Faith

by Ashe Barker

  Ewan could teach me, I have no doubt of it. He would be a good mentor, caring, patient, demanding, challenging. My friendly dom with the warm smile and fine touch with a paddle might satisfy my immediate need for a spanking but no more. Never any more than that. With Ewan there would be so much to be discovered. He would be thorough, unhurried, peeling back the layers, exposing depths I never thought to reveal to anyone before.

  I might welcome the intimacy, but wouldn’t that ultimately be to step into Caroline’s shoes? To become a convenient body, a playmate, a woman who meant little to him beyond the moment.

  I won’t do that. Can’t be that. I need him too much.

  Ewan’s due back today. I’m not sure exactly what time, but I’ve been on line to monitor the arrivals at Manchester airport so I know his plane landed two hours ago. He’d have to reclaim his baggage, clear customs, then get a taxi back to where he parks his car. Maybe an hour and a half’s drive back here. I think I can expect him within an hour or so. I hug my stomach, excited, aroused, verging on the desperate. I wasn’t sure if I should cook, he probably ate on the plane, but I did anyway. Not to Ewan’s culinary standards, but a decent offering of braised steak with onions, jacket potatoes, some steamed vegetables. We’ll eat, we’ll exchange news, we’ll go to bed. Not necessarily in that order.

  I pace my studio, watch the darkening sky through my roof windows. I glance at the clock. Five minutes since I last checked. I pace some more. Maybe I should go down to the kitchen to check my braised steak.

  My head is buried in my oven when I hear the car. I stand and slam the door shut, rush to the window to check, though I know there’s no mistake. I recognise the distinctive purr of his Nissan, and I pull my curtain aside in time to see it turning into the driveway next door.

  Ewan gets out of the car, casually dressed for travel in jeans and an untucked black T shirt. He looks sexy enough to eat. Sod the braising steak. He glances over the hedge at me, our eyes meet. He smiles and I swear I can see the dimples from here. He lifts his hand in greeting.

  I wave back before dropping the curtain and heading for the door. I rush outside and charge down my path to meet him at the gate as he heads my way. I launch myself Dirty Dancing style into his arms, no doubt causing all sort of talk and conjecture among our other neighbours. I don’t care. Neither does Ewan, it seems. He picks me up, swings me around before planting me back on my feet and kissing me.

  I respond, plunging my tongue into his mouth as I twist my fingers through his thick hair. I’ve yearned for him so much despite our daily telephone conversations and near constant texting. Now he’s here, in the flesh. I come up for air.

  “I cooked you a meal.”

  “Will it keep?”

  “Yes.”

  He grabs my hand and heads towards my front door, still swinging on its hinges from my headlong rush. “My heating’s not been turned on for weeks. We’ll use your bed.”

  In fact I let myself in next door and turned his central heating back on yesterday in anticipation of his return, but I see no point in debating the plan. My bed is nearer so that sounds good to me. He tows me through my door, pausing just long enough to allow me to shut it behind us and drop the latch before he continues up to my bedroom. He back heels that door shut as I start to unbutton my loose-fitting shirt.

  “No. Let me.”

  I remain standing, quite motionless as he steps up behind me. He lifts the hair from my neck and kisses my nape, sending a delicious shiver down my spine. He reaches around me to loosen each of my buttons before spreading the shirt open to reveal my breasts. I bought new underwear, a delicate cream-coloured confection of lace and satin, and chose to wear it today in honour of his homecoming. Ewan admires my lingerie over my shoulder.

  “Mmm, sweet. Is this for me?”

  “Of course. Do you like it?”

  “Love it.” He peels the shirt over my shoulders and down my arms, dropping it on the floor. “So sexy, seductive. You’re a beautiful woman, Faith. Have I mentioned that?”

  “Maybe. Not recently though. Tell me again.”

  “I’ll tell you, and show you. Christ, baby, I missed you.” He cups my breasts in his hands, buries his face in the hollow between my neck and my shoulder. He marks a trail across my shoulder, nibbling, nuzzling, kissing. He moulds my breasts with his hands, lifting them and pressing them together to create a cleavage I can never quite manage to achieve, even with the aid of expensive sexy lingerie.

