by Isan, Amy
His slacks are making his ass look fantastic. Not that he needs a lot of help in that department. I feel a bit of warmth surge through me just from looking at him, or maybe it's the bourbon. He stirs the ashes with a poker for a few minutes, until he's satisfied, I assume. After that, he reaches over and picks up a couple pieces of wood that are hidden in a cradle of fabric nearby. He places the wood inside the fireplace and lights some kindling until a small ember starts glowing in the heart of it.
As the fire's heart lights up, I sit down on the sectional part of the couch, unsure of how close I really want to be to him. We kissed outside in the city, why be weird about everything now?
While his back is turned to me I continue feasting on his stone-edged body. After the fire has started, he rises and moves to grab his drink, before sitting on the far end of the couch. It's still in the house, no heater blowing, the fire not audible yet.
We sit in silence for little bit. I swallow large mouthfuls of my drink, nerves controlling me. Every passing glance at him makes my heart race and my palms sweat. There's something about him that makes me feel an unease, I don't know why. Maybe it's the cloudiness in his eyes that I can't see past. Maybe it's how different he feels to me since we kissed. Not only that... but the feeling. This all feels too familiar, but it can't be. I sent my drink down on the table, It's half empty. He breaks the silence first.
"What did you need from me, Marcy?"
"I don't even know what to do anymore."
"I'm gonna be honest with you," he begins. I stare at him, anticipation chilling me. "I don't know what to do anymore either." I can't imagine how that can be true. I mean, looking at him, well-groomed, obviously wealthy, a glass of bourbon in his hand. How is this a man who doesn't know what he's doing, what he wants?
"Bullshit," I say. I shake my head as a little bit of a smile overcomes me. "If anyone has everything figured out it's you." I point at him for emphasis.
"Well, anyone who thinks that would be wrong." He swirls the liquid in his glass for a couple seconds before taking a long enough drink to finish it. My face burns.
"Are you telling me I'm wrong?" I feel my heart flare up, a tiny part of me hurt. "I don't get told I'm wrong very often."
He stands up and moves over to my side of the couch. I freeze up, while tightening my grip so hard I'm scared I might shatter the glass in my palm. He smells intoxicating. Maybe it's less that I'm scared of him and more that I'm scared of myself. What might I do if I'm left with him for too long? It's not like he was the only one to kiss me, I let him kiss me. I don't usually feel that vulnerable. Not in my day-to-day life, only when I'm with my Dom. But, when I'm with James, at least at this moment, I feel exactly the same way. A kind of vulnerable sense of power.
He leans in close enough to me that his lips brush my neck. I want to recoil and rake my fingers through his hair and press his lips against my skin. His lips touch my neck and he inhales deeply. I shiver as the heat flows through me and makes me squeeze my legs together. I drop my voice to whisper, unsure why. "James, I don't know..."
"You don't know?" he whispers back, his voice penetrating my ear. I'm swirling. Can I resist him? It doesn't feel like I have a choice, my body isn't letting me. At least with my Dom, it was always my choice, I always had the power to say no. All I had to say was the safe word and he'd stop. Even the day he made me wear that vibrator, I could've said no. Right now, it's the same, isn't it? Except the safe word isn't Medusa, it's 'No.' His lips travel down my neck and leave hot imprints as he moves toward my clavicle. My hair is pinned back, and without looking, he starts pulling the pins free. Piece by piece it falls down my shoulders, a sensation I immediately associate with slipping under my covers, completely naked. Even when I'm with the Stranger, I don't let my hair down.
He brushes some hair aside to reach my skin. It's a relief, feeling the tension melt away like so much snow in the sunlight.
Between each kiss I can feel his breath against the last impression of his lips. He's already pulled my thoughts away from my stupid job and made me present again.
He takes my hair and drapes it on to one side my chest. A throbbing tightness blossoms in my lower belly and I wonder if he really knows how he's affecting me. He must, this is a man who has experience.
