by Anna del Mar
“Noah?”
“Yes, baby?” I said while I spread apart her cheeks and buttered her with a dollop of thick translucent almond-scented cream.
“Tell me the truth,” she said, hugging the pillow against her chest. “Am I totally weird?”
I laughed. “Every person is weird, in their own, unique way.”
She looked over her shoulder and met my gaze. “You know what I mean.”
“Are you asking me if I think you’re weird because you enjoy kink?”
She shook her head. Her hair rustled against the pillows.
I planted a kiss on her butt. “You may be a tad more interesting than your average Catholic school girlfriend. To me, you’re the most fascinating creature on the planet, but this is coming from a guy who has trouble leaving the house, so take it with a grain of salt. Besides, I’m never going to complain about whatever this is. I like it too much.”
“Do you think that maybe...with time...we could be normal?”
“Normal?” I scoffed as I worked in the balm around her rim. “Only if you want to be whatever ‘normal’ means to you.”
She squirmed under my touch. “I guess what I want to know is if you think we’ll ever be a bit more...moderate in our relationship.”
“Baby,” I said, cleansing my hands on a handful of wipes. “This is fun for you and me. This is how we blow off steam. We’ve both needed fun for a while and we’re catching up. Nothing wrong with that.”
“The thing is...” She paused and let out a long breath. “I seem to need this right now. In this way. A lot. And not just because I have to write about it.”
She was telling me she loved this, us, me, all over again, the type of news I wouldn’t mind hearing every second of my day, for the long haul.
“You’re in luck.” I planted a row of kisses up her spine. “Because I need the exact same thing and I love fucking you.”
“Speaking of fucking...” She swiped me with her glance, then lifted her hips and swayed her ass in deliberate provocation.
“What are you doing?”
“What do you think?” She separated her knees ever so slightly, giving me a really good view of her assets, her gorgeous ass and her pussy, peeking between her thighs like a fine, velvety slice.
“Negative,” I said. “Today was very intense. You need to rest.”
“Please?” She batted her long lashes and, pleading with her eyes, offered her sex to me in the cunning, submissive way she knew I couldn’t resist.
I did my best, but I’d never be perfect, or a saint. What the hell. My cock was already hard and, since I was butt naked, she could see she was winning this contest. Her mischievous grin melted my defenses. She might as well have licked my cock and swallowed it to the hilt.
I climbed on the bed and straddled her thighs. I fit my cock in the tight space between her buttocks, found her pussy and slid into her with a groan of relief. It was so good to return to her body. Within moments, we both came like trains on parallel tracks.
The problem was, we couldn’t stop after that. Almost as soon we were done, we went at it again. Sex, sleep. Sex, eat. Sex, breathe. Sex, sleep, repeat. We fell into a frantic, thrilling rhythm. Day and night, Friday and Saturday, in the attic or the basement, on the bed or on the kitchen counter, with or without the plug, in the harness or on the bench, our bodies couldn’t get enough of each other.
Clara drove the frenzy, an irresistible seductress. I took the bait every time because catering to her needs also catered to mine. Slowly, as the weekend progressed, Clara became quiet between lovemaking sessions. As if testing her mettle, she wanted only to fuck, to challenge our limits and my stamina, to push us to the brink of madness.
When she fell silent, part of me wanted to believe she was physically exhausted after hours of intense, crazy sex. The other part of me wrapped tightly around the knot steadily squeezing my guts. I could almost hear her brain ticking like clockwork. Something was off; I just didn’t know what.
I loved talkative Clara, fed off her energy, relished her humor, drank her up as if her mind was the most addictive substance on earth. Sassy Clara I could take no problem. I could even deal with willful, spoiled, princess Clara when she made an occasional appearance. But quiet Clara? She scared the shit out of me.
What a shame. If sex beyond my wildest dreams equaled forever, then I would’ve had forever in the bag. But I knew better, and with only one week left in our agreement, my forever with Clara remained a dream.
