Authors: Bebe Wilde
Holding the vibrator steady and in position, his mouth clamped down on me, on my clit, sucking at it as the vibrator fucked me. I was so wet it was hard to get traction but I had to have it, that orgasm. His other hand slipped between my buttocks and began to play with me there. A finger slipped in. I threw my head back and nearly gyrated with pleasure. This was too much. It was too much! But I wanted more. More, more, more! I wanted his cock in me fucking me and I wanted the vibrator on my clit and I wanted his finger in my ass. I wanted his lips on my mouth and his other hand on my breasts. I was being greedy but I wanted it all and at once. I wanted every erogenous zone covered.
He was doing his best to satisfy me and I loved him for it.
Just then it exploded inside of me. The orgasm was so intense it was almost made me scream with pleasure. I was fiery with passion. My hands were on his head, holding him tight as my pussy ground against him. It was there, the orgasm, and then it was gone, leaving me breathless, wanting more.
Lots and lots more.
He stood and stared at me, at me standing there, post-orgasm, in the mask, almost as if I were a different person. I stared back and waited, wanting more and more and more of what he had to offer.
Tossing the vibrator to the side, he stepped in and kissed me, opening his mouth wide to consume me. As he kissed me, he grabbed my bra and pulled it off my body, snapping it in two. It fell away and my breasts were there for his eyes to see, the nipples hard and wanting his touch, aching for his hands and mouth and lips. The nipples were hard and pointing, they were pink and longed for his mouth. He bent and sucked one in, nibbling at it. I moaned and ran my hands down his back, realizing he was still dressed.
“I want you naked,” I moaned and tugged at his shirt.
He pulled back and together we got him undressed. Clothes on the floor, forgotten, he came back to me, his cock hard and ready to fill me, wanting inside to fuck me senseless. I spread my legs, wanting to be entered like that, but he turned me around, grabbed me by the waist and pulled my ass up and to his cock. And then he was in, shoving himself deep inside of me a little roughly, making me gasp, but I could handle it and even
ask
for more.
Once we were fucking, he pressed me up against the mirror. I was watching us fuck now. I liked that. I got what he was saying about becoming a different person because I felt different, like somebody else. That’s what the mask was about. I was fucking like a different person, someone who was just out to get hers. He loved it, I could tell. And so did
I
.
He the untied the mask and threw it to the side so I had to look at myself, at me, getting fucked by him, Roman. I stared at my face, at me, getting fucked and then I got it. That sexually charged person I was just a few minutes ago was me, it was me, I was her, wanting it, wanting to be fucked and sucked and poked and prodded. He had released me by simply hiding me from myself for a few, intense minutes.
His hand slipped between my legs and rested flat between them, fingering my clit as he fucked me from behind. Another hand grabbed my breast and squeezed. I felt so good, so wanted, so real. And I was getting fucked. He was pounding into me and I watched us fucking. It was the best feeling ever. Then the orgasm just came at me, pounced on me, and made me shake and grab onto his hand, grinding against it. I came hard, almost singing with the pleasure it gave me and felt like I was on top of the world, looking down, feeling everything I was meant to feel.
He finished up, too, coming, pumping hard inside of me, shooting inside of my walls. I moaned as he came and then sighed loudly with satisfaction.
He turned me around and kissed me, holding me tightly. I hugged back and then slid my tongue along his neck. And then we were still, silent. It was over until next time. I wanted to say something but held my tongue. I didn’t want to spoil the mood and maybe I’d get lucky and we’d get a repeat.
“Soon, you must make a choice,” he said.
“What are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
I looked away from him at the wall then I turned back to him. “I can’t. It’s too hard.”
“Not really,” he said.
But it was. It was too hard.
“Why do I have to?” I asked, thinking that, maybe, I shouldn’t.
“That’s the price of love,” he said.
Yeah, but was it worth it?
