Uncivilized by Sawyer Bennett
I've come to learn a lot more about Moira. Her father and mother were both anthropologists, which is where she got her drive and desire to follow in their footsteps. Her sister, Lisa, is a stay-at-home mother, having married an electrical engineer--whatever that means--and she's happily raising their two children on the coast of North Carolina. My questions to her about her personal life have become endless and so far, I know that outside of being probably the only woman that will ever satisfy my lust, that she is funny, smart, and mischievous. She loves old western movies because she used to watch them with her father, and she's terrified of cats for some reason, but spiders don't scare her at all. I know she lightly snores when she sleeps on her back, but when she's tucked into my body on her side, she sleeps deeply and without sound. Her favorite book is Fifty Shades of Grey... a book that she loaned to me, but I couldn't make it past the first chapter. She smirked at me when I told her that and said I was missing out on some valuable sex lessons I could put to use. I immediately picked it back up and made myself read it, but frankly... it didn't teach me anything I couldn't figure out on my own.
Nights with Moira are the best because we secret ourselves away in either her bedroom or mine, and she lets me do whatever I want to her body. My favorite thing, by far, is making her come with my mouth. Sometimes, I'll start with my face between her legs, but sometimes, I'll pound out my own orgasm first, fucking her furiously as I race to the finish line. Then I'll pull out of her and while I'm still drowning from lack of oxygen, I'll push my mouth against her pussy and eat her all up until she's crying out her own orgasm.
This nightclub we're in is nothing I ever expected. It's three stories tall, and there was a huge, black man with bulging muscles and facial piercings guarding the door. A velvet rope cordoned off the entrance, and a long line of people waited outside to get in. Per Cara's instructions, I gave my name to the huge dude, and he let Moira and me in with a brilliantly white smile.
The inside of the building is completely open, with a massive dance floor in the middle and a mirrored bar that spans three of the walls. The ceiling extends three stories above and, looking up, I see several balconies lining the walls above me, reached by private staircases. Cara had told me that they were in VIP balcony room number three, and to just ask the bartender where that was. Apparently, Cara and Clint come here regularly and are afforded their own private place, in which they can sip their fancy cocktails and watch the dancers down below.
After a quick stop at the bar where Moira orders something called a Screwdriver and I get myself a beer, we follow the bartender's directions and climb a staircase to the third level. A solid red door meets us at the top and I push it open, immediately seeing Cara and Clint sitting next to each other, their blond heads angled in as if they're having a private conversation. Even though the club is thumping with loud music, it's relatively quiet inside this small room, and I see that's due to double glass doors that are closed to the open club. As soon as they hear us come in, their heads turn toward us in unison.
Cara's smile goes bright when she sees me, but then it dims when she notices Moira. Clint immediately jumps up, claps me on the back, and pulls Moira in for a close hug. I immediately want to kill the fucker.
For the next two hours, I stand at the balcony's edge and sip on a few beers, while I watch the dancers down below me. I keep the doors closed because the music is grating to my ears, and it makes me long for the soft lyrics of the tribal women who sing at our feasts. I declined the invitation to dance, but from my perch above, I can watch Moira as she gyrates her hips with moves so sexy that I have a perpetual hard-on. Cara takes it one step further, moving her body in an almost pornographic way, her arms raised above her head. Sometimes, Clint comes up behind his sister and holds onto her hips while he sways his own in unison with her. It looks disgusting to watch the siblings dancing so provocatively with each other. If he even thinks about doing that to Moira, he's a dead man.
I watch for a moment as they dance and wonder how soon Moira and I can leave. I have a powerful need for her, but what else is new in my life? She's becoming almost a necessity to me, which further increases my dangerous mood.
Eventually, Moira heads off the floor, pushing her way through the mob as she heads toward the bathroom. There's a line almost as long as the one outside to get in, so I know she'll be a while. I sigh with frustration as I watch Clint and Cara make their way back to the staircase to join me back up on the VIP balcony.
