by Roya Carmen
He takes my hand as we make our way down the hall, past the grand staircase, past the marble sculptures displayed in niches in the walls. They’re all renderings of tall birds, the types you see in marshes. They’re so majestic.
He stops before a doorway, turns to me, and lets go of my hand, almost as if he’s giving me one last chance to run away. There’s no way in hell I’m doing that.
“This is my bedroom,” he says. “I told you I wanted you in my bed.”
I get so hot from his words even my ears seem to burn. I’m cautious as I follow him in. His bedroom is stunning and everything I hadn’t expected. It’s dark, filled with reds and dark browns. Heavy draperies cover the large windows. The furniture is traditional dark wood, all straight lines. And his bed…
His bed is a huge wood four-poster affair. Not posts really – more like large pikes pointing at the ceiling. The posts are straight and chunky, not a curve in sight, covered with large metal accents. This might be the manliest, most imposing bed I’ve ever seen. I actually feel my pussy and ass tighten at the sight of it. The truth is… this bed scares me. It’s not what I expected at all. August is such a soft, gentle man, and this bed is just so… hard.
He takes my hand and leads me to the monstrosity of a bed. He sits on the edge and pulls me to him. I want him, but my heart beats against my ribcage and I can’t seem to catch my breath. I’m scared, and I have no idea why. I’m sure it’s the bed…
He studies me with wide eyes. “You look stunned out of your wits. I know the bed is a bit scary.”
I bite my lip, still unsure.
“You know I would never make you do anything you didn’t want to do, right?” He rubs circles on my hand. “What you read in my books… it’s fiction. I’m not like that. Unless you want me to be.” He winks.
I close my eyes. Fuck. Yes, I want him to do all the filthy things the heroes do in his books. I know I’m not open to being restrained, shackled, or lashed, but some playful slapping and biting could be fun. I stand between his legs and smile at him. “Is your bed always made and perfect like this?”
He smiles before tugging at the buttons on my blazer with expert ease. He seems so calm, unlike me. I wonder if he can hear my heart pounding. “Yes, I always make my bed. What about you?”
I laugh. “Never. My cat, Ginger, prefers it that way.”
He peels off my blazer, leaving me in a sleeveless silk blouse. I feel the cold draft of the house on my skin, and almost as if he can tell I’m chilly, he presses his warm hands on my arms and rubs them softly. His touch feels so good. I reach for his face and delight in the light scruff against my palms as I press my mouth to his. His lips are hot, sweet, and delicious. My tongue seeks his, and I get lost in his kiss, wanting it to last forever. His hand presses against the back of my skull and gets tangled in my hair. He pulls at it as he deepens the kiss, both hurting and pleasing me. August Hyde is definitely a hair-puller.
As our kiss builds in intensity, his mouth is frenzied, exploring me feverishly, traveling the length of my jaw, nipping at my ear lobe, moving down my neck. He growls against the curve of my shoulder. I’m aroused by his touch, his taste, and his smell, but the sound of his ragged breathing stirs me beyond belief.
“Turn around,” he commands.
I do as I’m told and swivel on my feet. His large hand wastes no time in hiking my skirt up to my waist, exposing my bare ass.
“Beautiful,” he whispers, his voice deep and guttural.
I’ve worn a black lace thong especially for him, and the thought of him taking me like this excites me. The idea of making him hard is such a turn-on. He presses his hand firmly on my rear and kneads the flesh. He doesn’t stroke softly as he’s done before. His touch is hard, but it feels amazing.
“You have an amazing ass.”
“Take it off,” I whisper, and my words are crystal clear in the silence.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says before he eagerly peels off my thong.
I help him along, sliding it down my legs. I’m not sure where this is all going, but I desperately want to be touched and be completely naked for him.
He pulls at my hips until I’m closer to him. He bites the flesh of my ass, and I just melt. Mr. August Hyde is not only a hair-puller – he’s also an ass man. I love ass men. I always enjoy a little butt play. He trails his tongue against the skin, and I arch and tilt my rear up, wanting more but feeling as though I’m losing control. I know I need to stick to the plan. I need to seduce him, not the other way around. I reluctantly pull away and turn to face him. He eyes me with an impish expression.
