by Kim Black
“Please, Blake…” I cry out, when he suddenly twists my nipple, sending a sharp sensation throughout my buzzing body.
Blake groans into the curve of my neck and suddenly plunges his cock inside me with such brutal force that I jerk up, my body arching. I cannot contain the sounds that are ripped from my throat. Mindlessly, I open my legs wider, trying to convey my need for more of him.
“Yes,” I cry out, finally feeling complete as our two separate bodies become one.
“So wet… you’re so fucking wet,” Blake utters through his clenched teeth as he slams into me strongly, our bodies jerking with each thrust, as he fills me to the hilt.
Withdrawing almost completely, he then plunges his cock back inside me, and I scream out unintelligible sounds, lost in the feel of him. So thick and so hard, his girth is almost greater than I recall. He continues his assault, pounding into me with such controlled force.
Burying his face in the crook of my neck once again, he gently bites into my shoulder; the sting of pain coupled with the sweet, agonizing pleasure he is bestowing drives me right over the edge. I feel myself suddenly falling as my body ferociously contracts around him. He brings his hand down to my cluster of sweet nerves and expertly rubs his fingers against my nub. I fall apart in his hands, my voice hoarse from screaming his name over and over. Blake groans loudly, throwing his head back as he finds his own release.
“Fuck, Alyson.”
He collapses breathlessly at my side, our gasps echoing throughout the quiet room. We lay there, each of us lost in our own thoughts while we come down from our orgasms as exhaustion settles in.
My last memory before sleep overtakes me is of Blake’s strong arms pulling me closer.
BLAKE
It’s been a week. One whole fucking week since my night with Alyson, and I still can’t get that woman out of my head. She is like a contagion that’s coursing through my mind and my body, overtaking every part of my days, my nights… hell, my entire fucking life. Except, she isn’t the kind of contagion you run from, she’s the kind you run to, just as I did on the night we first met.
Since then, I’ve cancelled two meetings with women who responded to my ad. I keep finding reasons to justify it, but deep down, I know what the cause is. Her!
Fucking Alyson. She is everywhere, suffocating me, haunting me.
Every time I close my eyes, it’s her face I see, her cries I hear. Even the mirror betrays me, as it reveals to me every place where she clawed at my skin, marking me as hers.
Even now, she haunts my club, showing up in a skin-tight dress, her ample breasts nearly spilling out over the top. I know that it’s all in my head, that she’s somehow cast a wicked spell on me, and it’s making me lose my fucking mind.
Crazy. I’m going fucking crazy, I just know it.
Staring across the first floor of ‘The Dungeon’, I imagine her casually strolling through the club, her ass swaying beneath her dress as she moves from one exhibit to the next, never lingering, just taunting me.
She’ll stop for a few seconds in front of one exhibit, decide that she’s not impressed, and then sway her way to the next. Each time I think it’s her, she’ll disappear, clearly never having been here to begin with. I know I’m losing it.
Fuck, I need a drink, I think, as I swivel around in my seat at the bar and order a bourbon. “Make it a double,” I bark at the bartender, irritated.
“You look like shit!” I hear Derrick say behind me. Not bothering to turn to face him, I nurse my fresh drink and stare straight ahead. There isn’t much I can say to him anyway.
He’s right, I do look like shit.
I’ve looked like shit from the morning after my one night with Alyson. It was a bad idea for me to return to her place instead of going home. She has somehow managed to ingrain herself within my mind. I just can’t seem to shake her loose, and it’s starting to piss me the fuck off.
In my suite, the sheets and comforter still retain her intoxicating scent. The blindfold I used on her seems too much of a prize to be thrown carelessly back into the chest, so instead, I find myself folding it neatly and placing it in the pocket of my suit jacket.
Why? Who the fuck knows? Just as I also can’t explain why I continue to transfer it into the pocket of each damn suit jacket I’ve worn this week.
“Look man, you’re really acting strange, you’re normally a strange dude to begin with, so you’re now acting even stranger than usual. What’s up, little bro’?” Derrick asks, as he takes the stool next to mine.
“Two minutes. You’re only two minutes older, Derrick, and I am just fine,” I grunt, before I down the rest of my drink and lift myself off the barstool.
Coming to ‘The Dungeon’ was a mistake. I realized it the second I walked in, but I wanted to prove myself wrong. As thoughts of Alyson continue to dance around in my mind, it’s obvious that the club is the last place I need to be.
“Bullshit!” Derrick calls out behind me, as he follows me to the door. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain newbie sub, would it?” he asks, his teasing voice grating on my nerves.
“Leave it alone, Derrick. I should never have told you about her,” I bark, not breaking my stride. My brother and I have always had a close relationship which was why I thought nothing of telling him about my situation with Alyson, but I am just now realizing that telling him was a mistake. He doesn’t understand. He has never experienced the kind of hell I’m going though and he will never understand the seriousness of this situation.
Yes, I said it. Alyson is a situation. One I need to fix immediately.