Cara slinks into the private room and heads straight for me. She takes me by the hand, leading me over to the couch, and I don't think to resist. Clint goes over to the private mini-bar and pours himself another drink. He and Cara have been pounding the liquor pretty hard, and they're both drunk.
Cara flops onto the couch and pulls me down beside her. She drapes her arms around my neck and says in a silky voice, "So Zach... Clint and I were wondering if you and Moira wanted to come back to my apartment and party with us."
Interesting that she invited Moira because I know she considers her a nuisance by the way she treats her. "What do you mean by 'party'?"
She flutters her eyelashes at me. "Oh you know... maybe a little coke... a little Ecstasy. Something to loosen up Miss Frigid Pants."
I have no clue what she means by any of this, but it doesn't sound like something I would enjoy, nor would I want Moira to experience it with them. "I think we'll take a pass."
Clint walks up behind us to stand behind the couch. With his drink in one hand, he reaches another out and caresses Cara softly on the back of her neck. "If you're not into a four-way, we can split off."
"Split off?" I ask stupidly, because while I think I have an idea of what he's saying, the prospect is starting to cause my blood to boil.
"Yeah," Clint says as his glazed eyes stare at me. "Cara and I get off on the group sex thing but, if that doesn't appeal, you can have a crack at Cara and I'd love to fuck Moira until she can barely stand."
My vision goes red, and I actually get a moment of brief dizziness from the blazing rage that filters through me. Not at the offer to do a four-way because only these vacuous people would be so deviant as to suggest something like that, and I find that not surprising in the least. But fury rises swift over Clint thinking he could even be entitled to breathe the same air as Moira, much less think he can fuck her.
I surge off the couch, turning toward Clint with a murderous stare. "What did you just say?"
He has no clue the danger he's in, and I notice Cara watches me with a lustful gleam in her eye. "Moira," Clint repeats as if I'm stupid. "I want to fuck her. I bet she has the sweetest, tightest pus--"
I go flying across the couch, leaping it with ease, and slam my hands into Clint's chest. He goes careening back into the wall beside the mini-bar, causing glasses to lurch and two bottles to fall over where they shatter on the floor. His own drink goes flying, and then I'm on him. Wrapping both hands around his neck, I squeeze and watch his eyes fly open in fear.
"Oh, Zach... why the dramatics?" Cara drawls from her perch on the couch. I see her sitting there watching us with mild interest, but she frankly seems bored. "If you don't want to, you just have to say 'no'. Although, I honestly don't know what you see in Moira. She seems a little mousy to me."
I close my eyes, take in a deep breath and, when I open them back up, I turn my stare onto Clint. "Don't you ever fucking talk about Moira like that again. Don't you even think about touching her. If I even see you so much as glance at her again, I will fucking end your life, you miserable piece of shit."
Clint nods his head vigorously in understanding, fear having diminished the drunken glaze in his eyes. I release my hold on his throat, and his hand comes up to rub at his skin.
Cara starts laughing behind me, and it gets louder as I can hear her walk closer. Her fingers come to the back of my neck, and she scrapes her nails along my skin. I jerk my head away from her and step back, looking at her warily.
"Oh, this is delicious," Cara sa
Clint's eyes go wide but he doesn't say anything, my warning about Moira apparently still fresh in his mind.
"See," she croons to her brother as she strokes his chest with her hand. His arm goes possessively around her waist, and he pulls her in tight to him. "He doesn't deny it."
My fingers curl inward to dig my nails into my palms, and I've never wanted to do violence to a woman before... until this very moment.
"Let's go, darling," Cara says, taking Clint by the hand to lead him toward the door. She turns her head toward me and gives me an appraising look. "This has been very insightful, Zach. I'm sure Uncle Randall would be very interested to know that Moira's professionalism isn't quite as professional as he took it."
I never hesitate for a second. "Just as I'm sure he'd be interested to know that you and your brother are sick fucks that are screwing each other."
