Black Burlesque

by L. C. Castillo

  How can I let this go? How can I say good-bye to this? Pleasure is coursing through me, through us. He pushes into me, his hand around my face, forcing me to look at him. His blue eyes, violet in this rosy light, beseech me. I can physically see it in his eyes as his pupils dilate, that he too is getting close. I rub my nose against his, my breath kissing his cheek, and I let it roll out of me. I set another orgasm free. I sweep my hips up and into his, pushing myself against him. He is so, so very deep. With each thrust he strokes a ridge buried deep inside of me.

  He cradles my head as I feel him burst and pour himself into me. Our mouths mold together and we fall asleep, covered in sweat, lips touching, not bothering to cover up, all of our troubles momentarily on hold.

  Chapter 17

  It’s almost 5 a.m. I’m going to have to meet Maggie in just a few hours, I don’t know why I am awake, but I am wide-awake. Vincent is sprawled next to me. He’s on his stomach, one arm draped possessively over my naked torso. My white tank is bundled up just underneath my breasts, and I have no idea where my panties are. I feel strange. Wrong. Ashamed? Maybe.

  I have so many thoughts plaguing me, pulling at me, and gnawing my insides. I still need to speak to Vincent about Charlene, about us, about what happened at the club, and I also need to install some type of security system here in the shop. There is so much to do, so much to say, so many questions to ask.

  Anger obliterates my senses, taking control of any rational thought I have left. There is so much happening in my life; I have never felt things so completely out of my control before. It all began when this man, this divine naked man next to me, walked into the picture.

  We can’t be in a relationship, I don’t know if I can trust him, and I don’t know that I want him to know about me, about my life, and all that I’ve been through. I know I shouldn’t let him in.

  If he knew all there was to know about me—no. I can’t even consider it. But now I’m suddenly overwhelmed with questions about him, how old is he for one? Why did he go from Oxford, to the Music Conservatory? Why does he want to teach now? Especially since he has inherited so much from his grandfather. He is all over the place. Which contradicts the impression he gives. He seems so organized, controlled, and in charge. What is he planning on doing with his inheritance and why is he keeping secrets from his own family? More importantly, how can I trust a person like that?

  And then there is Charlene. If I only want him for sex, if I am the one who insists on not having a relationship, then why the hell am I so angry? I’m insanely jealous and I don’t understand why. I hate it. It’s an alien feeling to me.

  I slowly move his heavy arm off of me, and sneak to my closet. I find a pair of pink cotton panties and slide them on. Grabbing four silk scarves, I walk back to my bed with an idea in mind.

  I straddle Vincent. I am sitting on the back of his thighs, each leg draped over his. He wakes slowly; I rake my nails down his back, and over his finely sculpted rear end. He truly does have a fine backside, a perfectly muscular back. I can see every delicious, rippling muscle he has as he stretches and attempts to reach out to the empty side of the bed. He opens his eyes and tries to turn over, and finds that he can’t. I smile on the inside.

  “What?” He tugs against the headboard. “Lenore, what are you doing?”

  His head collapses back onto the pillow. It’s still dark out, and we remain washed in twinkly pink lights. His arms and his legs are neatly tied to my bed. Spread wide, it’s a wonder he didn’t wake while I tied him up with the scarves. I get off of him, and I run my hand from the top of his head, down his back, between his cheeks, and down his toned thighs. I tuck my hand between his legs and palm him, rolling and gripping his sack in my hand. He groans, and lifts his hips to give me better access. I let go and lift my hand and smack his ass, hard. It takes him by complete surprise.

  His eyes fly open. Yes, that was meant to hurt, and no, I am not playing a fun game with you Vincent. I trail my hand across his back again, and slowly and softly rub the cheek that I just slapped, caressing it gently before lifting my hand and smacking him again, even harder this time. He turns his head and eyes me speculatively. Anger clouds his blue eyes.

  “Ah, damnLenore! What are you doing?” He sounds unsure; he is probably wondering where I am going with this. These are clearly not playful love pats.