He's kept his hands off me except for removing my pins, only his lips have stroked my skin. I feel like there's a burning hole beneath my clothes with how much I want him to touch me. I grab his wrist and place it on my breast. Without hesitation, he gropes me through my shirt and bra. It's almost good enough.
"Aah," I moan. I shut my eyes and let him explore. He unhooks my bra from under my shirt. I don't protest. The drink he gave me is starting to make me a little buzzed. Lubrication, isn't it?
"You like this?" he asks, with a slight chuckle in his voice. I nod, almost embarrassed. Even though I've been with my Dom hundreds of times, this feels different.
He stops kissing me, and lets go of my body. I open my eyes and watch him rise to his feet. He's staring at me in a way that feels like I'm looking right into a thunderstorm. His eyes are cloudy and dark, but for a brief second they open like the eye of a hurricane. He falls back down on me and we lash at each other like animals.
Hands and lips feverish, hungry, insane. His hands grip my bra and, despite my arms still being through the straps, he pulls on it. The straps buckle against my skin and he drops the broken bra on the ground. I don't care enough to stop. Our lips push against each other hard enough that I can feel his teeth. Our tongues dive into each other's mouths. My mind is blank canvas being filled with him: his image, his voice, his entire attitude is being burned into my mind and it's all I want.
I start undressing him, stripping his jacket off before unbuttoning his shirt. He teases my nipples underneath my shirt before following my lead. I fold his lower unbuttoned shirt over one of his shoulders and marvel at his strength. His rigid muscle, carved like canyons and mountains on the fresh earth. I pull his shirt off and we're both topless now.
With his clothes off, that intoxicating scent of him is even more powerful. I'm under his control, I have no will of my own any longer.
My face already hurts. We can't stop kissing. Something I haven't really done since my last long relationship, Well, honestly, since The Stranger went too far and kissed me. We were never supposed to get that close. And then he just kissed me for no reason. I can't think about him right now, not when I have this man in front of me.
I start unbuckling his belt and he leans back in response. After I strip his belt off, I unzip his slacks, and pull them down to his knees. His boxers are the only thing that separate me from him now. He's hard as granite. His cock almost peeks out under the elastic at the top. I break away to look at him.
While I'm hesitating, he pulls his boxers down and his cock springs out. I grasp it reflexively. Before I can start doing anything, he reaches the back of my head and grabs a fistful of hair. He pulls me toward him. I let him slide into my mouth. I burn inside.
He groans as I suck on his cock. Swirling my tongue and lips despite his firm grip on the back of my head. It should feel claustrophobic, suffocating even, But it doesn't. I love it. A fistful of my hair in his hand is now a handle for him to use me as he wants.
His hips lift off the couch as he thrusts into my mouth. I summon all my willpower to keep from gagging. I've had practice with this before. Often, I've only been rewarded with more punishment. Not that I didn't want to be punished. I always have.
As the cool throbs of pleasure reverberate through his body and make my mouth tingle. I can't help but feel like I'm ruining my underwear. My thighs feel warm and slick, that overwhelming sense of being naughty and wrong fills my body with a hunger that is freeing.
Without permission from anyone, I slip one my hands down into my panties and feel how wet I am. It's incredible. I lift my finger along my lips and seize up as I touch my clitoris. I could climax in a minute if I wanted to. Just sucking on his cock and watching him
convulse is enough to send me over the edge. What's he waiting for? Does he want more?
I release his dick from my mouth, and he lets go of my hair. I stare at him, and his fiery eyes stare right back into me.
He sweeps me off my feet in his arms. I hobble and regain my balance before he kisses me. Our lips lock and I go limp in his arms. His broad shoulders and tight muscles squeeze the air from my lungs. I exhaust all the air from my body as he latches on, and finally he lets go, dropping me on his bed.
I lean against the bed post and catch my breath, while clutching at my chest like it'll help in some way. I just keep staring at him. His tanned skin, his confident smile. I can't help but hate it. Hate it and love it.
