Authors: Vivienne Harris-Scott
I
was The One. That
’
s
actually, what he had come to tell me that evening when he followed me to my
suite.
But,
the way I looked at him, the way my body responded to his first touch, derailed
his plans.
When
he had mapped out in his head a long and drawn game of seduction to make me his,
the minute our bodies collided, all was forgotten.
The
courting, the daintiness, the frivolity and the dances. All forgotten.
The
intensity and brutality of our coupling made him realize he didn
’
t need to play games, but just be himself,
his true self, and I would be his. I was his. That
’
s why he cried.
Almost
by accident, he had found the woman who made him complete.
Almost
by accident, I had found the man who made me complete.
((~~!~~))
He had never claimed any woman before,
never had the inclination or need to, but as he touched me, he lost complete
control.
Never
had it occurred to him. And seeing me, unafraid, unfazed, urging him on to be
who he wanted to be, made him need me to be his. Forever.
Hence,
the claiming.
As
I said, it
’
s
about surrendering. It
’
s
about knowing there is one person in the world that will accept you and love in
your entirety, in your complexities, even the darkest.
Sexually
this translated to my need to be possessed and dominated, being with a man who
was confident and commanding enough to take what was his at
any
time
, anywhere.
For
him, it was about losing control without judgment. I
’
ll
admit, this led us to kinky situations I won
’
t describe here, because, it
isn
’
t
the point, not really.
Just
know I have taken Ethan to the brink of despair, crazy with want just because
he surrendered control to me and he has done the same to me.
But
he also gave me what I needed when I relinquished myself to him, letting him do
whatever he wished, because I needed to be truly accepted by someone.
Love
was the binding between us; sex was only an expression of it.
When
the love was interrupted, and only the sex remained, that
’
s when things started to fall apart and
all became dark for us.
You
think the rape was our darkest hour, but the truth is: it wasn
’
t.
Actually,
the rape only changed the dynamics of our couple, and not for the worst.
Then,
we had Luca, our miracle.
Darkness:
real, cold, encompassing darkness, came later.
The
last time he touched me, was right in the middle of our last argument. My heart
felt nothing for my husband, and I expressed it clearly by saying to his face,
“
Go fuck yourself E.
”
he calmly responded,
“
I
’
d rather fuck you.
“
as I was bent down, in front of my
dresser, in the gigantic walk in closet, putting clothes in a suitcase,
preparing for my trip.
The
statement didn
’
t
surprise me. I knew what he was doing, trying to awaken me, and hang on to me
at any cost. As if he already knew what was to come.
He
invaded my space, placing his heartbreakingly handsome, tanned, yet sad,
countenance inches from my own face. "You are mine." He had calmly
said, his shinning cerulean eyes boring into mine, almost challenging me. We
were standing up, and neither of us would break the stare, my mouth became dry,
and I licked my lips as I stepped back, inadvertently hitting the dresser.
Ethan
caught me and held me in his arms. I could hear and feel him inhale the perfume
in my curls as he
’
d
done a million times before, while holding me. As I was about to free myself
from his embrace, he swirled me around and positioned himself against my back,
holding my hip tightly with one arm as his hand cupped my core, while his other
hand grasped my wrist, applying pressure to it.
A
mere 15 seconds. That
’
s
how long it took.
True
to pattern, almost as an automatic pilot, my body responded. My lips exhaled an
involuntarily moan, as he kissed my neck and bit my earlobe, my head tilting
back against his lips encouraging and seeking the contact. My legs
imperceptibly spread, anticipating his fingers, his member, anything. My sex
relaxed against his cupping hand and my nipple felt stiff against his fingers
when he tweaked them. While my buttocks pressed into his groin, I could feel
his heat, his cock hard against me, and couldn
’
t help my free hand to reach down between
my legs.
He
whispered hoarsely in my ear,
“
Say
it, baby. Please.
