Four writers for the price of one blog
♠ I struggled with this. The little stereotypical feminist who still has the audacity to reside in the back of my brain was screaming and knocking things over… I could barely hear myself write. – X
The air in his study was scented with book dust and the ghost of his russet flesh. He’d been hard at work on a new project for over a week, only emerging to run and shower.
I was lonely.
I tiptoed in front of him and squinted at something on his desk, arching my back. The yoga pants I wore were so tight that the center seam could replace his caresses. Almost.
But he didn’t even look up.
My complaint died in my throat as he grabbed my hips in his big hands and squeezed hard enough for me to feel my bones. One hand traveled between my legs and the other went smoothly up my shirt as he pulled me onto his lap.
Both hands rubbed, then pinched. I was wet so quickly I felt the heat of my own juices along with him. He growled softly with approval and I went from wounded to desperate in seconds. I turned and offered him my naked mouth but he just stared, breathing his breath into me. His fingers were expert.
I rubbed him over his jeans. He was gloriously ready, yet he pulled me to standing and nudged me toward the door without a word. He flipped the page of his notebook with still-sticky fingers. I didn’t exist in his world anymore.
I gave him a stony look and stalked out, still throbbing. I knew I wouldn’t be able to concentrate for the din between my legs, so I decided then and there to finish myself off in our cold bedroom. Again. Right before the door slammed behind me he whispered something at his notes.
“Don’t even think about it.”
The bowl of cereal was getting soggy, the peeled banana beside it turning a scatological brown.
My lust was an unfamiliar animal caged inside my ribs. He’d always been intense, but sometime during the course of our relationship, the tables had turned. Before, I had waved myself in front of him like a red flag and he’d reacted accordingly. I reveled in his taurine aggression… but now, his vice-grip on me was undeniable. Confusion and frustration was replaced by almost frightening desire just as soon as he decided to put his hands on me.
He walked in and rummaged in the fruit bowl, determining their ripeness by touch. A store-shiny apple. A leathery pomegranate. He thumbed the blush crevice of a white peach. I let out a muffled yip.
He bit into it and smiled around the peach gore. Just before walking out, he put a warning finger on the crook of my neck.
“I mean it.” His hand still smelled like me.
The sun slanted crazily into the window when I heard his study door open again. I stretched on the bed and pulled up my thigh high socks, one of his few vices. My nipples hardened at his footfalls. I laid on my stomach and arched my back. I held my breath.
His gait slowed at my semi nakedness. I spread my thighs. He took a step toward the bed. I turned and he saw taut nipples. He took another step toward me. I reached out to him…
…And he tipped into the bathroom and locked the door.
I bounced off the bed and walked into the closet, cursing. I grabbed an expensive shoe and started to beat the wall with it. It felt good to destroy something beautiful. My breasts jiggled crazily with each blow.
A big hand appeared in my peripheral vision and grabbed the shoe out of my hand. He shushed me before I could yell, pushing me up against the wall chest-first. He knelt behind me and slid the heel on my foot, then made me put on its pair. I felt the heat of his breath where it counted.
“Arch your back for me. Like before.” I didn’t want to obey, but my body betrayed me. My ass jutted out in front of his face. His hands trailed up the outside of my legs, smoothing the socks he loved so much. He bit a sock higher up on my thigh, then bit me right at the crease were thigh met ass.
I whimpered. He chuckled.
He bit the other side hard enough to ache. I reached back to rake my fingers through his hair but he slammed my hand against the wall. “No touching.” My lips quivered, but my hand went limp.
He palmed my ass. Spread. Squeezed. Bit. My forehead was to the wall and my breath was hot and wet as sweat on my face. He caressed the swell of my ass, and bit a cheek. Then, the other.
He licked spirals into my bruised flesh, then kissed his way up my back until he reached my neck.
Once there, he bit hard enough to make me whine. His heat-seeking fingers found me quick and rubbed his name into my clit.
I kissed the wall without thinking.
He hooked three fingers inside me, head bowed to take in my moan. Then, he pulled his hand from between my legs and headed back to the bathroom.
“I’ve got a dinner meeting in an hour, honey,” he casually said over his shoulder.
“What?!” It came out a wheeze.
“Meeting. My agent called earlier, talking about some opportunity…I’ve got to get ready.” He was naked and hard, but his face wasn’t even flushed. Before I could stop myself, I slapped him.
