Teach Me Dirty

Perfect shock on her face, perfect shock and raw emotion, and pleasure, and even a hint of fear of the unknown.

I pulled her hands from my thighs, and I took them in mine and I squeezed them tight.

And there was white behind my eyes, and the pounding of my heart in my ears, and the world felt so far away.

“Mark… I… just…”

“I know…” I said. “I know…”

She turned to jelly as the rush subsided, her limbs quivering and weak. I pulled her onto me and held her tight, her head on my shoulders and her ragged breath against my neck.

“Beautiful, beautiful girl,” I whispered as I stroked her hair.

“I’ve never felt like this…”

I smiled and breathed in her hair. “It’s just the beginning, Helen.”

I was still inside her, my cock still twitching, and I never wanted it to end, never wanted this feeling to leave me.

She made little whimpers, and they were somewhere between giggles and sobs, and when I angled her face to mine her eyes were wet, but she was smiling.

“Are you ok?” I said.

She nodded. “I just… my heart can’t contain this…”

I smoothed her hair and a tear rolled down her cheek as she smiled, and it was the most crazy beautiful expression.

“I love you,” I said, and I meant it.

The creature in my arms was more than I could understand, more than I could rationalise or fathom. She was beauty, and life, and soul. She was the promise in the morning light and the curious shadow of twilight. She was the ghost of winter in the autumn shade. She was the green of freshly mown grass, and the scent of cinnamon on the breeze. She was indigo pink, and rain on my cheeks. She was a sacred treasure and nothing less.

I wanted to protect her. Wanted to love her. Wanted to consume her, and tear her apart and make her whole again.

I wanted to possess her. Wanted to worship her. Wanted to wrap her soul in mine and keep her there for all time.

“I really love you, Mr Roberts. I really, really love you,” she said. “I love you so much I don’t even know how to bear it. And I’ll never leave this. I’ll never leave you. I’m yours, and I’ve always been yours, and I’ll be yours forever.”

And I believed her.

My God, I actually believed her.

Helen

Soft sheets and warmth and morning light. And him.

I smiled before I opened my eyes, and he was there waiting.

“Rise and shine, sleepy head. Big day today.”

“Every day with you is a big day.”

“You flatter me, Helen, you really do.”

He was already up and showered, his skin damp as I pulled him back into bed with me. Wet curls tickled, trailed a path to my stomach as he pulled back the covers and kissed his way down. He stopped when his warm breath teased my pussy, and I groaned.

He laughed a gentle laugh. “You are an insatiable little vixen.”

“You do this to me.”

He got to his feet, and pulled me with him. “Later.”

A fizz of excitement zipped up my spine. “So, tell me, Mr Roberts. Where are we going on our big day?”

I watched him towel himself, and it was magical. The tiny things were magical. All the little routine things I’d dreamed of for so long. Mr Roberts was such a proper man, strong and lean, and all grown up. His legs were long and toned, and his shoulders were broad and finely angled. And his ass. His ass was just perfect.

He reached into his wardrobe and pulled out a shirt.

“Are you checking me out, Miss Palmer?”

I smiled, and felt the flush on my cheeks. “I can’t help it, I’m liking what I’m seeing.”

“The pleasure is entirely reciprocated.”

And that’s when I realised the nervousness had gone from me. I was standing, naked and morning rough, in front of a man that made my heart dance in my chest, without even the slightest concern for modesty. And that was him, too. His calm appreciation, his loving touch, his praise and flattery and his integrity. I felt safe with Mr Roberts. Safe, and loved, and confident.

He made me feel confident.

It felt so nice to feel enough, where before I felt so lacking. It felt so nice to be me.

My skin still felt soft and cherished, lathered in citrus body wash and peppered with kisses as he’d washed his patterns away before bedtime.

He pulled on a pair of dark jeans that paired perfectly with the lighter blue of his shirt.

“Dress warm today, Helen. We’ll be doing a bit of walking.”

He had a sock drawer, and it was colourful and cluttered and zany, and it made me smile. He raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Just you,” I said. “Just everything.”

“Are you envious of my collection? Life’s too short for boring socks, Helen.”

“Nothing about you will ever be boring.”