Her Master's Kiss

by Sparx, Vivien

  Renee felt tears begin to mist and glisten in her eyes. “Does anything worry you?” she sniffed.

  Stefan smiled. “Only one thing,” he looked suddenly serious. “I’m worried Storm is going to look like me.”

  Renee laughed. “I think that would be a good thing – a very good thing,” she said warmly. “I hope she inherits your thoughtful intelligence.”

  Stefan squeezed her shoulder. “And your looks.” He glanced out through the nursery curtains. Soft grey clouds were scudding over the mountains. He stood up again suddenly, cast one last glance at the collection of soft clothes and blankets on the small bed, and sighed. “I’m going to change,” he said. “I need to get the downstairs room painted.”

  Stefan was shrugging into a pair of faded old jeans and a paint spattered sweatshirt when Renee came silently into the bedroom behind him. She threw her arms around his waist and he went suddenly still. Her hands slid down to the unfastened button of his jeans as the heat of her body pressed hard against his back.

  Renee murmured as her hands became more adventurous. She wrapped her fingers around Stefan’s length and felt him stir within her hand.

  “Not so fast, mister,” she breathed. She worked him in her palm with careful skill and felt him begin to stiffen. “You owe me from this morning. You don’t get out of this bedroom until I’m screaming so loudly the neighbors complain.”

  Stefan stiffened his back. “I have painting to do,” he reminded her, “and you are going back into Bishop’s Bridge for your appointment.”

  “That’s later,” Renee deflected his protest, “and the painting can wait.” Her hand around his shaft was now stroking him with quick gentle movements. “I can’t.”

  Stefan turned to face her and she saw the spark of interest in his eyes. She drew away from him for just long enough to slip out of her dress, panties and bra while he stood watching her. Then she came back, pushing one slim hand underneath his sweat shirt to rake her fingernails lightly across his stomach so that the skin there instantly tingled. With her other hand she reached up and cupped the nape of his neck, drawing his mouth down to hers. The point of her pink tongue thrust deep into Stefan’s mouth.

  Renee felt Stefan lift his hands, his fingers going to the burning hot skin of her breasts, and the sudden urgent pain of her wanting was too much to bear. She cried out – it was a soft little whimper – but the intensity of it trembled through her body, and sparked Stefan’s own hunger.

  His mouth became forceful and demanding, pressing and sliding against her lips with increased frenzy until Renee felt herself become light-headed. Then he lunged for her neck and throat, trailing ragged kisses down to the breast in the palm of his hand.

  He bowed his head and took the nipple between his lips. Renee arched her back, thrusting herself upwards, desperate to meet him. Her hands in his hair became entwined in the thick springy curls at the back of his head, guiding his mouth, holding him firmly against her as the draw of his sucking lips made her moan softly. She lunged forward with her hips. She felt his hardness brush against her, and it was like the thrust of an iron bar.

  Her skin was burning hot, but Stefan’s mouth ignited deeper and more intense fires within her. She closed her eyes. Her breathing lost its rhythm. She surrendered to his touch.

  Stefan’s hand reached down between Renee’s parted thighs, but the angle and the new shape of her body made the position difficult. She could feel his fingertips like burning brands, dancing across her skin, but never close enough to bring relief. She shuddered, trying to move to meet his touch, desperate to feel his caress against the moist pouting lips at the core of her sex.

  There was a painful knot at the pit of her stomach – a needful ache of desire – that seemed to grow and tighten as her sense of anticipation became frustration. She felt a chill little gust of annoyance ruffle the surface of her arousal.

  “Take me, Stefan,” she pleaded. “I need to feel you deep inside me.”

  She backed towards the huge bed, but Stefan suddenly paused. “We should stop now. It might not be safe.”

  The threat terrified her. She was so wrought with anticipation and need. She was desperate at the thought of being so aroused and then deprived of him and the muscled hardness of his body.

  “No, please!”

