Sliding my palms up her arms, I notice her words become shaky and strained, but she continues, “As his mouth skimmed my neck, I let out a breathy moan.” I turn into the crook of her neck, running my open mouth back and forth, not quite a kiss, just a torturous tease, letting my breath warm her neck. She breaks out in gooseflesh and shivers, causing me to smile against her soft skin.
“The possessive hold he had on me, with his hand around my throat, left me dizzy with desire.” I let one hand drift to her hip while the other drapes around her slender neck, pulling her into me. At the feel of my hard length against her, she gasps and both of my hands flex against her.
“Shhhh. Keep going, my Dove.” I whisper against her ear and give it a little warning nip.
“I felt every inch of his hard cock as he rocked his hips against mine, only a few layers of clothes left between us.” I grind myself into her soft, plush ass, and a small groan escapes me. When she whimpers, I can’t hold back any longer. I have to taste her luscious, panting mouth. Using my grip on her neck, I pull her head back, forcing her to back and up at me.
Her eyes drift to my lips, and I watch, full of aching need, as she licks her pouty lower lip. Trepidation and excitement war on her face, a beautiful agony written across her features as she gives in, knowing where this will inevitably lead.
*Ring*
*Ring*
*Ring*
Please don’t answer that, I beg internally, our eyes still locked on each other.
She gasps and pulls away, hitting the stop button on her machinery, “I have to get that. It could be important.” She tries to stand, nearly toppling over in her lust-drunk state. Though I’m certain I’d fare no better right now.
“Hi, Isla! What? No, I’m not out of breath. No, no, I’m just- uhhh, working.” She looks at me, still down on my knees, ready to worship her. For a moment, indecision crosses her face, but she proceeds, “No, it’s not a bad time. I can take a break. What’s going on?” She mouthsSorryto me and all but runs from the room. I tilt my head back and let out a breath, trying to release the tension from my body.
Taking advantage of her absence, I stand and meander back to the cabinet oftoys,as she called them. There are so many, but the one I find myself gravitating towards again and again is the riding crop. Based on her reaction to being held by the throat, my little offering craves pain and fear with her pleasure. I slap the crop across my palm a couple times, then return it to its rightful place before continuing my exploration.
When Bel returns to the room, all the heat in her expression is gone, replaced by an apologetic smile. “That was my friend, Isla. She- ummm… she doesn’t have a great relationship with her parents and they are trying to force themselves back into her life,” she explains.
“Why does she not have a healthy relationship with them?” As someone without a family, I don’t understand not clinging to them if you have one.
She takes a moment to answer, “It’s a very long story, involving years of trauma and abuse. It’s really not my story to tell, so you’ll have to forgive me for not telling you more.”
“I see. I can imagine that’s very hurtful for her,” I pause, “But she’s very fortunate to have you as support.”
“Thank you,” she says with a small smile, then becomes more reserved and proceeds, “Look. I really have to get these scenes finished. Without any further distractions.”
“Of course.” Even though it’s the last thing I want to do, I’ll leave her to her work. “I’ll take my book and be gone. I’ll be in the main living area should you need me.”
With a quick bow, I grab my reading material, walk out the door and allow her some privacy.
For now, anyway.
A Very Active Imagination
Bel
Yesterday was a disaster. Okay, well, maybe that’s a bit dramatic. But I definitely did not stay on schedule with my work, between Caspian’s little game and Isla calling about her latest issue with her parents. Both require more thought than I was able to give them before, but now that I’m lying in bed, avoiding getting up, my mind is running in circles between the two.
Since Isla went no contact with her parents last year, things have gotten much better for her. She doesn’t talk about it much anymore, and I don’t know everything, but I do know they were not supportive, to say the least, about herlifestyle.They had decided a long time ago that she was going to live the life they deemed fit, even if that life made her miserable.
Usually, they keep their distance. But like clockwork, every few months, once she has recovered from their last unexpected visit, they appear in the form of gifts or random suitors with her phone number. This time, they emailed her a round-trip ticket home for Thanksgiving, along with a message about meeting her mom’s hairdresser’s son when she comes to visit.
Every time agiftlike this appears, she has to grieve for them all over again. She grieves for the parents she needed, she grieves for the life she deserved, and she grieves for the little girl she should have been. And every time, Isla feels the unbearable guilt of cutting off family members wholoveher. But love isn’t real if it comes with terms and conditions.
I wish I had had more time to talk about it with her, to reassure her that she’s doing the right thing by protecting herself and denying them control over her. But unfortunately, real life can’t just pause when we need a minute. We both had too much work to get through yesterday. But I promised to meet her for lunch in a couple days so she could vent.
It’ll push back my road trip with Caspian a day, but he’ll be fine. If I’m being honest, I think he needs the extra day to acclimate before I spring the chaos that is Las Vegas on him.
That’s another nightmare I’m trying not to think about. I’m supposed to be getting rid of him, not… whatever this is that I’ve been doing. His advances yesterday had me absolutely soaked through my pajama shorts.And he barely touched me.I can only imagine the mess I’d be if he actually made good on the promises his lingering touches were making.
The way his large, smooth hands mapped my skin and his rumbling whisper in my ear had me melting into him. When he cradled my neck in his palm and rocked against me, I thought I was already going to combust into a million pieces. I had tried so hard to keep my cool, but the desperation in his filthy groan had me pushing my ass back against him, begging him to release another sound.
