by Tiana Laveen
“Yes! Please!”
He opened his eyes and saw her staring at him as he neared climax. She was rubbing on her pussy, damn near breathless. Her lips parted as longing shone in her eyes. She was falling apart right then. He pulled her to him with a tug of the wrist, making her tumble on top of him, and held her by the waist, keeping her close with only enough space for him to keep jerking his dick. Eyes locked with hers, he rocked upward and back, taking her for a ride.
“Almost there…” He grunted, his eyes rolling as he administered vigorous strokes, his body writhing and his breaths shallow. “Ahhhh…” The warm white, creamy liquid expelled from his cock, landing between their bouncing bodies, coating her stomach.
“Slide off and sit next to me,” he said after a stretch of silence. She got up, sat on the loveseat, and crawled alongside him, close. He stroked her pussy while holding her gaze. “Yasmine… that’s what you want. This is what you want from me. You want your intimacy with someone to be so damn incredible, it doesn’t require penetration. Getting fucked becomes not the main event, but the cherry on top.”
She moved her hips in rhythm with his touch, shivered and sighed. Sliding her slick clit against his digits, she made quick work of masturbating herself against his fingers.
“Oh, God,” she purred.
“You want me so bad, baby. Because of what I was saying before we even got started. The mood I set. The smell of the place… of me… the unmistakable chemistry we have. The way I make you feel. When power is taken away from you sexually, you become empowered because that is what turns you on. You can breathe. You can sigh with relief and let someone else take the reins. Not everyone is the same, but for women like you, that’s exactly how this works. I’ve longed for a woman like you… the total package. Sexy, smart, caring, a deep desire to be dominated to the hilt. You feel shame for wanting me as much as I want you, but you shouldn’t.”
He kissed her. When he pulled back, he felt her cumming onto his fingers, bucking and holding onto him for dear life. “You see, my beautiful flower? Only when I started yelling at you, cussing at you, making you do what you really want to do anyway did you actually relax and feel at ease so you could cum. That’s what you needed. We like the same thing. Never apologize for wanting a real motherfucker in your bed. Do you understand me?”
“Yes… yes!”
He tapped the side of his head. “Mental. Our minds stop us from getting what we deserve more than anyone else we cross paths with in our lives. I’ve removed one of the tapes from your mind. I’ve replaced it with a new one now.” She nodded in understanding. “The first time we fucked at the club was merely an introduction. You passed your first lesson, but barely. Baby, you’ve got to stop treating everything like you have something to prove to someone. Sex, a genuine connection like we have is priceless. Trauma that causes you to not let go and go full throttle for your desires is not law. My cock is now your courtroom. You’ve been traumatized somewhere along the line. You have to learn to let that shit go.”
She laughed, acting as if he didn’t know what he was talking about.
“It’s not funny. That’s another defense mechanism. Laughing at inappropriate times,” he stated sternly as he got up, grabbed a towel he had rolled up by the loveseat, and began to clean the cum off her stomach and upper thighs.
“I don’t have any sexual trauma, Nix. I’ve never been sexually assaulted or molested. There was one incident when I was about maybe ten, when this pervert said something disgusting to me, but other than that,” she shrugged, “I thankfully never endured any of that.”
He sat back down next to her and placed the towel aside.
“You don’t have to be raped or molested to have sexual trauma.”
She rested her head on his shoulder. “Well then, what do you mean?”
“Your first time being fucked could’ve been traumatic. Ever consider that? Maybe he didn’t listen to your needs; maybe he went too fast, he came in three seconds and didn’t give a shit; he didn’t do anything to try and make you feel good. Or you really didn’t want to do it but felt peer pressure because all of your friends were fucking. You don’t think that’s traumatic? Being screwed the first time before you’re ready?” Her smile slowly dissipated. “It could’ve been someone you loved, in a relationship with a person who used sex as a weapon against you, a punishment. That’s a form of sexual and emotional abuse. If you did some shit he didn’t like, all of a sudden, three or four weeks went by with no dick. Enough time for you to wonder where else he was getting it from. That was the whole point. To sow the seed of doubt in your mind, let that shit grow and fester. He more than likely was fucking around, but you had no proof. He loved your insecurities. Ate that shit up. That’s emotional abuse. It’s trauma. The tool was sex… sexual trauma. Capisce?”