He rubbed the welt on his cheek and looked me up and down. I shivered, but my lust didn’t let me back down.
“Fuck off already. You’ve had your fun.” My knees shook.
“I certainly have.” His voice was icy.
I stomped into the bedroom, long-legged as a giraffe in heels. “Oh yeah? Well, you can forget having any more fun at my expense because I swear on everything that’s holy that there’ll be no fun until I-”
He slapped his hand over my mouth and wrapped his arm around me. I pounded on his muscular arm and kicked with all my might but he was too big, too strong for me to significantly hurt him. He walked us to my vanity and knocked all the expensive bottles off with one swipe.
My scream went from muffled to strident as his hand moved from my mouth to the back of my neck and pressed my face into the mirror. His face was flushed now, his teeth bared. He spread my legs apart forcefully with a knee.
“You son of a bitch,” I growled.
“What did you swear before?” He yanked at a fistful of my hair.
He smirked, then slammed into me hard enough to push all the air out of my lungs. He was fast and so relentless I couldn’t catch my breath to moan. Pinpoints of light danced around his reflection and mine. For some reason, getting what I wanted only made me angrier.
I growled and tried to buck away, but he was buried deep inside me, holding me to him.
I spit in his face.
His eyes widened and he slapped my mouth. Hard.
He’d never slapped me before.
The unsounded depth of his eyes frightened me. I felt in my bones that we in a place he’d constructed carefully in his fantasies, and I didn’t know whether I liked it. Fear trumped anger and I went lax, but my pussy grasped his cock hard enough to slow his thrusts.
My body had spoken. It was all he needed.
He licked the glossy bloodboil on my lip.
The head of his cock caught somewhere inside me and I cried out. He slapped and pinched until I felt heat, tasted salt but I didn’t tell him to stop. He stuck his tongue in my mouth to taste me. He hurt tonguing my little cuts, but his saliva tasted good steeped in my blood.
He fucked a deeper hollow into me, but I was completely enthralled by what he did to my face. I held my breath as he licked the bruises on my lip, eyes closed in ecstasy. He bit hard enough to draw fresh blood, then groaned. The sharp, sudden pain made me flutter around him. He stuck two fingers in my mouth and then wiped them on my neck and breasts, leaving bright crimson streaks on my skin.
Seeing the red made him quicken, and with a final growl he spurted inside me. He shivered against me as he licked the drying blood off my neck. Although I was pinned by his cock, I still felt like a spectator in the scene.
He shoved his fingers in my mouth again and his fingertips came out a frightening red. He rubbed it into my clit, then fell to his knees and sucked my hard clit into his mouth. My reflection bounced rhythmically with the deep trollings of his tongue.
His come, mixed with my blood, worked deep inside me then out again by his restless tongue…
My hands turned to trembling fists on the vanity. He sucked for his pleasure, not mine but my breath still stopped, started, stopped again. A red-streaked rivulet of saliva dripped from the corner of my mouth. When he bit where he’d been sucking my orgasm slammed into me like an invisible freight train. He tugged my twitching clit with his teeth, never losing his rhythm even as I bucked in his face.
The heat wasn’t concentrated in my cunt anymore – it was also in my scalp, my face, and every pinpoint bruise his teeth had made on my skin… it was like many little, intense orgasms instead of just one.
I didn’t realize I’d been crying until he licked the tears from my cheeks. It was surreal to be almost frightened by the man I loved, but he was just as kind now as he’d been cruel before. He gathered me in his arms and carried me into the bathroom, covering my bruised face with gentle kisses. He set me down on the porcelain throne and drew a bath. My mouth tasted like I’d sucked on a dirty penny.
“Don’t you have a meeting?”
He tested and re-tested the water, making sure it wasn’t too hot for us. I hiccupped like a child who’d cried herself soporific.
“He’ll have to wait until tomorrow.” He caressed me with a new, less restrained tenderness.
He rummaged through a drawer and pulled out something pearl handled and wicked with stainless steel. He gave me a long questioning look. “Will you do this for me?,” he asked. He held out the straight razor with both hands, head down, just a humble servant making an offering to Kali.
I shivered, but my skin was damp with heat.
“I promise I will never, ever hurt you. Let me show you how much I desire you.” The cracks in his voice doubled and tripled in the strange acoustics of the bathroom. He was hard — hungry — again. Most surprisingly, so was I.
My ears rang as I took the blade and stepped silently into the water.