My orgasm subsides, as Ewan’s own release builds. His body is hard, his muscles tense and poised as he drives his cock harder, deeper. He stills, holding position, his erection nudging my cervix as his semen spurts, pumping to fill the condom. He releases my mouth to let out a low groan before dropping a light kiss against my earlobe.
We both lie still, caught in the moment, panting. My heart rate slows down to something resembling normal. I manage to find the strength to unclasp my ankles and straighten one leg. The other remains hooked around Ewan’s hips. He rolls to the opposite side, dragging me with him so I find myself draped across his body. He makes no attempt to disengage from me. I’m conscious of his cock only slightly softening inside my cunt.
“You alright, Faith?” His tone is low, gravelly. Hisbreathing is still laboured, which pleases me. His seduction was not entirely effortless.
“Mmm, I think so.”
He lifts my hair, tilting my chin up so he can see my face. “You think?”
“I can’t be sure, not until we’ve done that a couple more times.”
His anxious expression dissolves into a grin. “Brat. You’ll be staying the night then?”
Chapter Six
I did stay the night, and most of the following morning. Ewan is inventive, demanding, an exciting, attentive, generous lover. In the weeks since we have spent every night together, usually at his house, sometimes at mine. His bed is bigger, so we prefer that. My kitchen is better stocked, so we usually come round here to eat although Ewan does most of the cooking.
Although he’s not travelling at the moment, that doesn’t mean he isn’t working. His dining room has been converted to provide an efficient home office—another reason for eating at my house. Ewan tends to spend his days in there, working on the various projects he’s involved in, keeping up with correspondence, tendering for new jobs though I gather that most of his clients approach him.
I’m working out my notice at Em See Squared. My attic studio is ready. The loft has been converted into a superb workspace, even better than I imagined. I’ve invested in a powerful desktop computer with a huge, flat screen, loaded with the latest in design software. I’m ready to go. All I need now are some orders.
I have enough cash in reserve to be able to supportmyself for six months, though I’m confident that in that time I’ll be able to bring in at least some business. Ewan will be my first client. He wants me to overhaul his company website, so between that, and designing my own marketing materials, I’ll be busy for the first few weeks.
Life is exhilarating, the future bright. I’m bursting with optimism. Enthusiasm drips from me. For the first time I can remember, I’m consciously happy. Fulfilled.
* * *
Ewan is leaving today. He’ll be in Paris for the next three weeks, then on to Oslo for some preliminary discussions about a new velodrome. He invited me to go with him, at least for some of the trip, and I suppose I could have. Paris and Oslo are not actually that far away. But my own fledgling business needs my attention. If I’m serious about making a success of this venture, I need to apply myself, I need to make it my priority. Good sex is a bonus, and there’ll be plenty more of that when Ewan returns.
I’ve been beavering away in my attic for three weeks now. Ewan’s website is looking sleek, modern, uncluttered. I’ve placed adverts in various trade press publications, and I’m starting to develop my social media presence.
I call my business just simplyFaith. It makes sense to me.
Most important, I’ve hooked my first clients as an independent supplier. A local nursery want a logo and signage, and the motorcycle spares shop that Ed used to frequent most weekends heard that I’d set up alone and offered me the job of designing their latest sales promotion leaflets. They expected mates’ rates, but we managed to do a deal. I’m making ends meet.
The first Friday that Ewan is out of the country I consider making a return visit to Sheffield. It’s been a few weeks since my last spanking, and I long to feel the sharpsting of a paddle against my buttocks. Who would have imagined that? It’s true though, but still I don’t go.
Ewan wouldn’t like it. I haven’t mentioned it to him, of course I haven’t, but I know what he would think. To go there behind his back is out of the question. It would be disloyal to him, deceitful.
With Ewan, I have something special, something powerful and every bit as passionate, every bit as hot as I imagined it would be. I was right about the emotional involvement a relationship with him would entail. I’m in love with him, I know this without a shadow of doubt. I have a suspicion he might love me too. He hasn’t said so exactly, but it seems to me to be there in his ready, dimpled smile, his dry humour, his gentle, slow touch and his lovemaking that sets my pussy alight. It could be wishful thinking, but I hope not. All I know is he makes me clench and cream with just a look. One quirk of his lip, one flash of those dimples, and I melt.
It’s more than mere physical attraction, more than just sex. He’s nice, he’s funny, he’s good company. He makes me laugh, he makes me scream. I enjoy him, in bed and out of it.
And I miss him. Terribly.
I’m not sure exactly why I haven’t talked to him about my explorations into my submissive nature. It’s not as though he wouldn’t understand. But my trips to Sheffield seem like another life, a different existence. They are outside of my relationship with Ewan, and are destined to remain so.
My sudden and intense reaction when Ewan made his semi-joking reference to tying me up came out of nowhere. It surprised me, not least as I did actually find my previous limited forays into bondage arousing. When we first got together Ewan mentioned the ghost of Ed hovering beside us, but it was Caroline’s spectre that roseup in that moment, over-shadowing the pleasure of Ewan’s touch and twisting my perspective.
In my head I know that Caroline had no real hold on Ewan. He regrets her loss but doesn’t pine for her as I might have feared. As I once did for Ed, though not any longer. But she was an experienced submissive, trained, responsive to his needs, attuned to her own sexuality. I’m a bumbling amateur in comparison, clumsy, unsophisticated. From my visits to Fairlawns I know enough now about dominance and submission to appreciate the depth of my ignorance, the extent of my naïveté.
Ewan could teach me, I have no doubt of it. He would be a good mentor, caring, patient, demanding, challenging. My friendly dom with the warm smile and fine touch with a paddle might satisfy my immediate need for a spanking but no more. Never any more than that. With Ewan there would be so much to be discovered. He would be thorough, unhurried, peeling back the layers, exposing depths I never thought to reveal to anyone before.
I might welcome the intimacy, but wouldn’t that ultimately be to step into Caroline’s shoes? To become a convenient body, a playmate, a woman who meant little to him beyond the moment.
I won’t do that. Can’t be that. I need him too much.
Ewan’s due back today. I’m not sure exactly what time, but I’ve been on line to monitor the arrivals at Manchester airport so I know his plane landed two hours ago. He’d have to reclaim his baggage, clear customs, then get a taxi back to where he parks his car. Maybe an hour and a half’s drive back here. I think I can expect him within an hour or so. I hug my stomach, excited, aroused, verging on the desperate. I wasn’t sure if I should cook, he probably ate on the plane, but I did anyway. Not to Ewan’s culinary standards, but a decent offering of braised steak with onions, jacket potatoes, some steamed vegetables. We’ll eat, we’ll exchange news, we’ll go to bed. Not necessarily in that order.