  “Gorgeous, sexy, so soft, so responsive.” He demonstrates that last with a sweep of his thumbs across my nipples. They swell and harden, scraping against the lace of my bra. Ewan knows, rubs harder as I moan and writhe against him. I need him inside me. Now.

  He lowers one hand to undo the button on my jeans, but continues to torment my nipples with the other. Alternating between them, he slides his hand inside the cups to twist and squeeze, bringing me almost to the point of pain before he releases the distended nubs. He massages each of my swelling mounds in his palm as he slides his other hand down inside my open jeans to cup me. I’m desperate to shove my jeans down, get rid of the remaining barrier, the denim now hindering my movements as I try to open for him.

  “No, be still. I’ll undress you when I’m ready.” His voice is gentle, but firm. He expects me to do as I’m told, and it never occurs to me there may be any other choice. I let my hands drop to my sides and lean back against him as he stretches his arm further to insert two fingers into my drenched pussy.

  “Ah, such a welcome home. I’m guessing you might have missed me too, sweet Faith.” He withdraws, just to plunge his fingers in again. The sounds of my arousal seem to echo around the room, silent apart from our breathing and my own wetness.

  “Please, it’s been a long time. I need you…”

  “You will have me, love. And I’ll have you.” His other hand is on my waistband. At last he shoves the denim down over my hips. I wriggle a little and the jeans drop around my ankles. “Step out.”

  I obey, standing before him now in just my new sexy underwear—my bra and the matching thong. I watch his reflection in the mirror on my wardrobe as Ewan stands back to admire my ensemble. He circles me slowly, his slow, steady perusal disconcerting in its thoroughness. He examines every detail, wordless as he concentrates on my body now exposed and displayed for him.

  “You take my breath away, sweetheart.”

  I shake my head. One of us may be breath-taking, but sexy lingerie or not, it isn’t me.

  His eyes narrow. “Yes. Don’t argue with me. I know what I’m talking about. It’s my breath.”

  “Okay. I’m sorry. But please, could you fuck me now?”

  “I could. But is there some rush? Somewhere you need to be? Your lovely meal about to be burnt to a crisp perhaps?”

  I grimace, conscious of my new thong, drenched and quite possibly beyond redemption by now. “No. It’s me who might self-combust.”

  “Ah, so eager. I do admire enthusiasm, but you would do well to learn patience too, little Faith. It’ll be all the better for waiting.” He makes no move to put me out of my misery.

  “Maybe, I could, I will. But not right now. Please.” I could remove the rest of my clothing myself, for all the difference it’s making, but I don’t. Ewan is setting the pace here. It’s not the pace I prefer, but I know I’ll succumb to his wishes anyway.

  “Definitely. But you’re right, now’s not the time.”

  Thank God! He steps behind me and unfastens my bra. The cream lace slithers down my arms and drops onto the carpet. I wait, expecting him to slide my thong away too, but instead he places his hands on my shoulders and turns me to face the bed.

  “I want you to lean forward and open your legs. Arch your back for me.”

  I twist to look at him over my shoulder. “What? Why?”

  “Humour me, Faith. I’ll make it worth your while. I promise.”

  Still not quite comfortable with this turn of eve
nts, I do as he asks. I bend at the waist to place my hands on the end of the bed.

  “Further. I want your bum in the air. Lower your upper body more, lean on your elbows.”

  I comply, quashing my feelings of self-consciousness as he moves to stand behind me. The scrap of lace is still in place covering most of my pussy, but I feel exposed even so. I flinch as his palm cups the curve of my right buttock.

  “Lovely arse, Faith.”

  “Er, thank you. I think.” Usually when I present myself in this manner, at least of late, it has been in expectation of a spanking at Fairlawns. Even then, I don’t feel nearly so exposed, so vulnerable. A spanking is not what Ewan has in mind, I’m certain of that. But his interest in my bum is beyond doubt.