The line between the two emotions is really thin, isn't it? I can't even tell that there is one. I'm wavering back and forth so quickly I feel like a plucked harp string. The deep throb in my body only makes my focus latch on to those confusing feelings. I look past him for a brief moment, as something catches my eye that is hanging from his dresser.
It's white with red stripes. My breath catches in my throat. I heave in hot air and breathe out ice. The exact panties I mailed to the Stranger.
I gaze up at James again and see if he's caught on to my revelation. He's only staring at me, but now his eyebrows are raised.
"What is it?"
I shake my head and stand up. "Nothing," I try to act casual. I'm sweating. Hot and cold moisture beads and weaves between goosebumps. I can't believe what I'm seeing. It can't be mine. I'm failing at acting casual, he's picking up on it.
It can't be him.
I try and connect the dots by looking at his body and comparing mental notes to what I can recall about the Stranger's.
The smell. I knew it was familiar for some reason, but I couldn't pin it down. Who lies like that? Who can?
His rough stubble itched my face. I lost my job. I lost the Stranger. I'm going to lose everything, because of this mother fucker? I glare and ball my hands into fists before uncurling them. He knew all along.
It feels like releasing a death grip on a rope that'll keep me alive. I want to throw myself at him, make him bleed, anything to make him feel how I feel right now.
It would be hollow though, meaningless without him knowing why. If he knew why, it wouldn't hit him as hard. His voice is distant, and my tears taste like salt.
He doesn't react to my crying. I'm not sobbing, but I'm dripping. I fall onto the bed.
The duvet swallows me whole, and for a brief second, it feels like a coffin liner.
I might as well be inside one.
This guy has been the one sabotaging my life all along. Why? To keep me attached? To push me toward him?
He's the one who ruined it by kissing me. Both times.
I close my eyes and James steps out of the room. I tuck my chin and stare into the hallway and the front door that's just beyond. I need to leave. I can't let him know, that I know.
Not until I figure out a way to make him suffer. It can't be an off-handed thing. I need to strike him deep and hard. Because right now... I've never been more pissed off and upset.
I leap up from the bed and gather my clothes from the living room. I slip my top on and stash my bra deep into my purse. I don't have time. I pull my hair back into an ugly ponytail.
He catches me as I reach for the front door. His arm crosses in front of me, blocking my path. His eyes smolder with steam in a betrayed way, but only like I've been a mild inconvenience, not actually upset him. Like I brought a pizza with the wrong toppings. I wait for his arm to drop, all while trying to not look weak. I clutch my purse's strap tighter and tighter.
"Where are you going?"
"There's no way I'll get my job back if I'm seen fucking around with you," I say.
He raises his eyebrows and shakes his head. "Marcy, calm down."
"Don't fucking tell me to calm down!" My eyes feel dry and bloodshot. "Don't you tell me to do anything."
I push past him, and almost to spite myself, inhale his scent just enough to make my heart pound harder. What's wrong with me? I open the door and let it fall behind me with a slam.
My car starts up easily, and when I see him stepping out onto the patio, shirtless and with only a pair of boxers on, I react instinctively. I jam the pedal and reverse out of his driveway, the ice letting go of my tires and making me spin around toward the street. I slam the brakes and my car shudders to a stop.
As I pull the stick into drive, I catch him in the rearview mirror.
I fucking hate you, James Pierce.
***
Back in my condo, I drop my purse to the floor and just collapse in a heap on my couch. I feel like crying, but I'm too drained to even do that.
I used to think I was a badass that took care of business. All my peers just languished and tried to mooch off their superiors, while I actively strove to make headway and get raises and promotions — without resorting to sucking cocks on the side. But having the Stranger was my one release. The only way I could let myself go without being scared of being used or taken advantage of. Especially after how much of a waste of time my last couple relationships were. No strings attached? Easy.
But now... how am I supposed to feel?
I feel like a fisherman just slipped a knife under my gills and split me open. Should I be happy? Happy that the man I've been fucking is actually been trying to sabotage my entire life?
