Impulses (17 page)
With a degree of uncertainty, I feel my face infinitesimally press against his caress, and I reward him with a heartfelt smile of gratitude…one that reaches my eyes and makes them narrow and wrinkle in the corners. I feel as though I have taken off the rose-colored glasses. Everything is in brilliant Technicolor…as are my emotions and aspirations. This man that lay beneath me is offering me everything that I know that I need; reassurance, perseverance, affection and compassion.
But can I offer the same? Can I trust myself not to fuck this up for him––for us? I guess only time will tell.
“Stay,” he asks softly, but I hear his cloaked desperation weave through his monotone.
Stay?
His pleading glint in his glossy depths tugs at my heart, as again I battle with my instincts as my head tells me to leave––to run as far and fast as I can.
I’m already conflicting with my head and my heart
. I mutely pray to a higher power that I don’t get wounded again.
You can think that you know someone, give them your heart, your soul, your body. Even after years together, you can wake up beside the same physical person, but beneath the surface…they can become a stranger. Anyone can take their clothes off and get naked, but to open the box full of emotions that I have stored away over the years as well as my body…that’s me, baring my all, baring my entirety to this gorgeous, perfect man, that is so far out of my league, he’s in a different galaxy.
I run the tip of my nose down the length of his. His warm hands rove over my back as I brush my cheek against his, nudging him, like two lions displaying their affection, feeling the prickling of his stubble chafe against my surface as I reach his ear.
My breathing hitches, my eyes screwed shut as I quail at the thought. But I must push aside the voice in my head, the voice that tells me to go, that he won’t want someone as damaged as me, someone who causes damage…that I will inevitably hurt him.
“Okay,” I whisper and nibble on his earlobe.
Hayden grasps my hips with bruising force, and pushes me over. I shriek and giggle at the abruptness of his maneuver as I lay under his weight. Brushing the stray strands of hair off my brow slowly so I have nothing to hide behind, he trails the back of his knuckles down my cheek. I peek up at him under long lashes, eyes-wide, innocent and imploring.
“You are truly amazing, Miss Kennedy.” His penetrating eyes spear their way into my skull. With his fingers under my chin, Hayden coaxes my head farther back and devours me with a kiss that screams suggestion, lust, and relief.
HAYDEN
It is a spring day. The birds are singing their morning melodies, the flowers are blooming, and the canopy of the forest trees block out the substantial rays and warmth of the sun. Only a few glimmers are scattered as they force their way through the branches, to light up the walkway to which is hidden underneath the dirt, dust and fallen twigs, branches and leaves. I can see the miniscule of dust particles floating, swirling and dancing their way in the air. Shrubbery and vines at almost every turn in the woodland.
I clasp Samantha’s hand as we stop in a circular clearing, surrounded by nature. There’s a puncture in the canopy and the sunrays catch us, shining down upon us like a spotlight on an arena stage. It is breathtaking. The air is fresh, the sounds of nature––the birds singing, the chirping of the crickets in the undergrowth…sheer tranquillity.
We both gaze wondrously around at our surroundings then back at each other. Her prominent, clear eyes search deeply, seeking approval. As Samantha steps into me, she presses her body against mine. She catches the right corner of her lip between her teeth. Panting breaths meld blatantly with the sounds of nature. The electricity between us is magnetic, growing bigger and stronger, delving deeper into our bodies.
Without warning, she pounces on me, invading my mouth with lascivious flicks of her tongue. Her hands fists into the back my hair as her right leg lifts clearly off the ground, coils and rubs gently up and down the outside of my left leg. I grab her behind the knee and tighten my fingers, desperately sinking them into her flesh.
We are both breathless when she pulls away.
“I want to taste you,” she whispers. Sustaining eye contact, she unbuckles the black leather belt of my dark blue jeans. She pushes herself up onto the balls of her feet to meet my mouth, and places feather light kisses against my lips. “I am going to wrap my lips around your cock, like the way my body wraps around you when you fuck me and make me scream.”
Oh my God, what is this woman doing to me?
All air is expelled from my body.
