by Audrey Storm
Samuel stood there, watching as Rachel caught her breath, panting and shaking at her own words. Once the redness in her cheeks lessened a little, he said, “That’s what the painting was about.”
“What?” she asked, snarling at him.
“Your painting,” he said. “You said it was about allowing yourself to be unhappy, even when you’ve got everything to make you otherwise. It was about you.”
“God, I don’t even care!” Rachel yelled, exasperated. “So what if it was? It doesn’t matter!”
“Rachel,” Samuel said, stepping closer. “Let me…” he swallowed, as if unsure of his words. “Let me be the man in the background—the one in your painting. Let me bring you a rose when you’re sleeping, simply because it will bring you joy when you awake.”
But Rachel was only half listening. She was tired of doing this, of trying to be okay and keep everything bottled up inside. “Why do I have to let you? Why do I always have to be the one to make a decision?”
Samuel slid a hand behind her neck and kissed her forehead. “You don’t.”
Chapter 4
Rachel had never been to the Whitman, though she passed it on Main Street almost every day. It was a hotel, one that dated back to the early nineteen hundreds and was still every bit as fancy and expensive as it had been in its heyday.
Of course Samuel Baldwin, best friends with a famous actor, would have a room there.
“Here we are,” Samuel said, leading Rachel into an elevator. The moment the doors closed, Rachel reached up for his expensive coat collar and dragged him down into a kiss. His eyes were wide at her aggressive move, and she stared back, a challenge in her look. He grinned as he kissed her.
They got off on the fourth floor, and Samuel took her by the hand as he turned left down a velvet hallway. “Here,” he said, stopping at the door of room four-one-six. With a slide of his key card they were in, kissing and clawing at each other before he’d even kicked the door closed behind them.
“Bed,” he growled, taking the initiative to advance them across the room as he pressed her against him and grabbed her ass, lifting Rachel to carry her across the room. Rachel grabbed onto his shoulders and folded her legs around his back, just giving him better access to grope her.
Before he released her to fall onto the bed, he slapped her ass, smirking as the sound of it filled the room. Rachel let go of him and let herself hit the bed, but kept her arms out and open to invite him closer.
Samuel descended upon her, a hand already in her hair and another sneaking around her side as she arched her back up to meet him in a kiss.
As they lay there, kissing each other so harshly that the other barely had a moment to breathe, Rachel realized they were physically shuffling up the bed. Every time she tried to take control and kiss him, he merely pulled away for a moment just to dive back down and set a different pace. The result was a constant attempt of trying to get in front of the other.
Rachel didn’t think much of it as they moved until she felt the headboard at her back and Samuel, suddenly slapping her arms together above her head to snap something cold over her wrists.
“What?” she breathed.
“Tonight,” Samuel panted. “You don’t have to be in control. Okay?”
Rachel frowned, dipping her head back against the pillows so that she could see the literal chains tying her to the headboard. Yanking on them once, she noticed that they didn’t bite into her wrists, and that they definitely didn’t have any give.
Samuel rolled her breasts under his palms, her nipples pebbling, and Rachel wondered when he had gotten her shirt off. As he ground his crotch against her, Rachel hitched her hips at the bulge there, riding out the delicious sensations it sent through her.
“O-okay,” she repeated, agreeing with a nod.
Samuel beamed at that, and he started kissed her again before turning his head to bite her neck. Rachel hissed at the burn as he nibbled her skin, and she pulled against the chains with her arms as she struggled to yank Sam closer with her legs. Samuel just placed a gentle hand on her calf, whispering, “Relax,” against her skin. “Just let me lead.”
He moved closer to the edge for a moment to kick his pants off, but then he was back, moving Rachel to her stomach. She moved easily, even arching her back to put her ass up in the air, and she got an appreciative slap for it.
“God, Rachel…” he said, grabbing the cheek he’d just slapped. “You’re so—wow.” He crooked a finger just under the waistline of her skirt and pulled, forcing the material over her hips and down her legs to pool around her knees.