She blinked a couple of times. He’d clearly hit a nerve but she remained impassive, doing her best to keep her damn cool.
“Is it still funny, baby? I don’t hear you laughing!” he yelled.
She glanced at the floor, saying nothing.
“It could’ve been someone not taking control when you needed them to… not taking the time to get to know your body and what you liked and didn’t like, even when you tried to let them know. You start to question yourself, wondering if something is wrong for you wanting to be handled like you are now – a fucking woman! Then that leads to fear of telling the truth. You are lovin’ the shit out of this, me, this entire experience. You like being controlled in the bedroom, fucked hard, squeezed, shown how much you’re desired! There are so many gray areas to sexuality; it’s a spectrum.
“You may not like to be whipped or gagged, but you damn well like to be called out of your fucking name, bitch!” He stormed out to get the bottle of wine. Throwing the cork across the room, he held the neck of the bottle and inserted it into her sweet, slippery pussy.
“Ahhh! Uh!” She reared back, her eyes brimming with want and freedom. He fucked her with the bottle, letting some of the liquid spill forth. Pushing it in, yanking it out, all while licking and sucking all over her pussy, the slurping noises as loud as her moans. She grabbed both him and the couch, falling to pieces. He pulled away then, his lips covered in her juices and the sweetness of the wine, and slid the bottle a couple inches inside her once more, nice and slow…
“Shit!” She gritted her teeth, her toes curled as she perspired and climaxed.
“You’re disgusted with yourself for being turned on! I am not to blame; I am to be thanked! Because I reminded you that you need to be broken, to release your inhibitions and finally be you! Free!” Tears welled in her eyes. “It’s safe here… you hear me?” She was now shaking as he thrust the bottle harder and faster within her. “I will never shame you for you being sexually submissive to me.”
He pulled the bottle back and when the wine poured out of her pussy, he lapped it up while stroking her clit. The woman climaxed so violently, she practically suffocated him with her thighs… and he loved every near death second of it. He held onto her, and as she calmed, he swallowed the last of her liquor and kissed his way up her body to her lips. He slipped his tongue into her mouth as they grinded against one another. Her wet, soft pussy pressed against his dick as he teased and played with her, working her up impossibly more before he tore her pussy apart with desperate, hungry strokes.
“Fuck me… fuck me…” She panted and pawed at him, her hands roaming his body with overflowing desire and need.
“Purr for me, baby… just like a cat.” He sank his teeth into the side of her neck as she squirmed against him, desperate for his thrust. She did purr, and purr some more… “You want me to fuck you like the beast that I am!”
“Yes!”
“You have a dual personality, like me, and you’re entitled to it. Newsflash, baby. We’re fucking animals, Yasmine! We fuck with soul to reach other’s soul, to steal souls and to know each other’s souls!”
He forced her thighs apart with a rough nudge of his h
and, then stole a kiss. She moaned and trembled when he jammed a finger inside her, finger fucking her in rapid speed. Melting into him, she gasped as if vying for her last breath, her body responding to his touch like fire to gasoline. He pushed her, stomach down, onto a white soft rug. Reaching around, he clasped her neck and rested his weight on top of her. She scratched and clawed at the rug, writhing beneath him as he forced her legs open.
“You want this dick in you, whore?!”
“Oh, God! Yes! Please! Give it to me!!! Give me that dick! Fuck me!” she begged.
“I know you do, baby. Couldn’t wait to feel it again… this big, fat ass dick ramming hard and deep in your sweet little pussy! I wanted you too, baby. Your pussy belongs to me now! Let me get some of that good shit… Be still!” He gripped her neck harder and squeezed.
