Story of Us trilogy 01: TouchStone for Play (40 page)

I find my voice. “So all this time it’s
been a game, nothing about our relationship has been genuine?”  He looks
mortified and takes hold of my arms. I start to tingle, feeling his trembling
grip.

“No, it’s been real and I suppose it has
been a kind of game at times, but it just got real for me.”

“Lucky you,” I retort sarcastically.

“Yeah, lucky me. I am lucky, lucky to have
found you. If I didn’t care so much, do you think I would have tried so hard to
be the man you want?” He looks so despairing, I want to hold him. But I fear
his rebuke.

I risk rejection and frame his face with
my hands. “You are the only man I want Ayden.” Here we are eyeball to eyeball,
holding onto each other as if our lives depend on it.

“I’ve tried so many times to tell you but
I’m afraid I might not be
that
guy. How many times have I said I don’t
deserve you? How many fucking times!”

“I don’t know.” My eyes glaze over with
tears.

“I need more,” he asserts, his voice
overflowing with emotion. “I just need more.”

“I don’t understand.” I pull back,
helplessly confused.

He lowers his hands from my face and I do
the same, watching him pinch the top of his nose and wipe his nostrils with the
back of his hand. “I’ve trusted you. I’ve given my body to you. I need you to
trust me enough to give your body to me.”

“I said I would gift myself to you, I said
that,” I implore.

“But that was you teasing Beth, you
playing innocent games with me. The difference is: I’m being serious.”

What he said in the car was absolutely
true. I’m such a novice. To think I could satisfy a man like Ayden Stone? What
was I thinking?

“How can you expect me to sacrifice all I
am to be with you then go out and rule the fucking world? I can’t do it.”

My knees are throbbing and there’s a
cramping sensation in my toes, but I’m not moving. I daren’t. “Is this what you
wanted all along, to dominate me, to demean me, to hurt me?” I can’t hold back
the tide of tears that has been threatening to burst from my woeful eyes; they
cascade down my cheeks like a melting glacier.

He pulls me to him. “Oh Beth, It’s not
like that. I love you so much. I want to give you everything, I always have. I
want you to experience everything, with me. Baby, I would never hurt you.”

I sob into his neck. “I’m way out of my
depth with you. I don’t know how to play these games.” I try to stand but he
keeps a firm grip on my arms, he won’t release me.

“I know you’re hurting, it kills me to think
I’m the one inflicting this kind of pain on you, but look at me Beth.”

I struggle to focus.

“This is the face of the man who loves
you. I have always loved you, the promise of you; no more so than the moment I
saw you in your prim and proper disguise. I knew if I was myself, if I behaved
the way I always do, you would rejected me outright, and I couldn’t risk that
because I knew, thirty minutes in, you were the one. I would have said and done
anything to keep you, and I did.” He looks down shamefully at the carpet.

“I know, I’m a deceitful bastard who has
to win, but it’s never been about the winning with you, not really. It’s been
about not losing, not losing you. I won big time when you said you loved me:
you’re the prize Beth. I
can’t
lose you.” He wipes away my tears with
his tie and tips his head, trying to meet my eyes.

“Every day I thank God for you, you’ve
taught me so much about myself, but I can’t keep up the pretence any longer. I
just can’t.” He lifts up my face and I sense he is preparing to say the words
that will end this heart-to-heart. “I need to know how far you are prepared to
go to make this relationship work.”

Even though I’m still tearful, I can
speak. “I don’t think I get to decide do I? It’s all about you. It’s about
your
needs,
your
expectations.”

“No, that’s not true. It’s not in my
nature to please, but I want nothing more than to please you – not only in the
bedroom but in everything; now, tomorrow and every day after that. But Beth, I
have to know you feel the same about me or … or I’m fucked!” He pauses to take
an invigorating breath. “The question is whether
you
want to please me?”

And there it is, the truth is out. It hits
me like a bolt out of the blue. That one salient question, that’s what this is
really about: a promise, submission, trust. I ask myself, do I want to please
you?

