Story of Us trilogy 01: TouchStone for Play (42 page)

“Holy fuck!”

He falls onto me like a hot, steaming
blanket. For several minutes we are fused together; a smelted mass of human
flesh and bone.

Once I’m unbuckled and we’re naked, we
crawl beneath the sheets without feeling the need for conversation: we are well
and truly expended. I snuggle beneath his arm.

A goodnight kiss presses into my hair and
a firm right hand squeezes my shoulder possessively. “Sleep well baby.”

The steady beating of his heart lulls me
into a restful slumber. Sleep comes easy.

***

It’s four thirty in the morning when I
wake, needing the bathroom and something to drink. I tiptoe out of the bedroom
in the direction of the kitchen. There’s an array of beverages in the fridge
and I settle for a small bottle of fresh orange: I’m in the mood for something
sweet. I can hear a strange pipping sound coming from the study. Gaining my
bearings, I head in that direction to investigate.

Ayden’s phone is flashing. When I click it
on, there are six missed calls and three messages. It would appear Jake has
some news for him and, by the number of calls, it’s unlikely to be good. I’m
tempted to read one of the texts but decide against it, I turn away feeling
very curious and place the phone back in the same position.

Ayden is in a deep sleep, his breathing is
shallow and even. Sipping the orange juice from the bottle, I sit on the chair
facing the bed, pull my knees to my chest and gaze at him lying there.

I see his leather belt discarded on the
floor, the buckle catches the moonlight and draws my eye. The memory of it
rekindles my craving for physical contact and I quickly settle my gaze on
something else, something less evocative. But, everything in the room has
significance, nothing more so than my silver scarf carelessly tossed onto the
bed. I close my eyes and visualise myself splayed out, laid bare and I feel my
cheeks burning. Even now it embarrasses me to think of myself that exposed.
Perhaps that’s why Ayden’s replay worked so well; it was dark, I could retained
a little of my modesty. Even though I was bound and pinned, I had something of
myself left in reserve. Maybe I
am
too delicate for bright light?

And what of the toy, sitting unhatched by
the bed. I’m not sure what I feel about that. It’s amazing how, in the right
hands, something so small can induce so much pleasure: that and Ayden’s words,
of course. Who would have thought in less than a fortnight, I’d be playing
these kind of ‘games.’ Ayden’s games.

I don’t doubt my feelings for him, and I
truly believe he loves me, in his way. I recall him saying he could be brutal,
and I thought nothing of it at the time, but I can clearly remember him using
that
word. After last night, and the way he denied me my orgasm after going to so
much trouble to get me to that point, I believe him.

What I cannot believe or reconcile myself
with, is the idea he feigned submission: in my bedroom and on the jet ... he
was turned on, I was turned on. I have to put my theory to the test. If he can
switch between domination and submission, then so can I and, I will.

I drain the bottle of orange juice and
return to bed, it will take lots of stamina and a good pair of walking shoes to
cover all the sights tomorrow: Rome wasn’t built in a day, but a day is all we
have to behold its magnificence.

In view of recent events, the hours between dawn and
dusk have passed quickly. All the ducking and diving has left Dan feeling punch
drunk. The palms of his hands are a lighter shade of red, more ruby that
claret; the skin is stretched tight over fatty muscle and rough to the touch,
but the pain has eased. The drive home was uncomfortable, turning left or right
caused the steering wheel to scuff a little. His eyes were on the road, but his
mind was elsewhere; the prospect of riffling through her things just stimulated
the hell out of him, so much so that now he cannot entertain the idea of sleep.

The hours tick by, they seem elongated somehow,
forbidding. Even though his isolation is self-imposed, he is beginning to feel perhaps
the time has comes to free himself, to let go. But that thought is no more than
a flicker. In in the blink of an eye it’s smothered out by time-honoured images
of a more carnal nature.

In washed out boxers, he stands by the microwave,
watching the turntable wobble and shake the molecules of his meal into a
steaming heap of nothingness. He pictures her barefoot, wearing no more than a
cotton dress, cooking.

