All Strung Out by Josey Alden Page A

knowing we would never touch each other in the most intimate way? How many nights did I burn with desire next to him, feeling like every moment with him was somehow a tease that was becoming harder to ignore?
    I shake off the image. Hondo is not here, but Mark is. Mark is the one who stayed, the one who is here now. He straddles the piano bench, facing me, his erection at full attention, waiting impatiently for me to join him.
    I reach down and caress him, running a finger along the velvet edge of the head. He closes his eyes as his breathing quickens. I make a circle with my finger and thumb and slide it down the full length of him. A third of the way down, I can't keep the tips of my fingers together. He's thick, and he trembles under my touch. Thinking about how he feels inside me makes all of my nerves tingle with need. We moved past desire and want a few days ago. Now, my body demands to have him inside me again.
    I stand up and slip out of my clothes while Mark moves closer to the middle of the bench. I tease him, knowing I could push him over the edge too soon this way, but forcing him to endure the delay, anyway. I make my way around him with light touches and kisses all over his cheeks, neck, shoulders, and chest. My lips burn each time they touch his overheated skin.
    "Sophie," he whispers hoarsely, and I know I have to take him now.
    I straddle his thighs, facing him, and guide him into my body. Then, I lower myself slowly to his thighs, squeezing him deep inside. He moans and thrusts up against me. I don't let him run, though. I keep him reined in as I take three more leisurely trips up and down. Every inch of him pushes my pleasure to an almost unbearable place. My body shakes with anticipation.
    He then turns hard as iron inside me. This is my cue. I wrap my arms tighter around his shoulders, and he grabs my hips, taking control. Every time I reach his thighs, he thrusts up to meet me. Our cries are a duet now, growing louder each time our bodies lock together. I lose the boundary line between his body and mine as we slam together toward release.
    He comes with a shout and clamps me down tight against his lap as his aftershocks roll inside me.
    Now, it's my turn. I untangle myself from Mark and then sink to the floor. I lie on my back, not worried about the mess we're making. I pull my knees back to make room for him between my thighs. When he kneels and goes down on me, he uses his tongue to massage my delicate folds. My back arches at the soft, insistent touch. He shows me no mercy as I writhe beneath him and call out his name. He holds my thighs tight with his hands, keeping me where he wants me. As the pressure mounts in my body, it feels like I will lose my mind before I come. I've lost all control as I moan and twist beneath him, his tongue orchestrating my every sensation.
    And then my body contracts, and I fall over the edge, with wave after wave of pure pleasure crashing into me. With Mark still hanging on, it takes me a few moments to finish. He knows how to keep my orgasm going to the very, excruciating end.
    After, he lies next to me on the floor, one leg over mine. I let my mind drift, still floating on the clouds of pleasure. Even though my eyes are closed, I know Mark is staring at me. I feel his breath against my cheek. As long as I'm warm, I'm content to stay there forever.
    But when the post-sex chill sets in, I start crying, softly, just as I have every time we've been together this week. This is when I have to confess that I know what Hondo means when he talks about being alone. Even with Mark inside me, I sometimes feel a deep hunger and a gnawing loneliness at the same time. I never felt that way with Hondo. He filled me with all the things I couldn't find for myself: love, humor, hope. I was the one who made sex a big deal, not him. Was it worth losing him?
    I can't stop wondering what Hondo meant when he wrote, "Sophie, welcome to our new life. Love, Ho."

Scene 2 ~ Mark
    Sophie's been