Taunt Me (Rough Love 2)

I know, starshine. I know you like it. That’s why we belong together.

She snapped her hips against me, close to another climax. No more denial tonight. I let her have her squeezing, shuddering orgasm with my cock wedged up inside her like a club. As her walls contracted, she started crying, perhaps from the intensity of it all.

I yanked her under me, planted my hands on either side of her, and pummeled her with driving thrusts. I’d burned so long, waiting for her, aching for her. Chere was still sobbing, and I realized she was coming again. Her pulsing walls milked me to orgasm, and massaged me all the way through a series of magnificent aftershocks. I shuddered and collapsed on top of her, holding her head between my palms. Tears flooded her cheeks. I brushed them away with my thumbs, searching her gaze.

“What?” I asked. My voice sounded raspy. My cock was still inside her. I was afraid I’d been too violent. “Did I hurt you?” I pressed when she didn’t respond.

“No. I’m not hurt.” She sniffled and wiped at her eyes. “It’s just… I missed this. I’m sorry I didn’t let you have me for so long. I’m sorry. I was scared.”

I pressed my lips to her forehead. “You were worth waiting for,” I said. “You’re always worth waiting for. Now stop fucking crying.”

She squeezed on my cock. I gritted my teeth and withdrew from her. It was too much sensation now, too much everything. “I’ll be right back.”

I went into the bathroom and threw away the condom, and started running a hot bath. The two of us might have sore muscles after all. I wondered how my associates’ club hopping was going, and then I quickly shoved them from my mind. I only wanted Chere and me in this moment, no one else. I went back in by the bed. She was lying where I left her, sprawled in a heap. I took her ankle and dragged her over to me, and lifted her in my arms.

Mine also, little painted poem of God. I kissed her, licking the corners of her lips, her nose, her dark eyebrows. She laughed and pushed at me, and let me carry her in to the tub. We lay together in the hot, relaxing water, barely talking. Mostly touching.

“I’m glad you agreed to come with me to Oslo,” I said, stroking her hair. “It wouldn’t have been the same without you here.”

I didn’t only mean the sex, although that was great. No, it was her secret glances, and our walk around the city. It was lying in this tub with her head against my shoulder, and our legs intertwined. If the damned museum ever got built, I’d find some way to put a memory of Chere inside it, in some lovely angle, or a bank of windows.

“I never would have imagined we’d be here like this,” she replied softly. “I mean, years ago, when I first met you, I never would have imagined this.”

I didn’t answer, because I wasn’t sure what she meant by “this.” I had to think long and hard about how to proceed from “this.” I had to be careful not to lead her on again, and make her want more than I could give her. I had to be careful not to destroy everything she was working for. I had to figure out how to get enough of her to satisfy my needs, and still allow her to be free. Well, free enough.

It was hard being an ultra-possessive, ultra-protective sadist and pervert. It made my life complicated as shit.

For now, there were more immediate tasks to work on, like moving her to a closer hotel room, and making sure she was sitting beside me next week when we flew back to New York. We’d stay a secret for now, for professionalism’s sake, but she’d be a secret beside me.

I’d gotten drunk on her tonight, but there was so much more of her I planned to drink.

Chere

Our time in Oslo passed like a dream. It was so beautiful and cold and white, with Price’s hands hot on my skin. Then we returned to New York and nothing seemed as clear anymore. I questioned the wisdom of my choices. I’d avoided entanglements for two and a half years because of what he’d done to me, and now, for some reason, I was allowing him right back into my life.

I sat in his office during the day, trying not to think about the things he might do to me later in my apartment. His apartment. Our apartment, now. He was there at least two or three evenings a week, fucking me, terrorizing me, renewing my acquaintance with nipple clamps and zip ties. Sometimes he stayed over, but more often he left, stealing away in the wee hours while I slept off the sexual high.