Buy Links
Excerpt
Blake
Saturday, February 14, 2009
THE WEEKEND WASN’T GOING to make anything better, but I had to give
it a shot. I was shaking. Running the razor up my soapy leg. I’d been nervous
all day. It had to be the last time, but I wanted to make it count. I knew how
twisted that was. Finish on top, as they say. After tonight I’d go back to
being the adoring fiancée. I’d be faithful. And if that was my last night with
Casey, I’d need to make it count. I wanted to remember every second. After my
legs were smooth and everything else was in order. I put my face under the hot
stream of water coming from the showerhead. I thought about the shower we took
in Seattle. About how his hands roamed my body and touched me everywhere a man
could touch a woman. My hand ran down to my core, feeling my trimmed hair. God
I want to feel you bare. I don’t want anything in between us. His words echoed
through my mind and I reached for the soap and the razor. I’d gone down to
naked skin before, but it was a very, very long time ago. I thought it was
probably in college. I took my time, doing a thorough job. When I was finished
my skin felt new and sensitive. Like the hair had been hiding me from wondrous
sensations. I ran my fingers over myself and anticipated Casey’s doing the
same. After I had dried myself and applied his favorite-smelling lotion, I blow
dried my hair, then stained my cheeks and lips and darkened my eyes and lashes.
I pulled a black garter up each leg. I wasn’t going to be wearing much, but I wanted
to enjoy him taking his time removing them. I pulled the black, thigh-high
stocking up my calves and fastened them to the garters with the clips that hung
from ice-blue bows. I slipped my legs through the black silk underwear and
prepared myself for the icing on the cake. The set that I’d ordered, and was
currently dressing in, came with a corset. It was black with ice-blue ribbons
matching the bows on the garters and panties. It laced up the front. I’d looked
at the ones that laced from behind, but they looked like a nightmare. I’d
already have a struggle getting into one I could watch myself lace. When the
last hook and eye was latched, I straightened it and pulled. Instantly my chest
looked bigger, fuller and heaved from the already very low-cut fabric that held
my breasts. I ran my hands up the sides, feeling the rigid and straight boning,
and yet I felt so comfortable and held together. I pulled on the blue silk robe
that completed the ensemble and went out into the main room to find the shoes
and start a fire. I plugged my phone into the suite’s speakers and got out the
champagne, putting it on ice in a bucket on the coffee table in the main room.
I brought a plate of cheese and fruit to the table and then I went back to the
kitchenette for the last piece. The courage. The kind from a bottle. I had
ordered a small decanter and placed it on the table as well. I was going to
need a few shots if I ever had a prayer of pulling this off. Seduction wasn’t
my forte. But he deserved it. I usually felt so awkward and clumsy during sex.
Well. Not with Casey. With him I felt worshiped and desired. He acted like he
craved me in the way he moaned from kissing my neck sometimes. It made me feel
special. Made me feel sexy and wanton. I arranged the extra pillows and
blankets, that I’d ordered up, and they looked so inviting there on the floor
in the center of the room. I’d given it some thought on my plane ride here this
morning. I wanted the night to be unforgettable. It was already unforgivable. I
downed two shots. Back to back. The cognac tasted sweet and bold. The taste
lingered on my tongue. I left the robe on. I wanted him to open me like an
expensive gift. I wanted to watch his eyes up close when he saw what I was
hiding underneath. I’d told him to be there at eight and it was five to when he
knocked. I’d left him a key—as was customary for us at hotels then—knowing he
would use it if I didn’t answer. I rose to my feet, with an extra four inches
added from the Brian Atwood heels which Reggie bought me for Christmas. How was
I to know they’d come in so handy when I’d sent him a joking picture in a text
message version of a fairy-tale princess’s Christmas list? As I stood there
preparing myself, my heartbeat didn’t exactly feel fast; it just felt strong. A
powerful pulsing that reverberated throughout my whole body. The door handle
clicked. I’d turned the lights out, only a few recessed lights over the bar
area and the fireplace remained lighting the room. It was tastefully amber and
dim. The backlighting behind his body from the bright hallway, when he opened
the door, gave me a chill. He wore a perfectly tailored suit and looked so
masculine in profile. It fit to his tight body in magical ways. His hair was
tamed back with that miracle product he used to make it look controlled, and in
the light, I could see the front was beginning its rebellion, loosening and
falling forward more than it should. He looked like a king. King Casey. He
closed the door gently and pocketed his hand into his slacks making the fabric
taught over his already visible bulge. I licked my lips. I wanted another shot,
but I didn’t dare move. His blue eyes glittered from the lick of the flames
behind me. The song changed. I recognized it within the first few chords. The
single guitar. The arpeggio. Slow Dancing in a Burning Room. I swallowed.