“What would you like to eat Dan?” She’d ask him.

“Only you princess,” he’d reply, lifting her off her
feet and plonking her down beneath him. She’d laugh out loud. He’d pull up her
dress and settle his eyes on her wet crutch. He’d finger her until she begged
him to fuck her. And he’d do just that, making her scream in sweet agony.

The turntable stops revolving and the four pings
sound, stealing Dan away from his erotic daydream. Dinner is served.

I hear
unrecognisable voices. Rubbing my eyes I
glance at the bedside clock, it’s 8.30. As usual Ayden’s side of the bed is
cold. He appears in the doorway.

“Hey, you’re awake. I was just coming to
get you.” He sits by me on the bed and brushes my hair from my cheek. “I’ve had
them put breakfast out on the terrace. You’ll need your bathrobe.” I feel his
soft lips next to mine; he tastes of toothpaste and smells divine.

“You should have woken me earlier.” I
smile, sit up and stretch.

“Why, you need your beauty sleep.” From
the arched brows and cheeky wink I know he is joking. “After last night’s activity,
I thought you’d be glad of the extra hour.”

I make my way to the bathroom naked. “Are
you suggesting I can’t keep up Mr. Stone?”

“I wouldn’t dare Ms. Parker.” He’s leaning
on the door frame with his arms folded watching me pass, looking much too hot
for this time of the morning. “Do you want me to come in and sponge you down?”

I close the bathroom door. “No thank you,
I can manage, besides you need to recharge your own batteries for tonight.”

“Rest assured Miss Parker, my batteries
will be fully charged by this evening,” he calls, walking away.

This is the best way to start the day:
playful banter is my favourite morning pursuit.

Fully dressed and with finger dried hair,
I stroll out onto the terrace. A feast of all things delicious is arranged on
the table: pastries, fruit, yoghurt and so forth. Ayden is reading the paper. He
offers me a flat smile when I appear.

“See anything you like?”

I rest my eyes on him. “Oh, just one.”

I’m rewarded with a cheeky grin. He’s
sitting comfortably on the patio chair; his right leg is off the floor, resting
on his left knee. I don’t know what he’s done with his hair but it’s all over
the place and I want to run my fingers through it, not to smooth it out but for
the sheer hell of it. My God, it’s nine o’clock in the morning. Get a grip
woman!

I tip my head to the side, inspecting what
he’s wearing; pale blue jeans and a fitted white, cotton shirt with epaulets
and covered buttons, very understated but very Ayden. I feel rather plain by
comparison. I’m playing it safe with a black mini skirt, black tights, heeled
boots and a simple baby blue sweater. As usual, he doesn’t miss a thing.

“And does madam approve of what Sir is
wearing?”

“She does,” I blush, knowing by saying
‘Sir’ he is alluding to last night’s love-making. Quickly I busy myself with
the task of choosing what to eat.

“Oh, I’m
so
glad.” I can’t see his
face behind the newspaper but I know he’s grinning. “I like the mini skirt.
It’s very provocative.”

I look up and meet his eyes above the
newspaper with a wide stare.

Please don’t give me the look ...

“It’s just a skirt,” I muse, remembering
how he said the exact, same thing when I was so taken with his James Bond suit.
I look away and begin spooning yoghurt into my mouth.

He folds up the newspaper and stands. “This
hotel has a very good gym and a spa if you want to visit it later, for a swim,
a facial or a massage, whatever.” His hands are on my shoulders; firm thumbs
are easing the tension out of my shoulder blades and it feels very sensual.

“Good to know. I might pay it a visit
later. Have you been?”

“I went to the gym and had a swim earlier,
it felt good to exercise.”

I’m saying nothing. I keep eating and enjoy
the attention I’m receiving from his skilled hands.

He rests his chin on my head. “Are you
happy, Beth?”

What a strange question. I swivel around
in my chair to face him. “Of course, why do you ask?”