  She climbed onto the bed on her hands and knees and arranged a pillow beneath her. She parted her knees, leaving her sex open and exposed and vulnerable. The skin around the swollen lips was waxed smooth and soft, pouting and glistening with the first moistness of her excitement. Renee turned her head and looked over her shoulder.

  “Do this for me, Stefan. Do this for us. Don’t make love to me. Don’t be gentle. Remind me how thrilling it is to submit to you. Take me like your whore and use me. That’s what I want right now. That’s all I want.”

  Stefan clenched his jaw grimly. In the back of his mind were the values and traditions of a gentleman, compelling him to be careful for she was so fragile and so precious – and because she was carrying their child. And yet overwhelming all the restraints was her need. His mind flashed back to the morning, and the memory of her taking him deep inside her mouth. He remembered the intense pleasure of forcing himself between her soft glossy lips, the basic instinct of the dominant that had been the essence of his character for so many years. And it came back to him with a primitive rush – with an intensity that shocked him.

  Quickly Stefan stripped out of his jeans and took his hardness within his hand. He stepped up behind Renee, and swiped the swollen length of himself along the wetness between her thighs. Renee moaned.

  Stefan pressed himself at the opening of her, feeling the throb of anticipation burning between his thighs.

  And he waited.

  He stared down at the shape of Renee, marveling at the way her hips and tiny waist flared like the shape of a delicate Grecian vase. He followed the lines of her slim body to her narrow shoulders. Her skin was flawless, soft and smooth, and her hair hung down over her back like a long golden mane. He leaned forward and wrapped his hands in the tendrils of Renee’s hair, pulling as if tugging on reins. Renee’s head came up, stretching and exposing the soft pale skin of her throat. Stefan stood close behind her and heard her moan, a deep sensual sound. He felt her body shudder against him. Her hips moved, wriggled against the tip of his shaft. He dug the fingers of one hand into the warm flesh of her waist, clamping her still. She moaned again and arched her back.

  Then, with a single demanding thrust of his hips, he filled Renee until their bodies were locked together.

  Renee felt every driving inch of Stefan’s relentless hardness. She cried out in exquisite delight, the sensation of penetration overwhelming. Her tiny hands made fists in the bed sheets as she clung to the mattress and her whole body began to shake and tremble in uncontrollable spasms.

  Stefan tightened his grip on her waist as he withdrew and then plunged to fill her once more. His face was set, the gleam in his eyes primal. He could hear his blood pounding in his ears. Renee’s body clenched tight, wrapping him in her clenching muscled warmth. The folded flesh of her sex flared around his shaft, coating him in the slippery wetness of her arousal.

  He tugged at her hair, keeping her back arched and her body tensed. Renee growled with lust. “Yes!” she snarled. “Oh, God yes.”

  Quickly Stefan began to build the thrusting pace of his hips, their bodies burning hot as they pounded together. Renee was pinned and prone – and the satisfaction she felt in such a submissive position was deeper than the physical. She felt it in her soul, she felt it in her heart. The intensity of her pleasure was instinctive and overpowering. Having her man take her – giving herself to him in this way – filled an emptiness in her she had longed for.

  She felt Stefan pushing, trying to fill the deepest parts of her, and the places he touched within came alight with tiny electric jolts. Her whole body began to shudder. It began between her thighs and made her legs shake. It coursed through her body to her arms
and made them tremble. He let go of her hair and her face fell forward until her cheek was pressed against the cool cloth of the sheets.

  Renee screwed her eyes tightly shut as each breath was driven from her in panting gusts. She felt the heavy weight of her breasts swaying as her sensitive hardened nipples abraded back and forth against the sheets.

  “I’m close!” Stefan growled.

  “So am I!”

  Stefan threw back his head and stared at the ceiling. He had both hands clamped around Renee’s waist now, thrusting his hips in a frantic beat that was losing its rhythm. He felt the simmer of his release reach boiling point – and then it erupted, like a molten rush of white-hot lava, the feeling so intense it tore a ragged cry from his lips as his body began to heave.

  Renee felt Stefan’s orgasm burst deep within her, and her body instantly began to convulse.