I worried. She would be leaving again tomorrow. To a place where I couldn’t follow.
And then, early on Sunday morning, Clara woke up from the nightmare.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Clara
I was in Noah’s attic, where I’d spent so many blissful hours lately. I lay on my back, on the sex bench, in a position I’d come across often during my research. The position had always intrigued me because it showcased the beauty of the female body in a way that felt artistic, elegant and original to my conventionally trained senses.
My right leg was stretched up in the air, allowing a little give at the knee. My ankle cuff was clipped to the bar above. My left leg was fully bent at the knee and tied to my thigh just below the knee and above the ankle by a length of rope. It was my first time wearing ropes, and the texture squeezed pleasantly against my flesh and added adrenaline to the rush in progress.
My wrists were fastened together above my head, stretching out and streamlining my torso, elongating my body’s curves and exposing my hip bones, jutting them out like a pair of structural design elements.
I felt very sensual in this position, beautiful and properly assembled, an art installation on full display. For a girl who didn’t feel beautiful often, it was an exhilarating experience. Sure, I wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it did allow me to wiggle and struggle a little, adding to the thrill. My legs were completely out of the way and the pose offered full, unrestricted, fabulous access to my sex.
Noah, ever the overachiever, was taking full advantage of my exposure. My pussy was already crammed full with his cock. His long, thorough strokes had me gasping for air and flowing with liquid silk. I could sense my orgasm gathering like a storm about to break. Strung in yet a different way, immobilized and exposed, submitted and dominated at every level, I embraced the thrill all over again. Noah looked no less devoted to the cause.
Note to blog: pleasure is the great equalizer.
The scent of fresh sweat filled my nostrils. The hard leather surface chafed against my back in rhythm with Noah’s thrusts. The sounds of his breath and my own blustery gasps filled the room. The images were so vivid that never once did I doubt that they could be anything other than real.
Until Annette Collins walked into the attic.
Dressed like a classic dominatrix in a two-piece black latex outfit and thigh-high boots, Annette came to stand next to the bench. She looked down at me, holding a microphone in her hand, red curls flowing down her back.
“Tell us, Clara.” She shoved the microphone in front of my face. “How does it feel to be fucked like a slut? Are you a fuckable pet? Do you enjoy being banged like a whore?” In her hands, the microphone transformed into a camera. “Smile for the camera, dear, or better yet, cry, scream and beg. Let’s give our readers a fresh perspective on Clara Luz’s domination, a close-up of your cunt’s steamy submission.”
What was Annette doing here, in the private sanctuary of our attic? I looked to Noah. Why didn’t he send her away? He didn’t seem to see her, didn’t acknowledge her presence in any way, didn’t stop, not even when she tugged her top aside to flaunt the pale, plump breast she lowered to my face.
She flashed a lustful smirk and pressed her nipple to my lips. “Suck, my little pup, suck hard until I tell you to stop or I come from the pleasure.”
; Her big rosy nipple pushed past my lips and broke into my mouth. I’d never done this before but the sucking motion came naturally. Her nipple felt like a treat, like a Tootsie Roll, chewy, slippery and bright with a hint of chocolate. Cocoa butter lotion? I suckled her nipple really hard, yelping quietly as Noah continued to thrill my body with his thrusts.
“Such a good girl,” Annette murmured, kneading one of my breasts. “Such a good, sweet, pliable, fuckable slut.”
The attic was suddenly crammed with people watching us, people I knew from work and other places. Noah’s friends were there as well, and so was Brandy, his occasional girlfriend. But even with all those people watching, Noah kept at it. Beyond naked, I felt exposed, for who I was and worse, for who I was not. And yet I never asked him to stop, because the daring part of me loved the attention, fed on the crowd’s energy and thrived on the obscene novelty of being watched while being fucked.