  I’m silent, my eyes look directly into his, unfaltering and unwavering. I put my face closer to his, and with a seductive smile playing on my lips; I caress his backside once more. He begins to relax, a fraction, and I lift my hand and smack him—hard—a third time.

  Fury flashes across his face. Well, I’m angry, too.

  “Who. The. Fuck. Is. Charlene?” I ask, ever so slowly.

  My hand rests on his lower back. I watch the anger leave his face, quickly replaced by panic. I can practically hear the wheels turning in his mind. I lift my hand and hit him again, just beneath his right buttocks.

  He looks vulnerable and defenseless; which he is. I watch him turn things over in his mind. He must know how I found out, and even though I feel bad about betraying Benny, I need answers. He also needs to understand, that if he is going to be with me, even if it is on my terms, he is absolutely not to be with any one else. I just can’t handle it.

  Obviously.

  “Lenore, untie me so that I can explain myself properly,” his tone is agitated.

  I give him a sweet smile as I drag my nails across the skin of his back again, and this time I really dig them in. I see the faint red lines they leave in their wake. I climb back over him, and lay his belt across his back. I reach over him and grip his wrists. I press my breasts against his back and rub my hands across his arms, he is pulling on his restraints, causing his muscles to flex; I stroke them on impulse. He looks amazing, and, yet again, I am distracted by his incredible physique. I run my tongue just behind his ear, and down his neck. His breath hitches and I know, despite feeling irritated and anxious, he is becoming aroused.

  I trail my tongue further south, planting feather soft kisses across his shoulders. I kiss the claw marks that I’ve left on his back; I make my way down to his backside. He stifles a moan into the pillow. With his belt in my hands, I sit up slowly, and slap it across the skin of his lower back.

  “AH! Damn it, Lenore! Untie me!”

  I’m on a roll. I hit him again. I’m going easy on him, but he still flinches like mad.

  “You drop me off at home, and go back to your mother’s house and have a little sleep over with your girlfriend?! What, I didn’t satisfy you?”

  I swat him again. His eyes are closed tight. But I can see the anger building up inside of him. I keep my voice deceptively low, almost a purr. I’d like to scream at him until I become red in the face, but I must show at least some restraint.

  “I’m not talking to you until you untie me,” he growls, venomously.

  I bend down over him, and I bite his bottom lip. Softly at first, and then hard, he groans in frustration. I bring my mouth to his ear.

  “I hear you two are buying a house together, in my fucking city?”

  He gasps in shock.

  I climb off of him and trail the belt across his back. As angry as I am at this moment, I have to admit that, yes; I am over reacting a bit. I also have to admit, that he looks really good all trussed up in my bed. It is taking all of my strength not to turn this into something enjoyable for us both. He’s just so fucking distractingly delicious.

  “What?” He sounds sincerely confused, which piques my frustration with him. Why is he keeping up the pretense?

  His eyes search my face, his brows knotted together. I raise the belt to hit him again. He flinches and closes his eyes, bracing himself for the next swat to his behind. But I drop the belt as tears unexpectedly sting my eyes. Hurt replacing anger in a split second. Fuck, I’m all over the place.

  “You tell me you tell me not to lie to you, but here you are lying to me, and lying to her, no doubt. Who else are you lying t
o? Who the fuck are you?” I shake my head at him in dismay and walk away.

  He looks hurt too. I don’t know why he does, but he does. But I leave him there and walk away before he sees the emotion that has washed over me.

  I make my way downstairs, Bucky following closely behind. I set him free in the backyard and stand in my kitchen, trying to reign in my emotions before I have to go back upstairs to untie Vincent. Bucky trots back in a moment later, and goes straight back up the stairs, to Vincent.

  Traitor!

  I try to swallow past the lump in my throat, but it swells and I find myself unable to breathe.

  I can’t let Vincent see me like this. It will give me away. I don’t want to care. I really don’t, but I do. I care so much it’s making me crazy! I don’t want to share him, I don’t want to be lied to, and most of all, I don’t want to be the woman on the side. I don’t know what to do with all of these feelings. Why did I ever agree to going on a walk with him? Why did I have to sleep with him? I am weak. I can’t handle having feelings for him. It’s too much.