“Your turn. Let’s get that shirt off.” I’ve dreamed of seeing him naked since the first time I met him. I drag my hands against his hot skin and peel up his beige sweater, revealing what might well be the most perfect torso I’ve ever seen.
He pulls the sweater over his shoulders. He’s perfection. His shoulders are defined, and he’s smooth with the faintest dark line running under his navel. My tongue itches to lick it as my eyes take him in. I lower my mouth and taste his skin. He moans, and the sound echoes off the tall walls. I want to take him in my mouth and pleasure him. The thought of it drives me crazy. But I can’t just yet because before I rock his world, I want him to get me off. I’m greedy in the pursuit of my own pleasure. I want him to be hard and hungry when he pleasures me. I want him to be aching, not restful. I want him to be aggressive and passionate. I need to tease… and hold him off.
I pull my mouth from his skin. I keep my gaze on him as I undo my skirt’s back button and zipper, then I pull my skirt over my hips. I let it puddle to the floor around my heeled feet then tear off my sleeveless blouse, revealing my bra.
With a heavy gaze and a wet mouth, he practically growls when he says, “Take it off.”
I quickly oblige, letting the delicate lace fall to the floor. My heavy breasts drop lightly. I’m so aroused my hands have minds of their own as I stroke myself, delighting in the feel of my erect nipples against the tips of my fingers. My hand stills…
“Don’t stop,” he pleads. “You’re so fun to watch… I could look at you all day.”
I’m pleased, but I don’t want him to just look. I want him to touch.
He pulls me in closer and rests his hand against mine. He guides my hand along the curve of my stomach and drags it below. “Touch yourself for me. I want to see how you made yourself come that night when you masturbated for me.”
I close my eyes and slowly slip my trembling fingers along my wet, swollen sex. My touch feels good, but I’d rather have his. But the expression in his dark eyes tells me he loves this, and I do want to please him too. I explore myself as I’ve done hundreds of times. I tease myself, and before long, I touch my sweet spot, wanting to come.
“Tell me how it feels,” he says softly.
“Amazing,” I say between whimpers.
“You want me to touch you?”
I pull my hand away and nod, my head sluggish. The word escapes in a whisper, “Yesss…”
Just when I think he’ll stick his finger in my pussy, he stands instead. He towers over me and reaches for my hand. He pulls it to his mouth and sucks on my fingers, one at a time. He closes his eyes as he does so. He lets go softly, and I’m left standing motionless. He presses his hands against my waist and pivots me around to face the bed and its massive headboard. I take it all in. A medieval bed adorned with large steel accents. Oh, the things he could do to me on this bed.
He presses against me and says against my ear, “I want you to kneel on the bed for me. I’m going to pleasure you.”
My breath hitches as I anticipate his touch. I waste no time in sliding a knee over the silk covers and pulling myself up. I settle on all fours, fully exposed. This position is so raw it arouses me even more and makes me want to be kinky. Whatever he wants, he gets.
He trails a finger along the planes of my back and down over the curve of my ass. His touch makes me shiver, the sensation travelling along the edges of my
spine all the way to my skull and down my legs. I press my cheek against the silky fabric of his bedspread and hike up my rear, ready for his touch.
He doesn’t disappoint as his fingers explore my ass and slide along my wet sex. My breaths are ragged and my mouth is wet with desire. I swallow hard when he slides his fingers inside me, hard and deep and so swiftly it makes my body jerk. His fingers seem to twirl and dance inside me as he pleasures me. I’m not sure what exactly he’s doing, but damn, it feels mind-blowing. I cry out, wanting more.
He laughs a soft chuckle. “I knew you would like that. This is the best way to pleasure a woman. I can hit your G-spot just right from here. I can rub it senseless and drive you mad. And I can press my thumb right here…”
Oh fuck…
He presses softly into my ass, driving me wild. “You like this?”
Do I like it? Damn, yes. Why have I never been touched like this before? “Ye-esss.” I can barely manage to utter the word, on the edge of climax.
