by Miranda Veil
I’m blushing as he stares at me. I’m sure he can hear her from the phone, she’s certainly loud enough. He tilts my head so I’m holding the phone between my ear and shoulder then smirks as he kisses down my stomach, and I squirm in shame. I hate my stomach, and it makes no sense for me to suddenly become self-conscious, but something about him touching it and kissing it makes me uneasy. His eyes flash against mine, holding me firmly.
“Shhh…stop hiding from me…” he coos.
His fingers pry my thighs apart, grip behind my knees then they lift them till my feet rest on the edge of the couch. I feel like a puppet; his hands molding me into the perfect position for his plans. He then grips my hips firmly, and tilts them forward.
Please don’t…not now.
“Riley, I really need to go.”
There’s no way I can hold it together with her on the phone for long. Not with him…
“No. You’re going to explain everything to me. Right now. I deserve to know what the hell is going on and where the hell you are! I worry about you, idiot! You’ve never hidden things from me, before! ”
His tongue traces the outer edge of my pussy, moving ever closer to the center as he holds my thighs apart. I’m struggling to clamp them together, to hint somehow…to beg him not to…but he’s surprisingly strong for his lean stature. He’s holding my thighs spread without much effort and gazing up at me as if waiting for me to continue the conversation.
“I’ll tell you when I’m on my way home.” I snap.
“That’s not good enough!”
She’s screaming, on the verge of bursting into hysterical tears, and I’m caught somewhere between ecstasy and grief.
“I know it’s not. Just please don’t worry about me. Please just…”
My sentence is cut off with a sharp gasp as he buries his mouth between my thighs, his tongue lightly flicking over my clit before plunging deep into me. It slithers around, drawing circles and coaxing waves of pleasure from my body. My thoughts grow hazy, my hips tilting higher to meet his mouth. I bite back a groan of pleasure, my eyes fluttering as the room grows hazy and clouded.
“Riley, trust me, please.” I manage to stutter. “I’ll call you when I’m on my way.”
He pulls the phone down from my shoulder, never missing a beat with his lips and tongue, and hits the ‘End Call’ button before Riley can reply. He tosses the phone to the side where it begins vibrating wildly against the wood floor, but I’m too far gone to care.
Moving up, he kisses me passionately, slipping his soaked tongue between my lips. In my ravenous hunger, I return his kiss deeply, sucking his tongue and lapping the taste of my body from his lips. Reaching up, he unfastens my hands from the couch, then leads me down the hall and up the winding stairs to the bedroom, by the rope. He places me on the bed face down, slipping pillows under my hips to prop me up then ties the rope to the head of the bed and moves behind me. Leaning down, he kisses along my spine from my lower back to my neck, causing my back to arch in response and my lips to gasp. Words seem to fail me, as I’m washed away by his presence.
He crawls onto the bed behind me and places a hand on my lower back, letting his thumb dip down and gently rub against my ass, as he positions the tip of his cock against my dripping lips.
“Mm yes, you will be perfect…” he moans as he slides into me in one, smooth thrust.
Slowly, he rocks his agile body back and forth, sliding every inch of his impressive cock into me, burying it deep then drawing it out for a second and repeating. The ravenous beast within me roars in triumph, finally being given what it’s wanted and craved. It spreads its arms, stares into the sky and roars in exaltation, sending my skin prickling and my hair to stand on end as its voice pulses through my body.
He picks up speed, the tip of his thumb tentatively slipping into my tight hole as slams inside of me. Faster, faster, and I feel every inch of my body throbbing in pleasure. More…more. I need more.
The nails of his free hand dig into my hip as he guides me back onto him. His panting, grunts and moans dance in the air, mingling and mixing with my own. Louder and louder; my moans drift effortlessly though my lips and my vision grows fuzzy and dim, my eyes choosing, instead, to roll back and enjoy as he takes every inch of me, and makes me his. As our bodies slip into a common rhythm; his thrusts become more intense and my body presses back against him to drive him deep. The movements become a blur, an unconscious need that doesn’t require my brain to give the go-ahead. It’s an instinctual coupling, and I can think of nothing. Nothing except the feeling of his body against mine.