“I’ve been thinking about last night and
things did get a little ... out of hand. You did safe-word me.” He seems less
self-assured than usual. He’s recalling the orgasm ‘thing.’

“I did. I realise now, it was your way of
showing me how you were feeling. I had no idea I was affecting you like that.”
I place my hand on his and leave it there on my shoulder. “Now I know.”

“And the thing with my belt?” Just the mention
of that forces me to take an extra breath. “Did I mis-read your reaction? You
did like it, right?”

My God, I have to turn away. I look down
to hide my embarrassment. “Yes ... I liked it.”

“And the toy …”

“Oh, I especially liked that.” I can’t
disguise my enthusiasm.

“And would you be happy to try some
other
toys
?
” He asks tentatively.

I nod, yes.

“But the scarf, that’s out of the question
...”

“For now.” I still can’t face him, but all
this talk of low level bondage is causing me to heat-up; my palms are becoming
a little sticky to the touch, just like every other part of my body.

“Why?” He continues to massage my neck but
now his fingers are moving under my hair, around my throat and, even though
I’ve only just showered, I feel a fine layer of sweat coating my skin.

“I ...” I know what I want to say but
can’t seem to find the words. “I think it has something to do with that thing I
told you about, you know at uni?”

“I thought it might.” He ends the massage,
bends into me and kisses my neck from behind. It tickles and I giggle, he nips
my right ear lobe and I pretend to wriggle away. “And how about feeling my hand
on your delectable ass?”

“It was very ...” I’m having some
difficulty forming a coherent sentence. “It was very ...  arousing.”

“Yes it was. Did I hurt you?” His words
leave his lips like bubbles from a steaming bath.

“No, don’t worry, you didn’t hurt me. Nothing
you said or did last night hurt me. Quite the reverse.”

“Good. And I plan on keeping it that way.”
He kisses my hair softly and returns to his seat opposite.
I lower my
eyes from his face and become aware of his almighty hard on. His pale blue
jeans are bursting at the seam. I struggle to shift my gaze, but can’t take my
eyes off it: I swear I can see it stirring.

After what seems like an age, I shift my
attention and our eyes meet. He knows I know, and I swallow deeply, ensnared by
his hunger for me. I feel myself flushing, betrayed by my lascivious thoughts.

“You see the effect you have on me?”

I observe the way his chest is heaving and
how tightly his hands are gripping the arms of the wrought iron chair. He’s
experiencing a kind of sensual agony, it’s painful to watch.

“This is how it’s been for me since we
met: I have withdrawal symptoms when I’m away from you. That’s what I was trying
to explain last night. I feel out of control, and it’s not something I’m used
to.”

I smile softly but leave him to spell out
exactly what he’s feeling.

“When I’m with you and this happens it’s
fine, I can deal with it. But in meetings, in the car, on flights, it’s a whole
different ball game. No pun intended.” He stops to snigger at himself and I
offer a sympathetic smile. “Is this how it’s going to be Beth?”

“You’re asking me?” My voice is a little
higher than usual and that only amplifies my nativity.  “And … when you get
like ... like this, what are you thinking about?”

“What do you think?” He’s becoming
agitated, and fidgeting like a fisherman sitting on hot rocks. He reels me in.

“I don’t know.” I shrug my shoulders.
“Tell me.”

“This, I’m thinking about this.”

I look around the spacious terrace. 
“Eating breakfast on a terrace?”

“No, not eating breakfast on a terrace,
being with you. Being anywhere with
you
.” He glances out over the
rooftops exasperated.

“Then don’t.” I say simply. “Don’t think
of me. Think of something else.”

He shakes his head from side to side and his
raucous laughter reverberates out across the terrace. “Only you Beth. Only you
would tell me
not
to think about you. Every other woman on the planet
would say the complete opposite.” He tries to settle himself in his
uncomfortable jeans.

“It’s just a thought.” I look away, trying
to look offended when we both know I’m not.

“You see, every time you say something
like that, it makes me want you more because I’m reminded of just how willing
you are to put me first, even if it means you being denied something you want
yourself.”