“Shit!” she screamed out when he ruthlessly entered her. Their bodies were cemented together as he rode her from behind. The rug bunched beneath their hot forms. Rotating his hips just right, he delivered powerful thrusts. Her entire body shook, and her core grew wetter, juicier. She screamed and breathed hard, crawling as if trying to get away, yet longing to stay. He yanked her back towards him.
“Stay where the fuck I put you. Quit running from it! Take it! Take this dick! Mmmm!”
“Oh, God! It’s so good! Please… please, Nix!”
Gripping her shoulder, he made sure she could no longer escape the delicious cruelty he delivered right to her pussy’s front door.
“That’s right… beg for it! Beg for this dick!”
“Please fuck me more! Please!”
Joel Culpepper crooned ‘Woman’ as he tore her apart… took her down. Reaching beneath her, he gently massaged her clit, while his pelvis danced a little slower against her sweet flesh. Resting his head against her back, he worked his muscles against her frame, ass and thighs, propelling to the beat of the music until she reached another climax. She shrieked, shuddered, her voice competing with the sounds of soul. Before she was even settled, he slid out of her and turned her abruptly onto her back. Her eyes glazed over as she sported a sexy smile, her long hair in disarray. Her breasts bounced, enticing him. Taking a nipple in his mouth, he sucked up and pulled, then kissed the spot.
Placing one of her legs over his shoulder, he entered her once more. The woman’s eyes rolled as he jostled her up and down, fucking her so ruthlessly, her tits sprang in a blur and her teeth chattered. Gripping the rug beneath them, she began to pull out pieces of it, and soft white bits floated in the air around them like miniscule snowflakes tumbling to the floor in slow motion. The slapping noise of his balls against her pussy seemed amplified, or perhaps he was simply having such a glorious time, he felt a bit high. He reared back and slammed against her nature, her screams almost making him cum. She shuddered, her pussy squirting essence as he did it again and again.
“Fuck!” She rose up and placed her hand on his abs, only for him to slap it away and pin it back. Leaning down, he kissed all over her breasts and face, never letting up, pounding and rocking and racing toward ecstasy.
“I’m going to cum deep inside of you! Fill this pussy up!”
“Mmmm! Yes, baby!”
“Ahhh!” Their moans overlapping, he thrust hard, grinding his teeth as he released within her tight fortress, draining himself to the last drop. He gave himself a moment to gather his composure, then got to his feet. The scent of their lovemaking filled the room, intoxicating him, making him crave her again. He surveyed her body, turned on by the milky love he could see around her pink pussy hole, practically spilling out onto the rug.
“Squeeze your pussy. Press down on the muscle as if you’re trying to hold in pee.” She did as asked, looking so relaxed. Spent. “Now release.” His cum began to drizzle out like white lava. He walked away, grabbed a mirror he’d left in a cubby hole on the coffee table in preparation for this encounter, and held it up to show her between her thighs. “Look.” She sat up higher. “That’s all my cum running out of your pussy.”
He placed the mirror down, then leaned over her body and kissed her hard. His passion for the woman was shooting through the roof, his attraction and desire growing by the second at the sight of her looking exhausted, beautiful…
Surrendered.
He helped her up from the floor, then quickly embraced her. She welcomed the affection and rested her head against his chest, squeezing him hard.
“I feel so alive. Electric…”
He barely heard her words over the music, but her message came through all the same. Stroking her back, he kissed the top of her head. There was no turning back now. Things were different with this woman… But she’d want more. And at that moment, he realized he wasn’t going to renege on his word. He wasn’t going to bail, or simply use the time for intense, wonderful, one-of-a-kind sexual encounters. He wanted more, too.
“Let’s get cleaned up.”
He released her, took her hand, and led her to his master suite to shower. As they walked, each step felt like the weight of the world had settled on his shoulders. Something was happening that had never occurred to him before: a sense of responsibility toward this woman. What they were sharing and exploring together went beyond egos, pride, their bodies and all that entailed. It went to his very heart. The way she looked at him, wrapped herself around him, the need and struggle in her as she fought with her emotions at each and every turn.
Yes…
She was an open book and it was up to him to help her write on the pages.