He’s searching my face for clues, but I
give nothing away. I begin to speak but stop before a single utterance can be
heard and reconsider, while he strokes my hair with so much adoration I feel he
may weep.

“What’s going on in that beautiful head of
yours? This time you
have
to tell me.”

I wipe my eyes, inhale deeply and,
speaking slowly, prepare to put the world to rights. “I want to please you too,
Ayden. I’ve never wanted anything more.” I manage a confident smile and watch
him visibly deflate; he’s been holding his breath for so long, letting it out
causes his body to sag like a punctured balloon. He’s so relieved.

With sparkling eyes that glitter and light
up the darkness, he announces: “Thank God.”

We wrap our weary arms around each other
as if it is our last embrace. When we break apart after several minutes, I
reach for his face, feeling the moisture on his skin. “Oh Ayden, what am I
going to do with you?”

He nuzzles his tear stained face into the
palm of my hand and closes his eyes.

After
fixing my face, I return to our bedroom,
wearing my new, baby doll nightie in white with matching thong. Filled with
unease, I enter slowly, sensing a mood change in the room. It’s bathed in the
warm glow created by two decorative wall lights above the bed, right and left
above Ayden’s head.  He’s used the guest bathroom, I can tell; his face has
that just scrubbed look and he has a youthful glow. Even the way he smells from
across the room is inebriating: this is the man I love.

He glances up from his iPad once, then
again, noticing my seductive attire. I have purposely left my hair up, I want
to look elegant, refined, untouched.

“Hey! I like the outfit,” he smiles
softly.

I feel my breasts responding to his
constant gaze; my hardening nipples begin protruding through the silk material.
He can’t help but notice.

“Come to bed,” he instructs softly,
pulling back the sheets to reveal the right side of his naked body.

How can I refuse? He’s beyond beautiful.
Everything about him is virile and intoxicating: his jet black hair is damp and
messy, his pectoral muscles keep flexing and moving as if he’s carved out of a
flexible material, soft to the touch but as hard as granite. And those eyes,
those penetrating sea green eyes, how they set my insides quivering.

I position myself next to him, we’re both
sitting upright. I’m preoccupied with the aching sensation between my thighs,
so powerful is the sexual pull between us.

He speaks first. “The effect you have on
me is unnatural Beth.” He runs the forefinger of is right hand the length of my
arm and it’s such an unassuming act, but even this has me squirming around on
the velvety soft sheets. Not touching him is actually painful. I close my eyes,
lost in my own private thoughts.

Without even facing me, his seduction gets
underway. “I’m going to make love to you, because it’s all I’ve been thinking
about from the moment you stepped into the car this morning and every morning
before that.” He turns my face to his, eyes blazing, chest heaving. “Do you
want me?”

“Are you giving me back the power of
speech?” I ask, taking in his dreamy visage.

“I’ll give you anything, you know that.”
His emasculation is humbling. What kind of dominance is this?

“Then, it’s only fair I should do the
same.” I pull his mouth to mine; at first his kiss is soft, exploratory, but
there’s a growing urgency. I feel it in his breath, the sounds he makes and in
his steel like erection pressing into my hip.

With grasping hands, he fists my hair
urging me to respond to his impassioned kisses while his tongue licks and
penetrates me: he’s unstoppable.

Using his free hand he lowers me beneath
his Herculean body so I can feel the full weight of him flattening me to the
mattress. It’s all bump and grind: silk material against hard muscle, nails on
bare skin, my saturated flesh up against his hard cock. Every nerve in my body
is tingling, every breath a fight for survival. I want him so badly.

In fractured syllables he speaks. “You ...
you need a safe word Beth, choose one. Not stop or enough or no. You decide.”

It’s impossible to think with him nibbling
my ear and rubbing himself up against me like this. One word comes to mind.
“Romeo.”

“What?”

“That’s my safe word, Romeo.” I feel him
smiling into my neck.

“Romeo it is.” He leans into my ear. “I’m
going to make you feel so fucking hot you’ll never have to say it.” So
confident is he in his assertion that I believe him. A smouldering look of
pure, unadulterated desire pins me to the bed: I am his for the taking.

