Story of Us trilogy 01: TouchStone for Play Page 10

  “Take your thumb out of your mouth, or you’ll have me hard again and we both know that’s going to get me in all kinds of trouble.”

  I do as I’m told. “Maybe … trouble’s fun if it doesn’t involve holding me down?” I look away and rethink my approach. “But I like the idea of holding you down.”

  For the first time I feel confident enough to play him at his own game. “But, you said you wanted to modify our arrangement, and you said you wanted to lead. So where does that leave us?” I observe his brain working with the precision of a pocket watch; the mechanics of his mind formulating a response. He’s considering the switch.

  He has a solution. “Then maybe we should reflect on the error of my ways and resume normal service.” There’s a seriously naughty twinkle in his eye that almost has me crawling over wine glasses to get to him.

  “Service? You consider what I do a service?” I won’t look away, I won’t look away. He seems a little ruffled.

  Wow! Now there’s a look! Ayden Stone ruffled?

  “I may be having some difficulty doing and saying things the right way tonight, but I’m hoping you’ll put that down to jet-lag and blue-balls ...”

  I laugh out loud. It’s been a while since anyone made me laugh like this, two nights ago in fact: that frozen lake in me is cracking and beginning to thaw.

  “Oh nice, laughter, that’s right go ahead. I’m dying here and you’re laughing.” He’s holding back a smile but the skin around his eyes is wrinkling; fine lines like the wings on a humming bird are visible on his cheek bones. In this natural state, he’s flawless.

  I do believe he’s finding me ‘entertaining.’

  “I’m sorry, I’m nervous. I need more wine.” I go to fetch another bottle but he takes hold of my wrist and stands so close our bodies are touching. My nose is filling with the delectable aroma of expensive cologne and it’s making me light-headed. He raises my chin so we are eye to eye.

  “No more wine, Beth.” He kisses my cheeks left and right. “Tell me what I can do to make up for my atrocious behaviour. Come on, anything. Be bold.”

  I gather my thoughts. “There’s one thing I want you to do for me.” I take hold of his tie and slowly pull him to my mouth. He leans in, so close his breath tickles my nose.

  “I want you to go into my bedroom and take off your clothes in front of me, very, very slowly.” I pause then issue a stern command. “Do you understand?”

  He nods his head.

  “Do you understand?” I ask again.

  There’s a hint of a playboy smile. “Yes E. LIZ. A. BETH.” He spells out my name, floors me with a stare of such intensity it makes me hold my breath, and edges his way into my bedroom.

  I reach over and finish his glass of wine and follow, my insides full of butterflies, hot and excited little butterflies.

  When I enter the bedroom, he is standing five feet away to the side of the bed, still dressed, waiting, eyes fiery and alive. I reach over to the bedside lamp he bought for me and dim the light. He gives me a grateful smile even though he’s happy to exhibit himself, and why wouldn’t he be with a body like an athlete?

  Perched on the side of the bed, I begin our game. Trying to sound as dispassionate as possible, I give him his first instruction and, in response he loosens his tie; he pulls it slowly from left to right until it ends up on the floor.

  “What else can I do for you Elizabeth?”

  “Unbutton your shirt, and take it off.” His crisp white shirt goes the way of the tie. I’m getting into my stride but I have an idea. “Be bold,” he said.

  Deliberately I make space between my knees a centimetre at a time. His focus shifts from my face to the hem of my skirt and back again. I have his attention now.

  “Remove your socks and shoes Ayden.” I half expect him to make a spectacle of himself, to fall over and for this spell I have cast to be broken, but the task is completed with perfect balance and poise.

  “And now…?”

  Experiencing a longing which starts at my thighs and finds its way to my mouth, I utter, “Take off you trousers and place them on the chair.”

  His strong fingers pull at the fastening and make short work of the belt and the zip, but he’s eager and I want to wet my appetite with this visual feast.

  “Slowly.”

  He obliges and, as a reward I start to hitch up my skirt. I place my hands just above my knees and edge towards my damp thighs. His striptease falters as he catches sight of my provocative movements; his chest is rising and his breathing is visibly quickening.