“You’re wearing a thong?” he asked, a hint of wonder in his voice as he fingered the black lace disappearing between her cheeks. “Jesus.”
Embarrassment heated Rachel’s face. “I—”
“Uh-uh, nope.” Samuel reached around and stuck two fingers into her mouth, crawling up so he could whisper next to her. “Suck,” he ordered, licking the shell of her ear. Rachel shivered, and pulled them into her mouth. She imagined it was his dick, and wrapped her tongue around them as she sucked against them. Samuel moaned.
“God, you’re so good at this.” They didn’t stay like that for very long before Samuel was pulling his fingers back out and tracing a hand down her back to sneak between her legs. She gasped when she felt them find her opening and sink inside, spreading her gently as they went.
“You’re such a good girl,” Samuel purred. “You’d never imagine it, not with the whole gallery routine you pull off.”
“It’s not a routine,” she panted, biting back a groan as he moved his fingers just right inside her.
“Oh yes, I think it is,” he said. He started picking up the pace with his fingers, scissoring them as he went.
“S-Samuel,” she gasped, and she could feel his chest vibrate with a chuckle.
“Sam, please,” he said. “No one calls me Samuel.”
“Sam, then,” she breathed, squirming in her chains under him. “I-I need… Sam—”
“Almost there, Rachel?” he asked, a smile in his voice. Rachel could only moan underneath him. “I’m speeding up, baby. You ready?” He increased the speed with his fingers, thrusting into her with renewed vigor. Rachel dropped from her knees and curled her toes, letting out a low, long moan when it hit her.
Sam gave her a moment, pressing feather light kisses down her back as she recovered. After a minute or two, he helped her get back onto her knees and steadied her as he pulled them both away from the headboard so that her arms were extended, held tight by the chains.
“Here,” he said, and she frowned as she felt him slide something like rubber into her mouth. She tried to ask him what it was, but she couldn’t form words around it. With a click, she realized it was fashioned around her head and fastened at the back, rendering her speechless.
“It’s a ball gag,” Sam told her. “Don’t talk, don’t think—just feel.”
He bit her neck as he entered her, sucking and licking as he slowly drove in. Rachel tried to say something, but the effort only made her drool out of the side of her mouth, so she let her head fall into the pillow, rubbing her saliva off and onto the fabric. Sam gently took hold of her hair when she did it, and pulled out quickly, only to thrust back in a moment later.
Rachel gripped the pillow and moaned into it, uncaring as her spit drooled out of her mouth, so long as Sam kept up the pace he’d set. He was merciless, slamming into her while he kept a hand on her hip and another wound around her side to land on her breast and squeeze.
All the while he kept biting her—a small nip here, a harsh sting of teeth there. Rachel barely cared anymore; rather, she was moving her hips back to meet him, slamming them together in such a way that hot sparks were flying from her belly button all the way down to the tips of her toes.
“R-Rachel,” Sam gasped. “I’m going to… Going…” It took another three thrusts, another three slaps to her ass, and he was cumming.
He collapsed against her, sending them
both falling onto the bed. The chains around Rachel’s wrists rattled, but then they settled and the only thing she could hear was her own heartbeat. That, and his hot breath against her ear.
She tried to say his name, but with the ball gag in her mouth it came out as more of a moan than anything.
“Oh, right. Sorry,” Sam said, getting off of her. She felt his fingers on the back of her head, fiddling with the clasp. It popped open, and she pushed the ball out of her mouth with her tongue. It was wet with saliva, and she was almost embarrassed when Sam picked it up—but then she remembered that it was him who had made her wear it, so.
Sam grabbed something off of the bedside table—a key—and reached above her arms to unlock the chains with it. As soon as she was free, she let her arms drop to the bed, curling them under her head as she closed her eyes. Sam chuckled and used a hand to smooth her hair.
He kissed her forehead, murmuring against her skin, “Goodnight.”
Rachel yawned, and squirmed closer, seeking out his body heat.
“Goodnight.”