Cara blanches, so I know I hit the nail on the head. Clint pulls her by the hand toward the door. "Let's go, Cara."
"Stay the fuck away from Moira," I warn both of them. "You do not want to incur my wrath."
Neither of them responds as they walk out the door, and I let out a sigh of relief when they're gone. I walk back to the couch and sink down onto it. A tiny laugh escapes my lips, and then turns into a full-fledged guffaw.
I can't believe that just fucking happened. I can't believe those twisted fucks propositioned Moira and me like that, and I can't believe I refrained from killing Clint. Moira would be so proud of me.
Standing back up, I walk over to the mini-bar and pull another beer out of the fridge. I twist the cap, throw it in the garbage, and take a huge gulp.
The door to the private room opens, and Moira walks through. She dressed tonight like she wanted to come dancing... like she wanted to show me the way her body could move. Her dress is silver and slinky, tying around her neck and plunging deep down her chest. The hem is short, barely covering her ass, but hangs loosely so it swishes as she walks. She paired it with a pair of black heels with wide, leather straps around her ankles, and when I first saw them, I thought they would look fucking magnificent resting on my shoulders while I pounded away inside of her.
All thoughts of Clint and Cara melt away, and my body reacts as it normally does when I see Moira. Whether she's in jeans and a T-shirt or a fuck-me-in-the-club dress, I get a raging hard-on for her.
As she closes the door behind her, I set the beer down on the bar and stride toward the vision before me. Her eyes smile at me and she opens her mouth to say something, but I cut her off by bringing my lips to hers. I give her a punishing kiss filled with lust and need, plunging my tongue in deeply and pulling her hips inward so I can grind my erection against her.
She pushes back at me slightly and gasps, "What's gotten in to you?"
"I want to fuck you... right now," I tell her and kiss her again. She indulges me for a moment but then pushes at my chest once more.
"No... we can't. Clint and Cara could come in. One of the waitresses or something."
Grabbing Moira by the hand, I lead her to the balcony, opening the double doors and letting the pulsing music overwhelm me. I pull Moira in tight to my body and put my lips near her ear so she can hear me. "Clint and Cara are gone and aren't coming back. And I am going to fuck you right now."
Moira jerks in my arms, not over the surprise that Clint and Cara are gone but by the urgent need in my voice. "What? No, we can't. This is a public place."
"This is a private VIP room," I tell her, and then lean in to claim her mouth again. She sinks into me, dueling her tongue with mine, her fingertips digging into the flesh at my biceps.
She capitulates so easily, and I love that about her. That she never thinks to deny a single desire for her that I have.
"The couch," she mutters against my lips.
"Too far away," I growl back at her, tearing my mouth from hers. Turning her around in my arms, I face her out toward the open nightclub below us. Laser lights and writhing dancers fill the scene. I glance around at the other balconies, but because the lights don't filter up this far, it's fairly shadowed. Still out in the open, but dark and secluded.
Just fucking perfect.
Pressing my front up against Moira's back, I push her forward until her belly comes to rest against the wrought-iron railing on the small, two-foot balcony just outside the double doors. Her upper back burns against me as I step in closer to her, making sure she can feel my erection that rests against her lower back.
I rub my nose softly against the back of her head, smelling the shampoo I told her to buy. Leaning to the side to kiss her neck, I graze my teeth along her tender flesh. She shivers in my arms and tilts her head to the side to give me better access, her hands gripping the iron railing with white knuckles.
"I want you to just stand there... spread your legs apart for me just a bit more."
Her chest heaves with anticipation, and she moves to do my bidding. I reach down and touch my fingers to the back of one thigh, then skim them upward until I slip under the hem of her dress, around the rounded globe of one beautiful ass cheek, which is deliciously bare feeling.
Leaning down to the side, I take a peek, thinking she didn't wear any underwear and thinking that is the hottest thing ever, but I'm rewarded with a thin, black strip of lace that crawls up the middle of her ass.
Ahhh... a thong. No, that is fucking hot right there.