“Please…please don’t stop” I beg through gritted teeth.
My muscles tense, my wrists tug against my bonds, fingernails biting into my palm. My heart forces blood through my veins in time with his thrusts. Just as I teeter on the edge of the precipice, his hand slips down my back and knots itself in my hair, tugging back.
“Come for me. Scream for me!”
My voice rings out for the entire Quarter to hear, and I can’t stop it. The screams flow unchecked, mixed with the mutilated fractions of words somehow stringing themselves together into incomprehensible begging. A desperate plea for him.
Finding renewed strength, he thrusts harder, threatening to rip my body into pieces. My orgasm crashes against my body with the strength of fifteen Mack trucks, and leaves me blind. My vision shifts from pure blackness to blinding red speckled with dancing lights. Every sound…every material thing in the room slips and melts, falling away from us and leaving our bodies exposed. The world around us falls away as we find ourselves caught in this beautiful, sweat-splattered dance, and I love every second of it. I breathe it in and taste it on my lips. I feel it in every cell…in every spark that gives me life, and know I’m hopelessly addicted to a drug like no other.
My heart slows its racing rhythm; my muscles too exhausted to tremble. The weight of his body collapses upon my back, where he stays for a few seconds, and his thumbs use this time to run lightly over my shoulder blades. He rolls to the side, still struggling to catch his breath, and releases the ropes from the headboard. His fingers delicately loosen the binds around my wrists, the indentation of which can still be seen against my skin, and the rope falls lifelessly to the floor. As he turns me on my side, he holds me close, pulling my head to his chest. Neither of us can speak as we lay there; sweat glistening from our skin from the morning’s workout. His heart is pounding, beating out an intense rhythm in my ears as he reaches over and strokes my hair gently, and after several moments, it seems he’s found his voice.
“You are an incredibly alluring woman. Your moans…your screams. I love listening to you. A man can become addicted to sounds like those.” He breathes.
I blush, and bury my face against his chest, kissing the glistening skin and tasting the salt from his sweat on my lips. He kisses my forehead as my eyes flutter and close, my body completely drained of every ounce of energy. I can’t muster enough to speak, and I let myself succumb to darkness and my dreams.
Chapter 19
I’m alone in his bed. The sun is high in the sky, and the heat caused from its intrusion through the windows this morning has waned, if only slightly. I pad into the living room, where he’s typing away on his laptop in the same position he always seems to be in. I’m still naked, and quickly move over to the table to grab my clothes while attempting to cover myself with my hands. He peeks up at me as I scurry by, and chuckles.
“Please, my dear. I’ve seen it all, now. There’s no need to feel embarrassed.”
“I know…” I reply, suddenly very aware of my nakedness “but if it’s all the same, I’d like to get dressed.”
He waves his hand as if giving me permission, and I scoop up my clothes and pull them on sans panties, as they’re still lying, shredded, on the floor at his feet. I find my phone on the table next to my clothes; he must’ve picked it up for me.
“I took the liberty of talking to your friend.”
I cock an ey
ebrow at him, but he doesn’t break his eyes from his work.
“You were asleep, and she must’ve called a dozen times. I didn’t want to be responsible for sending your friend to the hospital with a panic attack, and so, I spoke with her to ease her mind.”
He did what?
He glances up for a moment to assess the look on my face then turns back to his work.
“I explained to her that I was a friend of yours, and that you were tired from making the trip so early in the morning. I reassured her that you were safe, that I would let no harm come to you, and that you stopped here at my request. I told her I had you eat, then you were so tired you could barely stand, and so I let you sleep a bit before your trip back home. She sounded quite grateful. She’s a pleasant girl, that friend of yours. She cares and worries deeply for you. So as not to make me out to be a liar, I have some eggs and toast on the counter if you’re hungry.”
I take a deep breath to ease my anger. I don’t like anyone touching my phone, and him taking the liberty of speaking with Riley was entirely inappropriate, even if it was under the best intentions.