I peel myself off the couch and move into my kitchen. I don't even bother flipping the lights on, I know exactly what I'm doing. I climb onto the counter and lift myself up, scraping my knees somewhat on the granite. The top shelf above the stove is what I need. I reach in, blind but with sight, and grab a bottle of wine by its goose-like neck.
I climb down from the counter and uncork it. A glass is an extra, unnecessary step. It'll only make another glass to clean.
Back in the living room, I drink from the wine bottle like it's cheap beer. Every saccharine gulp numbs me a little and makes me that much more exhausted.
I drink until I'm in oblivion.
Chapter 10
Sunshine claws at my eyes until I wake up. The wine bottle is overturned and a small drip has fallen onto the carpet at my feet. I'm on the couch still, my hair greasy and my body disgusting. I still feel James' touch on my skin and his scent on my clothes.
I kick the bottle away as I sit up and rub my eyes until they focus again. I force them to. I have one thing I can control — and that's my body.
A headache consumes me so fully I can't imagine it not being a reminder about how wrong I am. I hobble to my bathroom to get medicine and take a bath.
One perk of having black mail on your boss and threatening to use it is you don't have to go to work.
As the hot water works its magic, I soak a rag and lie it across my face. Steam's opened my skin and the medicine is already kicking in, and my thoughts turn toward last night. And the week before that. And the week before that. And the whole affair.
The whole time. He knew who I was. He had to have. I always showed up without the blindfold on, and it was placed on my head afterward. He knew what he was doing when he took on the job of trying to wiggle the company from my hands and put it in his.
He probably got off to it. Watching me like I was just a caged animal from his side of things. He had access to my body anytime he wished, and purposefully crafted to make me feed his other half. Every sarcastic comment and sly grin. It all makes so much sense now. The images of James and the Stranger mixing together in my subconsciousness. No wonder.
How am I going to return the favor?
The heat soothes my body, but not my heart. Just thinking about the grand lie and betrayal makes it beat faster. Manipulation, tricks, and probably bribery, just to get to me. To weaken my defenses and tear down the walls. Until he had me sucking his cock.
Not like I didn't want to, but... I haven't opened up to a man like that since I met the Stranger. I never had a reason to. It freed up my time for
work and my career. Now, I don't have a career, and without the agreement with the Stranger, my tension won't disappear overnight anymore.
I can't hang out at bars to pick up young, inexperienced twenty year olds. I need the touch of a man who knows what he's doing.
And James is certainly a man who knows what he's doing.
It's happening, and I can't stop it. Either that, or I won't stop it. My hand drops into the water with a light splash and slithers down my belly and between my thighs like a snake. I tease my clit, throbbing with hate and begrudging... admiration. A man like that... really knows what to do. With the wet cloth covering my eyes, I can pretend it isn't me. The water helps hide the fact it is.
Without much effort, I coax an orgasm from my body. The rolling power of it makes me seize and spill water from the tub.
Hate and Love are a little too close. If either can create that kind of reaction. Like gasoline on a fire.
It just gets stronger.
***
If I can hold a sword above my boss's head, then I'm sure I can manage the same with James. Sabotage isn't hard in this world, and I have exactly what I need to do it: the pictures of me and the Stranger together.
I drain the tub and climb out, still dripping wet with sweat and water. I wipe myself down with a towel and wrap one around my hair. I really should get it chopped off.
As I dress, I think more about the photographs. It won't matter that I'm in them. The focus will be on him. I'll find the peculiarities that'll make it impossible for anyone to deny it. His higher ups might not care, but I'm sure the board of his company will care about a bit of a scandal if word got out to the press. "CEO by Day, Dom by Night."
Yeah. That'll work. At least, it'll get the ball rolling. If James has taught me anything, it's that a snowball starts off small. It doesn't take much to get it the size of a boulder and strong enough to crush a truck.
How will I get the pictures though? I don't have copies for myself. I'll have to do something I thought I'd never do: actually ask Stacie for a favor.
