Beauty and Pain (7 page)
To have the cushioned feeling of being adored.
I embraced him, splaying my palms on his back and resting my cheek on his chest. His heart beat wildly, a manic rhythm that matched mine, as though we both anticipated what was to come. We knew I would give it a try, that I’d utter words I hadn’t spoken in years, in a voice that was husky and all kinds of sexy.
We just had to wait for
me
to fully come back. She was there, simmering below the surface, filling my mind with all manner of filthy things—she just needed that extra push to come out, that was all.
“Tell me. Remind me what I used to say,” I whispered. I held my breath, knowing I would blush when he recited words from the past. How had I become so…boring? So shy?
“Ah, that’s easy. I’ll never forget.” He held me tighter, his warmth oozing into my skin like the heat of bath water. “Some days I sit and remember, think about the old days and wish—”
“That I was like that again?”
Oh, God. I’ve made him as boring as me, having to turn to daydreams in order to get his jollies. How long has he been thinking of the past?
He took a moment before he answered. Weighing up how to phrase it, I’d bet.
“Not necessarily that, no. Just wishing that you’d let yourself go every so often. Not be so good all the time.”
“Good?” I lifted my head and stared up at him, into dark brown eyes that melted my knees with their long, thick black lashes. “Is that what I am now? Good?”
God, I
was
boring. I’d slipped into that rut people talked about. The one where the wife became staid and unyielding in the bedroom. Where a bed was just for sleeping, maybe a quick fuck once a month. The rut I’d always vowed never to get into. But that rut was deep; it went so far down that I couldn’t see over the damn top when it came to talking dirty. I bristled, knowing exactly what he meant, knowing I ought to keep my mouth shut because I’d let things spill out that weren’t intended for him. No, what I wanted to say was a torrent of sentences berating myself, and I couldn’t do that, not in front of Jacob. He said it hurt him when I put myself down. Like a physical pain deep inside. If I ranted now, I’d do so knowing I’d upset him.
He stroked my face with both hands, staring down at me as though I was the most precious thing to walk the planet, and I felt wretched. For letting him down. Becoming ‘one of those women’. For allowing
us
to change.
“Tell me,” I said, disliking the begging tone that rimmed the words. “Come on. Tell me what I used to say. Help me say it again.”
I was desperate now, truly desperate to recapture what we’d once had. The thought of how we’d been lately… God, it was shameful. I wanted to say the words so badly, but something blocked their exit. They were all there in my head; delicious, filthy sentences that would make any grandmother’s toes curl; ones I’d read in a book many years ago, yet when I opened my mouth to force them out, they lodged in my throat. Frustration added to desperation made me whimper. I felt so helpless, useless, a stupid, insecure bundle of nerves.
He smiled, a stretch of those beautiful lips that showed his straight teeth, all except the one canine that stuck out a little. “Let me see. What did you used to say…?”
My heart contracted with love for him. He was doing what he always did—making everything okay again. Taking the pressure off me and having the burden on
his
shoulders. How the hell had I been so lucky to find him, to keep him? My eyes stung, and I blinked, swallowed hard and prayed the tears wouldn’t fall.
He glanced up at the ceiling, a teasing gesture that had me wanting to grasp him around the neck and force his gaze back to me. I wanted to reach up and touch the knobbly scar beside his eye, to brush my thumb down his cheek. His pretense of being deep in thought drove a spike of new frustration into my gut, yet I smiled, because as well as doing this for me, he was playing with me. Enjoying it, too.
“Fuck my cunt,” he said, lowering his head so his gaze met mine again. “Fuck my cunt, that’s what you used to say. Jacob, come over here and lick my wet pussy.” He brushed his lips over mine. “Remember that?”
I blushed—damn it, I knew I would—and memories came flooding back. Me on the bed with my legs open wide, my clit aching, throbbing, the need for him to lick it, suck it into his mouth, so strong it took my breath away. Me bending over the bed, hands on the mattress, feet apart on the rug, begging him to
fuck my cunt
from behind. I’d said those words and more, my God I had, but could I say them again?
He continued. “Jacob, suck my nipples. God, yes, suck them harder. Suck them until they hurt. That’s it, baby, bite them. Hold them between your teeth and pull. Harder. Fuck, Jacob, fuck I’m so wet…”
And I was wet now. As I shifted slightly from foot to foot, my labia glided and juices seeped, dampening my inner thighs. My channel clenched, a sharp spasm that coincided with my clit expanding. I dug my nails into his back, drawing them down to his buttocks, and counted to ten. He kissed the top of my head, his hands exploring, casting warming circles on my arse. We stood this way for what seemed a long time, me rolling those words around in my head to test them; see how they sounded years after I’d last spoken them.
“Fuck my cunt,” I whispered, tasting the delicious filth of those words on my tongue. “Suck my nipples,” said with a little more courage and a little less embarrassment.
“Just a bit louder, love. I didn’t quite catch what you said.”
I knew he had, knew he was doing what he always did. Encouraging me. Letting me know I could do anything I wanted if I put my mind to it. I lifted my head, a surge of desire swelling my folds, and swallowed the last of my nervousness.
“Do it, Jacob,” I said, staring straight at him, a challenge to myself to see this through. “Fuck my cunt and suck my nipples. Hard.”
About the Authors
Lily Harlem and Natalie Dae have been writing together for several years now on top of their individual author projects. Their joint name is now Harlem Dae. They enjoy being represented by traditional houses including HarperCollins and Totally Bound as well as self-publishing their sexy stories on Amazon.
Both live in the UK and gain great satisfaction from bouncing characters and their raunchy antics back and forth, growing, nurturing and stoking plot lines until they steam off the page and push boundaries. They consider themselves to be solitary, whacky, spontaneous and desirous for many things including perfection and are frequently caught sending messages back and forth referring to each other as Rodney and Delboy.
Email:
[email protected]
Lily and Natalie love to hear from readers. You can find their contact information, website and author biography at
http://www.totallybound.com
.
Also by Lily Harlem and Natalie Dae
Also by Lily Harlem
Treble: Orchestrating Manoeuvres
Stand to Attention: Who Dares Wins
Christmas Crackers: Candy Canes and Coal Dust
Bollywood: The Unwholesome Adventures of Harita
Also by Natalie Dae
Fantasies Explored: Think Kink
Fantasies Explored: Thinking Kinkier
Fantasies Explored: Kinky Thinking
Bound to the Billionaire: Waiting for Him
What’s Her Secret?: The Submissive’s Secret
Totally Bound Publishing