“I’m not all that hungry. Thank you, though.”
“Suit yourself.”
I’m speechless. I would be incredibly surprised if she really believed anything he said. I’m sure she’s at least a bit suspicious; however, he is quite gifted with his words, so maybe it isn’t as farfetched as I may think…
“I do owe you a trip around town, sometime. Sadly, it won’t be today. I have a lot of work to catch up on and it’s already past noon. You’ll forgive me, I hope?”
His passion and warmth have disappeared from his voice, and his demeanor makes me question my own memories of the hours before. He voice, though tinged with that hint of concern that so often accompanies his words, sounds a bit more business-like than I was hoping for. It sounds like we’re just discussing work, and nothing more.
“That’s fine. I probably should head home soon anyway.”
“Mhm.” he mumbles, his fingers dancing along the keys of his computer.
I grab my keys and belongings, and move towards the door. He gets so engrossed in his work, and I can relate. I understand…don’t I?
As I open the door, I feel his hand on my shoulder. The silence of his movements is a bit unsettling, and I jump at his touch. He turns me to face him, wraps me in his arms and presses his lips passionately against mine. As he pulls away, he tucks one of my curls behind my ear then kisses my forehead. The touch of his lips to my head sends relief washing through my body mixed with …something I can’t quite put my finger on. What is that feeling?
“I had fun.” He smiles, running the tip of his finger over my nose. I can still smell myself on his skin, and it’s so sexy.
“Me too.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks. I haven’t felt this infatuated since high school, and silently scold myself for acting so childish. Blushing on a dime is embarrassing. I should have a better hold on myself.
“The next time we meet, I expect you to bring all of those lovely little toys you’ve shown me.”
The blush deepens and he smiles, leaning down to press another gentle kiss to my lips before moving back to the couch to continue his work. I walk out the door and slip into my car, my mind still struggling to believe everything that has happened despite my body showing all the evidence. I slip in my headset and call Riley, praying to whatever divine being exists that she won’t shiv me when I walk through the door.
“Hey, Cass!” she answers excitedly.
Wow, she sounds chipper.
“Riley, I’m sorry about earlier, I must’ve…”
“Oh, Cass, I had no idea you were so exhausted! Why didn’t you just say that? You poor thing. Are you on your way home? I can make dinner. What about a steak? It’s a nice day so far, and I bet it’d be a great evening to break out the grill. I’m still mad, why didn’t you tell me you’d been working so hard! Here, I thought something awful was going on, like you were hooked on cocaine or something.” She chirps. It doesn’t sound like she took a single breath, and I’m surprised when she stops talking so abruptly.
“Riley, when have you ever known me to take drugs?”
“Well! I don’t know. Never, I suppose. That doesn’t mean you wouldn’t start!”
I laugh and tell her to pick whatever she wants for dinner, then hang up to continue the drive. That girl has one of the most active imaginations I’ve ever seen. Cocaine. Really? Silly girl; alcohol and sex are the only drugs I need.
Chapter 20
The sun streams through the windshield and plays along my hands as images of the hours before meld with the open road. His scent permeates my car, drifting from my clothes to mingle with the interior. It’s saturated in every cotton thread of my clothing and I’m hopelessly addicted. My attempt to take even the slightest bit of control of the situation, and of myself, only ended in my complete and utter obliteration. I caved, and I silently chastise myself up over it. When will I be able to gain control over my own actions and desires? I’m a slave to that ever present fuming fire. The smallest spark and I’m consumed, doomed to burst and scatter as ash on the winds.
I sigh and roll down the windows to take a breath of fresh air, no matter how hot and stifling it may be. Slipping on the radio, I silently pray that I’ll find something a bit more upbeat, but have no such luck.
Another deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Nice and slow. I have other things I should be thinking about. My work. My friends. Well, friend, at least.
I’m struggling and grasping for some ground over my heart and the lust-filled beast. The thought of going home and pining over this man who seems to have taken control of me disgusts me. Why? Why should I wait on him if he’s too busy to keep in regular contact with me?
