Is it crazy to say that? I just know. It’s a feeling.
He’s the guy I’ve been dreaming about all these years—and it’s finally coming to fruition. A dull ache of desire forms inside of me as I realize what I’m in for.
“This is me,” he says as the elevator doors open to reveal his extremely nice place.
I walk in and try to take measure of it, but before I know what’s happening, he’s pulling me towards the double doors that lead to his bedroom.
The master suite is bigger than my entire apartment. It’s all grays and blacks, luxe and chic and manly.
He throws me down on the bed and makes good on his promise.
“Let’s get this dress off you,” he says, and he begins to tear the fabric away.
“Not my Valentino!” I find myself objecting.
“Fuck the Valentino,” he says in a measured tone. “You better be focused only on me.”
“Yes, Sir,” I say automatically, and I don’t even know why I say it—except that it seems like the correct way to address his commanding presence.
“Good girl, Naomi. You already know how to play the game.”
Game? Wait a minute, is this a game to him?
Because it’s not to me. I like this guy…a lot. I think I could maybe love him one day.
I’m suddenly afraid that this is all one-sided. Unrequited love and all that.
Before I have time to ruminate any further, he’s pulling me towards the edge of the bed, sliding my legs open. I feel utterly exposed, and yet I’m craving him to consume me, to fill me up with his darkness.
He kisses my inner thighs lightly, and then I feel it: his tongue probing along my heat, forcing my clit out of hiding.
I breathe deeply and try to keep up with what he’s doing down there, but the spasms begin all too quickly, and soon I find myself in another world.
“No, Paul, fuck, it’s too soon,” I say, pulling at his hair.
Like I said, my world just shatters, and it’s so fucking worth it. Game or no game, this moment is mine.
“Yes, baby. You came so quickly like a nice little fucking slut.”
His words turn me on more than I care to admit, and I find myself giving in to him in every way.
I watch him take a step back, and then to my delight, I see him slipping out of his pants and there’s that beautiful, huge fucking cock that I crave.
He strokes it and looks at me, spread out on the bed.
“Like what you see, baby?”
“Yes, Sir,” I say, licking my lips.
I watch him, not daring to move a muscle. I can’t believe this man—the guy I’ve been window-stalking for the past couple weeks—is here doing this to me, doing this for me.
I’ve never been so turned on in my life. A flush of hot desire spreads across my body, and there’s only one way to cool down: him.
But then instead of entering me, instead of climbing on top and sinking his thick muscle deep into my soaking pussy, he does the unexpected.
He turns to a panel in the wall and opens a secret door. It’s lit perfectly, and I see all manner of…toys.
He has a glow in his eyes as he checks my reaction. There are whips and chains, handcuffs and blindfolds, and things that I’ve never seen before...like clamps and stuff.