  I hear footsteps coming down the stairs. I turn away and stare out of the window as he throws open the doors to my tiny kitchen. How the hell did he untie himself so quickly?I hear him breathing, nopantingbehind me. He’s angry, but I’m angrier. After an excruciating minute passes, he finally speaks. I don’t turn around. I can’t look at him.

  “Lenore, I am not with Charlene. I can only imagine who told you she was at my mother’s home, but I did not invite her.” His voice is strained with barely contained anguish.

  He waits for me to respond, I don’t. I keep my eyes fixed firmly ahead, my expression unreadable. My hands grip the lip of the sink tightly.

  “When I got to my parents’ house and saw her car parked in front, I didn’t bother going back inside. I went to my grandfather’s pool house. I slept on the couch. She apparently waited up for me in my bedroom. My mother woke me in the morning, and asked me to take her to breakfast after my meeting with my father. When I got into the car, Charlene was in the back seat, at my mother’s invitation. Not mine.” He sighs and takes a step forward before continuing.

  “They ambushed me. Our families are close, so my mother is always in contact with her.”

  Again, he waits for me to say something. I can’t. I still don’t know what to think.

  “My mother doesn’t know why Charlene and I broke up, so she is always trying to get us back together. If sheif she only knew what happened, wellshe wouldn’t be so persistent. I’ve thought about telling her so she could back off, but…I can’t. Especially not now.” He sighs in defeat. “That’s not the point though.”

  I won’t tell him that Benny has already told me the cause of their break up; it will make Benny look bad, like he’s gossiping about his brother. I’ve already caused him enough trouble, I’m sure.

  “I haven’t seen her in more than three years, and I won’t be seeing her again. I only went back to my parents’ to make sure my dad and Benny were getting on ok; they were both drinking after all. And…you’ve seen how my father can be.

  “My mother found out I was making inquiries to move to Uptown, and tried to get Charlene to help me house hunt. She’s not helping me with anything, and she most definitely is not moving in with me. My mothershe made a last ditch effort. Charlene, she’s no one to me.”

  He steps up behind me, his hands rest on either side of mine, his chest presses against my back, pushing me forward. I grip the edge of the sink with all of my might. I feel like a fool. I am fairly certain he is telling the truth.

  His hand wraps around my hair, pulling my head back slightly to face him. My eyes flare as I look at him. His anger is gone, and passion fills his eyes. The line of his jaw is set tight.

  “Do not question me again, Lenore. I am yours. Any way you want me, I am yours. For however long you want, to do with as you please—I am yours.” His voice is a whisper, but he speaks with conviction.

  I move to turn around, but he stops me, pushing me forward again with his chest. I’m trapped against the sink.

  It dawns on me that he is naked. He was so angry, and wanted to speak with me so badly, he came straight down without bothering to get dressed. I arch my back and push myself into him, rubbing myself against his growing erection. His pubic hair softly caresses my backside.

  All the feelings I had a second ago, have flown out the window. I want him, plain and simple. I want him now. His expression doesn’t change, he doesn’t waver; he stares down at me, leaning further into me.

  “I’m yours, Lenore,” he whispers into my ear.

  Sweet joy causes my heart to swell. His words are music to my ears. He digs his erection into me, pinning me forward with his chest. His hands fly down to tear my underwear off. He tosses them aside, and in one swift motion he lifts me up by my inner thighs. I barely catch myself, bracing myself against the edge of the sink as he spreads my legs and buries himself into me. He releases one leg and grabs a fistful of my hair. Tilting my chin up, he buries his face into my neck. His teeth gently graze my skin. Every nerve in my body stands at attention.

  “Ah...” We both moan in unison as I push back against him.

  He fills me harshly, and deeply, giving me no time to recover as he pumps himself in and out of me quickly and roughly until he’s all the way inside. I’m already so wet. The sound of our erratic breath and his skin rapping against mine is the only sound in the room. It is beyond erotic. His hand wraps around my hips until his fingers reach further and press against my clit.

