Story of Us trilogy 01: TouchStone for Play (39 page)

A groan leaves his throat and finds its
way to my thighs that are now sticky with perspiration. With his right hand he
pulls my face to him so we are eye to eye: green and blue flecks, flickering in
the candle light. “That’s the sexy smell I get when I go down on you.” I feel
his lips on mine. “Is it any wonder I want to spread you out and fuck you right
here on this table?”

After only a second, he frees me and I
look away, barely able to contain myself. From the corner of my eye I watch him
tip water into a spare napkin and wash off his hand with the moist cloth.  He
begins cutting up his food, as if he’s done nothing, said nothing.

I pat my upper lip with my napkin. “Mr.
Stone, really, you’re so naughty.” I’m swallowing hard and focusing on my meal.
“You’re turning me into a very naughty girl.”

He’s grinning from ear to ear. “Yes I am
.
My
naughty girl.”

I stand corrected …

I continue to cut up my food and place my
fork in my left hand. Now it’s my turn to play. I slide my right hand under his
clean napkin and settle it on his semi erect penis.

“Let’s see if
you
can eat with
shaky hands.”

He sniggers. “My hands won’t be doing any
shaking tonight Beth.”

Oh we’ll see about that ...

He carries on eating, seeming unaffected which
is surprising considering the impressive hard on which is taking shape under my
fingers.

I claim back my hand, disappointed at my
inability to make a discernible impact on his concentration. I stop eating,
turn and wait for him to do the same and face me. When he looks into my eyes, I
smile. Facing me are the deepest, darkest pools of indigo I have ever seen.

“Your hands may not be shaking but your
eyes are telling a different story Ayden.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” He turns back to
his meal, unwilling to admit defeat.

I set about my delicious meal, feeling
exhilarated and victorious. “There’s two, big, black lies right there.”

He stops eating long enough to give my
right knee a squeeze. “Touché. Eat your meal, keep your strength up. You’ll
need it for later.”

Smiling between mouthfuls I devour the
scrumptious food, leaving my plate spotlessly clean.

Ayden passes me my wine and our glasses
chink. From only a foot away, he tries but cannot hold back on a secret smile,
I return that smile with interest; for every loving thought he invests in me, I
can multiply it to the power of ten and then some.

“Drink up. That is, of course, if your
bladder has any room left for wine after your gallon of water.”

We laugh unselfconsciously and don’t stop
laughing until the waiter arrives with our main course. Even then, I glance at
him through mascara coated lashes and giggle, intoxicated, high on pheromones
and humour. He touches me on so many levels. I can’t begin to count the ways. 
I love him. How could I not?

By 9 o’clock, we are merrily drunk on what
turned out to be a very pleasing bottle of Chianti.

“Do you want coffee or should we head
back,” he asks, stroking the knuckles of my right hand with his thumb.

I pretend to be thinking when really I’m
admiring the view. He has loosened his tie slightly and is rubbing his chin
with his finger and thumb that way he does when he’s strategizing. I remember
where that finger has been and what he can do with those hands and the coffee
idea becomes redundant.

“I think we should leave.”

He pays the bill with his card. We offer
our thanks and make for the exit. Ayden waves over the limousine and we slide
onto the back seat.

“I had a great time tonight,” I confess,
hoping the act of constructing a sentence will make me feel less fuelled by
wine and desire.

“Yes, so did I.” He wraps his left arm
around my shoulders. I rest my head in the crook of his neck. He feels so warm
and firm against my cheek.

“You smell divine.” I exhale a little too
loudly, trying to rid myself of the hot air gathering in my lungs. I feel him
smiling into my hair.

Without a word from me he opens the window
halfway. “My poor little genie. So responsive yet so little self-control.”

I lift up my head and look into his
devilish eyes, a little taken aback. “What does that mean?”

“It means, in terms of nocturnal
activities, you’re still learning.”

I tip my head to the side and continue to
focus on his bemused expression. “Where the hell did that come from?”

“It’s just an observation.” He taps my
nose with the tip of his forefinger before turning to look out of the window as
if he hasn’t spoken.

Feeling a rush of the kind of self-assurance
that comes after two glasses of full bodied wine, I stand my ground: “Well I
might be a novice but I haven’t had any complaints from you.”

“This is true. But you should always keep
an open mind about these things. For all your
so-called
dominance,
vanilla
is
still your favourite flavour.”

I’m aghast. I’ve read about
that ..
.
“Something tells me we’re not talking about ice-cream here?”

He kisses my forehead. “No, we most
certainly are not.”

“Then you shouldn’t make assumption about
my favourite flavour then. If I’m still so ... plain, then maybe that has
something to do with the tuition I’m receiving?” I’ve made a valid point and
it’s back in your court Mr. P.

“I can’t argue with that.”

“Good.” I think?

“We’ll see.”

That’s not fair, you can’t end a
conversation with ‘we’ll see.’ I’m not a two year old.  We pull up outside the
hotel and his cryptic conversation ends. He turns to help me out.

“I don’t need any help. I’ve already
learned
how to walk.”

I hear a deep throated chuckle behind me.
Once I’m out of the car, I take a look around; the hotel gardens are lit and
there are tiny lights dotted around on the steps and by the flower beds. It’s
enchanting.

Ayden acknowledges the young man on
reception with a perfunctory nod, letting me lead the way to the elevator. The
key card opens the door to our suite and we step inside but the lights have
been turned off; one side of the room is bathed in moonlight, the other wrapped
in shadows.