She drops to her knees before me. Freeing my erection from the containment of the denim material, she fists her hand firmly around me, feeling every prominent vein and vessel as the blood rushes. Holding me steady, she flicks her tongue over my tip, running it down my length. I quiver with satisfaction at the feel of the heat and agility of her tongue.
As she makes contact, she peeks up at me, silently goading me to watch her consume me. I nod my approval, and she opens her mouth slowly into a shape of the letter O, and tantalizingly sheaths me with her lips. Lowering her way on me, she doesn’t stop until she has reached the base of my cock.
Her mouth is so warm, so soft. I throw my head back and groan with pleasurable delight. My hands progressing into her hair, I heartily push her onto me as I feel myself building for my release.
“Oh, Samantha…” I mutter, relishing the sensations that she creates from her mouth.
“Hayden…” I hear a whisper. I glance down at Samantha, who is peeking up at me as she continues to devour my aching erection. The building of my orgasm scattered on the wind as my mind denies me of my climax. Anxiety and unease takes the place of my delight, ecstasy and sensory emotions. “Hayden…” the anonymous whisper repeats again. I glance around the clearing. My pulse hastens, my chest stiffens, but Samantha and I are clearly still alone.
Striving to retrieve my blissful state, I close my eyes and breathe in deeply and let out an approving moan.
“HAYDEN…” I feel the breath as the voice rasps quickly and loudly against my ear.
I wake with a jolt. My heart is beating like a brass band against my chest. Sweat pouring off my body as I gasp for a significant, reasonable breath.
Defeated once again by the demons of my mind, I throw the comforter off my body and push myself up to a seated position. Folding my knees in close to my body, I bury my face in my hands.
Addison’s whisper rings loudly and mercilessly in my head; the terseness of the final hiss against my ear. The eeriness…it was so sinister.
I turn my head and look over at the alarm clock to my right, 8:15 a.m. Samantha is still peacefully asleep, her body facing me. The comforter conceals the intimate secrets of her naked body. The provocative curve of her left side lay visible as her leg rests on the top of the bedding, holding it between her legs, cuddling it closely to her chest.
Her words of last night swirling in my mind,
this is all so new for me. But if you have patience…
for her, I will show copious amounts of patience. She is too precious not to. I smile as she twitches her nose like that of a rabbit, before groaning sweetly in her sleep.
Careful not to disturb her, I trace my fingers from her hairline, to the top of her head, massaging her scalp, staring at her in awe––focusing on only her.
Waking up to a beautiful woman, I am one lucky son of a bitch.
And the dream of Addison is soon forgotten.
Not wanting to disturb Samantha, I haul myself out of the bed carefully. Pulling on a pair of sweats, I pad down the hall and turn left into the kitchen.
Samantha begins to stir as I enter the bedroom with breakfast. I place the tray on the top of my dresser to the left of the doorway, and keenly watch her from my position, my hands crossed against my chest.
She pushes her hair from her face, fighting to open her eyes and fully succumb to wakefulness. I’m powerless to contain the innocent amusement that warms my heart as I observe the degree of resolve she wields just to muster the strength to open her eyes; like that of a new foal finding their feet––so innocent, yet determined
.
I snigger to myself as Bambi abruptly springs to mind.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” I breathe. My back resting against my dresser, my arms still crossed.
“Good morning,” she yawns. She stretches and sits herself up. Fisting the comforter in her grasp, she stretches it over her breasts, tucking it safely in place under her arms.
“I have breakfast.” I turn and recover the glossy black tray and take three long strides to the bedside.
“Good, I’m starving.” Her left hand holds the blanket across her breasts as she runs her right hand through her hair. The fiery, mahogany tones weave their way through as the searing sun ricochets around the room as she pushes it back.
I place the tray on her lap and watch her demolish the scrambled egg on whole-wheat toast and bacon. She gulps back at the glass of fresh orange juice, before digging in again.
“Hmm…he’s good at his job,
amazing
in bed, and…he can cook. I think I have just hit the jackpot,” she teases between mouthfuls.
I offer a shy smile. “I know I have, that’s for sure.” I take a sip of my morning coffee.
Samantha stops mid-mouthful and stares at me with that awkward, unnerving expression.
