Story of Us trilogy 01: TouchStone for Play

by Sydney Jamesson

  He tips his head to one side, says nothing, just smirks.

  “You’ve orchestrated this ...” I struggle to find the right word. “... this relationship, you’ve been very naughty. If you’d come onto me, full onto me, you know playboy style, I would have run a mile.” I can’t help but throw him a wide-eyed stare.

  He’s smiling so wickedly, I’m having to look away to maintain my equilibrium. “Anyway, I get it. You’ve given me your body to play with, to explore, to get use to by creating Elizabeth.” I frame his face with my hands. “I don’t have a problem with it. This is me saying thank you.” I kiss him hard and squeeze his face. “Thank you Ayden.”

  Unfortunately, my words don’t have the desired effect. When I lean back and look at him, he’s still and serious, lost somehow.

  “I don’t deserve you Beth,” he mutters, stroking my hair so softly it feels more like petting than caressing. “What happened last night was, what can I say, unexpected, especially as we didn’t get off to a very good start. It was more than I deserve. I felt so relaxed and turned-on. It was a new experience or me.”

  I feel his thumbs stroking my cheek bones with a kind of devotion and it’s a humbling experience. Why would such a man be so taken with a novice like me?

  He wants to explain. “It was a first for us both and that’s what makes us work. Do you know what I mean?”

  “I think so.” I’m really just guessing. “You’re saying that you didn’t mind it, but you don’t really want to be dominated by me or anyone else?”

  He’s shaking his head from left to right with such a force I’m rocking on his knee. “I’ve tried the real thing.” He smiles, caught up in the recollection. “I paid some leather clad bitch with a whip to tie me up and to do the business, to make me forget myself for a couple of hours.”

  “And ...”

  “And, I didn’t relax. I wanted to beat the shit out of her when she’d finished with me.”

  “And did she get you off?”

  “No, she didn’t, not even close, and I didn’t want her to. It was the least erotic experience of my life. I paid her £1000 and never went back.”

  I’m confused and I don’t know what to think. “So where do I fit in?” My tone is terse but, good news or bad, I need to know.

  “You fit perfectly into my fucked up world. I need you Beth.”

  I blink away thankful tears. “And what about Elizabeth?”

  “I like Elizabeth - you like Elizabeth a lot, you like being her. She creates a safe place for us both.”

  “But, what if she decides not to play fair and she’s not sweet, will you like her then?”

  His face is alight with raw emotion. “How could I not? She’s you.”

  I wrap my arms around him, and hold on tight. His strong arms enfold me like a protective blanket. “But ...”

  He laughs softly. “Here comes the but.” A warmth radiates from him and finds its way to my heart, making me hot and restless too. That’s all it takes: a smile, a look, a touch, a word.

  I want him now, anyway I can have him. “But what if I want to initiate something, to be bold, can I still be Elizabeth?”

  “I’d be disappointed if you weren’t, isn’t that part of our game?” His tongue is skimming my lips and easing its way into my mouth. I long for that invasion.

  I press my body down onto his hard thighs and tighten my grip around his hips. I’ve waited my whole life for you Ayden Stone. I want to be bold. “Then fuck me Ayden, right now.” It’s a whisper, but I sound desperate and that’s exactly how I feel. I’m fisting his hair and easing my tongue between his teeth, circling, tasting.

  This is what he does to me, he chases away my demons, releases my shackles: he’s shown me what it is to be free. Now I want to feel him. Inside me. Now.

  He looks into the deepest depths of my soul. “But Beth, I can be brutal and I don’t want to subject you to that.”

  He says that, but his hands are moving towards my crutch and his thumbs are starting to search for soft flesh beneath. He wants this as much as I do. “I need to know what it’s like Ayden. I trust you to show me. I’m not made of glass.”

  He’s shaking his head. No. “You have a fragile beauty Beth, like a snowflake and I must handle you with care; too much heat and you will melt in my hands.”

  “That’s what you think?”

  “Yes.” There is a lifetime’s worth of sincerity in those words.

  I have no choice. I have to test our theory. I whisper in his ear. “I could always make you.”