Chapter 5
Rachel awoke to the sound of her phone going off. Bolting upright, it took her a moment to realize that the weight on her chest was an arm, and that it belonged to Samuel.
She threw it off of her and jumped out of bed, snatching her phone from her purse to answer at the last second. “Hello?”
“Rachel? It’s Kyle! Where are you?”
“Kyle?” she asked, rubbing her eyes. “Why—what time is it?”
Kyle told her just as her eyes landed on the electric alarm clock glowing in the darkness. “It’s almost two in the afternoon, sleeping beauty.”
“Crap!” she hissed, grabbing her purple dress off the floor. She threw it on, not even bothering with the decorative belt, and stepped into her heels. Kyle tried to say something else, but Sam was stirring on the bed. “Kyle, let me call you back.” She hung up, grabbed her purse, and ran out the door.
Rachel didn’t call him back. Not immediately, anyway. It was awkward enough doing the walk of shame down Main Street without a brick of a phone plastered to her face, too. She waited until she was back in her apartment, clean and showered, before she hit that redial button.
“Hello?” Kyle answered.
“It’s me.”
“Damn Rachel, where the hell did you go last night?”
Rachel winced at the tone he gave her, but quietly rolled her eyes as she spoke. “I don’t even know. That guy I left with? He’s the one who has been buying my paintings. Like my own personal, sit-down-with-a-brush, works of art.”
“Oh,” Kyle said. He knew that the man had been hitting on her. “Does he know?”
“That they’re mine? Yeah,” she sighed. “He admitted it to me last night.”
“Well, there you go.”
Rachel frowned. “There I go what?”
Kyle huffed on his end. “It sounds like he didn’t come to the gallery just for some art. He came for you—your art, your bod.” She could practically hear the wink through the phone.
“Kye—”
“What? Don’t tell me you didn’t.”
“Well, we did, but—”
“There ya’ go, then. Now, wear something super nice, and maybe he’ll come by tonight for another piece of quote, unquote ‘art.’ See you at seven!” The click of the line only clarified the fact that Kyle had hung up on her. Rachel put her phone down, and sighed.
The last night of the exhibit wasn’t nearly as busy as the first. Probably because of the lack of college kids, but then, Rachel didn’t really find that she missed them. In fact, the only person she thought she might miss walked through the door the minute that they opened.
“Hello Rachel,” Sam greeted her. He strode right up to her counter and leaned against it, a silly smile on his face. “I’d like to purchase,” he pointed across the room, at the spot where she’d been hanging up paintings under the name Atalanta Arcadia. “That one right there.”
Rachel simply looked at him. “Which one?” she asked with a smirk.
“You know, that—Wait.” Sam frowned as he looked to where he was pointing. There wasn’t a piece of art there—in fact, the entire wall was empty. “You don’t have another one? I know someone didn’t buy it, you just opened!”
That made Rachel laugh. “Sam, take a look around. Most of the gallery is empty because it’s the last night, and people are leaving from the festival tomorrow. I didn’t create another painting because we honestly don’t need it.”
“Yeah?” Sam said, looking around with a frown. When he turned to look back at Rachel though, a smile grew on his face. “Well, that actually works out then. Because I can see quite the piece of art right here, and I think I need to take it home.”
“Oh?” Rachel smirked.
“Oh yes,” Sam nodded. “I have the perfect spot for it in my flat in New York.”
Rachel raised an eyebrow. “And you’re sure you don’t want to see how it fits in with you in Savannah first?”
“I have,” Sam laughed, leaning closer. “And trust me—fits like a glove.”
THE END
Pleasing Mr. Cocky
Rebound with the Ex
Chapter 1
I was sitting in my apartment with a tub of ice cream open on my lap, and even though it was wrapped in a tea towel I could still feel the coldness seeping into my bones, but at least I was feeling something. Outside I could hear cars roar along the road, and in the apartments around me I could hear the sounds of people talking but in my apartment there was only the sound of silence. Images flickered on the television screen but I didn't pay attention to them. Pretty people with perfect smiles and false problems. Every day they met someone knew and had another relationship and it all worked out fine for them because that was the nature of things, but for me that was a picture of a life that I would never have.
