Authors: Maya DeLeina
The simplicity of his touch, his breath, his scent was enough to send her over the edge. The encounter with this man was unlike anything she’d experienced in her life. He was so in tune with what her body craved, little things really, a touch here, a rasp there. He knew the level of intensity he wanted to flood her with, sending her into overdrive. It was like he was made just for her and her for him. Ultimate satisfaction, nothing left unexplored, no one left unfilled. All that remained was longing for more.
In one fluid motion, he bent over, dipping his head into her and slowly kissed the column of her exposed neck. A moan escaped her lips as a shot of numbing electricity penetrated her, traveling from his kiss down to her toes. He released her neck and moved to the opposite side, planting his warm, wet kisses from the crease of her neck up behind her ear.
This sensation was overwhelming.
Goosebumps spread like wildfire all through her body. A spasm erupted in the pit of her stomach and rippled its way down to her pelvis. Her toes curled in a spontaneous response. She rocked her hips gently to spread the moisture being released between her legs.
He pressed his body to mold against her backside as he entwined his fingers into hers. Gradually, he raised her arms above her head, splaying her in all of her vulnerability. He released a lustful breath in her ear as he worked his hardness against her, gently grinding his hips up along the curves of her ample rear. With her arms fully extended, he slid his hands down the length of her inner arm, causing the sensitive skin to shudder under his touch. Tenderly, he bent her elbows and wrapped her arms around his neck until her back was fully arched. She leaned her head back against him, allowing him to take in her image in its most uninhibited and raw form.
She was entranced with the way her body and her mind naturally responded to him.
She released a sudden gasp as he cupped her breasts. He gently squeezed and kneaded her mounds, massaging her hardened nipples between his fingertips. His tender touch became increasingly needful with every second. His fingers slowed their worship on her and dug deeper, seizing a wider grasp with great intensity.
His breath was hot against her skin and slowly shifted into animalistic pants. Suddenly he released a delicious moan in her ear that set off a wild release that saturated her thong with marked wetness.
He rocked harder and harder against her. His masculine hands seized each side of her rib cage, his control slowly unraveling.
He spread his fingers and pressed his flat palms firmly against her as he crisscrossed over and down the length of her abdomen with intense need. He pushed down on her back, bending her over until her firm, plump ass pressed against his hardness. He held on to her shoulders and ground obsessively into her.
He fisted the material of her thong as she remained bent over, holding on to the sides of the floor-length mirror for support.
The sound of fabric tearing with his insatiable need was electrifying.
The material hit the floor and her lace thong was nothing but small remnants of an unidentified garment.
He was losing his control. A ravenous beast now stood next to her.
The heat of his body faded in an instant as the blindfold knot released behind her head. The black silk scarf fell to the floor. She turned around, gasping for breath and found him standing with his bare back facing her. He stood barefoot and breathless with his hands tucked in the pocket of his black trousers, trying to regain his composure.
The canopy that suspended high over the bed sent white fabric pouring down from the ceiling, pooling to the floor. The waterfall of sheer fabric floated around the room with the evening breeze, seemingly in a dance to the music that resonated through the room.
She walked to him, her heels echoing and signaling her path to him. She was untamed in her approach. This was no time for him to fight for self-control. She wanted to release the beast inside him. She needed him to occupy every space in her mind, body, and soul.
He released his hands from his pockets and dropped them to his side in anticipation of her assault.
She pressed her breasts up against his bare back and grasped his hips. She traced her hardened nipples up and down his moistened back and took a deep breath.
His scent was intoxicating, a mixture of spicy musk with a subtle hint of clean citrus.
Her crafty hands reached in front of him, unfastening his belt buckle slowly. As the leather pieces of the belt separated from each other, she ran her hands against his engorged shaft that was pressing against the trouser material. He let out a deep moan and drew his head back. She slowly slipped the zipper of his trousers down and moved to undo the button that secured the garment to his hips. The trousers fell abruptly to the ground. He stepped out of the material, his bare foot kicking away the garment with unrestrained urgency. She tucked her fingers under the elastic band of his form-fitting, black briefs, encircling her fingers around his waist until they met. She inched the material downward, carefully maneuvering the material over the thickness of his shaft.
He stood there, stripped, completely bare.
She took a step back to admire his breathtaking form.
The defined muscles cut in and out of his back, the broadness of his shoulders emphasized by his tight rib cage and slender waist. His buttocks were sculpted, displaying two perfect round forms.
Deep-black tattoos decorated each arm, accenting his chiseled muscles that were proportionately gratifying and breathtaking. A weave of geometric lines deliciously encircled his left bicep. An endless loop without beginning or end, the tattoo seemed to define a junction of unity and eternity. On his right, a shield was prominently on display. A series of intricate contours delicately traced the symbol, the design lending to the form of a winged creature.
And just like him, the tattoos were mesmerizing, intriguing, and mysterious.
He stood like a statue, unwavering, allowing her to soak in every detail. He showed no reserve or inhibition. He was at total ease with his nudity in her presence. He personified physical dominance, a man who could serve as her protector. And a man who could completely ravish her, serve her animalistic need.
