The Sandstone Affair

“Feel that need? That’s the way your pu**y should need my cock,” he says his voice strained with passion of his own.

“It does,” I gasp. Realizing I spoke out of turn, I am terrified he will withdraw from me for doing it. I feel the pressure of his hand, his fingers still wet from my juices pushing me all the way down on my back, as he pulls on my legs, adjusting me perfectly in place. I breathe deeply, in part due to the effort I put into indulging my relief on his fingers, and in part due to the thrill of the promise of him inside me.

I feel his c**k hovering over my lower lips as he suspends himself on strong arms. It moves over me back and forth, barely parting me. I keep lifting myself up to him, wanting him, inviting him, needing him until new tears fall beneath the eye covering.

After what seems like an eternity of his teasing, he enters me. The darkness only heightens the pleasure. Not being able to see him, or know what’s coming next, existing on feelings alone—all of this is amplified by my loss of vision. The head of his shaft sits in my opening almost hesitantly, then without warning he pushes all the way into me, spearing me.

“Oh!” I gasp then bite my lower lip. The fast entry is followed by equally fast and hard thrusts, rocking me and pushing my body forward. I reach out slowly with my hands, waiting to see if his voice will command me to stop. It doesn’t, and I wrap my arms around his ass, pulling him as deep as I can, wanting him farther and farther in me. But instead of following my grasping, Mark changes pace, slowing down and moving in long strokes.

A master of control, he changes everything right as I am building to an unforgettable climax and keeps me hovering in frustrated glee at the top of that clinching feeling. A sharp pain shoots through my breast and I realized he has leaned over and taken my nipple in his mouth, sucking fast and hard, sending me into a bucking frenzy underneath him. I pump my hips faster and faster on his c**k trying to increase his speed. Finally, as I am about to break, he releases my nipple and pushes me hard against the bed.

Jamming his shaft back into my pu**y at full speed, he rams me, harder and harder until I am nothing but a receptacle of his power. I can’t hold on any longer. Letting go of his amazing body, I grip the bed spread and buck wildly underneath him. As I am riding the waves of pleasure, I hear him growl like a wild wolf finishing his prey and his cum releases into my raw swollen channel.

He collapses beside me and starts laughing loudly. Cradling my head against his chest he covers my face with soft kisses. Gently, he removes the blindfold and looks into my eyes; evidence of my tears still fill the corners.

“Mark,” I start to say something but I’m too weak, too spent to do anything but nestle on him and feel the reassuring warmth of his body.

“Shhhhh,” he nurtures me. “You did well, Julia. You did so very well.”

It’s the last thing I hear before blissful sleep takes over.

~~~

The smell of lemon pepper awakens me from my slumber. For a moment I think I’m still in the blindfold and he’s holding a lemon, but I realize I can see. Reaching out for Mark, I’m disappointed to find I’m still on top of the bed naked, and incredibly sore, but he is nowhere near. The nightstand has been cleaned and the door to the connected bathroom has been left open with the light on. It’s still evening outside, but it feels like I’ve slept for days.

Swinging my legs off the bed, I ache from my midsection all the way up my spine. But it’s a good ache. I smile as I hobble to the bathroom and fix myself up, putting on my clothes and using the new brushes, combs and face cloths available. Reset and a little rested, I make my way through the cavernous apartment following the delicious smell until I arrive in Mark’s kitchen.

“Handsome, sexy and he can cook. Forget Bruce Wayne. You’re the most eligible bachelor in New York.”

“Yes, but Bruce does have a nicer car, and a cool butler,” Mark smiles in a self-deprecating way that is nothing short of adorable. I want to run and hug him right now, but I’m not sure of all the rules of this “submission” and decide to wait for him. He just keeps turning the salmon on the grill and tossing the salad.

“Thank you for the well-stocked powder room, by the way,” I say coyly. “You might not have a cool butler but some lady takes care of your bedroom quite well.”

“Wrong on both counts, my dear. You should stick to editing. Intuition and investigation clearly don’t suit you.”

“Oh really?”

“Since Lucy Conway got married, I contracted a wonderful ‘gentleman’s gentleman’ to do the cleaning and that is not my bedroom. That’s my playroom.”

“Well I must say, Mr. Stone, I do enjoy the game.” I give him the most dazzling flirtatious grin I have and it works. He looks up from the grill and winks at me then walks over to give me a kiss.

“Salmon and salad in fifteen. Would you like more of the Riesling or want to switch to something different?”

“You choose,” I say with open arms and an open heart. I can tell by his body language he likes that answer a lot.

We sit down to dinner at a small table in the kitchenette, although I can see a much larger ornate dining room through another door. The food is delicious and the company charming. For a few moments, I almost forget what I’m doing here in the first place.

“Where did you learn to cook like this?” I ask hoping he doesn’t find that too intrusive.

“My mom, actually. As you’ve previously pointed out, I am the second son. So Dad spent most of his time focusing on Blake, and mom spent her time with me. She taught me how to cook, sew, read poetry and listen. While my father taught my brother how to rule the world, mom taught me how to thrive in it. I think I turned out the better man.”

“On that point, Mr. Stone,” I raise my glass in a mock toast, “I absolutely agree. Speaking of which, what was it you needed to tell me?”

Mark takes a deep breath and both of us know that question has changed the entire night. I regret asking it, and yet I need to know.

“Venture capital is a risky business. I know you think all of this was handed to me on a silver platter with a love note from my parents, but the truth is my father left us a company and not much else. The money I have is the money I’ve made. Some of it comes from Sandstone Ventures and the rest comes from investments and personal ventures. But, it’s important to know that my father left us with some very sketchy accounts and we’ve both worked our way to where we are.”