“You’re not looking away, or focusing on your hands after flattery…Miss Kennedy, I think we are starting to make progress.” Her eyes remain on me, her fork suspended in mid-air. “Don’t stop, eat up. We had a good night last night––an incredible, amazing night actually…” I am repaid with a beam that screams sincerity. My insides tighten knowing that her expression is a result of my words. “Now, let us have an incredible morning.”
“Well, when you put it like that, Mr. Wentworth––” she seizes the black tray that rests on her lap with both hands and twists around, lowering it prudently to the floor on the left of the bed before shifting her weight. She faces me again. “How can I refuse?”
She pushes me into the mattress and straddles me. Her mouth is soft and gentle against mine, the cold, bitter taste from the orange juice lingering on the ridges of her tongue.
My hands roam up and down the smooth, pale, flawless skin of her back, before finally lingering on her hips, my thumbs grazing her thighs. Her feet curl and hook around the backs of my legs as she hovers over me. She pulls away from my mouth and paves wet kisses over my stubble, down my jaw to my neck.
“You performed exceptionally last night, Mr. Wentworth. I think you deserve the morning of R and R,” she mutters in-between kisses, working her way to my throat with maddening tardiness.
“Hmm…what are you doing to me, woman?” I question, unable to verbalize anything else. I tilt my head back to give her access to my throat.
Drawing herself away, she captures my face between the heats of her hands. Her passionate eyes bore into me.
“I’m taking control.”
I vaguely ponder the likelihood of a double entendre for her uttered words. But the contemplation is halted in its tracks as I watch her descend the length of my body, her tongue dipping between the chasm of my sternum, and her thumbs hooking under the waistband of my shorts.
TEN
---------------------
SAMANTHA
My arms are outstretched. My wrists bound to each side of the posts, as are my legs. Sight is nonexistent, blinded by the darkness as my blindfold evaporates my senses. The surface is hard beneath me, ragged rock and edges digging into the flesh of my back.
Jeering and catcalls echo all around me. The chilling breeze collides with my naked, heated flesh as I struggle to break free and pull mercilessly upon my restraints.
“No, please stop…” I beg, but the ruthless pounding of yet another hovers above me, assaulting me with exacting, unforgiving force.
“Please, stop. You’re hurting me––” I scream as I feel the aching pressure as he drives into the end of me, assailing my cervix with bruising vigor. Still the calls echo, the taunting and the vulgar insults continue as the burdening weight is removed from my body only to be replaced by another and another and another.
I renounce my cries––my pleas for help––for mercy, yet my face grows wetter still.
I wince when a softening hand removes my covering and reacquaints me with my lost-sight. The black drapes of the night sky looms overhead, speckled with jewels, and the blinding, white glow of the moon in full. I rest, tethered and used upon a sacrificial rock, the men that I prove a vessel for gathered around me.
“Why?” a dark-haired man with penetrating eyes looks down upon me, frees me of my binding and dips a sponge in a wooden dish. He smoothly cleanses my arms, his touch delicate and pacifying.
The moons brilliant beams make it possible for me to distinguish the markings on my flesh as the man washes them away.
“What you do to your body––what you allow men to do to your body, will mar you more than the one with the undeserving mind and that of simple ink.”
I awaken with a gasp. My face contorted and wet as I heave and quell my afflicted mind and nerves. I push myself up in the darkness. My body trembles unequivocally, plagued by the words and acts of a mere dream.
Through my disorientation, I peek at the alarm clock on my nightstand. 3:17 a.m.
Only shadows and tormented visions of my lurid vision dwell within my bedroom––my mind. Inhaling placidly, I lower myself back into the mattress and study the black and gray shadowed ceiling.
Instincts rouse and I rub my hand across the soft, cold surface of the white encased, feather pillow beside me where Hayden would normally be sleeping soundly. I sleep better when he is with me, snaking his strong, protective arms around my waist as he spoons me, my back to his front. The tickling of his leg hair as our legs weaves and glides down each other. I feel safe and secure when he’s with me, and that has been every practical waking and sleeping moment for the last four weeks. Having him nearby also helps quell the fleeting, carefree moments that scare me––the moments that I know will bring pain and regret to us both if permitted to roam free.
Oh, my God…four weeks already?