* * * * *
The day it started, the day we had sex for the first time, he and my ex had gotten into a horrible fight. The police had even been called and both had been hauled away. I waited for him to return and, when he did, my mouth fell open at the state of his handsome face. It was bruised and swollen all because my ex had attacked him because of me. I was ashamed of that, that he’d suffered because of me. But I wanted him to know that I was truly very, very sorry. Once I said it, he went inside his house and shut the door in my face. But when I knocked, he opened it. When he did that, I knew there was more to him than met the eye and I knew there would be something between us.
He let me into his house. I entered and then turned to him, feeling so remorseful, even though I hadn’t done anything wrong, not really. I walked to him and took his hand, squeezed it a little, telling him I was sorry. He nodded and sighed, looking away from me.
“I knew you would,” he said.
“Would what?”
“Come back for more.”
“No,” I said. “I just wanted to tell you I was sorry.”
He stared at me.
“Really?
That’s all you want?”
It wasn’t. No. It wasn’t. I wouldn’t say that but it wasn’t.
“That isn’t what you came for,” he said flatly.
“It isn’t?”
“No, you came back for more, for more games, for sex, sex games, right? These are games, simple games. You want to be dominated.”
“No.”
“Really?
Of course, you don’t,” he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes a little. “You’ve shown that, haven’t you?”
“It’s not about that,” I said, getting frustrated, hating the fact that he was spelling it all out, that I was that obvious.
“You don’t get sex,” he said. “Or what it’s about. It’s about letting go. That’s all it’s about.”
Was he right? Was that what I was afraid of, letting go, losing control?
“Why are you still sleeping with your ex?” he asked. “I mean, you are, aren’t you?”
“Well, yes and no.
Mostly no.”
I stopped and shook my head. “It’s complicated.”
He shook his head and the look on his face was of intense frustration. He’d had enough, it was obvious. “Get out.”
“What?”
“You’re fired.”
“Wait! No!”
“Shut up,” he said and went to the front door, opening it, wanting me to walk through.
“No,” I said. “You have it all wrong.”
“What do I have wrong,
Teagan
?” he said softly.
“It’s not about him,” I said. “It’s…”
“What’s it about?”
I stared at him. “I want… I want to…” No. I couldn’t say that.
“What do you want?”
Could I do that? Could I verbalize my wants, my desires, my needs? I didn’t think I could. I felt silly, stupid, like he might laugh at me if I told him what I really wanted that I wanted to see what he might do to me if I gave myself over to him a little.
“
Teagan
?” he said. “What do you want?”
“I want you to… To do what you want,” I said,
then
added, “To me.”
“Why should I do that?”
I shrugged, feeling slightly humiliated, and stupid. I guess I wanted to see what this whole thing was about and I didn’t want to wait. Maybe I wanted to prove something to him, to let him know I was there, I was willing and that he shouldn’t turn me away.
“Tell me more,” he replied and crossed his arms.
“It’s just… Just something I…” I stopped and took a breath.
Silence, then, “Tell me what you want,
Teagan
.”
I shivered in delight and fear. I thought about the flogger, the one I’d found in his desk days earlier when I’d been looking for batteries for the TV remote. “The whip,” I said, breathlessly.
“What?”
“That thing,” I said and waved my hand towards his office.
“The flogger.”
He stared at me. “So, you want to go there?”
I did. I wanted to go there. I wanted to see what it would feel like. He’d spanked me earlier and though I’d been mad as hell at the time, it had sparked something in me. And ever since I’d laid eyes on that flogger, I wanted to see what it was for. The thought of it had loomed heavily on my mind:
What is that thing for? What would it feel like?
“I do,” I replied.
“Then come with me.”
He led me into his office and retrieved the flogger. I tingled at the sight of it, of what he might do with it. What would he do?
“If we begin this, we have to see it through,” he said. “Do you understand?”
“I understand,” I said.
“Remove your dress,” he commanded.
