by Carter Blake
Griff grins and crosses his arms behind his head. He’s ready and excited for me to take charge this time.
“Don’t miss a spot.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” I say as I start bathing him with the same tender attention he showed me. “What kind of wife would I be if I did?”
Kalista
I wring the sponge tightly between my hands, watching as the water cascades across Griffin’s tanned skin. It pours across his chest, dripping quickly down the curvature of his muscles.
He smiles up at me, his eyes burning with lust.
Without breaking eye contact, I dip the sponge back into the cool water, this time bringing it down to brush across his skin.
He breathes heavily, watching me run the sponge ever lower across his abdomen.
I stop just below his navel, arching an eyebrow at him in challenge.
“You’re killing me,” he says, his voice heavy.
After having to endure his teasing, it feels good to be the one in control.
“Am I?” I ask, bringing the sponge back up to his chest.
After having to endure his teasing, it feels good to be the one in control.
I lower my head, trailing the soaked fabric with my lips. Slowly, I kiss my way up his stomach, stopping occasionally to nip at his sensitive skin.
I reach his neck, biting roughly at it while my hand trails downward.
His muscles tense as I find his cock, gripping it hard in one hand.
He’s rock hard despite our earlier round, throbbing with tension in my grip.
“Fuck,” he half-moans, driving me to clench him even more tightly. I run my hand up the length of him, marveling in the feel of his skin while I increase my speed.
Just as he’s beginning to thrust back against me, I release him, unclenching my hand from him.
I stand up at his groan, placing myself in front of him.
The look of frustration on his face falls quickly away as he looks at me, watching the water drip down my naked form. It drops coldly from my erect nipples, drawing his gaze.
I reach out quickly, grabbing his hands to pull him into a standing position. Guessing my intent, he doesn’t resist. He rises in front of me, his lips pulled into an expectant grin.
I lower myself, dropping slowly until I’m at eye level with his throbbing cock.
With one hand, I tightly grasp the base of his shaft, positioning him before I take him into my mouth.
Slowly—and torturously, I hope—I slide my lips around him.
My tongue flicks hastily over his head, tasting him, and I hear him groan in response.
“Kalista…” he moans as I shove him ever deeper into my mouth.
His right hand falls down to cup the back of my head, his fingers twining gently through my hair.
I moan around him, still taking things slow at his expense. I wrap my free hand around his leg, clinging to his taut thigh for support while I take him fully.
His dick finds the back of my mouth, and I moan louder, reveling in the feel of him against my tongue.
His body is tense with desire, muscles strained against my hand.
I continue to move slowly until he can’t take it anymore, his hand beginning to push gently against my head.
I cave, increasing my speed to match his desire, my hand moving in time with my mouth.
The taste of him on my tongue has me dripping wet, his solidity in my mouth driving me close to insanity.
I bring him to the edge of release, feeling his fingers tighten around my skull as his thrusting becomes erratic.
With a final pull, I draw him back, taking the time to savor the feel of his head between my lips before I remove him fully.
My eyes travel upward, meeting his rabid gaze as he stares down at me.
Before he can question in, I’m standing again, planting my hands into his chest to shove him forcibly backward.
He lands back into a sitting position, water splashing up around him.
Without wasting anytime, I’m on him, lowering myself onto his lap. I reach down to grip him once more, directing his engorged cock towards my dripping pussy.
Crying out loudly, I slide myself onto him.
My self-control has evaporated, the need to feel him back inside of me overruling every other consideration.
I grind myself hard against him, shoving his still throbbing cock deep into me.
“Griff!” I scream, feeling the length of him.
He reaches up, grabbing roughly at my ass. With both hands, he pulls me harder against him, frantically shoving himself deeper into my pussy.
Leaning forward, he takes my hardened nipple into his mouth, sucking hard.
I feel his tongue flicking against the delicate flesh, circling my areola as he thrusts away beneath me.
I twine my fingers through his hair, pulling hard against it, my orgasm building inside me, heat shooting through my core.
Molten lava seems to course through me, every movement bringing it closer to exploding. My nerves are alight, every inch of me desperate for the release that Griffin is offering.
With a final thrust, I feel myself tip over the edge. My fingers clamp down hard on his head, my body tensing tightly around him.
He moans at my tightness, only redoubling his efforts. I scream loudly into the small bathing chamber, my ecstasy echoing off of the walls in waves.
“Griff!” I shout again, driving myself even harder against him.
I come hard, my vision blurring at the edges from the intensity.
Just as I feel the intensity begin to ebb, he pulls me harder against him. His muscles are tight, his breathing is erratic, and I can I feel his own orgasm building. I drive myself back against him, needing to feel him come.
“Yes!” I scream, ramming myself onto him until my muscles ache.
The tension begins to build once again inside me, my pussy clamping around him as he approaches his climax.
“Kalista!” he shouts, as he comes inside of me, filling me yet again.