Looping my finger under the back strap of her underwear, I drag downward, pulling the material out from between the cheeks of her ass and inching it to the side, leaving her smooth pussy open and vulnerable to me. My finger takes a swipe between those lips, and I feel her honeyed wetness.
I fucking feel like I'm dying right now, so insatiable is my need for her. I can't wait another minute so I hastily undo my pants and pull my cock out, ignoring the bite of my zipper that sits just below my balls. Oh well, a little pain always makes it interesting.
I dip my knees and guide my shaft to Moira's slick entrance, pushing firmly against her and sinking balls deep in one fluid move.
Moira sucks in a huge gulp of air and says, "Oh, God. I can't believe we're doing this."
I smile and kiss the back of her head, wrapping one arm around her waist to hold her upright and placing the other one on the balcony railing for balance.
I pump my hips against her, having to keep my knees bent for the right angle. If anyone were to look up, and if they were able to see us through the shadow and haze, it might look like I was just standing behind my girlfriend in an intimate embrace. Or it might look like I was slowly fucking her from behind.
I'm not sure, nor do I care.
I mean... Moira's fully clothed and her skirt is loose enough that it still covers her front nicely. Other than the slow grind of my hips against her, which may look like I'm swaying to the music--or it may look like I'm fucking her from behind--I'm not sure it's that obvious what we're doing.
Not that I could give a fuck. I'm too lost within the rapture of her body to care, and nothing could pull me away from her at this very moment.
I slowly push in and out of Moira, my breathing ragged and raw. We both stare down at the dancers, lost in our own thoughts and pleasures.
After pushing in extra deep, Moira's head falls back and lands on my shoulder, her eyes closed, her mouth hanging open while exquisite pleasure coats her face. But she's not making enough noise for me. She's too afraid to let loose, even though no one could hear her over the music.
I drop the arm that's banded around her waist and snake my fingers under the front of her dress. Dipping below the edge of her thong, I immediately find her swollen clit, where I rub at it softly in tune with the beat of my thrusts.
Moira's cries out, "Fuck, Zach," and her hips start circling against my hand.
Now... if anyone is looking right now, and maybe they are, they'd know without a doubt that we're fucking. The prospect is thrilling to me.
One of Moira's hands lock around my wrist and her head pops up. Leaning to the side, without even missing one fucking thrusting beat, I see her eyes are open wide with fear and pleasure.
"Stop," she pleads. "Someone might see."
"No fucking way," I tell her, and I start moving a little faster, both my cock and my finger against her clit.
"Oh, God, oh God, Oh God," she chants and even though she's terrified of being seen, her hips still buck in a frenzy against me.
"Tell me you're close, baby," I growl urgently in her ear. "Because I am getting ready to fucking unload, and I can't hold it back."
Moira's head nods furiously at me and I start slamming into her, pushing her hard into the balcony railing. I feel her body squeeze around my cock and, once again, her head slams back into my shoulder as she cries out in orgasmic surrender. Tremors course through her body, and I feel a flood of more wetness from the walls of her pussy coat my cock.
And fuck... I'm coming. I slam deep one more time and close my eyes, concentrating on the feel of Moira spasming around me while my cock continues to unload my semen into her.
I issue another low groan and pull her hips back into mine, lodging my cock deeper yet. Wrapping one arm around her stomach and another across her chest, I squeeze her tight to me. We stay like that a moment... or ten... time seems to stop for both of us. I don't hear the music; the flashing lights and gyrating bodies mean absolutely nothing to me.
All I care about in this moment is this women wrapped in my arms and the feel of her warm pussy still gently holding my cock.
Nuzzling down into her neck, which smells like wild orchids and spring rain, I whisper to her, "I don't think I can ever stop with you, Moira."
Chapter 22
Moira
I pace back and forth in my room, chewing on a thumbnail. Glancing at my watch for like the tenth time in the last ten minutes, I start for my bedroom door and then turn around to resume the trail of worry that I'm imbedding in the carpet.