I don’t doubt my feelings for him, and I truly believe he loves me, in his way. I recall him saying he could be brutal, and I thought nothing of it at the time, but I can clearly remember him using that word. After last night, and the way he denied me my orgasm after going to so much trouble to get me to that point, I believe him.
What I cannot believe or reconcile myself with, is the idea he feigned submission: in my bedroom and on the jet ... he was turned on, I was turned on. I have to put my theory to the test. If he can switch between domination and submission, then so can I and, I will.
I drain the bottle of orange juice and return to bed, it will take lots of stamina and a good pair of walking shoes to cover all the sights tomorrow: Rome wasn’t built in a day, but a day is all we have to behold its magnificence.
In view of recent events, the hours between dawn and dusk have passed quickly. All the ducking and diving has left Dan feeling punch drunk. The palms of his hands are a lighter shade of red, more ruby that claret; the skin is stretched tight over fatty muscle and rough to the touch, but the pain has eased. The drive home was uncomfortable, turning left or right caused the steering wheel to scuff a little. His eyes were on the road, but his mind was elsewhere; the prospect of riffling through her things just stimulated the hell out of him, so much so that now he cannot entertain the idea of sleep.
The hours tick by, they seem elongated somehow, forbidding. Even though his isolation is self-imposed, he is beginning to feel perhaps the time has comes to free himself, to let go. But that thought is no more than a flicker. In in the blink of an eye it’s smothered out by time-honoured images of a more carnal nature.
In washed out boxers, he stands by the microwave, watching the turntable wobble and shake the molecules of his meal into a steaming heap of nothingness. He pictures her barefoot, wearing no more than a cotton dress, cooking.
“What would you like to eat Dan?” She’d ask him.
“Only you princess,” he’d reply, lifting her off her feet and plonking her down beneath him. She’d laugh out loud. He’d pull up her dress and settle his eyes on her wet crutch. He’d finger her until she begged him to fuck her. And he’d do just that, making her scream in sweet agony.
The turntable stops revolving and the four pings sound, stealing Dan away from his erotic daydream. Dinner is served.
16
I hear unrecognisable voices. Rubbing my eyes I glance at the bedside clock, it’s 8.30. As usual Ayden’s side of the bed is cold. He appears in the doorway.
“Hey, you’re awake. I was just coming to get you.” He sits by me on the bed and brushes my hair from my cheek. “I’ve had them put breakfast out on the terrace. You’ll need your bathrobe.” I feel his soft lips next to mine; he tastes of toothpaste and smells divine.
“You should have woken me earlier.” I smile, sit up and stretch.
“Why, you need your beauty sleep.” From the arched brows and cheeky wink I know he is joking. “After last night’s activity, I thought you’d be glad of the extra hour.”
I make my way to the bathroom naked. “Are you suggesting I can’t keep up Mr. Stone?”
“I wouldn’t dare Ms. Parker.” He’s leaning on the door frame with his arms folded watching me pass, looking much too hot for this time of the morning. “Do you want me to come in and sponge you down?”
I close the bathroom door. “No thank you, I can manage, besides you need to recharge your own batteries for tonight.”
“Rest assured Miss Parker, my batteries will be fully charged by this evening,” he calls, walking away.
This is the best way to start the day: playful banter is my favourite morning pursuit.
Fully dressed and with finger dried hair, I stroll out onto the terrace. A feast of all things delicious is arranged on the table: pastries, fruit, yoghurt and so forth. Ayden is reading the paper. He offers me a flat smile when I appear.
“See anything you like?”
I rest my eyes on him. “Oh, just one.”
I’m rewarded with a cheeky grin. He’s sitting comfortably on the patio chair; his right leg is off the floor, resting on his left knee. I don’t know what he’s done with his hair but it’s all over the place and I want to run my fingers through it, not to smooth it out but for the sheer hell of it. My God, it’s nine o’clock in the morning. Get a grip woman!