Unsure of where the switch is, I call out
melodramatically, “Lights!” But, when I turn to face Ayden I’m caught off guard.
There’s barely a trace of a smile. I know that look. I take a step back, I’m
not sure why.

In response he takes hold of my left
wrist. At first I think it’s to steady me but his grip is a little too tight
for that.

“Let’s go to bed,” I whisper, turning on
my heels.

“No!”

I swivel back to face him and our eyes
lock hypnotically. There’s something very arousing about a man who is seriously
contemplating how he’s going to fuck you, especially when he looks this hot.

“You said you wanted to gift yourself to
me.”

I nod, slowly.

“Then it’s time for me to collect my
welcome home present.”

I swallow hard, unsure of exactly what he
means. I’m just about to speak but feel his hand over my mouth.

“I’m not used to people answering me back,
so tonight I’m taking away your power of speech. Just for tonight.”

I give him a curious stare.

“Now listen carefully. You’re going to go
into the bedroom and stand in the pool of light by the window and wait for me.
Go.”

Jesus, this is unexpected. Just thinking
about what he is going to do to me, has my heart racing.

I’m standing silently with my back to the
window in our extravagant bedroom; outside I can hear crickets and the distant
rumble of traffic. Inside, there’s only my expectant breathing and the sound of
Ayden approaching out of the darkness.

He sits, fully clothed on the edge of the
enormous bed, removes his tie and gives me another command. “Undress, slowly.”

I falter.

“Stop thinking about it Beth, I’m not
asking I’m telling. Just do it.”

He’s totally serious and I obey, slowly
removing my dress, letting it come to rest on the nearby chair. I’m wearing my
black lacy bra, panties and my Louis Vuitton heels, standing before him while
he directs the most intense of stares my way. In the half- light, I see flames
flickering, dancing around depthless pools of blackness. Has he ever been more
turned-on? Simply looking at him in this primal state affects my breathing, so
much so I’m forgetting to exhale and have to keep reminding myself to do so. I
reach my hands around my back to unclip my bra.

“Did I say move?” He calls out.

I launch an indignant stare in his
direction. “There’s no need to ...”

“… Be quiet Beth, or I’ll have to gag
you.”

What? Is he threatening me? I drag an
imaginary zip across my mouth and stick my hands by my sides, signalling
obedience.

Happy now?

Deliberately spelling out each word, he
addresses me. “Gifting yourself to me, means you have to submit to my will. So
stop with the fucking attitude.”

Now there’s a thing: he’s totally serious.

I’ve met this man before, only once, on
the way home after the book launch. I didn’t recognise him then and I don’t
recognise him now but, that doesn’t stop me wanting him.

“Kneel down. Get on all fours.”

I tip my head to one side in disbelief,
asking why but saying nothing. Feeling very awkward, I do as he asks, settling
my hands and knees on the plush carpet.

“Come to me,” he instructs without
emotion, making me feel very intimidated.

I crawl towards him slowly, keeping my
head down so he cannot see my unease. The wine is rushing to my head, making me
feel a little giddy and light-headed but I keep moving. When my hair reaches
his crutch I stop, waiting for my next instruction. What does he intend to do
to me?

He reaches for my chin. “Look at me.”

I do, resting my chin on the forefinger
and thumb of his right hand. Our eyes meet, his are alight with raw desire
mine, I expect, convey more trepidation than submission.

In a broken whisper, he explains. “You
drive me fucking crazy. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t even think straight
when we’re apart and it’s all because of you.”

In his confession, there’s a vulnerability
which moves me, but it’s tinged with something else: suppressed anger. Has he
been bottling this up the whole time we’ve been together? I try to shake my
chin free, but he tightens his grip. It’s firm but not painful. Seeing me wince
a little he releases it and strokes the reddened area softly with his thumb.

“Have you any idea how hard it is for me
to operate when I feel as if I’ve lost all self-control?”

I can’t move and I don’t need to, his
confession has me riveted to the spot.

“What happened in L.A. can’t ever happen
again. It’s too high a price to pay for loving you.”

I try to sit up, pulling on his knees in
an attempt to find a comfortable kneeling position. He removes my hands and
places them by my side. Why won’t he let me touch him?

“The flight home gave me the time I needed
to think, and it’s been eating away at me ever since.”

I have no idea what’s coming next so
remain static, focusing only on his despairing face, offering my silent
submission.

“I can’t let you speak because I know
you’ll tell me everything is fine and you’ll bewitch me with your gentle
assurances. But things are far from fine.” He pauses, looks away for some
reason and turns to face me head-on. “I’m not the man you think I am.”

My face must show my astonishment. That
single statement literally rocks me and I sway to the right. I go to speak but
stop, my lips forming into that rounded O.

His fingertips brush against my lips. “You
even had
me
believing I was this ‘Smartie’ guy.” He stifles a smug
smile. “I wanted to be soft and yielding for you and I’ve tried so hard to
suppress every urge I have to be dominant, but pretending to be that person
nearly fucked up 16 years of seriously hard work.”

He takes my face in his hands. “I am a
dominant man Beth, there’s no denying it. When I think of you, I imagine doing
... well, let’s not get into that now, other than saying we’re not talking
about vanilla sex, even though I know it is the only flavour you’re comfortable
with.”

His attention wavers as he considers the
implications of what he is saying; his focus settles in a distant dark corner
of the room where he can be alone with his thoughts.

Maybe I should be, but I’m not shocked. As
inexperienced as I am, I’ve had my suspicions. But, now I’m fearful this could
be an unforgettable night for all the
wrong
reasons.

He clears his throat and starts again. “I
have certain needs Beth, and pretending I don’t is not good for my mental
health.”