My hands grip the steering wheel and I push the memories aside. Oh, but how wonderful they are. But what is this pain that keeps gnawing at me…
Ugh.
I dig my nails into my palm.
Wake the fuck up. I groan. Every thought should not scream for him. This is no way to live.
I pull into the driveway of the house, a constant war within my head raging the entire drive home. I’m assaulted at the door by Riley, who practically throws herself at me and wraps her arms around me in a giant hug. It seems that, whatever Delacroix said, has made her feel guilty about giving me such a hard time. I feel bad letting her think my demeanor was anything other than selfish, but I am too emotionally exhausted to try and set the record straight.
I smile, and hug her back. Satisfied with my gesture, she dashes into the kitchen. I follow her, but only to grab a bottle of wine and a glass, then walk out the back door and settle into an outdoor couch. I start a spark in the fire pit and curl up, my arm propped under my head as I lay on my side. The temperature is brutal outdoors, but I don’t care. I want to focus on something other than him, and the dancing flames coupled with the wine may help. I hope.
As the flames begin to pick up, Riley comes out with a tray of sliced watermelon and sets it on the small table between my couch, and the matching armchair she settles into. She picks at the watermelon as she stares into the flames.
“Cass, how long have I known you?”
I bite back my response. I hope this isn’t one of her talks about trust and openness and communication. Sometimes I feel like she’s my wife instead of my friend. I wonder if it’s like that with everyone; where your best friend becomes so close that they’re more like your relationship partner than just your friend, or perhaps we’re a special case.
“Eight or nine years, now, I think? We met our second year in high school.”
“It feels like so much longer.”
She draws her feet up on the chair and rests her chin on her knees; her arms wrapped around her legs. The flickering flames dance in our eyes.
“It’s been awhile since we’ve come out here together.”
“Yeah…”
“Do you love him?�
�
My eyes never break from the flames, but I feel that same feeling from earlier tug on my heart. The ache hurts more and more the longer I try to ignore it. It couldn’t be that, could it?
I can’t bring myself to speak, because my throat feels as if it’s closed up on itself. There’s no point in asking who she’s talking about, because I know. She knows. Hiding things from her has never been an easy feat, and with the way I’m feeling, it’s no wonder she can see it all, painted on my face, etched out in the fresh scars of heartache and confusion.
“How could I love him? I don’t really know him that well. I barely know anything about him. Like, what’s his favorite color, or does he have any siblings, or where did he grow up. I don’t know what he likes to eat, or if he likes to do anything other than work.” I whisper, but my voice betrays me. It cracks and pitches at the end as I choke back my emotions. How can I love someone I don’t know? I want him, sure, but love him? That’s insane.
“You can love someone you don’t know. You can feel it.” She says, as she stares into the flames “Right there in your heart. You feel the ache and realize that, even if they never touched you, you’d still love them because it goes deeper. You love their heart, and their mind. You love listening to them talk, and love being around them. You can’t explain it. It is pain and joy, and all encompassing. It’s mean, and loving, and agonizing. It hurts, but it’s also complete and total bliss. You don’t have to know someone’s favorite color or their hobbies, sometimes. Sometimes, it’s just something that happens. It doesn’t make sense. It’s not something you can label or dissect or approach analytically. Your heart calls out for theirs, and their heart answers. You can love someone in an instant, Cass…even if you don’t know them as well as you’d like to. It’s still love.”
I’m stronger than this.
I repeat it over and over until the words feel wooden and void of life. Just a lie I’ve repeated to myself so many times that it’s formed this armor around my body; an impenetrable wall around me that’s allowed me to engage in promiscuous acts and forget them the next morning. Why? So I wouldn’t feel like this, so I wouldn’t feel this kind of emotion. Sex was simple. It was natural, primal and…simple. Love and emotions are different. They’re complex, living, breathing things that grow deep in your heart and sprout. No matter how many times you take an axe to it, no matter how many times you throw a match and watch its branches go up in flames, it comes back, sprouting and reaching its fingers into every inch of your body.