  Her own release came as wave upon wave of undulations as her body writhed against the restraint of Stefan’s grip. She felt the muscles within her spasm, and then all she could hear was the sound of her own breathless gasps in her ears as she reached the very peak of her release – and began to tumble over the edge and into the bliss of oblivious relief.

  They collapsed on the bed together, sweating and panting, holding hands until the storm winds of their passion gradually abated and became quiet. Stefan tried to rise, but Renee tightened her grip on his hand to prevent him leaving her. He sighed, his breathing still ragged and uncertain, and slumped back onto the sheets. Renee felt a strange sense of triumph.

  She had – if only briefly – reawakened Stefan’s dominant desires, and she felt a satisfaction as though she had achieved something of almost mystical significance, something that had transcended the sex itself.

  She rolled onto her side facing him and draped a languid arm across his chest. She nuzzled her face against his neck and whispered, “I love you.”

  Five.

  When Renee came out of the bedroom, showered and dressed, she heard Stefan in the downstairs entertainment room and she went to the top of the stairs and called out to him.

  “I’m going back into Bishop’s Bridge now.”

  A moment later Stefan appeared in the doorway below her. There were fresh splatters of paint on his shirt, and he had a brush in one hand. He looked up and saw Renee on the landing with Jeffrey close against her leg. She was wearing a loose-fitting blue dress. Her hair was bundled up on top of her head. She smiled at him and waved.

  “I should be back by five,” she said. She was clutching a little black purse.

  Stefan nodded. “Your car is in the driveway. When you’re gone I’ll put my car back in the garage, so park on the street when you get back.”

  Renee nodded. “What do I do about the stroller?”

  “Buy it,” Stefan said. “If it’s what you want, and it does everything you need, bring it home with you. I’m sure the store will have someone who can put it into the car for you.”

  Renee nodded again. “And my hair?”

  Stefan looked up at her blankly. “Your hair?”

  “Yes. What do you think I should do with it? I was wondering how it would look if I had it cut short and styled.”

  Stefan stayed silent for long thoughtful moments. Renee might as well have held up a sign that read, ‘Caution! You are about to enter a minefield.’ Finally he nodded his head and said slowly, “Whatever you decide, I’m sure it will look fabulous. You can’t look any more beautiful in my eyes, so go for whatever feels best for you.”

  Renee liked the answer. She smiled and blew him a kiss. “Bye!”

  * * *

  Renee was comfortable in the car. She liked driving and so far the pregnancy had proved no problem. She set the little hatchback onto the road to Bishop’s Bridge and fiddled with the radio.

  She had heard that playing music to unborn babies was good for them. She couldn’t recall the reasons, but it didn’t matter right then. She was happy. She was in love. And she was excited about the arrival of baby Storm. They would be a family.

  The radio went to static as the car wound deeper through the dense forests, and then suddenly burst back into life as she crested a rise and caught a glimpse of Bishop’s Bridge, nestled under a grey afternoon sky in the distance. There was an old Beatles song playing.

  Renee began to sing.

  Six.

  Stefan heard Jeffrey barking and he looked up from the wall he was painting and frowned curiously. He set the brush down and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. In the hallway he suddenly realized his cell phone was ringing. Jeffrey wagged his tail and turned around in tight, excited circles. Stefan patted the dog absently on the head and snatched up the phone at the last possible second from the bedside table.

  “Hello?”

  The voice on the other end of the line was unfamiliar to him. “Is this Stefan Blake?” It was a man.

  “Yes.”

  “Mr Blake, I am afraid I have some very bad news. I am calling on behalf of Bishop’s Bridge Hospital. Your wife, Renee Blake, has been injured in a motor vehicle accident.”

  Stefan went cold. The color drained from his face. For a split-second time froze still. Stefan felt his hand begin to shake.

  “Will she be alright?”

  “Yes.”

  Stefan swallowed hard, the wave of relief swamped by a greater dark and sudden dread.