Derrick isn’t like me. Sure, he enjoys the entertainment at the club from time to time, but only when he’s in between relationships. Deep down, Derrick is a true-blue monogamous—a “serial exclusive relationship” sort of man. From the time he was in high school, he’s always going from one serious relationship to another, never taking more than two months off before again finding himself in yet another serious relationship.
I, on the other hand, can only account for one, and it was that relationship that shaped me into the man I am today. I have seen no point whatsoever in monogamy since then. I see no sense in putting oneself in line for the pain and agony that those kinds of relationships eventually lead to.
Never again.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Derrick, don’t be late. Just because you’re my brother doesn’t mean you can show up whenever you want.”
Sidling up next to me, Derrick places his hand on my shoulder. “You know, she’s not her. What you went through,” he stumbles on his words, casting his head down thoughtfully before continuing, “She’s gone but you aren’t.”
I don’t respond to him, although his words drive a hard, penetrating spear into my chest. He is right. She’s gone, and she left me a shattered, jaded man—a man who cannot afford to allow another woman to cause me the same grief and pain again. In my brother’s reminder, he verified what I already know. I need to find a way to rid myself of Alyson. Permanently!
ALYSON
“Damn it.”
Pushing myself away from my desk, I rise to my feet and begin pacing back and forth in utter frustration.
I’ve been searching the Internet for the past week looking for work, but it seems as though every position listed requires more experience than I possess. How the heck can this be? I have no idea. I’ve taken several internships assisting elementary school teachers since I was still in high school, preparing myself for this very moment—the part of my life when I could step out into the real world and begin my career.
But these fuckers… these invisible butt-wipes, hiding behind their computer screens, laughing at all the newly-graduated education majors, wanting more. It boggles my mind when I see that employers now insist that you have experience outside of internships, but they won’t hire you so that you might actually gain that experience.
Fucking bullshit!
Taking a calming breath, I check my account balance, k
nowing that it’s been months since I last looked at the statements. The trust fund I received from my parents fifteen years ago has been my only source of income since I turned eighteen and was given access to it. I just know that if I don’t find employment soon, I’ll be screwed.
Sitting back down at the computer, I log into my account and groan when the screen loads; the reality of how dire my situation truly is glares back at me in black in white. I’m financially fucked!
Well, what the hell did you expect? College, meals, clothes, rent… that fifty thousand dollars couldn’t keep you going forever!
I have less than four thousand dollars left of the trust fund money and my rent alone is fifteen hundred.
What the hell am I going to do?
Needing a break, I again push myself away from the desk and make my way over to the couch. I need to think of something fast, but, short of discovering a stash of mob money at my front door, I’m not sure what else I can possibly do but continue my job search. But the endless searching, day in and day out, leave me frustrated, depressed, and tense. Really tense.
I bet Blake could work these frustrations out of my system, really well. I shiver with need at the thought.
Blake.
It’s been a week since our one night together, and I still remember the way he made my body sing. I can’t help but smile as I recall what was the most amazing night of my life. I had never before experienced such pleasures… such glorious heights of passion, and it had all been because of him. But, true to his advertisement, it had been just for the one night. He made damn sure that he slipped away before the sun could rise on a fresh new day.
He hasn’t sent me so much as a single text or email since then, and I can’t deny feeling a slight pang of disappointment, although I don’t regret a single moment of our night together. I don’t think that any woman could ever regret Blake. He is one fine, sexy man.
The night following our… encounter—yeah, let’s call it that—I sat in my apartment, completely bored out of my mind. I was thrust back into my plain and ordinary life, a life with no excitement, no friends, no relationship, and no Blake. Sadness has been tugging at my heart and no matter how hard I tried to keep busy and push the loneliness away, I just couldn’t do it.
I cannot deny that I was enthralled by Blake’s world. I was beyond fascinated by his taboo lifestyle, although our encounter was relatively mild compared to what I’m sure he’s was used to. Still, I want to know more, experience more. For too long I’ve closed myself off to everyone and everything exciting, not wanting to open myself up to the adventures this world holds for those willing to grab those adventures by the horns. For too long, I’ve sought safety in my relationships—if you can even call my association with the two adolescent boys to whom given myself, relationships.
Since the death of my parents, I’ve been living in a cocoon, shielding myself from the pleasures this world can provide, depriving myself of the sensual touches and the deep, long strokes from a man like Blake, and I am so tired of it… tired of the fortress I’d unwittingly built around myself. And Blake, Blake awakened me to a whole new world of sexual pleasure.
Before I could stop myself from over-analyzing my actions, the night following my night with Blake, I found myself in a cab bound for Brooklyn.
It was insane, bold and completely out of character for me, but even though I knew this, being with Blake had shed a bright light on the dark, lonely life I had been living, and I just couldn’t, nor did I want, to imagine returning to that life again.
“Where to, ma’am?” the driver asks in an African accent as I climb into the cab, dressed in a skintight dress and heels that make my legs seem a mile long.
Fuck, I don’t have the address. Shit, shit, shit.
“Um… err… Brooklyn. I’ll search for the address on my phone as you head toward the bridge.” I then pull out my cellphone in search of any known sex clubs in Brooklyn.
