I spend a small eternity-okay, perhaps only an hour-perusing the many channels and ways to consume modern media, but my patience is wearing thin. I want to spend more time with my Little Dove and show her that there is an unmistakable magnetism between us. I must show her that it’s nothing to fear, even if those around her have led her to believe my kind is inherently evil.
The last time I felt attraction for anyone, it ended with me trapped for centuries. Thoughts of Tasha and her betrayal plague me. I have to shake them off, reminding myself that it was a different time, and a vastly different situation. I have no way to know for sure, but Bel doesn’t seem like the type to crack under pressure and destroy someone to save her own skin. Things are different enough now that she wouldn’t be put in the same position either. Women have fought for freedoms they never had before.
Just thinking of my past pushes me to my feet. I’ve had enough television, and I’ve been away from Bel long enough. Perhaps I’ll just quietly step in and read while she works. I could probably learn more about her there than I ever could from here. She seemed to have a lot more personal effects in her studio. Her entry area holds barely more than a few impersonal pieces of art and her furniture.I’ll take her a cup of coffee. She couldn’t possibly turn me away if I come bearing a gift.
I head into the kitchen to prepare her beverage. Her collection of coffee mugs gives me a brief glimpse into her sense of humor, but I need to know much more. Everything. I want to knoweverythingabout her. I know how she takes her coffee, but I have to know her favorite food, which media program she enjoys the most, how she looks when she finds release; all of it. I need it. And I need to start now.
Grabbing the finished product and adding some sweetened cream, I walk towards her studio. I can hear her working through the wall, though I’m sure she thinks her noise-reducing walls protect her from me.
I crack the door as quietly as I can, inserting the coffee through the slight opening to show her my peace offering before I fully enter. When I finally slide through, I’m met with her beaming eyes for a split second before she continues her next sentence. I’m not sure exactly what it is that she’s reading, but it sounds as if the characters in her novel are discussing sexual boundaries.
She pauses and takes a moment to play back the last few sentences, and as she does, she points at me, shakes her head, and points back at the door. So I walk a few steps closer and go to hand her the coffee. When she reaches for it, I snatch it back and raise an eyebrow.Come on, Little Dove. Play along with me.
Rolling her eyes, she mouths the wordfine.I reward her with her caffeinated goodness and a smile before I mime zipping my lips closed like I saw on one of her programs earlier. She sips the coffee before making the smallest moan of contentment, and I feel that tiny sound all the way through my body, instantly needing to hear more of it.
But right now, she’s working. I will show her and her profession respect. Fighting every instinct in my body, I turn away from her to peruse her studio. This room holds so much more personality than the rest of her home. A soft rug covers most of the floor, bookshelves line nearly half the walls, with maps and paintings covering every inch of wall space left over.
The open shelves hold a plethora of artwork, both lude and tame. They feature all kinds of bodies, ranging from regular men to half-spider males, each embracing human women.I think I might love the modern world.This room is a celebration of sensuality, and I want to thoroughly celebrate with her.
Picking up a book that looks interesting, I hold it up towards her with my brows raised in silent question. She begins to blush and seems to hold back a laugh but nods her head and points towards a dark velvet chair in the corner. I take the seat she directed me to, the perfect place to enjoy my find while I also take in the sight of Bel.
As she proceeds with her work for a while, I open the novel I’ve chosen.
I thumb through until I find what I’m looking for.This is utterly vile and delicious.Every detail is included in the sex scene and it’sincrediblydescriptive. The longer I read, the more I understand the appeal. I have to cross my legs to try to hide the effect the novel has on me, but if Bel’s growing smirk is any indication, I’ve been caught.
My Little Dove has no idea the game she’s just started. She knew exactly what I would find in that tome andencouragedme. As I rise from my seat, her face drops. I gesture for her to continue and go towards the closed cabinet opposite me. If she keeps sexual art out in the open, what does she keep behind closed doors? The startled expression on her face morphs into pure terror, and I wonder what could possibly be causing such fear. Opening the doors, I look around and—
By the Gods. Are these… all sex items?
Some clearly are, the phallic shape being entirely obvious. But others are less so. I don’t recognize half the things in here, and I can’t help but wonder if Bel has used these with others. I’m caught between being dangerously jealous and incredibly aroused at the thought.
I can work with some of these items. A bundle of ultra-soft feathers sits in a clear vase, a blindfold and some silk ribbons drape across the shelf, and what appears to be a riding crop is propped against the wall. Choosing one of the feathers to enhance our little game, I close the cabinet and turn towards Bel.
Finally, she hits a button and speaks to me, “Wh-what are you doing?” Her nervous little voice has the creature inside of me banging against the cage I’ve built around it.
“Exploring,” I point the feather in her direction. “You’re supposed to be working,” I remind her.
Her eyes zero in on my hand holding the feather, and rather than back down, she challenges me, “I am working.Youare interrupting.”
I suppose she’s not wrong, but I needed to see her. Before I can explain that, my curiosity gets the best of me. “Have you used all of these?” I gesture back to the treasure trove with my feather.
“No,” her cheeks are positively scarlet, andChrist,I need to know if the rest of her body flushes that deeply. “I just… You can’t really talk about sex and the toys if you haven’t played around a bit.”Toys, she calls them. I wanna play so bad.
“So you experiment for the sake of authenticity?” I taunt, planting the seeds for how we’ll play. I’m nearly shaking from the effort of holding myself back from her.
“I guess so, yeah. But only by myself so half that stuff hasn’t been touched.” Based on the way she closes her eyes and heaves out a breath, it would appear she did not want to share that with me. I distantly wonder why she hasn’t, while also feeling grateful because this entire collection might be burnt to a crisp if anyone else had used these with her.
“Well,” I drawl as I stroll toward her, “In the spirit of giving an authentic narration, allow me to help.” I step behind her workstation where she’s sitting on her little bench.
She’s practically panting, but she hasn’t said anything, so I wrap her hair around my fist and gently tug until she’s looking up at me. I lean down until we are breathing the same air, using my free hand to run the feather down the middle of her neck, stopping just above where her chest heaves with every breath. I whisper against her lips, “Tell me to leave.” She says nothing. “Or resume your work, and allow me to aid your performance.”
I release her hair and wait for her to decide.
After a quick moment, she leans forward to hit a button.Oh, good fucking girl.I nearly groan in relief. As she proceeds to read, I lower myself to my knees directly behind her and set the feather on her seat. I put my hands on the bench to each side of her and lean in to get another smell of her sweet hair, causing her breath to hitch. I gather her gorgeous strands, drape them over one shoulder, and rest my chin on the other so I may watch what she’s reading.
Thus far, I hadn’t bothered paying attention to the words she read, but now I’m fully invested, for authenticity’s sake, of course.
“He ran his calloused hands along my skin, learning my every curve,” she begins. My hands reach for where she’s hiding hers in her lap, and I place them on the bench to the sides and slightly behind her, the position forcing her to arch her spine and put those perfect breasts in my line of sight. The hard points poking through her shirt, begging to be tasted, have my mouth watering.