  I push back against him. My arms fully extended, clutching the lip of the sink. He smacks my bouncing ass and I push myself against him again and again. I’m on the tips of my toes, reaching for more of him. I arch my back and meet him thrust for thrust. He smacks me again before pulling out of me.

  He turns me around and I wrap my arms around his neck. He lifts me up and invades me again; my legs wrapped tightly over his hips.

  Mmm. He continues his assault while standing. It’s as if I am weightless in his arms. He doesn’t grow tired. He growls and slams me against a wall, and with my legs wrapped around him, he continues fucking me, hard. The silky feel of his tongue slides against my swollen mouth. He sucks my bottom lip into his warm wet mouth; his teeth sink in as he tugs and pulls.

  My head knocks against the wall with each perfectly measured thrust. He pushes my shirt up, and he pulls my nipple in-between his fingers. I gasp and writhe, grinding against him. His bares his teeth, and gently bites my sensitized nipple. It sends a jolt of electricity through me.

  The sun slowly starts to rise above the horizon, a ray of light reaches out to us in the corner of the kitchen. He grips my ass in his large hands and walks across the kitchen. Still inside of me, he sits down on a chair, placing me on top. Our frenzy slows down in the process.

  The morning light begins to fill the room, and I slowly work my hips, rolling myself against him. Our foreheads, pressed together; our passionate kisses, slowing down into delicate, more subdued ones.

  Our eyes lock as our breath mingles. His words come forward in my mind, and I repeat them to him.

  “You’re mine, Vincent,” I pant against his lips and tug gently at his hair. He closes his eyes, visibly relishing my words.

  “Yes,” he whispers and arches himself into me. We both let go together. Every fiber of my body gives into him; I give him all I have to give. I unreservedly relinquish control as my orgasm whirls through me. I grind and roll my hips against him, undoing us both.

  We both snap and go rigid, stilling and absorbing the sensation of our climax. Relief floods me. He is mine. Only mine. My orgasm has a second wave at the thought, and I writhe against him once more; wringing us both out. He collapses his face against my chest. I make no attempt to get up when we’re finished. I love the feel of him inside of me.

  It feels like we stay that way for hours. I need to get ready, and get to Maggie before she comes here, so eventually, I clamber to my fe
et. He stands too, and pulls me into him. He grabs the hem of my shirt and lifts it off. He stares down at me. His hands gently cup my breasts; his thumbs skirt across my nipples.

  “You are so beautiful, Lenore. You’re perfect.”

  He brings his mouth to mine, his hands still on my breasts, his lips weave a trail of kisses from the corner of my mouth, down to my neck. He takes his time trailing his mouth across my skin. I’m dying in anticipation. In due course, he begins to roll his tongue expertly around each nipple. First my left, and then my right, he cherishes and worships every inch of my breasts.

  “Let’s go shower,” he whispers. I’m practically panting. I can’t argue with that. He cradles me in his arms and carries me up the stairs.

  He sets me down and my small bathroom fills with steam quickly. He opens the shower door and motions for me to step inside, and I do. He holds me against him as the water cascades over us. His hands move over my hair. His lips press against my temple.

  His dexterous fingers massage my scalp. It relaxes me to no end. To think when I woke up this morning I was so angry...now here we are. How quickly things can change from one hour to the next. I feel more secure, more contented, more at ease with him now that we’ve put at least one issue to bed.

  He is mine. All mine.

  I can’t remember anyone ever doing this for me, washing my hair. If I weren’t in this post-orgasmic state that I am in, I would probably put up some resistance. It’s too intimate. But I close my eyes, and block out my unwelcome thoughts. I rinse the shampoo out and he puts in the conditioner.

  He grabs my loofa, and squirts lavender some soap onto it. The scent of fills the steamy air. I gaze at him in wonder. He washes me. First my arms, then my breasts, followed by my legs, between my legs, and then my back. I let the water rinse it all off before doing to the same for him. He looks at me with such longing in his eyes, such adoration. My hands grope his wet slippery skin. His tongue invades my mouth and I welcome the intrusion. I love the feel of his skin as it glides against my body.