“I think you’re reading too much into it
Ayden.”

He leans over and takes hold of my right
hand and sandwiches it between his. “Don’t you think I know what you’ve done?”

I answer with a shrug.

“With no questions asked you welcomed me
into your world. Saturday night curled up on your sofa; breakfast, watching you
eat cereal with the sunlight behind you, rocking you to sleep while you sobbed
into my chest over a silly fairy tale and this ...”

I’m so overcome with emotion I can barely
speak. “These are simple things Ayden.”

“They are to you. But they’re priceless to
me.” He pauses to consider his next statement, and looks deep into my eyes,
watching me closely. “You’ve humanised me Beth, and there’s no going back.”

“Oh Ayden.” I jump up from my seat and
position myself across his knees, wrapping my arms around his neck. “You’ve
done so much more for me.” I pull back and take his face in my hands. “You have
no idea.”

“Neither do you, you’re too busy seducing
me with your soft ways to even notice that I have fallen so hard for you.”

His impatient lips find mine and devour me
with such passion it’s almost painful. “I could give up everything right here,
right now: liquidate the whole fucking lot and not batter an eye-lid and you
know why? Because I have something more important in my life. I have you.”

I lean back placing my hands on his
shoulders for support and also to keep him at bay. “Ayden ... hearing these
words from your lips makes me so happy.” I brush my hand against his mouth to
emphasise the point. “But please don’t rush into anything. I’m not perfect.”

“No-one’s perfect Beth, especially not me,
but we‘re perfect for each other, perfect together and that’s all that matters.”

It’s the right answer and I fall softly
into him. He lifts me up from the chair and slides his hand underneath my
thighs and carries me like a weightless bride into the bedroom. “I make no
apologies for what I’m about to do, but I
have
to have you. Right now.”

The sexual longing between us crackles in
the air like static, it cannot be harnessed, only channelled into rough, hot
sex. I feel the soft duvet beneath me and scoot backwards, watching him crawl
onto the bed to reach me.

“I want your Spiderman music,” I murmur.
“Pass me my iPod.”

While he samples the soft skin under my
chin and nibbles on my ear, I press play and reach over to slot it into the
deck by the bed. With every beat I’m arching my back and responding to his wet
caresses. The bristles on his chin are tickling my stomach, making me giggle
and so he does it all the more.

His hands are lifting my skirt and strong
fingers are squeezing my thighs. It’s an exercise in self-control and I’m
losing, losing myself in the music, in him.

He times his movements to perfection and
when his hand slides between my legs I writhe and push into his palm. I feel
him pulling down my tights, my panties and I lift up my bottom to ease the
process. I couldn’t be any more saturated and ready.

Dear God just take me ...

I reach for his face and sink my tongue
into his mouth, urging him to do the same. He leaves me bereft. I hear the
sound of him tearing the condom wrapper and watch as he lifts my knees.

“Wrap your legs around me.”

I pin him into position: eyes locked, lips
parted. He presses into me with a rigid cock, in need of no instruction. He
knows what he’s doing, he’s making me wait, and so I rock into him until it
presses against me.

“Say it Beth…” I clear my thoughts of all
things except two little words. The words he needs to hear. The words I want to
say.

“I submit.” I whisper.

His face explodes into a thousand megawatt
smile for one split second, before he utters another impassioned command:
“Pull.”

I tighten my grip and drag him forward, my
ankles locking and crushing him before he lunges into me with such force I
think I might be pushed off the bed. My back is bowing under the strain and
every muscle is tightening in my groin, as a kind of orgasmic wave drags me
under, down, down to the point of no return. What started out as a game is now
a serious case of unbridled, unstoppable fucking. This delectable man
has
to
have me. That thought has me unravelling, throwing my head back in wild
abandon, forgetting myself, forgetting everything; caught up in the overwhelming
need to come over and over.

He lures me to the edge of oblivion with
his relentless thrusting, coaxing me to clench and hold him deep inside. My
quickening breaths echo his and our eyes fix on each other.