Some people sneered, some leered, some ogled. Others clapped and cheered when I cried out or contorted in the throes of my sexual agony. Several commentated on the various aspects of my performance, praising the way in which my breasts flapped on my chest and touting my pussy’s capacity to swallow Noah’s impressive cock.
Brandy came to stand next to Noah, tall, willowy and powerful. Her long, muscular arms slithered around his waist. “You’re just sex to him, a common whore he uses to cope and blow steam.” Her hands cupped his balls and fondled his damp cock, even as it went in and out of my pussy. She taunted me with a smirk and kissed his shoulder as if she owned him, as if it was perfectly natural for her to stand next to him while he fucked me. “Raw play is fun, but love and lust aren’t one and the same. What is it, Clara, love or lust?”
A shudder racked my body, jealousy, desire and agony. I hated the woman and yet I had no way to defend myself from her questions...or mine.
“Enjoying the ride?” Annette withdrew her nipple from my mouth and smirked. “I hope so, because love is a hormonal reaction, nothing more. Soon enough, Noah will be a tiny little blur in your rearview mirror...”
A bubble of panic rose to the surface. Noah had left once. I didn’t think I could survive if he left me again.
“I’m next.” Ed Durant stepped out from among the spectators, shirt unbuttoned and pants undone. Patches of salted gray fuzz meandered from his nipples, over his stout belly and down to his groin. His cock sprang from a tangled nest, grotesque and alarming.
My heart shriveled. What was Durant doing here? I wanted him gone. Now. I wanted him out of my head.
I opened my mouth to speak but no sound came out of my throat. Desperation sat on my chest like a big boulder. Durant approached the bench, lugging his huge cock along. The crowd cheered. Annette stood aside with a deferential bow. Brandy winked at me. Noah didn’t even notice him, still engrossed in the act. Durant stood at the head of the bench and looked down on me.
“I’ve got your donation, darling.” He flashed his sly, greasy smile. “And believe me, this time around, I’m going to get my money’s worth.”
He grabbed a fistful of my hair, wrenched my head back and fitted his engorged penis in my mouth. I couldn’t hold him. My jaw strained, but I couldn’t accommodate him in my body. Of all the people in the room, he frightened me the most, because I’d tried to defeat his arguments once before, and I’d been defeated instead.
I struggled in my fastenings, my body skewered between two cocks, one at each end. Noah and Durant faced each other as they advanced from opposite sides in a race to plant their seed and claim my soul.
“Red,” I tried to shout, but no one could hear me. “Red!”
I was still muttering the word when I woke up, struggling in Noah’s bed. My heart hammered against my ribs and sweat moistened my brow. What the hell had just happened?
“It’s okay.” Noah whispered, soothing me with his voice as he cradled me in his arms. “It was only a nightmare.”
A nightmare? Or a message straight from my subconscious?
I tried disentangling from Noah, but he held on to me. “You’re going to be okay.”
Somehow, I didn’t think so.
The fear that iced my spine left me breathless. It hit me so violently that I reeled. It spread like a tangle of dark roots strangling my throat and squeezing around my stomach. I dipped my face in my hands and sucked in the air, trying to breathe through the anxiety compressing my chest. I made a huge effort to sort through the host of emotions that had conspired to turn my dream into a nightmare and shoved me into the panic attack pounding in my chest. Next week loomed like one huge final devastating deadline, like a huge monster wave rising above the horizon and coming directly at me.
Why?
Because of the foundation’s gala, of course. Because I didn’t want to disappoint anybody or fail the people whose lives depended on the foundation’s help...or my mother. Because the article for Annette and RelevantSex.com was due and I had a ton of mental notes but exactly zero words written for it. Because I had to face Durant, who would do anything in his power to get what he wanted. Because my agreement with Noah was coming to an end and if he found out how weak, pathetic and worthless I was, the future I’d been trying to build with him would be wrecked for good.