The breeze intensified, and the canopy material blew across his chest, draping over a shoulder and running down the length of his back. It created the most sensual sight.
Catching the length of the material as it swayed off his back, she pulled his left arm behind and entwined the white material around his wrist. His right arm followed, positioning it to rest palm over palm as she worked the material around both wrists. She reached in front of him and cupped his aching flesh. He hissed like a cat in response, his body tensing at her touch.
She released her hand and traced down his engorged shaft.
From the frenulum down to the base, she traced every vein, every contour. His skin felt like soft leather. He trembled in response. She grasped his thickness and ran her hand up and down, allowing his skin to slide along the shaft. His buttocks tensed as he let out a long, resonant groan. She continued to stroke him, grasping harder in a rhythmic building of need. She traced kisses down his biceps.
All the while, he was making his way out of the hand restraints.
He caught her hand in his and turned, forcing her backside against him once again.
Restraining the beast proved to be the last straw. His passion was like a wildfire, spreading freely, uncontrolled and without a clear path. The dam of self control was broken. Hunger, craving, desire peaked in his eyes.
He grabbed the white fabric and laced it around her neck. He pulled her arm behind her and wrapped her hand around his cock. She stroked him up and down, relishing the feel of his moistened tip. He fisted the material tightly around her neck as his free hand traveled to her crotch and explored the wetness of her folds wildly, passionately.
“Anya?” he whispered in her ear. The intense timbre of his voice, his heavy panting, the magnetism of his sexy accent, melted her heart.
“Yes?”
“Can I take you?” he asked.
“Take me!”
“Can I…
claim
you?” he asked again, this time with a slight hesitation.
“Claim me!”
He grabbed her shoulders fiercely and turned her around.
“Anya?” A faint female voice echoed.
“Anya!”
Michelle shook Anya as she napped on the futon in her office.
Anya opened her eyes wide and blinked repeatedly to focus on Michelle as her heavy breathing slowed.
Michelle was crouched by the futon, sporting a smile, but with a profound look of regret on her face.
“I’m sorry, honey, I know it must’ve been a real good one with you moaning and writhing here, but you said to wake you at this time so you could get down to the studio.”
“Yeah, thanks. Really, thank you. I needed you to do that.” Anya sat up and continued, “Sorry. I still haven’t been able to get a good night’s rest lately. I keep having these types of dreams, ever since that day.”
“It must be the thin air up there in Ambrose Heights!” Michelle said jokingly to lighten mood. She sat back down in her office chair and put her reading glasses on. “So, did you get to see his face this time?”
“No. But his scent, the sound of his voice and that sexy accent of his is etched in my brain. They’ll stay with me, even after I wake up.” Suddenly, Anya recalled something she never saw revealed in other dreams. “Wait! I saw tattoos!”
“Tattoos? Of what?”
“I don’t know, like a tribal armband on one side.” Anya motioned around her left bicep as she recalled the image in her mind. “The other side looked like a crest, right up at the top of his shoulder. It was very distinctive. Very…sexy.”
Michelle squinted in apparent jealousy. “And you’re complaining about sleep when you’re having these most delicious erotic dreams of a tattooed hottie? You can sleep when you’re dead.”
“I mean really, I’m wondering if something is wrong with me. The dreams are so vivid, so sensory-based. Is this a result of overactive hormones?” Anya slipped on her jewelry one by one that she’d laid out on the coffee table. “Is this supposed to be happening to my mind, my body giving me one last hoorah before menopause starts to kick in?” Anya paused. “You never had anything like this before, did you?”
“Of course I did. Don’t you remember? I used to have really wild sexual dreams about Dominic. I just don’t think mine were as detailed or intense as yours. I couldn’t recall a scent or voice like you do. Mine were all visually based on a man I knew.”
A hint of vulnerability and sadness was etched on Michelle’s face.
Anya studied her emotions.
Suddenly, Michelle jumped to another subject. “So, new student huh?”
“Three of them actually. Out of the clear blue, a man called, said I was recommended by someone I taught through the Heartstrings program. He booked the entire month, from 3:00 p.m. to 6:00 p.m., for relatives of his.” Anya stood up and draped her silk shawl around her shoulders. “Next thing I know, I have an envelope delivered to the studio, payment in full, and a bonus for the short notice and readjusting my availability.”
“Wow. Who was the check from? Who was it that recommended you?”
“Cash payment, and he couldn’t recall.”
“Hmm. Well, still a great opportunity, although, the timing sucks. I just wish this happened for you when that bastard left you broke. Now you have your inheritance.”
“Michelle, I still need the money. I paid off all the debts with the inheritance, but I didn’t keep any of it for myself. I used some of it to help build up Heartstrings, and I donated the rest to various charities.”
Michelle took off her glasses and jumped from her chair. “I didn’t know you didn’t keep it! Why? Why did you do that? Why didn’t you tell me? I know money doesn’t make up for the loss of loved ones, but with all that you been through, you deserved this.”