The Sandstone Affair

I try to push his hand away but he brings it back, holding my shoulders then brushing my hair off my forehead.

“You don’t understand,” I gurgle. “You’ve never needed anything in your whole life.”

“That’s not true. I have needs, just like everyone,” he says quietly.

“Really?” I pull myself back, forcing him to lower his hands from my face and drop them to my shoulders. “Name one thing you have ever needed.”

Mark reaches up and lets his finger run across my cheek following the path of my tears. He looks directly at me, no distraction, no diversion, just truth.

“I need you.”

His eyes are open wide, looking into mine, his face open and soft, a sheepish grin crinkling the corners of his eyelids. I consider the vulnerability on his face, realizing for the first time that his strong exterior protects a heart that is just as capable of feeling as my own.

I lean forward to kiss him, praying he will take charge again. He does. His lips cover mine and his arm pulls me closer toward him. He envelops me and kisses me deeply, pulling back just long enough to give me a few small kisses, then embracing me with his lips once more.

Reaching out, I put my hands on his chest rubbing it and pulling at his buttons. His hold on me is so strong and I feel such comfort in his arms. I want to be even closer, held tighter. I want to be part of him and I want him in me. I place my hand on his pants and begin to rub, hoping to see arousal in his eyes.

“Hey,” he whispers. “I’m the boss in that department, remember? I’m the one who gets to say.”

I continue rubbing and pushing against him, moving my kisses across his cheek to his ear where I speak clearly.

“Then, say. Because I really need this now.”

“Not too tired?” Mark asks, his smile returning.

“No. Not at all.”

“Good,” he says. Mark puts his strong left arm under my legs and with his right arm looped around my shoulders he lifts me into the air, kissing me lightly as he carries me toward my bedroom.

Placing me on the bed, he begins kissing and touching me gently. It is so different from his rough thrusts, and so much like the gentle man he usually becomes afterward. I try to hurry him a bit, reaching down to lift my shirt, when he puts his hand on mine.

“Before you do that, I need a decision. A real one. If you think your sexual submission to me is profane, then we should call it off. That doesn’t mean I’ll leave, or even that I’ll stop needing you. It just means we have to go about this differently.”

Refusing to answer the question with words, I pull my top over my head and unhook my bra, dropping it dramatically on floor. He smiles. I place my hands under my br**sts and lift them to him–the most fitting offering I can imagine at the time. He accepts my desire, lowering his chin and taking my nipple in his mouth, sucking and pulling on it rhythmically while his hands continue to undress me.

When he is naked too, he positions his body between my legs but continues to knead and nurture my br**sts. Eventually he runs his tongue up and down my stomach and side, causing me to quiver all over. Placing my hands on his sides as he hovers over me, I begin to slide down, hoping to take his c**k in my mouth, but he stops me.

“Tonight, it’s for you. Just you.” He guides my head back the pillow. He continues to lick and caress me until his tongue finds its way to my mound. He licks both sides of my lips, his tongue occasionally diving deep inside, feeling the wetness bubble out of me. Finding my clit, he sucks and licks around it, pulling it from its hood and enlivening my body until I feel I may spontaneously combust.

My hips are rising as my breath begins to quicken. I am so close to release when he slows to a stop.

“No,” I whine, fearing he might just leave me in the heightened state until I go mad with lust. He chuckles a second and pulls himself up, placing his c**k between my engorged lips, right at the entry point. Knowing the power of his thrusts, I bite my bottom lip and wait for it, but, instead he moves slowly, deliberately, into my body.

He surges into me in small strokes, then pulls out slowly, only to surge again. The back and forth motion of his c**k inside me sets my whole body to his pulse. My hips come up to meet his thrusts and descend with his pull. In my mind I am lying on a raft in the ocean, the deep blue waves crest against me gently as I float on the rippling water. Just floating there, without a fear, or a care, in the world, each wave as steady and pleasing as the next.

Then I feel his thumb resting on my clit rubbing circles on it as he pushes in me and presses downward with his movement out. Now my mind, body and soul are on the raft and the ocean underneath me is building in speed and volume. I hold onto the sides of the bed for fear the waves will topple me and I feel it–a giant tsunami of pleasure–churning towards me. My cry starts so softly, like a dove’s coo, but by the time the power of the wave is ready to crest I am moaning loudly, begging for it to crash down on me and take me out to sea. Then it hits me.

The spasm is deep inside me and long. I move with the sensation, my entire channel pulsing with the rhythm rocking up and down as my mind explodes while the pleasure takes me under, quivering and throbbing on the end of him. I don’t know if he is making sounds or not, I am drowning in my release when I feel his seed spurting within me.

He stands after he withdraws from my body and lifts me a few inches, moving me to the center of the bed, out of the wet spot. He lies in my place and pulls me close to him. I want to tell him I don’t really mind the remnants of our encounter, but discover I’m not ready to speak quite yet.

He runs his hands through my hair, and moves his finger over my body. I collect myself in time and finally am able to find my voice when he speaks before I can.

“I think I might have missed your answer,” Mark says with his usual confidence. “What do you want to do about the deal?”

“Why Mr. Stone, Sir,” I say doing my best Scarlett O’Hara impersonation. “I’m yours to command.”

~~~

Twenty days ago I never would have been awakened by the sun streaming through my window. Most days, by now, I would have been showered, dressed and in my office at Lynx looking over writing samples and editing first drafts. But now, I’m curling under the covers enjoying the sleepy morning moment. Stretching, I reach out and jump when I feel something unexpected.

“Mark!” I exclaim, trying to recall exactly what day of the week it is and why there is a man in my bed when last night’s sensuous lovemaking returns to my mind.