I tip my head to the side, inspecting what he’s wearing; pale blue jeans and a fitted white, cotton shirt with epaulets and covered buttons, very understated but very Ayden. I feel rather plain by comparison. I’m playing it safe with a black mini skirt, black tights, heeled boots and a simple baby blue sweater. As usual, he doesn’t miss a thing.
“And does madam approve of what Sir is wearing?”
“She does,” I blush, knowing by saying ‘Sir’ he is alluding to last night’s love-making. Quickly I busy myself with the task of choosing what to eat.
“Oh, I’m so glad.” I can’t see his face behind the newspaper but I know he’s grinning. “I like the mini skirt. It’s very provocative.”
I look up and meet his eyes above the newspaper with a wide stare.
Please don’t give me the look ...
“It’s just a skirt,” I muse, remembering how he said the exact, same thing when I was so taken with his James Bond suit. I look away and begin spooning yoghurt into my mouth.
He folds up the newspaper and stands. “This hotel has a very good gym and a spa if you want to visit it later, for a swim, a facial or a massage, whatever.” His hands are on my shoulders; firm thumbs are easing the tension out of my shoulder blades and it feels very sensual.
“Good to know. I might pay it a visit later. Have you been?”
“I went to the gym and had a swim earlier, it felt good to exercise.”
I’m saying nothing. I keep eating and enjoy the attention I’m receiving from his skilled hands.
He rests his chin on my head. “Are you happy, Beth?”
What a strange question. I swivel around in my chair to face him. “Of course, why do you ask?”
“I’ve been thinking about last night and things did get a little ... out of hand. You did safe-word me.” He seems less self-assured than usual. He’s recalling the orgasm ‘thing.’
“I did. I realise now, it was your way of showing me how you were feeling. I had no idea I was affecting you like that.” I place my hand on his and leave it there on my shoulder. “Now I know.”
“And the thing with my belt?” Just the mention of that forces me to take an extra breath. “Did I mis-read your reaction? You did like it, right?”
My God, I have to turn away. I look down to hide my embarrassment. “Yes ... I liked it.”
“And the toy …”
“Oh, I especially liked that.” I can’t disguise my enthusiasm.
“And would you be happy to try some other toys?” He asks tentatively.
I nod, yes.
“But the scarf, that’s out of the question ...”
“For now.” I still can’t face him, but all this talk of low level bondage is causing me to heat-up; my palms are becoming a little sticky to the touch, just like every other part of my body.
“Why?” He continues to massage my neck but now his fingers are moving under my hair, around my throat and, even though I’ve only just showered, I feel a fine layer of sweat coating my skin.
“I ...” I know what I want to say but can’t seem to find the words. “I think it has something to do with that thing I told you about, you know at uni?”
“I thought it might.” He ends the massage, bends into me and kisses my neck from behind. It tickles and I giggle, he nips my right ear lobe and I pretend to wriggle away. “And how about feeling my hand on your delectable ass?”
“It was very ...” I’m having some difficulty forming a coherent sentence. “It was very ... arousing.”
“Yes it was. Did I hurt you?” His words leave his lips like bubbles from a steaming bath.
“No, don’t
worry, you didn’t hurt me. Nothing you said or did last night hurt me. Quite the reverse.”
“Good. And I plan on keeping it that way.” He kisses my hair softly and returns to his seat opposite. I lower my eyes from his face and become aware of his almighty hard on. His pale blue jeans are bursting at the seam. I struggle to shift my gaze, but can’t take my eyes off it: I swear I can see it stirring.
After what seems like an age, I shift my attention and our eyes meet. He knows I know, and I swallow deeply, ensnared by his hunger for me. I feel myself flushing, betrayed by my lascivious thoughts.
“You see the effect you have on me?”
I observe the way his chest is heaving and how tightly his hands are gripping the arms of the wrought iron chair. He’s experiencing a kind of sensual agony, it’s painful to watch.
“This is how it’s been for me since we met: I have withdrawal symptoms when I’m away from you. That’s what I was trying to explain last night. I feel out of control, and it’s not something I’m used to.”
