We had not gotten any further than the front seat of his Rav 4, the gear stick jamming into my thigh as he thrust into me. Still, there had been something sticky, sweaty, and exciting about getting it on like a couple of teenagers parked up by the river. When he'd asked for my cell number, I had actually given it to him.
“You’re serious?” He’d finally made the catwalk behind me. Rick had a death grip on the rail. “Up here?”
His knuckles were white and his eyes were just a little wider than normal. I swept my gaze around, taking in the catwalk — a steel mesh walkway, little more than 18 inches across, with thin metal pipes as handrails about hip-high. The rails wouldn’t stop you from taking a tumble, if you stretched yourself out too far to adjust the gels or replace a bulb. I’d never known a stage monkey to fall, but I suppose it happened. And Rick was no stage monkey.
“Come on,” I said. “You’re a security guard at the First and National. You could be shot at your job, and you’re telling me you’re worried about a little height?”
“It’s practically three stories! Do you know what sort of damage you’d- “ Rick spluttered.
“So you don’t fall,” I suggested.
“No help at all, Cass.”
“Wasn't trying to be. Here, give me your hand.”
I pulled him out, mid-stage. As I’d hoped, Oberon’s court was right there, tucked away for act two. “Look, isn’t it lovely?” I was justifiably proud of my work; soft and mysterious and fae, the painting was — pardon the pun — the perfect backdrop.
Rick got over his stage fright enough to admire the flat. “I think I’d recognize your brush strokes anywhere.”
“You certainly enjoyed getting painted,” I said.
“So I have a bit of personal experience with your artistic talents.”
I stepped into his arms, running my fingers through his dark hair. I knew he liked the feel of my nails along the close-cropped hair at the base of his neck. Rick bent down, just enough to softly nip at my bottom lip. His tongue flicked out and brushed against the corner of my mouth, sending delicious shivers through my spine. He knew how I liked to be kissed, not some rough, sloppy tongue-thrusts, not at first. He seduced me with his mouth, tasting me thoroughly, a slick dance of tongue and lip.
“Here, lemme see your jacket,” I helped him out of it, the process made a bit more challenging as he wouldn’t relinquish his death grip on the rails. I slid the leather off slowly, running my fingers over the hard curves of his muscles. I pressed my nose into the collar, breathing in the sweet, masculine scent. I knelt before him, spreading the jacket down on the mesh catwalk. He inhaled instinctively, looking down. My scoop-necked blouse provided an expansive view of my cleavage.
I slithered halfway up, snakelike, curling around him, hands exploring the chiseled muscles of his legs through his jeans, cupping his buttocks. I rubbed my cheek against one thigh, then used my teeth to drag the hem of his button-down shirt out over his belt. I nuzzled the sensitive flesh just near his navel with my tongue.
It wasn’t but a moment’s work to unbuckle his belt and tug the zipper down. I licked at each inch of flesh as I exposed it, kissing and nibbling around his flat belly.
“You’re gonna make my knees go out,” he half-complained as I reached inside his boxers to find his cock. As usual, it wasn’t lost. I gave his already hard prick a gentle squeeze, then pulled his pants down around his knees.
“Sit, then. I’ll help you.” I guided him down, getting his jacket underneath his backside. The gridding of the catwalk wasn’t exactly comfortable on naked flesh. I’d certainly knelt on it often enough to regret it. The last thing anyone wanted was hatch-mark bruises on their ass.
“There we go… safe and sound,” I crooned. He straddled the catwalk, one booted foot on either side, hanging off into space. “I’ll be on top.” His eyes glittered appreciatively. I mounted him, feeling his hot flesh press against mine, the length of his cock firm against my pussy. Instinctively, he thrust his hips against me, seeking my wet depths. His hands left the rail — finally! — to take almost painful hold of my thighs. I locked my legs around his waist.
I started to peel my blouse off, and had barely cleared my chin when Rick caught hold of my shirt, twisting it and pinning my arms, elbows bent, behind my back. My nipples puckered in excitement and an odd, stomach- trembling fear. Trapped in my own shirt, I couldn’t see and didn’t dare struggle, even in play. I wasn’t afraid of heights; falling, however, would be a buzz kill.