I wasn't like them. I didn't have the perfect slim body. I liked food, and enjoyed eating. Was that so wrong? In this day and age it's like a sin, something you should be ashamed of. I never had any issues with my own body until other people started having issues with it. When I was at high school they would all stare at me in the shower and giggle, and then suddenly carrots would start turning up in my locker and bag at school. I thought it would get better as I grew older and moved through life but adults were just as cruel as children and I had to develop a thick skin. I pitied them really, that their lives were so small and meaningless that the only joy they could get was from the misery of others. But I was already different and not just because I was fat, but because I liked girls instead of boys, and the worst thing wasn't being teased or bullied at school, it was that Lucy was the one doing it all.
Lucy was the first woman I loved, although I had to lover her from afar. She was bright-eyed and bubbly and everyone loved her, especially when she was ahead of everyone and her round breasts swelled and her hips started swaying in that mesmerizing way. Every head turned. I even caught the fathers of the students looking at her, wondering how such a girl could be so sexual. They looked at her hungrily, like wolves, as though she was just a piece of meat for them to salivate over but to me she was a queen. I lay awake at night dreaming of telling her my feelings and that she would return them, that she would tell me all the teasing and bullying was just an act and she only did it because she wanted to hide her true feelings...that she loved me too.
When I found out that she was going out with Billy it broke my heart. The pain was a stabbing one and I didn't know how something that I couldn't see could feel so raw. I watched her and knew that I shouldn't love her because I meant nothing to her but I couldn't stop myself. The anguish of wanting something that I could never have was palpable, and my pillow was stained with my forlorn tears every night.
Growing up as a big lesbian teenager wasn't fun, and my life seemed bleak, and as I let the ice cream slide down my throat I thought back to that time and chuckled dryly to myself. Even though that was ten years ago I still felt
the same way, like I would always be wanting something that I couldn't have.
I sighed as I drove the spoon into the soft, dark ice cream. I always went for chocolate with little bits of brownie in it, and this one even had swirls of golden caramel. As I scooped up a large mound of it I smiled at the soothing crush, and lifted it up, looking to see how long I could make the caramel stretch before it broke. When it finally lost its cohesion it fell and drizzled back down. I placed it in my mouth and closed my eyes, letting the sweet chocolate fill and comfort me.
Then, I checked my cell to see if anyone had replied to my messages. Nothing. There was only one person that I hadn't tried to contact and that was because we'd spent the last week shouting down the phone to each other. All of my other friends were AWOL, and I felt so lonely that I could have cried. But my tears were all gone. I'd spent too much time crying over Lacey and now it felt like I didn't have anything left in me.
The audience in the television laughed but I couldn't see anything funny. I stared ahead with a blank look in my glassy eyes, watching the fictional characters have better lives than me. I was twenty-nine and I had nothing to show for my life. I was single, eating ice cream in a small apartment, and nobody wanted to be my friend.
Chapter 2
When the show ended the credits rolled and everyone looked happy. That was the thing about TV shows; they always had an ending. Life wasn't like that. You went through day after day in one long, endless string and everything was a chaotic mess. I used to think that everything happened for a reason, that somehow there was a plan for my life; but I soon came to realize that was just an exercise in vanity. There were six billion other souls in the world, why was I so special that there would have been a grand plan for me?
Sometimes I still spared a passing though for Lucy and wondered where she was and what she had done with her life. I look back to that time and thought how different my life would have been if I had tried to talk to her or just tried something different. Perhaps she would have been intrigued. She must have thought about being with girls because every guy wanted her and it was all so easy to be with them but girls, they were mysterious and intriguing and she would have wanted to know, would have needed to know, and sometimes at night when I played with myself I thought about Lucy and how she was then, how I was then, all young and supple and tight and I would feel the most intense orgasms, but immediately afterwards I would lay back in bed and groan for I was aware of how alone I was.