From under the pillow he slides out my
silver scarf. “I’m going to fasten your hands to the bed frame.”

It’s an erotic threat that has me writhing
in anticipation beneath him.

“ … I’m going to lick every inch of you
until you come. And then slide inside you.” He leans over me, our noses are
almost touching. “Do you understand?”

I can barely speak, I’m so needy. “Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good girl.”

With eyes that have morphed into his
signature colour, he reaches above my head and ties my hands to the bedframe to
create a wide V shape, all the time pressing his steely cock into my thighs and
then my stomach. It’s more than I can take. I’ll willingly submit to anything
this man wants: my body is his.

“Now I have you where I want you, let’s
begin your first lesson.” He eases off me and slides down the bed, leaving my
stomach and panties exposed below my crumpled nightie.

I try to lie still, but it’s impossible.
Catching sight of his predatory stare does something to me, I can’t look away.
He’s slips his hands underneath my arms, why?

“Let’s sit you up so you can see how I’m
pleasuring you.”

What?

He raises me up until I’m almost sitting
upright; two fluffy pillows are stacked behind my head. He slides off the bed,
reaches for the iPod remote and music starts to play. I know the song, I
recognise the guitar intro, he’s found it on my collection of 80’s hits. It’s
Lullaby
by the Cure. What a strange choice?

It isn’t until he begins his performance
that I realise: it’s a stroke of genius. With every beat, he crawls onto the
bed, positioning himself between my legs, running his hands up my shins, across
my knees and along my thighs. His eyes never leave mine.

The beat picks up, he’s licking his lips
and my already breathless body is starting to quiver, longing for the touch of
his lips on mine.  As
the Spiderman comes,
so does he, climbing my torso
like a prowling cat. I forget about the scarf, and it isn’t until I try to
touch him I am reminded I’m being restrained. But, my beautiful Ayden is so
engaging, and so stunningly gorgeous in this primal state that I’m happy to
forget.

I watch him lift my nightie higher with
his teeth and have to accept this
spiderman
is
having me for dinner
tonight.
 I can’t contain a gasp. This is beyond erotic. He follows through
with his hands, causing me to arch my back slightly, wanting, needing more.

As he covers my mouth with his, he begins
to tear away the front of my nighty with both hands.

Oh my God
!

Every one of my senses is being stimulated:
taste, touch, smell, sight and now the sound of my nightie being ripped off me.
As he reveals my navel, my rib cage and then my breasts, he blows softly and
every hair on my body stands to attention.

“We don’t need this do we?” With his
powerful hands he tears the front of my nighty in half, revealing my bare
breasts and hardening flesh.

Oh Christ!

I have to look away, this is too much.

“Look at me Beth.”

And I do.

“Your breasts are perfect. These hands are
made to fit every part of your body. See.”

I look down and watch him fondle, squeeze
and suckle on my breasts. I almost convulse and tug again on my restraint but
I’m not really trying to free myself, it just looks that way.

“Stop Ayden. This is too much,” I plead.
He doesn’t stop. I keep watching. Inside, muscles are clinching, my clitoris is
throbbing, begging to be stroked. “Stop.” I can’t take any more. Giving in to
the sensation is my only option.

Is this what it’s like to be dominated?

The music fades and, as far as he’s
concerned, it’s mission accomplished. He has me well and truly saturated from
head to toe and in all those aching places in between.

With blazing eyes that cause my insides to
incinerate, he presses into me. “Are you ready to submit?” He whispers softly,
allowing his tongue to linger on the soft, sensitive skin beneath my ear.

“Yes. God yes.” I answer finding it hard
to speak, overwhelmed by an aching desire to feel him inside me.

He takes hold of the clip fastening my
hair and snaps it open, dragging his fingers through the ringlets so they frame
my face and tumble around my shoulders.

“You’ve grown into a beautiful woman Beth.
You’re home to me: I have to be inside you.”

Yes, yes …

He moulds his mouth over mine and kisses
me so passionately I think I might faint: there’s no escaping that seductive
tongue.