I answer with my own cry, feeling yet another orgasm rip though me.
Together, we come again, my unintelligible sounds echoing around us as we frantically grind against one another.
It seems to last forever, the feeling of his cock inside of me almost too much to take.
As it passes, I grind myself slowly to a halt, his hands now clinging hard around my hips.
I let out a small chuckle of delight, still completely amazed with the intensity of being with him.
Slowly, I bring myself to a standing position, hating the void that’s left when I pull him out of me.
I smile down at him, watching the way his chest labors after our exertions.
“Well?” I ask, a smile pulling at my lips.
He throws his head back against the edge of the pool, closing his eyes in exhaustion.
“I’m pretty sure you missed a spot.”
Griffin
“This is where it all begins, right?” I ask, not even looking at Kalista as she walks next to me. “In this giant hallway, as we both dry off.”
Over the years I’ve spent getting accustomed to this life, there are some lessons I’ve tried to make myself learn.
Like how I should keep myself—my real self—to myself at all times, never giving away anything more than what’s absolutely necessary in a given moment.
“This is where what all begins?” Kalista answers my question with her own question—and a confused laugh.
While keeping the world at a cautious, respectable distance seemed like a common sense necessity for someone like me, there are times when somehow slipping up and letting my guard down in some subtle way has been my biggest—really, my only—worry.
“Our lives after that hammam experience,” I clarify. “You were there, right?”
“Oh, the ways in which I was there. I wouldn’t have minded staying there for a while longer, even, but I have a feeling that bath will live vividly in my memory for quite a while.”<
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“That’s what I meant. You and me both, we’ll always carry that around with us…”
“I didn’t say always, Griff. Just quite a while, which I still think is quite a compliment.”
The rate at which we’re sauntering through the hallway keeps getting slower. By the time I finally turn my head to look at Kalista, we’re almost stopped.
She’s looking down slightly but smiling at her last comment. I smile mildly myself, but I begin walking again and faster.
At one time, not that long ago, I assumed I was going to have to learn some things the hard way. But I think I had been quite successful in keeping myself to myself. Even the people who are supposed to know me well can’t know me that well.
Kalista’s keeping up with my pace, although she’s unsettlingly still not looking in my direction.
It turns out that, as I’m learning now, I never really learned that lesson about keeping myself to myself at all times. I thought I could just do it, and it never seemed like a problem until these past few days.
Until now.
And this hallway, as grand as it is, has never seemed so endless.
When Kalista half-slides to a halt and turns her body towards mine, and it feels almost too dangerous for me to stop along with her.
Almost as if the sheer amount of space will swallow us whole if we stop moving.
Of course, I still stop and turn towards her as she finally looks at me, her eyes congressing with mine.
Kalista’s close enough that she’s looking up at me. That extra dimension makes it difficult to interpret what she’s trying to say with her expression.
“Do you really not have an amusement park in the basement?” She sounds so serious, her voice is soft without a hint of laughter.
“That question’s starting to get disturbing. I’m going to stop thinking about it now.”
“So, yes?”
I feel myself pulled down, and it’s more than just the gravitational pull of Kalista’s beauty that does it.
It’s also her hands.
Kalista hungrily grabs my head and forcefully brings it closer for a short, startling kiss.
It really is startling, too. So much so that I feel a small pulse of electricity and see sparks as I close my eyes.
After it’s over, it feels right, making me worried that it wasn’t right—like my brain and heart are both playing tricks on me.
“Don’t get too excited yet, love. There’s nothing that loud or amusing on this entire property.”
“Not right now, there isn’t. Not yet.”
Those little sparks of passion and excitement are still there, but now they’re in Kalista’s eyes as she grins sheepishly and looks at the floor.
And it’s a balanced, happy moment that feels right, as well. Even more right than the kiss felt.
It feels comfortable, and there’s a literal warmth I can feel.
A warmth that’s undeniable.
And it disappears almost immediately, replaced by the nagging sensation that I’m doing something wrong—that I might be in the middle of that lesson I was dreading having to learn.
The hallway starts to feel too large again, and I turn away from Kalista and restart my walk away from the hammam.
I move quickly, like the architecture really is going to swallow me whole if I stay still.
The sound of my own footsteps—and no one else’s—moving down the hallway helps lift a few grams off this sudden weight I’m feeling.
Kalista’s footsteps follow mine closely, though. No words, no intention that I can sense, just the sound of her feet following mine.
And there’s no reason she shouldn’t be following me, either.
She’s not following me, either, but simply trying to walk with me. After our ritual in the hammam—not to mention every other event she’s been through with me—why do I feel like I’m suddenly trying to flee her?
I stop, turning around as Kalista strides up to me, still smirking her mischievous smirk.
If there really is some lesson here, it’s not making any sense. The presence of my associates, even though they’re nowhere to be seen yet, only seems to muddy my perspective further.