  Has a man ever looked so utterly wicked and so utterly gorgeous at the same time? “Then make me,” he says, and my theory is proven.

  This is our own, private game and I can take the lead whenever I want. It’s now or never. “Then pick me up Ayden and take me to my bed and fuck me.” I sense some hesitation and add an empty threat to my command. “If you don’t, I’ll beat the living shit out of you.” I lick my lips and try to contain my unquenchable thirst for him: I’ve been wandering this barren dessert long enough. “Are you motivated now?”

  A lascivious smile takes shape. “I’m very motivated.” As if I’m a sack of feathers, he lifts me and, with my hands still caressing his face, carries me into my bedroom.

  The room is awash with sunlight and I’m about to lose my nerve when he slams me down onto the side of the bed without pleasantries or permission. Roughly he undoes my jeans and yanks down both my jeans and my underwear in one swift pull. When I look at him, his eyes are wild and fierce and I’m a little intimidated. Maybe I should have thought this through.

  He drags his belt off and pulls down his jeans and boxers. To describe his cock as firm would be an understatement; it’s rigid and bulging and ready to impale me.

  What happened to foreplay?

  But no, he’s over me in a second. His left hand feels for moisture between my legs, while his right hand takes the condom from his pocket and savagely tears the wrapper apart with his teeth.

  I start to pant noisily. I’m breathless and wanton, writhing on the sheets, edging back.

  My God, he’s taking me at my word!

  Before I can stop him, he’s manhandling himself, finding my sex. I feel the tip of something firm against me, like steel wrapped in velvet, but only for a second before he edges into me; gently at first, allowing me to accommodate his size, and then in thrusting, jerking movements until he is deep inside me. I cry out more from shock than discomfort. My opening is tight and I can feel him pushing me to my limit: it’s excruciating but what a glorious turn-on.

  My mouth falls open and I reach for him but he denies me his mouth, instead he positions his muscular arms left and right of me to support himself. I want to feel his wet tongue, to conceal myself in the shadows beneath his chin but there’s nowhere to hide: I am exposed in the most intimate of ways.

  We find each other with our eyes and augment our connection. I place my hands on his arms and feel the hardness of his biceps; inhale his virile scent and watch him work up a sweat. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t stop him now. But why would I want to?

  He is lunging into me, but still holding back. “You feel so tight Beth.”

  The fact he uses my name ignites something deep inside me: he’s not simply following an instruction, this is free-will fucking and yet, he’s treating me like I have fragile stamped across my forehead.

  “Stop holding back Ayden. I said fuck me.”

  He has my permission to let go, and let go he does. I feel him dipping his hips to find more length; his penetration is starting to feel primitive and savage.

  I’m desperate to come. “Please Ayden …” I grab his hips and pull him into me, my nails digging into the fleshy part of his buttocks; he winces and throws back his head in wild abandon.

  Until now I have not known what it is to ache for someone. To have this flawless man inside me, is more than I could dare to wish for. To have him here, filling an emptiness inside me, chasing away the loneliness, I would give
him anything.

  I’m arching my back and breathing in the pheromone filled air between us: taking all of him. Every inch of my body is tingling and boiling. This is what Ayden meant when he talked about being possessed and taking possession. He’s locked deep inside my body: I am his and he is mine.

  “Fuck, Beth, you’re crushing me.”

  I prolong his wondrous agony and pull in my internal muscles tight.

  “No!” He feels my every movement. “Stop, it’s too much!”

  I release him and allow him to push me further. I suck him in deeper and deeper to the throbbing rhythm of J Lo’s, ‘On the Floor ’ playing in the kitchen. This isn’t love making, it’s something else, much more lustful and primal. I had asked for this, dear God I had insisted on it. Whatever it is, I know I’ll want it over and over again.

  “Come now Ayden, come now!”

  “No.”

  “Come …”

  “No. I’ll come when I’m fucking ready,” he snarls. With that he lifts my left leg and pushes into me so deeply, I can feel his steaming body against my straining folds.