  He pauses. “Are you ready for this Elizabeth?”

  “I’m very ready.” I’m trying not to smile but I know my eyes are betraying me: pure joy radiating from them and making its way to his side of the room. When he steps out of his trousers, it’s as if all my birthdays have come at once. He is every woman’s aphrodisiac: unkempt hair, taught muscle and an impressive erection that threatens to make its escape from his Calvin Kleins.

  “Are you sure?”

  My God, you are so self-assured.

  In response, my fingers screw up the hem of my skirt and I pull it higher so he can see my moist underwear. This is a tortuous game for us both, but I’m determined to follow through: he’s daring me to see it through. I go for broke. Let’s see if I can’t ruffle his feathers, just a little …

  “Show me how you please yourself.”

  At that, he looks a little surprised but, after a moment’s hesitation and a failed attempt to mask a sexy smile, he slips his right hand between the elastic and his hard abdomen. His eyes betray his mounting arousal and his heaving chest is a giveaway.

  I incline my right hand towards my lacy pants and trace the edge with my thumb. How I wish it was his thumb seeking me out and rescuing me from this torture. But he’s suffered enough and if I don’t tell him to stop he’s going to jerk himself off.

  I meet his dancing iris’ with a fierce stare. “Stop! Come here to me.”

  Was there ever a man more grateful for a command? He’s trembling and I sense the relief in his bones. I contain a gasp when I see the sweat gathering on his upper lip and between his forefinger and thumb: he’s taking this role play very seriously. Now he stands a little off balance but passive, his hard torso inches from my mouth: a perfect specimen. I’m finding it almost impossible to construct a coherent sentence. “… Put your hands behind your back and grip your wrists. If you try to touch any part of me, I will stop. Do you understand?”

  He swallows deeply and answers with a quivering whisper. “Yes Elizabeth.”

  I feel as horny as hell and knowing I can do anything with his amazing body causes me to throb with desire. I feel empowered; this has got to be the boldest thing I have ever done.

  Holding his attention, I trace the top of his boxers with my fingertips, front to back, testing the elastic as I go. His stomach muscles ripple and flex at my touch and I am encouraged. It hits me: I’ve never seen this gorgeous man naked. I have held him and run my hand the length of his cock but this is a whole new level. The thought of seeing him in all his primal glory makes my hands shake. I play for time and caress the rod of throbbing muscle with my palm and, feeling the need to attach myself to him, put my cheek against the steaming cotton material. He leans into me, aching for my mouth and I stop.

  “Don’t move Ayden. Let me do this. You have to be good or I’ll stop. Do you understand?”

  “Oh fucking yes, Elizabeth!”

  The neediness in his voice makes me smile. When I look up at him he is teetering on the edge; his face is glossy with perspiration and there’s that sexy, ‘fuck me’ smile that has me creaming my panties.

  “Good.”

  Having regained my control, I pick up where I left off, but this time I start to lower his boxers. I feel his arms straining and the grip he has on his wrists, tightening; he wants to grab my head and fuck my mouth. Not tonight Mr. Stone.

  With as little pressure as possible, I roll down his boxers and he steps
out of them effortlessly. His bulging cock springs into action and I cannot hide my surprise when its proximity to my face makes me lean back. My astonishment does not go unnoticed.

  When I glance up, he has managed to manifest a look which combines self-satisfaction and amusement at my naiveté. He tilts his head to one side, silently saying. ‘What did you expect?’ Our connection is profound; there’s no embarrassment and no fear, simply trust.

  “Be good,” I caution, and he adopts a more obedient stance. I take him in two hands. From crown to base, he’s beautiful, captivating. I lick the tip with my tongue, tasting a pungent fusion of hot saltiness. As a reflex, he pushes forward and, realising his mistake, pulls back slightly.

  I take him in my mouth and deep, guttural noises emanate from his throat. Or is it his chest? As I quicken my movements, his mouth opens and the sounds become louder and less controlled: more animal than human. I fist the base with my right hand and allow my lips to trace each bulging veins, feeling myself blushing as an internal flame finds its way to my cheeks.