  “She was pregnant…” he said, the words not his own, his voice strange and hollow in his ears, his senses numb and the pain in his heart beginning as an ache.

  “I’m sorry,” the man said softly. “Your unborn daughter died in the accident.”

  Stefan swayed on his feet. He felt an icy clutch of horror grip his heart and squeeze so that he could not breathe.

  “Oh, God…!” he whispered. The room around him began to spin, and he felt his legs collapse beneath him as he crumpled to the floor. The phone fell from his hand and went spinning across the carpet.

  Renee was injured.

  Baby Storm was dead.

  Seven.

  Stefan threw the car into the tight twisting bends with a detached remoteness that seemed to make his driving instinctive. The car hurtled towards Bishop’s Bridge as he pressed the accelerator flat to the floor and his feet danced on the pedals while he changed up and down through the gears grimly without thinking.

  The road ahead was a grey haze, misted and blurred by his tears. The woman he loved was injured – and Stefan’s heart was breaking.

  His unborn daughter was dead.

  Outside the car the afternoon light was fading prematurely as the grey clouds blocked out the sun and cast the forest in deep brooding shadow.

  Why? God, why?

  How can this be happening all over again?

  Stefan’s mind went back to another time. Images he had tried so hard to forget came hauntingly out of the darkness of his past. He remembered the sight of his dying first wife Tiffany, frail and wasted in a hospital bed. He remembered the sudden darkness that draped itself like a black pall over his world when the light of her life had finally been extinguished.

  Stefan remembered the anger and the hurt and the aching pain that pieced his heart and left him cold and numb for years.

  He remembered the funeral; carrying the coffin.

  But more than anything else he remembered his sadness and his anger.

  The sadness had become a dark tunnel of despair that he had never fully emerged from until he had fallen in love with Renee. And even then, Renee’s love had been a mask for the wounds he had never truly confronted and come to terms with.

  His anger had been a simmering rage at a God who would take such beauty before her time. In a world so flawed and with so many faults, how could someone so loving and sweet be stolen away?

  And now – at the moment when he had rebuilt his life and re-discovered true love and heart-felt joy – it had been taken from him again.

  A baby. An innocent, unborn child.

  How could God allow such
a thing?

  Haven’t I suffered enough?

  Haven’t I been through enough pain and sadness and despair?

  Stefan came back from the darkness of his pain, and switched on the car’s headlights. The road ahead was wet. He stabbed his foot down harder on the accelerator, and the depth of his gut-wrenching despair suddenly became something cold and reckless.

  And self-destructive.

  The car skidded into the next turn, sliding on the rain-slicked tarmac. Stefan felt the blood pound like a drum in his ears. He took the next turn even faster. The car’s tail swung wide on the bend, swished from side-to-side in loose gravel, and then the tyres found purchase again.

  Stefan punched the steering wheel with his fist.

  He screamed out as the car went into the next tight right-hand turn, shouting his rage and futile frustration as the tarmac flashed across the windscreen and he felt the car begin to spin out of control. He shouted until his throat was shredded raw and his lungs ached. The car was sideways.

  And then, at the last possible instant, Stefan slammed on the brakes, twisting the wheel against the slide, and double-shifting down through the gears. The car brushed against a guard-rail, and the rending scream of metal roared in his ears as sparks flew like fireworks. The car bounced back off the rail and came to rest in a cloud of gravel and dirt on the shoulder of the road.

  “Why me?” Stefan screamed. “Why always me?” He groped for the door and stumbled from the car. He fell to the ground but got to his feet again. Wind was howling through the treetops and blowing a wet spray of drizzle into his face.

  “Why have you done this to me?” He screamed his agony into the dark night. Then he fell back to his knees.

  His heart was breaking and the pain was unlike anything any man should be expected to endure. It seemed to sear a hole in the fabric of his soul and he wrapped his arms about his shoulders. Tears, warm and salty as blood, spilled down his cheeks and dripped from his chin. The despair was so crushing he could not breathe. The helplessness and the hopelessness ravaged through his memories.