  He caresses my bottom, using both his hands to ease the cheeks apart. The narrow strip of lace between my buttocks slips to one side and I know he’s looking at my rear hole. I shift on my feet, embarrassed to the core.

  “Ewan…?”

  “Hush, love. Let me look at you. I won’t hurt you.”

  “I know, but…” My words come to an abrupt end as he pulls the strip of lace fully aside to reveal my pussy.

  “Mmm, so wet. Glistening.”

  He trails his fingertip around the outline of my inner lips. I gasp, clenching.

  “You like that?”

  “Yes, I fucking like that. Ewan, stop teasing me. You know what I want.”

  “I know you want me to fuck you. You said so. You didn’t tell me you wanted this…” He slides two fingers inside me. I let out a low, keening moan. “…but I think perhaps you do. Am I right?”

  “Yes.” I grind my teeth together.

  “So, shall I continue then?”

  “Yes.”

  “Manners, Faith. Say please.” He adds a third finger, then stops.

  My cunt is full, stretched, but his motionless digits deliver frustration rather than delight. I writhe and clench around him. “Ewan, stop this. I need to come.”

  “Then say please.”

  “Please. Please, please, please!”

  My compliance is rewarded with several sharp, well-directed thrusts, each one making exquisite contact with my G-spot. He shifts his stance a little and reaches around me with his other hand to lay the pad of his index finger over my clit. He rubs, his touch light at first, then firming his strokes as I gasp and start to gyrate my hips.

  “You want more, little Faith.”

  “Yes. More, please.”

  “Come for me, Faith. Now.”

  I wriggle some more, groping my way across the sensual plateau towards the free fall of orgasm. I’m close, but not there yet.

  “I said, now!”

  “Ewan, I…”

  “Now.” His tone is harsh, his fingers playing my body like a musical instrument. I realise that he is in control, manipulating my progress towards release, insisting I come, but supplying slightly too little stimulation to push me to that point. I need to cover the additional distance on my own, by sheer force of will. His will.

  I’m there, tumbling, spinning, my body spasming in helpless surrender as I finally drag myself across the finish line. Not one to deal in half measures, his commands obeyed, Ewan increases the tempo of his finger-fucking. My orgasm flows like a tap, hard and fast, intense, carrying my senses away with it. I’m whimpering, clutching at the duvet cover under my hands as the waves of my release wash through me.

  At last it’s over. My knees give out and I slump forward to crumple face first onto the bed. I lie there, shivering, vaguely conscious of Ewan moving around the room. I don’t open my eyes. I wait.

  Ewan’s hands on my hips ease me forward to lie face down across the bed. He eases my thighs apart, arranging my legs to bend at the knee in order to raise my bottom slightly. When I am positioned to his liking, he slides his cock into me. I’m wet, slick, his entry is easy. I lift my bum, tightening my pussy to grip him. This is what I wanted, what I pleaded for him to provide. I groan, stretching out my hands in front of me to grab the mattress and I just hang on as he sets up a fast, persistent rhythm. Each stroke is smooth, driving deep, the angle perfect to continue the pressure on my G-spot. In contrast to my previous efforts, my next orgasm is swift in the making. It bubbles up from somewhere low down in my core to fizz and to arc, the electric current joining up all my erogenous zones.

  “Ewan. Oh, God, Oh, God. That’s fabulous. Wonderful. Can you…?”

  “I can. I surely can, baby.” He leans down to press his chest against my back, our bodies joined from neck to hip, slick and hot as we move together in perfect synchronisation. His hand slips underneath me to once more find my clit. As my orgasm subsides, he whips me back into a frenzy, urging me up to the brink and over. Again.

  “Shit, sweetheart, I missed you. Missed this. So tight, so fucking hot.”

  “Ewan…”

  “Squeeze me. Hard. I want you tighter still.”

  I do as he instructs, clenching my inner muscles in order to grip him as hard as I’m able. He withdraws his cock, only to drive it balls-deep inside me, holding that position for a few moments before repeating. His breath is coming in short, staccato pants as his climax builds. My own body sated, I am able to concentrate on Ewan’s reactions, his responses. I know the moment his balls draw up and clench to pump the semen up and out in a viscous stream. Ewan lets out a guttural moan as it flows, thick and warm, to fill me with its wet heat.