Eyeing him standing there, looking at me, the beautiful confusion of it all
made my mouth water. His eyes wandered over me like a search light, both
warning and guiding my body home. He walked toward me and I started forward to
meet him halfway, but he held a hand up and stopped where he was when we were
still feet apart. “You look like my wildest dream.” His perfect hand still hung
in the air. “Let me look you at you little more. This memory has to last me long
time, honeybee.” He pandered his time. I watched him examine every detail of
me. I thought I’d feel self-conscious, but the opposite happened. I was proud,
and having him take the time to look at every one of the things I’d done to get
his attention felt so gratifying. I had prayed that at least one would capture
his interest. The corners of his lips quirked when his eyes shifted focus
down toward my garter clips. He faked coolness by biting his bottom lip, but he
didn’t fool me. Finally, he said, “Come here.” My right leg, my left leg and I,
we all went to him together. My entire body working on its own. It was so easy.
“Wait, one more thing,” he interjected. Then did the international sign for
spin-it-a-around, his smile bleeding through every feature on his face. His
eyes looked like neon in the darkness. I did a slow twirl, looking over my
shoulder on my way back around. I batted my eyes to get a reaction. “You look
like the definition of temptation.” His eyes squinted and he pantomimed a
come-here head nod. God, his claws were sunk so deep into me. If I looked like
temptation, he looked precisely capable of charming-the-pants-off the Queen of
England. With my shoes, the height brought my eyes to his lips, my favorite
latitude on planet Earth. He ran a hand over my hair and pushed it behind my
shoulder. “I can almost taste you, you smell that good,” he said, hushed. “You
did all of this for me?” “I did.” I was fixated on his mouth. I wanted to put
my lips on him. I wanted to touch and undress him, but this was his show and I
was only too happy letting him run it. The energy coming off him was palpable.
“Do you know how hard I am? I don’t know if you considered my lack of restraint
when it comes to you this close to me.” His hands grazed way down my arms.
“What is all of this?” “I wanted to do something for you.” I looked up at him
through my lashes. “I want to make you happy. I want to be your Valentine.” I
took a deep breath, the anticipation of his body hot against mine at the
forefront of my thoughts. “Open me.” Ten fingers rushed my face and his lips
crushed mine. Then he lifted me into the air. Eye to eye. Mouth to mouth. His
arms wrapped around me and held me close. Mine went straight into his hair, my
fin-gers spreading to get a grip on my unavoidable man. “You taste like the
night we met,” I heard him say. He walked us farther into the room, me in his
arms, our mouths tasting one another, his tongue circling mine to a beat
unheard before. I let my head fall to his neck and I opened my mouth to wet him
with kisses, inhaling his scent—earthy and masculine and something sweet and
only him. The music changed again, but at that time, I couldn’t tell you what
the song was. When my feet touched the floor again, his hands were urgent. He
undid the bow where my robe tied in the front and he pushed the silk off my
shoulders. The fabric easily slid off me. The look in his eyes was feral. “Look
at you. You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” He teased as his hands found my
breasts and cupped me. Like he couldn’t decide what he wanted to touch, he
roamed me. Over the tight trussed-up corset, around to my ass, and back in
quick succession. “I’ve missed you. I know I’m not good to you and I’m sorry,”
I said, not knowing where the words were coming from. With a finger over my
mouth he said, “Shhh. I’m a big boy. I can handle it.” He was right. He did
handle it, but what I didn’t know was how. I could barely manage. He continued,
“You’re my Valentine. Tonight you’re mine. Understand me? Even your thoughts.”
He caressed my cheek. “Don’t think about anything but me. That’s what I want.
I’m going to take every-thing you’re wearing off. I’m going to touch every inch
of you with my mouth. And I’m not going to pretend this is just a fling
tonight, like I’ve done every time. For one night, I want you to pretend like
it’s me you’re promised to,” his thumbs ran over my lips, “Mine to care for and
adore. Say yes to me. Even if it is only for tonight. Please?” His words came
honest. I knew he didn’t always say what he felt, because of me. Because I
fought my feelings hard and so, battled his as well. I’d said the most honest
sentence I had, “Then I’m yours.” And with all my damned heart, I wished the
words were true. He had never offered me more, and I didn’t think he ever
would. He took his time unwrapping me. I luxuriated in the feeling of his hands
on me and my body followed his gentle direction. When the cor-set was gone and
I stood there in my panties, my hands began wandering him. I couldn't help want
to touch his body the way he had been mine. My nimble fingers undid the button
on his coat and he shrugged out of it. My hands untucked his pressed dress
shirt and began the climb of buttons separating him from me. I pulled it open
and found him, like always, well defined and muscular. His stomach cut with
lean muscles that flexed under my hands. His chest strong and firm. The long
ridge of his collarbone, my favorite meal. I didn’t bother with removing his
shirt. Having even the slightest access to him was enough for me. In my panties,
stockings, and shoes I bent down to my knees with one thing in mind. I wanted
to taste, to touch, and to have all of him. To please only him. I kissed along
the top edge of his dress pants, undoing his belt, and pulling it through its
loops. Then, I tossed it away. The zipper went the way zippers do in these
situations, and to my wonderful surprise, he wasn’t wearing anything
underneath. I smiled at my discovery. It looked like he had finally made a
decision about his undergarments. My mouth continued to water. His skin, too,
was bare. But unknown to him, so was I. My fingers circled underneath his
length and pulled him out. I ran both of my hands under his pants to his ass
and pulled them down farther to expose his scrotum, taught and collected
tightly against him. Everything about him was beautiful. I took him into my
mouth and felt him flex inside me, growing even fuller. The taste of him was so
intoxicating. His skin was like catnip and the more I had of it the more I
needed. I looked up at him to see him watching me in wonder, his jaw ticking
and every glorious muscle from my face to his was in full view. I moaned around
his cock, the sight of him like this stealing the remnant of every wayward
thought from my head. It was only him and me. This night was for us. I moved to
a slow beat, enjoying every twitch, every breath he took while I pleasured him.