I smile softly but leave him to spell out exactly what he’s feeling.
“When I’m with you and this happens it’s fine, I can deal with it. But in meetings, in the car, on flights, it’s a whole different ball game. No pun intended.” He stops to snigger at himself and I offer a sympathetic smile. “Is this how it’s going to be Beth?”
“You’re asking me?” My voice is a little higher than usual and that only amplifies my nativity. “And … when you get like ... like this, what are you thinking about?”
“What do you think?” He’s becoming agitated, and fidgeting like a fisherman sitting on hot rocks. He reels me in.
“I don’t know.” I shrug my shoulders. “Tell me.”
“This, I’m thinking about this.”
I look around the spacious terrace. “Eating breakfast on a terrace?”
“No, not eating breakfast on a terrace, being with you. Being anywhere with you.” He glances out over the rooftops exasperated.
“Then don’t.” I say simply. “Don’t think of me. Think of something else.”
He shakes his head from side to side and his raucous laughter reverberates out across the terrace. “Only you Beth. Only you would tell me not to think about you. Every other woman on the planet would say the complete opposite.” He tries to settle himself in his uncomfortable jeans.
“It’s just a thought.” I look away, trying to look offended when we both know I’m not.
“You see, every time you say something like that, it makes me want you more because I’m reminded of just how willing you are to put me first, even if it means you being denied something you want yourself.”
“I think you’re reading too much into it Ayden.”
He leans over and takes hold of my right hand and sandwiches it between his. “Don’t you think I know what you’ve done?”
I answer with a shrug.
“With no questions asked you welcomed me into your world. Saturday night curled up on your sofa; breakfast, watching you eat cereal with the sunlight behind you, rocking you to sleep while you sobbed into my chest over a silly fairy tale and this ...”
I’m so overcome with emotion I can barely speak. “These are simple things Ayden.”
“They are to you. But they’re priceless to me.” He pauses to consider his next statement, and looks deep into my eyes, watching me closely. “You’ve humanised me Beth, and there’s no going back.”
“Oh Ayden.” I jump up from my seat and position myself across his knees, wrapping my arms around his neck. “You’ve done so much more for me.” I pull back and take his face in my hands. “You have no idea.”
“Neither do you, you’re too busy seducing me with your soft ways to even notice that I have fallen so hard for you.”
His impatient lips find mine and devour me with such passion it’s almost painful. “I could give up everything right here, right now: liquidate the whole fucking lot and not batter an eye-lid and you know why? Because I have something more important in my life. I have you.”
I lean back placing my hands on his shoulders for support and also to keep him at bay. “Ayden ... hearing these words from your lips makes me so happy.” I brush my hand against his mouth to emphasise the point. “But please don’t rush into anything. I’m not perfect.”
“No-one’s perfect Beth, especially not me, but we‘re perfect for each other, perfect together and that’s all that matters.”
It’s the right answer and I fall softly into him. He lifts me up from the chair and slides his hand underneath my thighs and carries me like a weightless bride into the bedroom. “I make no apologies for what I’m about to do, but I have to have you. Right now.”
The sexual longing between us crackles in the air like static, it cannot be harnessed, only channelled into rough, hot sex. I feel the soft duvet beneath me and scoot backwards, watching him crawl onto the bed to reach me.
“I want your Spiderman music,” I murmur. “Pass me my iPod.”
While he samples the soft skin under my chin and nibbles on my ear, I press play and reach over to slot it into the deck by the bed. With every beat I’m arching my back and responding to his wet caresses. The bristles on his chin are tickling my stomach, making me giggle and so he does it all the more.
His hands are lifting my skirt and strong fingers are squeezing my thighs. It’s an exercise in self-control and I’m losing, losing myself in the music, in him.
He times his movements to perfection and when his hand slides between my legs I writhe and push into his palm. I feel him pulling down my tights, my panties and I lift up my bottom to ease the process. I couldn’t be any more saturated and ready.
Dear God just take me ...