”
as he bent my waist against the furniture, and lifted my short nightgown,
slowly and tenderly caressing my naked buttocks with a hand while the other
kept caressing my breast. I could feel tingles along my spine,
his cunt
gathering moisture, waiting for him to finally enter, but he took his time, as
if wanting to let me know I would not get my need of him fulfilled until I
surrendered and admitted I was still his. As usual, the minute he touched me,
everything else was forgotten, the argument, my trip, why he was really doing
this, everything. Only remained the touch of his fingers, my body
’
s reaction to it and what it meant. The
slow caress was driving me crazy, and I had no choice but croak the words,
“
I
’
m yours.
”
as tears of anger started to gather at
the corners of my eyes. I was angry with myself but couldn't focus on it; all
that mattered was him, my need of him. When he directed his member into my
core, he was slow, torturing me, as he knew, I wanted and needed it, fast.
Finally, lost in his touch, I begged,
“
Please Ethan.
…
I-
”
. He lifted my body upward, holding me
tight, against my neck, he murmured,
“
Mine.
”
and commenced to pound. Hard. My first
orgasm hit in that instant.
I
think I came three times before he emptied his seed in me.
That
night, I knew, I would leave him.
I
did, the very next day, and I made a wow: I would never let any other man come
close to me and own me the way Ethan had.
I
became celibate.
For
the next five years.
Until
Julian.
((~~!~~))
They are two very different men yet, so
similar.
Comparing
the two men who ever made me feel, truly feel. Ridiculous, considering the
circumstances.
Ethan
’
s body is magnificent, lean, hard and powerful,
but when we had sex, I was in control and knew it, even when I was completely
submissive. It was intense, always. Yes, intense is the word I would use to
qualify our sex life, or even the way we loved each other. All kinds of
intense. The heated arguments, the lovemaking, the icy silences between us:
intense. Ethan had the uncanny ability to give me what I needed, sometimes when
I didn
’
t
even know I had a need, but I was in control of myself: the decision to
surrender, a mark of my control. When it ceased to be, that
’
s when it was time to leave Ethan, and I
did.
With
Julian, it
’
s
different. Much more dangerous. We
’
ve
only spent one night together, but it
’
s like I have no control whatsoever, I forget
who I am, where I am. Whether in his bed, or even on the phone, I am lost when
I hear his voice, when our eyes meet, when he touches me. Control doesn
’
t even seem to enter the equation here.
Dubai just proved it; being in the mere vicinity of him is enough for a
complete loss of all my
defenses
.
It seems I dissolve. Him touching me only spells one word to me: trouble. It
’
s terrifying, the way he makes me feel.
This
thing with Julian scares me, not so much because he is who he is, Ethan
’
s friend, movie star and all. This I can,
surprisingly, handle. It
’
s
bad; I know, but still I can handle it because, at the end of the day, it isn
’
t what frightens me the most.
It
scares me because, very much like Ethan the way Julian makes me feel is too
disturbing for my sanity, ultimately, my well-being. The way he said, I was
his, I felt the truth of it in my core being and that frightens and disturbs
greatly.
It
isn
’
t
Julian, nor was it Ethan. It
’
s
me.
I
had to run away from Ethan because I truly lost myself becoming his. I don
’
t blame him; it
’
s just the way I am wired. When I love, I
love in my entirety. Hard. Completely. I surrender. To the point of
disappearing. It isn
’
t
osmosis, or fusion; it
’
s
absolute absorption. And it was fine, I didn
’
t mind. I was happy being me, loving the
way I only know how, until I found out, having me, all of me, hadn
’
t been enough. Until I found out, God
truly laughs while we make plans.
Loving
that way can destroy you. Trust me, I know.
Ethan
claimed me and I freely gave myself to him. Now, even after all that has
happened, and the distance I put between us, I am not sure he doesn
’
t still own some part of me. The very part
that I have locked away and thought I left behind, but that Julian has
inadvertently reawakened.
That
part, the one, which give me fever.
Time
and distance does not seem to have changed it. Just touching my wrist makes me
think of him,
of us
.
Julian
’
s intentions are clear when staking his
claim, and I am so close to surrendering once again, I am running. Away from
him, mostly away from myself.
I
already had a narrow escape. Not sure, I can allow myself to fall into that
abyss again.
Besides,
how can I can be Julian
’
s
when I
’
m
yet to truly free myself from Ethan?
Is
it even possible?