He stood anchored in his spot. He brushed my hair back away from me, threaded
his fingers through it, and pushed himself deep inside me before he pulled out
of me and urgently pulled me up his decadent body. He kissed me, still holding
my head in his hands with my hair. It was rough and his chest rose and fell in
time with mine. “Go lay down over there, Blake. I want to play with my
Valentines’ gift.” A shiver ran through me. He released my hair and I backed up
without looking at where I was going. My body on autopilot, I did what I was
told. I felt brazen and daring. I felt like I was living a fantasy. I leaned
back on my elbows and drew my legs up then parted them like I’d dreamt of doing
so many nights on the phone. He came to crouch next to me and took stock of the
table’s offerings. “May I have a drink, honeybee? Good choice with the cognac.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were sentimental.” His voice was rich with
sensuality, but his eyes were alight with happiness. He was going to play with
me. I was his toy tonight. His toy. He fixed himself a drink. Two pieces of ice
clanked in the glass, then two fingers of the sweet liquor followed. He brought
the short glass to his lips and hummed his pleasure at the taste. I was on fire
and the anticipation of him touching me was thrumming through my veins. His
shirt was open and his pants, although still undone in the front were pulled
back up. The runaway lock of hair, which had broken formation from the rest,
was gathering company from us running our hands through it. While I’d been
studying him, I hadn't paid attention to my wandering hand that was now rubbing
my breast. My mouth was open and I was nearly panting. After he drank down half
of the glass, he touched my leg at the knee and leisurely ran his fingers up
the skin to my thigh. His barely there touch wasn't enough. I wanted more. I
needed more. I spread my legs farther for him and unabashedly ran my hand to my
sex. I rubbed myself over my panties trying to satisfy a need that was blazing
deep inside me. His eyes watched me touch myself and I saw that his desire
matched mine. The usually cool and easy-going Casey, was again gone, and in his
place was the take-control lover I dreamed about nearly every night. On his
knees he climbed closer to me, between my legs, and his hand met mine. “I want
you, Casey.” He replied, with a firm demanding voice, “Say it again.” “I want
you.” Maybe it was the ambiance and romantic mood of the room. Maybe I felt so
free because it was, decidedly, my last time with him. That singular thought
made me panic and I had to remind myself why. I had to recite in my head,
Because you’re marrying another man. Because Casey only likes chasing you.
Because he doesn’t want the same things you do. He doesn’t want a family. He
doesn’t want a home. He likes traveling and being carefree. And it was those
exact things that made me believe I had to leave him and made my heart retch to
let him go. Because he would never offer me anything different and I could no
longer live with the desperate yearning I had for him, that was entwined with
my deeper desires for home, future, and stability. Then he caught me and halted
the runaway train that was my thoughts. “I told you, honeybee. No thinking like
that.” Had I said all that out loud? Or was it possible my thoughts were loud
enough to hear. Still, even though my mind was playing chess with itself, my
body and heart never strayed. They belonged to him. “Then kiss me. Distract
me.” He reached for the table and his glass, emptying it in his mouth and I
watched as he downed every last drop, including the ice. Returning the empty
glass to the table, his eyes found mine and I saw a hint of mischief. He dipped
his head to my neck. The sensation was hot, but I could feel the coolness of
the ice at the same time. He kissed my chest and when he took my nipple into
his mouth the ice across my warm flesh sent a rush of need straight through me.
I bucked my hips trying to find the pressure and friction I craved, but he
backed away and down my body, taking his ice with him. When he got to the
elastic at the top of my panties he stopped and looked up at me. “You’re so
beautiful, Blake. Your body was made for me.” He kissed above the little blue
bow on my panties. He said, low and sultry, “Your smell haunts me.” He dipped
his head lower and breathed me in, his eyes flickering as he inhaled. “I crave
the taste of you, like a man starved.” Sitting up a little, he grasped both
sides of the thin string that circled my hips on both sides of the expensive
lingerie bottoms. Then they were gone. He caressed me with his stare. His eyes
took in my bared flesh and he prayed, “Mercy.”
This passage is protected under copyright ©M. Mabie 2015
Connect with M. Mabie
No comments:
Post a Comment