“Are you trying to get to the kitchen before I do?” she inquires.
“I’m not trying to, but I might.” I shrug, casually, feeling a touch of the warmth returning. “That doesn’t mean I’m planning to cook by any means.”
Kalista draws herself in closer, to the point where she’s having to look at me at the same angle as before.
“By what means are you planning to cook, then?” Kalista accentuates her joke by lightly, gracefully biting her lower lip.
This is a woman who, after being so abruptly torn from her life, is now willing to give up everything.
How much is everything, anyway? I know in Kalista’s case, it’s a significant number, not the type of wealth to make hasty decisions about.
That’s not what most people would do, anyway.
Kalista’s no longer smirking; she’s now nearly beaming as her eyes shine happily and ravishingly.
“You’re not most people, are you?”
I think it sounds like a compliment when I say it, and it doesn’t faze Kalista even the smallest amount.
Her smile stays stable as she nods her head slightly.
She agrees with me. She’s not most people.
Just like her financial worth, I’m vague on how much she differs from the average.
Or, importantly, from the predictable.
As much as I might enjoy those aspects of her—and so much more about her—those same things might become part of that very difficult lesson I’ve been hoping to avoid.
As we stare at each other, still and wordless in the hall, I realize it’s getting to the point where I may need to end this whole thing now before it’s too late.
Before we’re in too deep, and we start running the risk of some real problems for both of us.
Kalista
“Why don’t we set right down on the settee for a bit?”
Griff’s voice sounds lighter, happier than it has since I’ve known him.
But there’s still a weird layer of stress underneath that’s also new to me.
This is not a man I’ve known to be stressed. At least, not in any way that really rang true.
Not in any way that made me feel stressed as well, which is exactly what I’m feeling at this very moment—in spite of Griffin’s attempt at a warm, jovial smile.
My own attempt at returning that smile likely rings just as hollow as I take a few careful steps to the settee.
I stop just short of setting myself down on the elegantly upholstered cushion, as Griffin just suggested.
This must be a tradition for us: taking a long, silent moment to watch each other. To admire or maybe study each other.
This time, sadly, it seems to mostly involve the latter. Even though we’re both smiling, and I’m sure there’s something of a sparkle in my eye to match the slight glint in Griffin’s, there’s that odd sensation of mystery, of mistrust, that’s coming so strongly off of Griff that I’m starting to feel it myself.
Didn’t we just get much, much closer to each other on multiple levels?
“Is all of your wardrobe coordinated to match the settee?” I quip, trying to break out of the moment.
He does look damn stylish sitting there, but that goes without saying at this point.
“Does this really seem color coordinated to you?” he retorts.
“Not color coordinated, that’s not what I said or what I was talking about!” I sound so intense of all a sudden—I try to pull it back. “Come on, Griff, I know you understand aesthetics on a much deeper level than that. You know how to make yourself into the perfect display no matter where you are, don’t you?”
Griffin’s lips stay still—there’s not even the faintest hint of a smile.
He pats the surface of the settee next to where he’s sitting. The sound is purposeful, like he�
�s willfully ignoring what I said because he has something oh-so-important he just needs to share.
“I guess you don’t want to give away all of your secrets,” I mutter while reluctantly taking the spot next to him.
“All of what secrets?”
Griffin’s trying to sound casual and only mildly curious at best, but the edge in his voice keeps growing.
“I’m just talking about your fashion secrets, Griff. I know all the rest of them.”
“Oh.”
Still no sign of a smile—he just stares forward for a pregnant moment before looking at me with a seriousness that almost makes me laugh.
“What is it? Do you really not want me to cook?” I lean in closer, my hands sinking into the cushion between us as I try to jokingly make a face even more earnest than his. “Or does this riad have an amusement park for real that you’re trying to hide from me?”
“I’ve been having fun, Kalista.”
I sit myself back upright. “That doesn’t sound too convincing…”
“It’s the truth, though, and it’s important you know that.”
Feeling genuinely confused, I absentmindedly look away from Griff and search the architecture surrounding us for a few seconds.
Just where the hell is this going, anyway?
“Griffin,” I implore, looking back towards him and trying to match his serious tone, “why is it important that I know that? Because, love, I’ve been having fun, too.”
Griff begins leaning towards me the same way I tried to get closer to him a moment ago, but he seems to abruptly change his mind as he straightens his posture to keep me at a relatively cool distance.
It’s a rare moment for him, coming across as less than totally confident and in control.
“Past tense, huh?” I’m trying to get him closer to making his point, whatever it is.
“It’s been fun, and work can be—and often is—fun for me. But some jobs don’t allow for that as much.”
I truly believe that Griffin doesn’t mean to be as condescending as he’s coming across. But he’s still obviously floundering.
“What are you trying to say, Griffin? Spit it out.”
His stoic face finally starts to twist—not in laughter like I was trying for earlier, but in discomfort.