  He’s about to orgasm so I intervene. I release him from my mouth.

  “Don’t come Ayden.” Isn’t this what Dominants do, withhold orgasms, didn’t I read that somewhere? “Count back from ten and come on one.”

  “Yes, Elizabeth,” he pants, his body trembling in front of me.

  When I take him again, I force the tip to the back of my throat, so far I can feel my eyes starting to water. He lets out an aching moan which causes every muscle inside me to tighten and contract.

  “Seven, six ...”

  By five he’s coming undone.

  “Three, two ...”

  And he’s calling my name. “Eliz-a-beth!”

  One is lost to a ferocious relay of pulsating muscle and ejaculation. My mouth fills and I swallow unsure of what other course of action to take.

  “Holly fuck Beth!” Is all he can manage. Clearly Elizabeth has done the dirty deed and left the building. He falls to his knees, head bowed, wasted.

  He raises his eyes to meet mine. “Where did you learn to do that?”

  I explain simply. “The Internet.”

  “Then God bless the internet.” He grins, boyishly. “That’s got to be the best blow job I’ve ...” He stops himself before finishing the sentence, but the damage has been done. I feel a crushing hurt forming; it starts in my chest and reaches my eyes. Disgust and anger builds in the space between us like a seething monster.

  “Finish the sentence Ayden. ‘That’s got to be the best blow job you’ve ever had.’ Have I got it right?”

  He looks mortified, and so he should.

  I push him away from me and he falls backwards onto the carpet. I stride into the bathroom and slam the door shut behind me. Does he have any idea how difficult it was for me to do that?

  When he enters the bathroom, I’m cleaning my teeth. I won’t look at him. If I do I know I’ll cry. He’s turned something so intimate into a vulgar act and I feel cheap and humiliated.

  He approaches me, taking cautious steps. “Beth ... look at me.”

  I won’t. I can’t.

  “Beth, I’m so sorry. It was meant to be a compliment but it came out all wrong.”

  He expects me to speak but I continue to clean my teeth, I’m sure he can guess why.

  “Stop!” He takes the toothbrush and throws it into the sink. “Look at me, while I’m talking to you.”

  I wipe the toothpaste from my mouth with the back of my hand and look directly at him. On witnessing my hurt, he turns away.

  He composes himself. “Look, you can’t expect the habits of a lifetime to stop overnight.”

  I watch and listen but I don’t speak.

  “You’ve done your homework, you know my reputation. I don’t do dates and I’m not Prince fucking Charming. You asked me what I like to do in my spare time, and I told you. ‘I like fucking beautiful women.’ That’s because beautiful women like to be fucked by me, any way I choose.”

  “Thanks for the news flash Ayden, and that’s supposed to make me feel better, how exactly?”

  He begins to wrestle with himself and his right hand finds its way to his neck, he rubs it to ease the tension. “It’s ... it’s you, you’ve got me hooked. I was a bastard earlier and I’ve been an insensitive bastard now but it’s because, in my own fucked up way, I care about you.”

  He reaches out for my hand and I offer it as a lifeline.

  “I should be in New York now, I’ve crossed time zones and haven’t a fucking clue what day or time it is; I’ve cancelled meetings to be here with you. I don’t do that: business always comes first.” He strokes my knuckles with his thumb. “Do you seriously think I would ever do what I just did, like that, with anyone else?”

  He hits me right between the eyes with a wide, sea green stare. “I know it’s the same for you, but you’ve got to give me some leeway because this is a steep learning curve for me too and I’ll fuck up, not because I want to, but because I don’t know any better.”

  His strung out expression holds my attention. As the seething monster leaves the room, it’s only me and this naked Adonis that remain.

  I sniff back tears. “But comparing me to some bitch who’s had your dick in her mouth was hurtful Ayden.”

  “I know baby.” He takes me in his arms. “I know.” He’s stoking my hair and his naked body is so hot and damp to the touch, I can feel his odour permeating my clothes.