Oh Google, please don’t fail me now!
After ten minutes of searching, and a plethora of failed search attempts, I finally find the address and almost start cheering aloud in the back seat of the yellow cab in my excitement.
Refraining, of course, but still smiling like a schoolgirl, I give the driver the address before leaning back into the comfortable leather seat. I’m on my way to see Blake.
I had previously returned to the club a few times since our encounter, after paying the very hefty monthly membership fee—a fee I surely would not be renewing at the end of the month.
A monthly fee of three thousand dollars on the off chance that Blake will fuck you again… no, you’re not a slut—much!
Even though it was expensive, given my current financial circumstances, I didn’t care, I was only focused on seeing him again. Each time I entered the club, I hoped and prayed that Blake wouldn’t be there with another woman, and thankfully, he wasn’t. It both thrilled and surprised the hell out me, but I wasn’t about to complain.
I never approached him though, instead, I wanted to test the patience of the sex god himself—something I thought of on the fly when I first arrived at the ‘The Dungeon’. I never long lingered there very often either. Each time I felt his gaze on me, I disappeared behind whatever obstacle would shield me from his view, and I loved the excitement of the game I was playing.
Beaming, I devised the plan for tonight’s adventure. I wouldn’t stalk him as I had done on the previous nights, and I wouldn’t disappear as soon as his heated, lustful gaze upon me proved to be more than I could withstand.
No. The games I’d been playing with Blake Hanson were brutal on my body. The ache he created that first evening was steadily growing stronger within me each passing night, and he had me dripping with desire each time I was in his presence.
I’m not sure what the fuck I thought I was doing. How did I turn into someone so bold in just one short week, I haven’t got the faintest idea, but I do know it has everything to do with Blake, and tonight I will finally step out of the shadows. I just hope he doesn’t turn down my offer.
Yeah, good luck with that.
BLAKE
“What’s the status of the Denali amalgamation merger? Have we ironed out the final details?” I asked Derrick, who was seated casually on one of the two chairs in front of my mahogany desk.
“Actually, I have an appointment with them this afternoon; we should have everything squared away,” he mumbles, as he stares down at his cellphone, not bothering to look up from the device.
Glaring at him, I roll my eyes and proceed to review the documents from my most recent client, Joseph Adinolfe, the successful C.E.O. of a technology firm, who is interested in buying out a struggling competitor’s firm. The acquisition would be extremely beneficial to him, and, in turn, beneficial to our firm as well.
My brother and I started Hanson & Hanson Inc. just under five years ago, and we’ve acquired a powerful and impressive roster of clients in that time. Initially, it was just the two of us, but, after getting through our first year in business together, we’ve turned our little two-man operation into a huge, successful firm, now employing nearly two hundred attorneys, and opening five branch locations throughout New York State.
It’s been our dream coming true, despite the obstacles we’ve tackled over the years, one of which occurred three years ago, when my life fell apart… all because of her.
Groaning inwardly, I force all thought of her out of my mind, focusing instead on the mountain of paperwork I still must get through before the end of business today. There is nothing to be gained by allowing my mind to drift into the past, nothing good will ever come of that, and it will most certainly not change the outcome of what had happened back then.
“And, we’re back,” Derrick blurts out, suddenly, bolting out of his leather chair, his expression happy and cheerful.
“What the hell are you blabbering about? Don’t you have work to do? A meeting to prep for?”
He flashes me a megawatt smile before leaning ove
r my desk with both of his hands firmly gripping the outer edges. “Samantha and I, we’re getting back together.”
“Oh…,” I say simply, before returning my attention to my paperwork. I’m not about to congratulate the man on his fucking relationship, not when I know that soon enough, they’ll be breaking up again only to repeat the process.
Those two are fucking hopeless.
“Oh? Is that all you’re going to say?” Derrick smirks, folding his arms over his chest.
Here comes Mr. Sensitive.
“That’s nice.” I add, although I am unable to understand what the hell he wants from me. Samantha is nice, I guess, but I care very little about his relationships and I care even less about the girl he’s involved with. She’s his problem, not mine.
“Ever the romantic,” Derrick murmurs, before turning around and strutting to the door. “Anyway, I have meetings to prep for.”
“Yeah, yeah…”
My brother and I are polar opposites. While he believes in trusting that his heart is safe in the hands of Samantha, I know better. I’ve learned about trust the hard way. I was once the romantic sort, eager to woo the only woman I ever loved, but in the end she only caused me heartache and pain. She ripped away all the promises of a happy future in just one night, causing me double the misery.
My mind drifts back in time to Elizabeth, and to the night she changed my life—the night she tore away my heart and soul.
I shudder, not wanting to think about what might have been if only we had discovered the problems sooner. Dwelling on the past will do me no good, and thinking about my pain, is what turned me into the man I am today.
I am structured, ordered, and in control of everything and everyone I have allowed to take up residence in my life.
Except for Alyson.
She’s the first woman to push me beyond my self-made boundaries, and it still grates my nerves that she has been able to encroach on my thoughts each and every night like a swift and unwanted intruder.