He pushes me along as he presses into me harder. He’s going to make me come, and he hasn’t even touched my clit. This is new to me. I’ve never climaxed like this before. I whimper as the sensation takes me over, brings me closer. I cry out in pleasure, revelling in my own sounds.
“I love hearing you. I love you in my hands like this, under my control, completely vulnerable.”
The climax he builds in me is fierce, wild, and beyond what I’ve ever felt before. It takes over my whole body and lasts forever. I ride the delightful waves, melting into the bed, hot and fevered. I revel in the wonder of the human body, able to attain such heights of physical pleasure. Despite its flaws, my body has never felt more perfect.
I lie sluggish as my orgasm leaves me, loose and soft, hot and sweaty. I venture a look back at him through the strands of my hair tangled around my face. He seems satisfied, proud of himself. As he should be. The man is amazing. He deserves to be thanked.
But I don’t thank him. I don’t say a word. I slide along the duvet and drop to the floor, to my knees. I work feverishly to undo his fly.
I sneak a look up at him. His eyes are closed, anticipating my mouth on his cock. I slide my hands to drag his pants and boxers down in one fell swoop. I take him in my hand and stroke him softly, teasing. Then I reach under and drive him wild.
“Sit on the bed,” I command playfully. Taking on the role of dominant feels a little wicked, but I smile as he obeys, and I inch closer to him. “You’ve been very good today. You deserve a reward.”
He smiles and doesn’t say a word, but I think he agrees. I touch him again, wrapping my hand softly around him. He closes his eyes, and I lean my head down and take him in my mouth, delighting in the feeling of bringing him pleasure as he did for me. I tease at first, licking lightly and leisurely, swirling my tongue around him to drive him wild. He groans as he buries his hands in my hair and kneads my scalp and pulls at my hair. I love to hear him and feel him lose control. As I feel his desire grow under the warmth of my mouth, I go harder and take him deeper.
This time, I take him all the way.
August
She is nestled comfortably in my arms. I study her quietly. Every curve, every hollow, and every single detail – she is flawless. I run the tip of my finger along her curves, searching for moles and freckles, marks… but she’s a blank canvas. Her milky-white skin is spotless. Her thick auburn hair covers some of her back and shoulder. I gently wrap it behind her head because I don’t want to miss a single inch of her perfect skin.
I kiss her shoulder. “I need to go sit in my backyard more often if this is what I get as a reward.”
She laughs and tilts her head up toward me. “You enjoyed that very much, didn’t you? If you venture out farther, you’ll get more.”
I sigh. The woman is driving me crazy. Yes, I enjoyed it immensely. The word “enjoy” does not do justice to what I felt. I’m filled with recollections of Ruby completely undone, in my hands, at my mercy. It was a most beautiful sight, right up there with a gorgeous sunset, a soft snowfall… or any of God’s amazing creations. Ruby was stunning while spread beneath my hands, coming apart. I love being able to give her those sensations, being skilled enough to bring her to just where I want her, being measured enough to feed her arousal slowly and make her hungry for it.
Anita was never the kind of lover I prefer. She was always slightly too domineering, always in charge. She barked orders, bossed me around like an army sergeant. I was to touch her a certain way, and she would never hesitate to correct me and guide me in the quest for her climax. I didn’t mind following her instructions as finally succeeding to bring her to climax always brought me a certain satisfaction.
Olivia…
Olivia enjoyed soft touches, slow kisses. The two of us would make love often. Occasionally she would get a little frisky – always at a certain time of month when we’d have to be careful because we didn’t want children yet. She would never utter the words, but the way she’d moved her body under mine and the way she presented herself told me she wanted me to be a little rougher with her. My instincts and our years together, knowing her so well, had helped me make love to her perfectly. I’d take her in a different way, but I’d still be gentle. I’d also get to indulge in her lovely body in ways I didn’t usually dare.