  “Ayden!” I call out, allowing his passion and my panic to race on to fever pitch. There is some discomfort but it’s surpassed by my need to orgasm with him still inside me.

  In a contorted voice he hisses, “Come on Beth, let’s hear it …”

  His words do something to me. I’m starting to tremble, my breathing is frantic and I feel the heat of his flesh radiating over me. I’m at my limit, about to explode.

  With grinding passion, he calls out. “You’re burning up inside … give it up for me.”

  And I do. I jerk upwards and come so hard I crush him with my ecstatic clinching. He watches me with a seething stare and, with a final thrust that fills every centimetre, I watch him lose all self-control, lose himself in me. He orgasms with a roaring release that shocks me. It rips him apart and every pulsing thrust presses against me like a heartbeat. Instinctively, I pull him to me, calming him with soft words.

  When he raises himself he is drenched in sweat and his body glistens with a moist second skin. Still breathless, he tries to speak. “I’m ... I’m going to think very carefully about the way I phrase this but ... you’re one hell of a fuck Beth.”

  “And that’s you saying it nicely?” I grin with mock indignation.

  “It’s all I can manage.” Once he settles, he turns to face me with a captivating stare. “That was our first time.”

  As if I didn’t know. “Yes it was.” I smile softly, concealing in that smile an intimate connection that will never be broken.

  We’re both naked from the waist down and our faces are soaked with perspiration but, in the cold light of day, he’s everything I have dreamt of, wished for, waited for.

  “You’re so beautiful inside and out Beth and I like being around you.” He pulls me to him and our foreheads touch.

  “I like being around you too.” I stroke his face, feeling the heat of his exertion searing my skin. “It’s all about you and me, our two worlds have collided, and I was wrong.” I recall our first conversation.

  “You don’t think it will end in tears?” He holds my hand to his face. He remembers too.

  “I hope not.”

  “Me too.” He brushes my lips with his thumb, sealing in those words and follows through with a kiss. “I’ll run you a bath, you’ll feel better after a soak.” He dashes off to the bathroom, pulling off the condom on route.

  Realising I’m only partially clothed I wriggle myself off the bed. It isn’t until I stand, the after effects hit me.

  Ouch!

  My legs are wobbly and my head is fuzzy, I may need to sit down for a minute.

  ***

  After a quick soak, I feel much better. When I join Ayden in the lounge, he’s still busy working on my laptop and is consulting his iPhone at regular intervals. I pour out two glasses of Rioja and hand him one but whatever it is that is holding his attention is far more important than the wine.

  “This will only take a couple of minutes,” he says, maintaining his focus on the screen. “Then I’m all yours.”

  The promise of that keeps me still and silent for a while.

  “Ok.” He slams down the laptop lid. “I’m done.” He’s taking a long, lingering look at my face, I assume for any signs of discomfort or pain. I offer a cheerful smile and he seems relieved. “What are we celebrating?”

  “I don’t know. You decide.” Where to start?

  He’s happy to oblige. “Alright ... to you, Beth.” He reaches out to touch glasses.

  “Me?” Why me?

  “It has to be you Beth.” Our glasses touch. “Apart from the sex which, incidentally, was blind-blowing, I have to say I’ve never met a more charming and alluring woman than you. Thank you for inviting me into your home.” He pulls me to him. “How are you feeling?”

  Better for hearing that …

  “Good, a little sore but good.” I kiss his hair and stroke his head with my free hand, even up close he’s a sight to behold.

  “Let’s go and spend some money.” He reaches over to the small leather wallet and wafts it in front of my nose. “This seems to have found its way into my overnight bag.”

  I try to walk away but he keeps hold of my hand. “I have money Ayden, I don’t need yours,” I say, sounding insulted.

  “I know, and I can guess why you gave it back.” He lowers his chin and observes me through long eyelashes. “It’s not payment for anything: It’s a gift.” He places the visa card in my hand and folds my fingers around it. “I have lots of money too but, what’s the point of having it if I can’t share it. I want to share it with you and this is a start. Please take it.”

  “But ...”

  “Stop with the but’s: it’s a fucking gift. Not a gift for fucking.” He gives me a grim look. “You’ll make me very unhappy if you don’t.”