I pushed Noah out of my way, threw the covers aside and bolted from the bed. I grabbed my bag on my way to the bathroom, locked myself in, plopped down on the commode and pulled out my cell. It was almost six o’clock in the morning. My heart was still beating too fast.
The bathroom walls closed around me. I bent over my aching belly and rested my forehead on my knees. Breathe. I was frightened and uncertain and I didn’t know how to deal with the way I felt. One thing I knew for sure. I didn’t want to have to explain any of it to Noah, especially not the Durant part, not now, not ever. I typed a quick text, then rinsed my face, brushed my teeth and got dressed. I glanced at the mirror. I looked like a wreck.
Noah was waiting for me outside the bathroom door. He’d put on a T-shirt and his striped pajama pants. His face was etched with puzzlement and his eyes probed mine, obsidian pools darkened with concern. He caught me in his arms and hugged me to his chest. “Better?”
I shook off his hold. The kiss on the shoulder reminded me of Brandy in the nightmare. I clenched my fists and groaned inside. I couldn’t help it. I wondered if they’d made love in this very bedroom. Highly probable, right? The invisible wounds that had been ripped open in the nightmare kept bleeding.
My lungs couldn’t get enough air. I marched across the room, threw open the French doors and, stepping onto the balcony, drew in great gulps of cool, sea-salted air. The sky was still dressed in the night’s sober tones and a low ceiling of fast-moving clouds grayed the somber palette. The surf snored quietly against the sand, respecting the island’s slumber. There would be light soon. Soon, but not for a while.
Noah followed me to the balcony and draped a blanket over my shoulders. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
He put his arms around my waist and drew my back against his front. “You look like you’re very upset.”
Disturbed might be the better word. I tightened the blanket around me and fought an impulse to push him away from me. He wouldn’t want to hold me if he knew. He wouldn’t want to touch me at all.
“You know, Clara,” he said, brushing his lips softly against the curve of my neck, leaving a trail of warm breath over my chilled skin. “I can’t hack your mind.”
“I don’t need to be hacked.” I disentangled his arms from my waist and stepped forward on the balcony. “This is not about you.”
“If it’s about you, it’s about me.” A note of impatience seeped into his tone, before his voice softened. “Please, Clara. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong.” Nothing that I wanted to explain, anyway.
“Was it the sex?
”
“What?” I spun on him, only to meet his anguished gaze.
“Was it too much for you?”
“No!” I snapped. “Why would you even say something like that!”
His Adam’s apple rippled with a swallow. “I worried that perhaps we were moving too fast.”
“I liked the sex fine, more than fine, if you didn’t notice.” The sex was the only thing that made total sense to me right now, the only true stress reliever I had in my life. “Why would you think otherwise?”
“Well...” He hesitated. “You were saying ‘red’ again and again when you woke up.”
I pressed my lips together and, leaning against the railing, looked out into the dark ocean. How could I explain the mess in my head? How could I explain to Noah the bulk of my fears, the depth of my self-loathing and that I was dreaming about having sex with two men and trying to stop Durant but not him?
Durant, no, I wasn’t going to talk to Noah about him. My fingers tightened around the railing.
Noah ambled over to stand next to me, his gaze following mine into the hollowness of an empty horizon. “We’re pretty intense, you and I,” he ventured, as tentative as I’d ever seen him. “Sometimes, after a very intense sexual experience, a person may experience a sudden low...”
“Spare me submission 101, will you?” I said. “That’s not how I feel.”
His eyes considered me for a little too long. “Then what’s the problem?”
“There’s no problem,” I lied. “I just have a lot to tackle this week.”
“Like what?”
“Like the foundation, of course, the gala and all that stuff.”
“Quit,” he said. “Leave the foundation. Get the hell away from your mother and do your own thing.”
The way he said it struck me all wrong, as if he knew better, as if I should just smarten up and do as I was told. “You make it sound so simple.”
“You know what to do,” he said. “Stop making up excuses.”