Masquerade - Page 7

Dawn was in the sky and I was hot and sore in a way I had never been in my life. My body really could not take much more and I knew it was time to enter the real world again and take back control of Billie. The Es were beginning to wear off anyway, and I was starting to see him without the chemical glow of ‘love’. It would be a good time to get dressed and hop it out of there with an ‘Um, sorry, gotta go’ farewell.

‘I stink of sex. I need a shower,’ I said, but apparently it was not time for a shower.

The blond beast pinned me down and had his wicked way with me again. There was something about him. Yes, he was beautiful, but I had seen other beautiful men who left me cold. I couldn’t put my finger on it and I can’t even now, but that something pulls me to him as if I was an iron filing to a massive U-shaped magnet.

I was still gasping for breath when he raised his head and smiled—slow, wolfish, his green eyes crinkling up.

‘Come on. Bathroom,’ he said, and sprinted out of bed, pulling me along. At the bathroom door he followed me in. ‘Um… I really need to wee first,’ I said holding onto the door. He looked at me coolly and said, ‘No.’

‘What?’

‘Don’t close the door.’

‘I need to wee.’

‘So… Fucking wee then.’ His eyes devoured me.

So I did with him watching. It was kind of horrible and kind of hot. Afterwards, he picked me up bodily and put me on the edge of the bathtub.

‘What the fuck?’ I protested.

He opened my legs wide and the more I swore at him the more he spread them.

‘Keep them wide open. You’re going to love this…’

The look in his eyes! I surrendered.

‘Look at your nipples. Look how swollen they are.’

I looked and I swear I had never seen them so raw and swollen. He disengaged the showerhead from its bracket and pinned it with his hip against the bathtub six, maybe seven inches away from my sore kitty and turned on the spray.

It was incredible. Lesbians around the world, take note: the showerhead is a woefully under-utilized sex aid. It massaged all of my sex nicely, but one tiny little spray of water fell without respite on my clit. Faster than any tongue or vibrator. Splash. Splash, splash. Hit, hit, hit. Mmmmm…

Pinned by his watchful eyes I hung on the edge of the bath.

‘I don’t like being watched when I come,’ I said through gritted teeth.

‘Tough.’

I turned my head to one side and tried to damp down the reaction, but it was impossible. Dark pleasures cannot be denied. My body moved ahead without me. I closed my eyes.

The hand that had circled my ankle, then insidiously massaged my calf and aroused me, tightened painfully. ‘Open your fucking eyes and look at what I am doing to you.’

‘No, no,’ I moaned.

‘Be silent and obey.’

I opened my eyes and looked down at his hands as they stroked the insides of my thighs. His fingers pulled apart my sex lips and the exposed, terribly swollen, well-used bud was suddenly and utterly defenseless against the relentless spray. My thighs began to shake with the approaching orgasm. And then all hell broke loose.

He brought me breakfast in bed, ugh, sausages and eggs. We had to stop eating to fuck. When I was leaving he asked me for my number. I gave it to him. He told me he was going away but he would call me in a month’s time.

He never did. And I never got to have that shower either. He sent me home in a taxi stinking to the high heavens of him, of us, of dirty sex.

Tags: Georgia Le Carre Erotic
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