have to blink hard to come back to reality and then he’s trying to turn me around, only my hands are gripping the metal edge of the shelves so hard it’s nearly impossible to unclench them. I also think I’ll fall on my face if I don’t have the support, I’m lightheaded and my knees want to give out on me. The orgasm has rendered me into dust.
But somehow I do turn around, pressed against the shelves for support and the sight before my eyes nearly makes me delirious again. His jeans and boxer briefs are down to his ankles and his cock is protruding out in front of him as he’s poised to slip on a condom.
I don’t have much experience, but it’s seriously the largest, thickest, most intimidating dick I’ve ever seen. In person. And totally on par for what I’ve seen in porn. The sight of it in Blake’s hands, the way his fingers wrap along the thick base and slide up to the darkened tip, precum glistening in the lights, makes my head spin, my body immediately hot with need once again.
“Want to do the honors?” he asks, voice choked with desire, as he slowly slides the condom on over the tip.
Jesus.
“It looks like you’ve got a good handle on it,” I practically squeak. I can’t tear my eyes away, it’s fucking hypnotizing. Still I manage to say, “You’re pretty presumptuous.”
He grins at me and comes forward, pinning me back against the shelves. “We can quit for today,” he whispers against my throat before nipping it between his teeth. “But I’ve felt you squeeze my tongue as you came, like you were milking it. My cock is jealous.” He licks up behind my ear and groans. “Don’t you want to feel me deep inside you? How hard and thick I am, stretching you, making you full?”
“Yes,” I pant, my head going back.
He bends slightly at the knees and his hands go under my ass. Like I weigh nothing more than a feather, he hoists me up and my legs hook around his waist. At first I’m worried he won’t be able to hold me up but there’s no sign of concern from him at all except for the faint sheen of sweat on his forehead. He’s staring at me like I’m something to be conquered, so much desire and determination in his eyes, a primal need to claim.
He positions his cock at my entrance, teasing it against my clit slowly. A low hiss escapes from my lips, my body want to tense up and give in at the same time.
“I’ll take it slow,” he murmurs in my ear. “At least I’ll try to.”
He slowly pushes himself in, breathing in ragged gusts, trying to control himself as I stretch around him. I can’t even exhale. All the air, the tension, it’s trapped inside me as he works himself in, one wet inch by wet inch. Thank god he already made me wet as sin earlier otherwise I don’t think this would work. He would fucking break me in two.
“Amanda,” he whispers, my name urgent on his lips. “Fuck. This is better than I imagined.”
“You imagined this?” I manage to say, gasping lightly as he pushes in another inch.
“All the time,” he says between groans. “All the time. I’ve been wanting to do this from the very start. When I first laid eyes on you. I wanted to see how damn dirty you could be. Oh, fuck.” He pushes himself to the hilt and all the air leaves my lungs and I’ve never had someone so deep, like he’s embedding himself in me.
“You okay?” he whispers, his hooded eyes searching mine. His fingers brush the loose strands of hair from my face, already damp with sweat.
I nod, trying to swallow, my hand going to his shoulders,
He gives me the laziest half-grin and slowly pulls himself out. The drag feels incredible but when he’s almost fully out, I immediately crave the fullness.
“How good?” he says huskily, teasing me as he holds back.
I dig my heels into his ass, pulling him back into me.
We both moan and after my breath returns I say, “This good. Keep going.”
“Wasn’t planning on stopping, peach,” he says in a rasping voice, his accent thicker with pleasure.
His mouth kisses along my jawline, his stubble razing my skin until his lips join with mine. Our mouths are moving together in deep, searing kiss unlike the one yesterday, unlike any I have ever had. Our kiss, frantic, hungry, all-encompassing, leads into a rhythm that his body matches with mine as he thrusts his hips forward, his cock driving deeper and deeper inside. Every nerve in my body is being pulled inward, swirling into a hard knot, live wires tangled, begging to be set free.
He pulls his mouth away, damp from our kiss. “You feel so fucking beautiful,” he whispers, staring into my eyes, fevered with desire, and I can hardly believe these words are coming from his lips, that those lips were just kissing me. I can’t believe he’s just fucking me, here, now, so strong and thick and hard and making my body and soul feel like I’m about to step over the edge of the universe.
I run my fingers down his forearms, feeling the taught muscles as he holds me in place, then I brush my hands back up to the hard slabs of his shoulders. I dig my fingers in, needing more, wanting more. He growls unapologetically with wild lust, slamming in harder while one of his hands slips down to my clit.
He knows exactly what he’s doing.
We’re both on the verge, on that precipitous edge, and one of us has to jump.
He strokes his finger along my clit, swirling once, twice, and then that’s all it takes.
I’m an earthquake, the world, my world, broken in two and fire and light and everything that is explodes from inside me. I’m crying out, the cries escaping me, and as I hold onto him, as he starting coming inside me, I don’t care.