I don’t just need to clean my body. I need to clean up my act.
She was right. I have work to do, too…
CHAPTER EIGHT
Karate Chop
Have you ever felt like you were caught on the rocky edge of both sanity and insanity? Toeing the line, one half of your mind and heart on the cool, white ground and the other part of you teetering on the simmering, hot black lake of fire? That’s how I feel… The knowledge of belonging to yourself, knowing yourself for so many years, and then a man enters your life, removes the curtains from your glass castle, and allows everything in – the sun and the darkness… So who am I now? Was I always this person? I had to have been. Such a thing doesn’t happen overnight.
Yasmine sat curled in a ball on an oversized red chair, her naked body wrapped in a luxurious soft black blanket that felt as if she were being worshiped by the finest material known to man. She heard the shower stop and let her head fall back on the chair, comfortable, basking in her thoughts. ‘Baby Powder’ by Jenevieve played through some retro-styled large red speakers in the man’s massive bedroom.
Around the window, the long black and red curtains were pulled open, showcasing an incredible view of the city. Tall gold and blue buildings stood erect and bright as if bathed in diamonds. The Chicago River glowed from the reflections of the blinking lights, shimmering and calling her name. Obviously, business is good for him. He can afford to live here…
The relaxing music carried her deeper into her thoughts. The shower was nice… Just like at The Cage, Nixon had taken his time with her, bathing her from head to toe. His gaze had been that of a man in love, but she damn well knew better. There was just something about his eyes, the way they rested on her, examined her – as if he were looking right into her soul. He had full command of her, and he knew it. She’d almost cum when he’d washed her hair. A deep pull gripped her core and radiated through her entire body while he massaged her scalp, the air fragrant and fresh. His hands are magic.
She closed her eyes, envisioning his deft fingers massaging with just the right amount of pressure, the scent of the zesty shampoo and conditioner. He’d even dried her off and lotioned her down, every damn inch, then handed her this cozy, warm throw to cover herself with. He said he’d wash his hair so here she was, travelling in her memories while she waited. The roads in her mind led to places she didn’t dare go. She looked about the room, noticing a crystal sculpture, an award of some sort, and then a couple more gold ones. I wonder
what those are for?
Slowly getting up from the seat, she allowed the black throw to fall to the floor. She journeyed over to the glass table that held his closed laptop, a notepad, a canister full of ink pens and a letter opener. Carefully picking up the crystal trophy shaped like a globe with both hands, she took a closer look. The etching read: Pro-Bono and Service Award.
She read it again… and again. Every time she thought she had this son of a bitch down pat, figured out, something new came into the picture and threw her off her game. Tossed her for a wild loop. He’s charitable. Wow. She picked up one of the two gold trophies next. It was heavy, well made, a bit silly in design. Two men were entangled in a fight of sorts. It read: First Place Winner Heavyweight Judo.
She picked up the second gold award, this one shaped like a star and read it, too: Second Place Winner in Illinois Summit Judo Conference.
Her attention was drawn to a black binder and white bin that was chock full of shiny ribbons, so many the top of the bin was placed underneath it to catch the overflow. Oh… these look like medals. Leaning over the box, she peered inside and thumbed through them, reading some of the words engraved on the gold, silver, and bronze discs: Judo Third Black Belt, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu Black Belt… so many. He told me he did martial arts as a kid, but I had no idea he’d been this heavily involved. Wow. I hope he doesn’t mind me looking at these. I mean, they were sitting out…
She opened the binder and found herself looking at the headshot of young, dark-haired boy who favored Nixon. Was it him? Perhaps. The kid was sporting a big, toothy grin as if the world were his oyster. The next photo was definitely him, maybe just a year or two older. It was an old, worn Polaroid picture. He was dressed in a white robe, similar to the ones worn by children learning karate. She turned to another page to see more of the same, and as she continued to flip through, the boy got older and older, and she was now certain it was Nixon. In one, he held a huge trophy as he stood in a large arena, a guy with a mic next to him. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-one years old. Then there were photos of a woman and other children around him. Maybe that was his mother?