Slowly, Mara climbs up onto my lap, straddling me on the chaise. She pulls her linen dress overhead, letting it drop on the floor behind her. Underneath, she wears only a skimpy lace thong, no bra.
Her bare breasts sit directly in front of my face, small, round, soft, and ripe.
Her tight little nipples poke out, brown as her freckles, pierced through with silver rings.
Cupping the base of my skull in her palm, Mara draws my head toward her breast.
“Close your mouth around my nipple,” she says.
Flushed from that long orgasm, I don’t think or plan. I only obey.
“Suck on my tits,” Mara says. “Soft. Slow. Feel what they feel like in your mouth, against your tongue.”
My mouth latches onto her breast, taking the whole nipple in my mouth. Its stiff pebbled tip lies firmly against my tongue. The round swell of her breast presses pleasantly against my lips. Her skin smells of the intoxicating perfume Mara chose at the store, selecting the one that incited me the most without me ever saying a word.
I suckle on her breast, trying to shut off my impulse to look up at her face to gauge how effective I am. I close my eyes, focusing on my own sensations. Letting the soft sounds of her moans, and the tightness of her waist between my hands, guide me.
Her nipple swells in my mouth, warming and softening against my tongue. The silver ring remains cool and unchanging, ice that can never melt.
Slowly I increase the pressure, not because I can feel that it causes Mara to grind harder on my stiffening cock, but purely for the satisfaction of sucking harder.
Mara pushes herself up, then lowers down on my cock, her lace thong pulled to the side. Her pussy is drenched, so wet that I feel it on my thighs. She’s so close to climax that she’s already riding me hard, starting at a gallop.
I release her breast and seize the other in my mouth, sucking hard, ravaging it, trying to fit as much as possible in my mouth. The silver ring like the tine of a fork, or the lip of a glass: serving her nipple to me.
The sensation satisfies like eating, like drinking. I’m devouring her. Gulping her down.
Mara starts to cum. She’s clutching the back of my head, pushing my mouth harder against her breast, slamming her pussy down on my cock.
I swallow her breasts. When I’m full to the brim, I explode inside of her.
Sometime later, we’re still sitting on the couch in the same position. Mara’s head rests on my shoulder. I’m trailing my fingertips lightly up and down her spine.
I can tell she likes it—her body is heavy and sleepy, her soft sighs tickling my ear.
I’m not thinking about that. I’m focusing on the feeling of her skin beneath my fingertips. Her warmth and her softness.
When Mara finally lifts her head and sits back on my thighs, the silver rings on her chest glint in the moonlight. We’ve yet to turn on any lamps. Stars reflect on the glassy ocean below us, like half have fallen down into the water.
I say, “Those rings are the only useful thing Shaw has ever done.”
Mara’s mouth falls open, letting out an outraged laugh.
“That’s so fucked up!” she cries.
“Oh shut up,” I say. “You like them too.”
Mara smacks me hard on the shoulder, unable to hide that I’m right.
“Why is that?” I ask her.
She considers.
“They suit me. I like the way they feel. And in a strange way, as awful as that night was, it brought me to you. The value in horrible things is what you make of them. As long as you’re alive, you can still turn shit into gold.”
“You’re glad you’re here?” I ask her, my eyes intently fixed on her face. Wanting to know the truth, whatever she might say.
“Yes,” Mara says softly, without hesitation.
“Why?”
I’m thinking it’s what I bring her: the money, the clothes, the connections, the orgasms.
Mara grins. “I told you. It’s interesting. And I hate being bored.”
“Me too,” I say, just as passionate on this topic as Mara. “I really fucking hate it.”
3
Mara
When I first came to Cole’s house, I thought our confrontation with Shaw was imminent.
Instead, Cole sucks me into a cycle of long bouts of labor on our respective work, hedonistic meals to recover, and wild, experimental sex.
Cole meant what he said, that he would always be with me, always by my side. He even breaks his own routine of working in his private studio, joining the rest of us plebs in the shared building.
With all his designs and materials filling the largest studio at the end of the hall, we’re never further than a few doors down from each other.