Caught, exposed, I shivered, waiting. Rick shifted under me, and his warm breath fanned across my neck. Slowly, he traced one finger up my side. I squirmed — he knew I was ticklish — but I couldn’t get away.
“Rick…”
“Shhh,” he whispered, “I got you.”
“Not exactly what I was concerned abou-“ My sarcasm was cut off as his tongue unexpectedly tweaked the very tip of my nipple. I gasped, straining towards his teasing mouth, but he backed off in equal measure, keeping me moaning and wanting. I squirmed against him, grinding my hips against his and drawing from him an answering groan.
He relented, drawing my nipple into his mouth and suckling, white bolts of sensation through my nerves. Not being able to see, I quivered in anticipation of each touch, each lick. His rough breathing, the creak of his leather jacket under his legs, the wet, hot sound of his mouth on my breast, each noise and sound clear, magnified by the acoustics and visual deprivation.
My feet dangled off either side of the catwalk, my thighs pulled roughly against Rick’s waist. From time to time, he would sway, or move us from side to side and I would tighten my legs again, forced to wonder if he was, actually, being careful. My stomach did a roller-coaster flip. My breathing sped until I was panting. Sweat beaded the back of my neck, the prickle of fear along my scalp made each sensation more powerful, more intense.
Finally Rick whipped my shirt the rest of the way off. I gasped as the cool stage air kissed my sweat-damp hair. I snagged it away from him long enough to hang it over the rails — I didn’t fancy the idea climbing down the ladder half-naked to fetch it. “There we go,” I said. I grabbed the rails. I'm not bulked up, but switching drops — even with the assistance of pulleys and rope — isn’t easy. You have to ease them down, slowly, gracefully. My biceps and triceps are firm; my grip is strong; I have more upper body strength than most women.
I lifted myself up, twisting with my hips, grinding down on Rick’s cock. He jerked, instinctively seeking my enclosing heat; the tip of his prick slid into my pussy and I sighed. “Got you now,” I triumphed.
“Think again,” Rick said. He slid his hand between our bodies, using the inch or so I’d given him. He tickled along my pussy, seeking, then finding my clit. He rubbed gently, flicking the tiny nub back and forth. “Now, you stay here,” he ordered. “If you drop onto my hand, I’ll stop.”
I stared at him. I’m strong, but my arms were already trembling.
“You heard me. You’re going to torture me by dragging me up here, expect me to pay it back in spades.”
I tightened my hands on the rails; damn, my palms were already sweaty. Good thing I used to ride horseback. I squeezed my thighs, holding my body as steady as I could. Rick’s hand never ceased to move, working my clit, teasing the inside of my pussy, back to the clit. My heart pounded and within moments, I was tense and shaking. Sweat dripped down my spine.
“I can’t, I can’t, I…” I was choking the words out, nearly incoherent in lust, wanting, fear.
“You can,” he said. “Easy…” Rick slid his hand up my damp back, blew cold air along my chest, his other hand between my legs never ceasing. My skin tingled, sheathed me in gooseflesh. My nipples, already hard, prickled. I thrust my chest forward and he took one nipple into his mouth, licking and biting.
I twisted my hips violently, so close, so close. My voice came in short, hard moans, gasping cries that echoed around us.
“You can,” Rick said, again, his words muffled against my chest, the scrape of his beard against the soft flesh of my breasts. “It’s all right. You know you can.”
I lost my grip. I came so hard I bit the inside of my cheek, tasted blood. I felt the world tip under me. I was falling, falling. Vertigo took over and I shrieked, relishing the adrenaline rush. Fear and culmination blended into one unutterable sensation. One perfect moment of bliss. My muscles froze, ice and glass, then shattered. I went limp; relief that I hadn't fallen adding a piquant spice.
As always, the drop back into my body was an agony of sensation; I twisted away from Rick’s teasing fingers, desperate to regain a little bit of my self. He soothed me, nuzzling at my belly. His beard tickled along my