  * * *

  “How long are you able to stay this time?”

  “A while. Six weeks, maybe eight. I might need to fly out to South Korea at some stage, but that’s not definite. And if I do it won’t be for long. How’s your business coming along?”

  We’ve polished off my braised steak and now we’re lingering over the remains of a bottle of pinot noir. The washing up will wait until tomorrow. Or maybe the day after. We’ll go next door to Ewan’s if I run out of plates.

  “Good, Very good. I got two new clients.”

  He smiles as he leans across the table to top up my wineglass. “Good. I’m loving my new-look website by the way. Would you be interested in doing some designs for the Qatar project?”

  “Shit, yes! What do you need?”

  “Promotional materials, consciousness-raising. A poster campaign to start with, just to evoke some local interest and awareness at this stage. Sort of, ‘we got the World Cup, yee hah’ stuff. It’d have to be in Arabic, obviously. Would that be a problem?”

  I shake my head. As long as the translation is reliable I can reproduce any script using a light box to project the correct characters onto a screen, then I take a photographic image, which I scan in to create the actual design. “Do you want me to produce some costings?”

  “If you would. I’ll let you have the details when I grab my briefcase from my car. You were so keen to have your way with me I never even got my luggage inside.”

  “I don’t recall you protesting overmuch.”

  “Same goes. Although there was one point when you seemed less than ecstatic. Did I come on too strong?”

  I pause, thinking back over his domineering approach earlier. It’s true he may have unnerved me a little, but in hindsight it was sort of arousing. I’m submissive, I do realise that now. Just not Ewan’s submissive. Even so, he seems able to tap into my subconscious desires.

  “You were a bit stern, but you made up for it.”

  “I didn’t upset you?” His expression is one of concern.

  “No. I was a bit surprised. It was unexpected. I’d missed you so much and I just wanted to, to…” I hesitate, not sure how blunt I should be.

  “You wanted a hard, fast fuck. You made that plain enough.” Ah, that blunt then. Right.

  “And you made me wait. And work for it.”

  “If that’s not how you want it to be between us, you need only say so. I’m used to dominating, taking the lead in bed. But I’m adaptable.”

  I smile, touched tha
t he’s taking the trouble to consult me. “I love you just as you are. I love the way you fuck me, even if you are bossy with it.”

  “And I love it when you talk as dirty as I do.” He tilts his head, his expression serious. “If I get too heavy, I need you to tell me. Remember that.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  His grin at my final remark is sardonic, and for once it doesn’t provoke the usual display of dimples. “Have you finished your wine? I still need to bring my luggage in from the car. Are you coming next door?”

  Chapter Seven

  “Do you have an A-Z of Leeds?”

  I hit a natural break on the nursery signage job and decided a cup of tea was in order. It seemed like a reasonable excuse to make one for Ewan too. Carrying two mugs, I wander through his house looking for him. I find him, not surprisingly, in his office. He’s peering at an image from Google maps displayed on his laptop.

  “No. That’s what my satnav’s for.” I lean down to kiss his neck, at the same time placing his cup on the desk in front of him. “I made tea?”

  “Thanks, love.” He turns to kiss me, this time on the lips before picking up the cup. “I don’t have a satnav. I did, but hardly ever used it so the constant updating was a pain. Fucking civil engineers—always laying new roads. Anyway, I never bothered getting one installed in this car.”

  “Where are you trying to find?” I perch on the spare chair next to him and narrow my eyes to study the screen.

  “Roundhay Court. It’s one of those new build business parks, somewhere in north Leeds.”

  “Do you have the postcode?”

  “Yeah, but this map doesn’t seem to recognise it. I guess I’ll just have to do it the old fashioned way—drive to somewhere near and ask someone.” He grimaces as he takes another sip of his tea. “Shit. I hate it when people think I’m lost.”