  “I would never compare you to them. No-one has ever come close to what we have.” He dusts away a tear. “Now this is what we’re going to do.” He presents my face in front of him and I cannot break away.

  “You’re going to go back to bed, get naked and I’m going to shower and get rid of ...” He looks to the ceiling, seeking out the right words. “... the after effects of your spectacular BJ, and then ...” He tips up my chin. With each word he kisses my lips chastely. “I’m going to make love to you. I’ll do whatever you want me to do to make up for my indiscretions and you’re going to come so hard you’ll be begging for more by morning. Do you understand?”

  I nod.

  “Do you understand Beth?” He is waiting for me to say the words.

  I answer with a wide-eyed stare. “Yes Ayden.”

  “Then go.”

  I turn in the direction of my bed and he softly slaps my behind as I leave.

  Walking and stripping isn’t something I normally do, but now it’s all I can think about. In ten seconds flat, I’m in bed waiting. When I close my eyes all I can hear is the shower and the beating of my own heart. Anyone who has been in a position like this will know, it’s the fear of disappointment or failure that affects the performance. My only consolation is that Ayden cannot fail me. I have so little experience and no expectations. Whatever he does will have me in orgasmic heaven, I have no doubt about that. All I have to do is let him get close to me. But that’s easier said than done.

  He makes his entrance, and what an entrance: tumbling hair the colour of wet tarmac, a low slung towel and a ‘coming to get you’ smile.

  Thank you God!

  “Are you naked?” He asks casually.

  I nod my head, shyly.

  “Good.” He throws off his towel in a single movement and slips between the sheets on the left side of the bed. He’s next to me and I’m not sure if it’s the look, the hair or the fact that he smells so good that causes my pulse to race.

  “Hi,” he says, brushing away a strand of hair from my face.

  “Hi,” I answer sweetly, touching his nose with mine.

  “Did you miss me?” He bowls me over with a smile and I’m suddenly bashful. “No? Then I’ll have to do something about that.”

  Gently, he strokes my hot cheek and finds my mouth with his minty tongue. I can do no more than move to respond. “I want you Beth, but not like before. I want to do this right. Whatever happened in your past put it behind you.” His hand takes hold of my hair in a kind of ragged promise. “You’re safe with me, I won’t
hurt you.”

  I’m pinned in place by his stare. “I trust you Ayden.” And it’s true - almost.

  “Let me make love to you, try not to fight me.” He repositions himself and his tongue finds that spot just beneath my ear.

  “I’ll try,” I whisper, experiencing the kind of tingle that makes your toes curl.

  “Don’t do anything, let me do this.” He redirects my words back at me and I smile into his hair, it’s wet and like silk against my lips. I feel his showered body pressing down on mine for a second before he sits up and shifts his weight onto his knees. He is straddling me and finding my hands, locking our fingers together. I’m grateful for the dim light and catch him exploring my breasts with covetous eyes.

  “You’re so beautiful Beth.” He kisses the tips of my fingers, one after the other and continues along my arms, crossing over my neck as if it’s a kind of bridge from west to east. It feels divine.

  He continues to explore my body inch by inch, lingering on my breasts long enough to force my nipples to stand to attention in response to his gentle sucking and licking. All the time he holds my hands and I feel bound to him.

  When he finds my navel I am so wet and ready, I want to roll him over and take him inside me, but I control my desires and give him his wish because, if I’m honest, it’s my wish too.

  He looks directly at me and I see something new, something raw; this isn’t like any look he’s given me before. He’s fucked beautiful women and they’ve blown him, but this is new to both of us: this is serious.

  “What do you want Beth, tell me.”

  I’m breathless, but I still have enough self-control to speak. “I ... I want to feel your hands on me.”

  Without further encouragement, he releases his fingers from mine and spreads them across my stomach. His hands are naturally powerful but his touch is soft and patient. With a gentle push, he opens my thighs and kisses the smooth, damp flesh. I can feel his hot breath on my crutch, and it makes me arch my back. His fingers stretch over to my most sensitive of parts and I voice my pleasure but find myself clutching his head, pulling him away.