  “I don’t want you to be unhappy Ayden, but don’t do this again, not without asking me. Ok?”

  “Yes Miss Parker.” He stands and twists me around, holding onto my hand. “Let’s get you ready for Rome. The pin’s your date of birth.”

  Of course it is.

  Dan woke to a crisp, icy morning fired up by the prospect of carrying out some under-cover work. He has been parked up on Grosvenor Crescent, opposite Stone Heath since 0800hrs with no more than a flask of tea, two cold pasties and an empty bottle to piss in. He’s carried out surveillance work before. It’s another of his ‘skills.’ The heater is blasting out hot air and the radio is blarting out rock music. Suspicious locals and early morning dog walkers are drawn to the vehicle: it looks out of place at the upmarket address. No self-respecting resident would be seen dead driving an ancient, silver BMW?

  Feeling in the mood for gadgets, Dan snaps a couple of photos; zooms in on the alarm box and the windows checking for locks. The impressive, three storey property is not that pretty to look at but, he knows, it’s worth around three mill, maybe more: three floors, two garages and a roof top terrace. “Very nice,” he remarks to no-one in particular. “You’ve done alright for yourself Stone.”

  He swaps the camera for a Dictaphone, anticipating he won’t be able to scribble down notes and drive at the same time. After a quick test, he clears his throat and begins his report on the job he’s decided to call. ‘Operation Snatch Back.’ He thinks it has a punchy ring to it.

  “It’s 1045hrs Saturday 20th October. Operation Snatch Back is underway. Carrying out surveillance at Grosvenor Crescent, permanent address of Mr. Ayden Stone.” He glances up and down the road. “There’s limited access from the south and multiple entry points via ground floor garages and doors, front and rear …”

  As his mouth forms another word, a silver Rolls Royce edges out of the right hand garage and forces his lips into a sneer. He reaches for his binoculars and confirms the registration number ASMED1A.

  “It’s 1045hrs. The vehicle in question is exiting the premises and heading in a northerly direction. In pu
rsuit, maintaining maximum distance to avoid detection.” The key clicks in the ignition and his car splutters into life. “We’re on.”

  From his ‘maximum’ distance he is unable to see who is in the car; he makes an educated guess that the chauffeur is driving and that Stone is either in the back, or about to be picked up. He knows where from, and that sneer becomes a grin that stretches from ear to ear at the prospect of an early Christmas present. He thrums the steering wheel excitedly; it’s been a while since he was on the receiving end of good tidings.

  The driver takes the North Circular Road and heads out of the city in the direction of Kinsbury. Five roundabouts later, Dan turns off at the Pinner exit: he’s clocked 17 miles before he ends up in Harrow. The silver Rolls pulls up outside a three story block of tidy apartments. The chauffeur gets out. He waits.

  To Dan’s utter delight, it’s the same attractive couple he saw leaving the theatre on Wednesday night: he’s hit the jackpot. They’re hand in hand; she’s glowing, just like he knew she would and he’s smiling as if he’s just cracked a joke. “Note for records, the address is 53 Elm Gardens, Harrow. Three story building with double security to front. Will double back to check possibility of rear entry.

  It’s decision time: does he follow the Rolls or stay and focus on target address? He has nothing to gain by following them. Now he knows where they both live, he can pay them a visit any time.

  “Time check: 1125hrs, target address secured. Remaining on site to assess security arrangements and entry points.” With a predatory instinct, he watches the silver vehicle disappear out of sight with its three passengers. It’s time for a drive-by.

  He slows to a stop, noticing the top apartment, 53c is for rent. “Note: apartment for rent, top floor. Estate Agents: Taylor and Main telephone number 02086114327. Call to arrange viewing asap.”

  Wanting to strike the iron while it’s hot, he punches the number into his phone. “Hello, I’ve seen an apartment you have for rent in Elm Gardens, I’d like to take a look at it asap, please.” His sinister intentions are undetectable, so skilled is he at deception, he’s had years to perfect it. He’s so close now; he can almost smell her in the air.