I reach for his face and sink my tongue into his mouth, urging him to do the same. He leaves me bereft. I hear the sound of him tearing the condom wrapper and watch as he lifts my knees.
“Wrap your legs around me.”
I pin him into position: eyes locked, lips parted. He presses into me with a rigid cock, in need of no instruction. He knows what he’s doing, he’s making me wait, and so I rock into him until it presses against me.
“Say it Beth…” I clear my thoughts of all things except two little words. The words he needs to hear. The words I want to say.
“I submit.” I whisper.
His face explodes into a thousand megawatt smile for one split second, before he utters another impassioned command: “Pull.”
I tighten my grip and drag him forward, my ankles locking and crushing him before he lunges into me with such force I think I might be pushed off the bed. My back is bowing under the strain and every muscle is tightening in my groin, as a kind of orgasmic wave drags me under, down, down to the point of no return. What started out as a game is now a serious case of unbridled, unstoppable fucking. This delectable man has to have me. That thought has me unravelling, throwing my head back in wild abandon, forgetting myself, forgetting everything; caught up in the overwhelming need to come over and over.
He lures me to the edge of oblivion with his relentless thrusting, coaxing me to clench and hold him deep inside. My quickening breaths echo his and our eyes fix on each other.
Through gritted teeth he stakes his claim. “You belong to me, now” He rolls his hips and I cry out, feeling him sinking further into my core. “Say it.”
“I … I belong to you.”
With that I come loud and hard, gripping every inch of him until he explodes in a savage cry of liberation, pumping into me again and again.
Any doubt about this man’s love for me evaporates, along with my fear he would love me any less, knowing the truth about my past. Today, I’ve seen him out of control, powerless, coming undone. And he thinks I’m the submissive one is this relationship?
As Ayden would say ... we’ll see.
***
Getting ready takes less time than anticipated, it’s just a case of redressing and freshening up. With time to spare, I text Cha
rlie:
Having a great time in Rome, hotel suite is as big as our apartments put together and the view is amazing. We’re off 2 C sights now. Wish you were here. Beth X
Her reply is instantaneous:
I hate you! Suite, Rome, sights next thing you’ll be telling me the bloody weather is fantastic and the men are gorgeous! Seriously, hon have fun. How’s Mr. P shaping up? Is he keeping you well serviced ;) C. X
I smile at her reply but decide not to play into her hands by responding. I throw my phone into my bag. I have an idea. Quickly I scroll through my iPod and find the one song that sets the record straight and place it back into the dock.
Ayden is sitting in the lounge waiting patiently, it’s ten o’clock.
“Sorry I took so long.” I grab my black Armani jacket and plonk myself down on the arm of the sofa next to him.
“I’ll get my sweater.” He squeezes my knee affectionately as he passes.
“You might want to press play,” I call out. Immediately I hear the song. The words are very poignant. Will Young sings ‘happy now,’ and sums up exactly how I feel. I lean back to assess his reaction; he has his back to me, his right hand clutching his sweater the other in his pocket. He’s listening.
The music stops and he returns to the lounge. “You did it again, you touched my heart with one of your songs.” He threads his free hand under my collar, through my hair and plants a delicious kiss on my mouth. “Thank you.” He rubs noses. “Let’s go.”
Hand in hand, we take the lift and descend to the ground floor, giving me time to fix my hat.
“Very cute.” Is all he says and, it’s all I need to hear.
We stroll through reception into the exclusive Stravinskij Bar for our rendezvous with Signorina Magnani. She’s our private Tour Guide.
I scan the atmospheric space and take in its easy sophistication: mauve furnishings, mood lighting and abstract wall art. I feel under-dressed, again. Seated on the soft chairs, are an array of people: guests waiting for flights, businessmen on laptops, middle-aged film star types wearing dark glasses and a lone woman sipping espresso from a fine china cup. Even from behind I estimate she’s borderline model material. When she turns, sensing our arrival, I am in no doubt. She’s stunning. I shift my attention to Ayden, he’s noticed her too.
Story of Us trilogy 01: TouchStone for Play Page 35