Without hesitation I took off the dress and stood in my underwear and waited for what came next. He held the flogger by its leather handle, moving it around gently so that the strands of black leather dangled in the air. He got behind me and just waved the flogger over my back, coming down on my skin in small licks. Then he held the flogger over my ass and slapped it hard. I shivered in delight. That’s what I had been after, that relief, like scratching an itch. And then it came down against my ass again with lots and lots of tiny licks from the strands of leather. Soon, I was dancing with pain and pleasure and once he’d decided I’d had enough, he bent behind me and grabbed my buttocks in his hands and squeezed them. He kissed his way up my back and kissed the place behind my ear lightly. Then he moved away and threw the flogger down on the desk then exited the room.
“Where are you going?” I said, slightly flabbergasted.
“That’s enough for tonight,” he said from a distance. “It’s late. You should go home.”
I stood there for a second wondering what to do then I smiled. I suddenly understood what he was doing. This was just part of it and it was a good start to something great. Maybe I should have ended it there with him but that naughty girl inside of me persevered.
Mainly because Roman excited me.
Mostly because I wanted more.
And so the affair had begun. It was exciting, it was entrancing and it was all encompassing. I avoided my ex-husband, Kier, as much as I could during that time but he’d pop up occasionally to remind me he was still alive and wanted me back. That was the jag he was on right then but I was done with him.
As the affair progressed, our games became darker and filled with intense sexuality. They were extreme, as they should have been, but the undercurrent was something entirely different. He was giving me something he wanted to give but he gave it because he wanted me to suffer for it. The games came in different forms but they all had the same underlying theme. They were all about him trying to get to me, to break down my walls, to let me allow him in. I didn’t realize it at the time, I just thought what we were doing was fun, exciting and totally different. But later on I realized he was insecure about us, mainly because he thought I loved someone else, my ex-husband. He didn’t want to get used but he didn’t want to give up on me, either. He couldn’t get past that enough to fully commit himself to me. And, maybe, I felt the same way. In the end, it would be a choice between what I knew, Kier, and the unknown, Roman. I dreaded that day coming.
I have to admit that I did still love Kier. We had been married and he was still a permanent fixture in my life whether I wanted him to be or not. But during my time with Roman, that short few months we gave into our deepest, darkest desires and fucked ourselves silly, I avoided him as much as I could. Besides, I had a house to sell. A house that everyone loved and no one wanted to buy. It was Roman’s house, a mid-century masterpiece with a sunken living room and to-die-for kitchen and baths.
Expensive, sleek and ultra-modern.
The house of a spy or a multibillionaire.
But it wasn’t selling.
Try as I might, the house sat on the market for the length of our affair. Maybe that’s why it wasn’t selling. Maybe I wasn’t trying too hard because I was afraid of what would happen once the house sold. That almost made me panic. Once we didn’t have that connecting factor, his house, how would we fit into each other’s lives?
But I had to push all that aside. I was a star real estate agent and I could make this happen. I was nothing if not resilient. Selling the house became a point of pride with me. There was a buyer somewhere out there for this property, if only I could locate them. I began to reach out to international clients, making contacts, trying to find the one person who could prove me right. I was the best. I had to stay the best. This house wasn’t going to change that. It was that simple.
When I got home that morning, the morning after Roman used the flogger on
me,
I took a quick shower then got dressed for work. When I went into the kitchen, Kier was sitting at the breakfast nook reading the paper and drinking coffee. He startled me so
much,
I stopped short and almost screamed until I realized it was him. I shook my head at him and put my hand over my thumping heart. “What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, taking in his rumbled clothes and his beaten up looking face. I felt bad for that.
Oh, God, what a mess.
“Where have you been?”
“Trying to salvage my deal,” I said and went to the coffee pot. At least he’d put some on. “You almost fucked me! He almost fired me!”
“Let him fire you,” he said. “At least I won the fight.”
“Have you even seen your face?” I asked and poured a cup then went to the refrigerator for creamer. I glanced at his face, at the bruises and scratches and gnashes. He looked worse than Roman. I shook my head at the incoming guilt I would feel over this and fixed my coffee.