Ruby is somewhere between the two. I see she’s a passionate woman. There’s a hint of kinkiness when I explore, but deep down inside, she’s beautifully filled with emotion. A romantic at heart. Yet I can’t make love to her. To do so would be a betrayal to Olivia. I can’t let myself fall for Ruby Riverstone. I enjoyed giving her pleasure, but I would never dream of pulling her into my darkness. Without the sun, she would lose all the vibrancy that makes her the lovely, sweet person she is.
Ruby pulls from me, and I want to draw her back in. She stretches as she stands, twirling her hair into a loose bun over her head. With her arms lengthened over her head and her perfect curves in full view, she is a vision… a goddess.
She lets her hair cascade over her back again as she turns to me. “Can I look at your photos?”
I smile and nod, not taking my eyes off her. She’s completely comfortable standing naked before me, as she should be – she is absolutely perfect. Olivia was flawless too, but she’d always insisted on wrapping a sheet or towel around herself. She’d shoot me a bashful smile when I asked her to drop the sheet or when I tried to pull off her towel. We’d been together for over ten years when she died, and she was still like that.
Ruby is not Olivia, I remind myself as I watch her stand next to my tall bookcase. It’s filled with treasured books, photos, and meaningful items collected from my travels. Ruby… is fun. This is not love, I tell myself. I am not in love with her. For me, there is still only Olivia. There will always only be Olivia.
I get to my feet and slip on my boxers, as bashful as my late wife. I join Ruby in front of the bookcase and kiss her shoulder softly – I can’t seem to help myself. She holds a framed photo and turns to me with a smile.
“That’s my sister, Tanya, with my little nephew, Jackson, and niece, Ava,” I explain. “She lives in Montréal. She divorced last year. Her husband was kind of a deadbeat.”
“They look like you. Big gorgeous greenish-blue eyes.” She turns to me again. “Are your eyes green or blue? They look green right now, but sometimes they look blue.”
I laugh. “They’re green, but if I wear blue, they look blue. It’s an illusion.” A recollection brings a smile to my lips. “Olivia used to buy me blue shirts all the time.”
“That’s her, right?” she asks, pointing at a silver frame in the corner.
“Yes. She was beautiful… is.”
“Yes, she is.”
“She was also a brunette,” I say, pointing out the obvious. “I suppose I have a thing for dark beauties.”
I run my fingers through her soft hair and down the curve of her naked back. My cock stirs. I want her again. All of her. I pull back and step away, then I grab a
decorative wooden box I purchased in Costa Rica. I open it to distract myself. To my surprise, it’s not empty. I find a cherry-flavoured lip balm, a few coins, and one of the pins I gave Olivia – a gold butterfly set with pink stones. My heartbeat catches and falters. It’s like getting an unexpected glimpse of her. She’s still here… in so many ways. I wonder if she can see me, if she can see me with Ruby. Sure, I’ve had Anita in my bed before. But if Olivia can see us now, she must know Ruby is nothing like Anita. Ruby is special.
Guilt washes over me. I tell myself we shouldn’t be here like this. I have no right to forget about Olivia, especially when I was the one responsible for the tragedy that took her. I should have been looking out for her. If it hadn’t been for my lack of vigilance, she’d still be here. She’d be the one standing next to me.
I set the box back on the shelf and look over at Ruby. She is quiet, her lovely mouth downturned. She seems to sense my thoughts.
“You miss her,” she whispers. It isn’t a question, just a truth.
I smile. “I’ve been thinking…” I don’t quite know how to weave the words together. “I didn’t care too much about not being able to get out. I told myself I had everything I needed right here. But there was always one spot I wished I could go…”
Her eyes widen with curiosity. She doesn’t say a thing, awaiting my next words.
“I’ve always wanted to go visit Olivia,” I finally manage.
She’s speechless at first, then a sweet smile brightens her whole face. “That’s a great idea. Where is she?”
“At Mount Pleasant Cemetery.”
We both remain silent for a beat or two.
“Would you like me to go with you?” she asks softly. “I know it might be weird if I…”
“I’d love for you to come,” I say, taking her hand. “In fact, I think I might need a ride. I’m not sure I’m ready to brave the 401 and the Toronto traffic.”