“Give yourself to me Beth,” he urges,
descending my body, not waiting for a reply. My flexing hips and groans of
pleasure are reply enough. I watch him as he advances southwards and I hear
myself panting: it’s the most erotic moment of my life.

“I’m going to use my hands on you until
you come. Watch me!”

Watch you!

With that, his right hand slides between
my abdomen and my panties and it keeps going until two fingers are buried
inside me. We both gasp.

“Jesus, you’re tight.” The in, out
movements have me lifting and writhing, making me squeeze my thighs against the
palm of his left hand as he struggles to keep me still.

“I said I was going to kiss you all over
and I will, but you have to come for me first. Can you do that?”

I try to close my mouth to speak but can
only manage a nod.

“Say it.”

I groan much too loudly. “Yes … yes.”

“Good.” He seeks out my clitoris with his
thumb and an involuntary whimper leave my lips.

“I can feel you flexing inside, squeeze
me.”

I do.

“Again.”

I do.

“Again.”

I do, until I’m at the point where I have
to come against his fingers, but he stills ... bringing me back from the edge
of orgasm.

He picks up the pace again and I come
close. He stills.

“Don’t do this Ayden.” I plead, tears
stinging my eyes.

“Beg me.”

“Please.”

“Again.”

“Ayden, why are you doing this?”

“Because I can. I’m teaching you a lesson,
remember?”

I meet his stare but see a stranger with soulless
eyes starved of light, reflecting domination. Nothing more. Fear grips me by
the throat.

“You tease and seduce me with your words
and disarm me with your gentleness, I have no defence and I love your for it.
But, right now I want you to know how it feels to be powerless, because that’s
how you make me feel.”

“Ayden.” I don’t like this game. Where is
he going with this? “Romeo,” I whisper, just loud enough for him to hear. “This
isn’t you pleasing me, this is you punishing me for loving you.” I turn my head
to the side and feel him pulling out of me. Here I am, tied up, turned on and
being punished for ... what?

“I’m trying really hard to submit. You
have no idea how hard it is for me to do this, you don’t know.” I look into his
eyes and, thank God he’s back; the disturbing hues of blackness have morphed
into the colour of kindness. A cerulean sea of sadness ripples and glistens
before me. This dominant man is forlorn, lost and contrite.

My naked Adonis reaches for his neck and
then for the scarf tying my hands to the bed head. He unties me and rubs my
grazed wrists with his thumbs. The silence is suffocating.

“Come here.” I reach out my arms and he
falls into me.

“I’m sorry.” He mutters, holding me tight.

“I had no idea you felt like this. When
I’m teasing, it’s because I assume we’re close enough to be like that with each
other. I don’t do it to emasculate you, quite the opposite. I do it knowing
you’ll win.” I kiss his hair over and over. “You break down all my defences
too.”

His grip tightens around me; he’s
listening to every word.

“Think back Ayden, I made you a promise. I
said I would take care of you in whatever way you wanted me to and, even if the
sub thing was a ploy, it was a promise made and one I intend to keep.” I kiss
his hair one last time and wait for his response.

Five minutes later, I’m still waiting.

In one swift movement, he sits upright,
eyes flickering, mouth twitching: he has a plan. “Go and get dressed.”

“What?”

“You heard me, go and get dressed.” He
brushes the hair from my face and points to the bathroom.

“Where are we going?”

“Don’t question me Beth, go and get some
fucking clothes on.” He’s swearing but his eyes are bright and alert.

Is this a game?

I do as I’m bid and sidle off to the
bathroom, throwing my shredded nightie in his face as I go. I decide to take a
quick shower, before brushing my hair and applying a little lip gloss and
tinted moisturiser. The clothes I travelled in are hanging over the towel rail
and, as they are the only clothes I have close to hand, I put them on. Fully
dressed and utterly confused, I re-enter the bedroom.

To my horror, I find Ayden is also fully
dressed. We’re going home. He’s sitting in darkness on the edge of the bed,
exactly as he was earlier in the evening before our disastrous sexual liaison.