Wanting So Bad, Loving So Good

by Bella Bentley

  He motioned for me to come to him with his finger. The fire crackling and my heels slowly clanking against the plank wood, it all was so seductive.

  And then there I was, an inch from his handsome face. All I wanted to do was kiss him, to jump in his arm. Just being near him felt comforting, as if I had lived a hundred other lives before and always found him as my lover, my friend and companion.

  He undressed me with an inquisitive care, watching intently as each drape of fabric lay coiled by my feet. He cupped my breast as his thumbs brushed over nipples. I bit my lip as the need for him swelled inside sending pools of need down my inner thigh. He crouched down and undid my straps of my heels. Although they were incredibly sexy, my feet thanked him nearly audibly for allowing their freedom.

  “Lay,” he said kindly with a wicked grin on his face. So I lay on the bed with giddiness, feeling incredibly silly, but a good silly. Like a kid, with no worries, just exploring. And oh how I liked this new McKenzie that was coming out.

  As he tied my arms up, I thought about how lose I felt this night. How free. How happy. For so long, all my life, I had been the responsible one. I worked hard, never really partied, always doing the right thing just so I could earn that coveted 4.0 and get into Stanford medical. I worked my ass off to get good grades to get into medical school at the expense of having a life. And now here I was, doing something daring. Going against the grain and it felt so . . . liberating. What had I been missing all this time? It felt damn good to take a risk!

  I watched him tie my ankles. As he finally tied my left leg, his warm moist lips tickled my ankle and he slowly made his way up my calf.

  I could have gone right then and there.

  My need for him swelled to a height I never knew existed. I wanted him so damn much.

  His warm kisses trailed up my calf into my inner thigh as I let out a small whimper of need. Higher and higher he went as his strong hands firmly grasped my hips. I nearly exploded.

  He slowly trailed along the side of my ribs, under the sides of my breast, back to my collarbone until his body was on top of mine. His warm eyes looking deep into mine. The way he looked at me, I felt like he felt it too. The connection between the two of us. It wasn’t just sexual. It was deeper. I knew he felt it. He had to have felt it. It was as if his soul spoke to mine that very moment.

  “And now,” he cleared his throat. “For the covering of your eyes.”

  I was just about to say that wasn’t a part of my fantasy, but maybe wasn’t because I had never thought of it.

  Just go with it, Kenze. I told myself.

  I preferred to see his god-like face though but I knew the moment my eyes would be covered again, every feeling would intensify as my sight went.

  With the obstruction of my vision, and feeling his heavy strong body on me, I lay there in complete surrender to his bidding.

  Then, he was gone. He was off of me.

  Those five seconds of silence felt an eternity.

  I heard a drawer open and the flicker of a match. Moments later, I smelled the warm cinnamon smelling of burning incense or a candle. I inhaled deeply until a sudden buzzing made me jump.

  Was that . . . ?

  I heard him laugh a small chuckle as I heard the removal of his clothes fall on the floor. The need for him swelled and swelled. Suddenly, I felt his warm, luscious lips and his thick wet tongue at the bottom of my stomach kissing in small circles.

  He made his way to my hipbone once more as his hands propped up my knees spreading my humming eager juicy folds. I went wildly wet with anticipation. A lubricated, buzzing thick vibrator entered into my delicate chamber and I coiled with delight. He moved it deeply within me and I felt it automatically find that magical spot.

  He kept kissing my hipbone and his hot tongue trailed down to the sensitive skin of my upper thigh, right along the folds of my labia lids and I twisted and turned, squirming in pleasure. He then found my place again with his warm mouth.

  I cried out in blind pleasure. I never wanted this night to end!

  This man! The way he made my body respond . . . was just too amazing.

  Too amazing but oh so good!

  I convulsed into spasms as the inevitable orgasm was already coming as his tongue rolled in slow steady motions over my begging clit. Around and around, to the left and to the right, his tongue laped. There was no stopping!

  There was no stopping until he removed the object and his tongue at just the right time before I came.

  It was such a tease.

  I heard the foreign object drop on the wood floor and felt the bed beneath me shift from the weight of his body, the warmth of his body covering me.

  Instinctively I reached to touch him, to pleasure him, to grab his throbbing thick member but my hands were tied. I was just about to sigh when I felt his tip on the bottom of my pouty lip.

  I opened my mouth like a baby begging to be fed and finally felt his gorgeous Johnson in my mouth and I welcomed him deep within as he moaned above me. It wasn’t a forced fuck, but a gentle, letting me suck him and pleasure him at my own discretion.

  I hadn’t gone down on my old boyfriend very much. He felt like it was degrading for women. So I never got much practice in. But now, here on this night, in this room, in this magical sexual place, filled with such a desire to please him, I took him all the way into my mouth and felt him touch the back of my throat.

  I sucked in deep and let my lips touched the hanging of his balls. He pulled out as I lifted my head in effort to repeat the pleasure for him. In and out I sucked hard and lavishly made love to his marvelous dick.

  The way he even smelled down there was rich! It was luxurious and I wanted all of him!

  He grunted and sighed.

  “God, McKenzie, do they have classes in Texas or something. You are something else. I guess everything is bigger and better down there.” He moaned and I smiled wickedly on the outside at being able to please him in such a way.

  He finally pulled out and I was out of breath, panting. Just as I caught my breath, I felt him enter me and I cried out. Again, I tried to reach out to him, to drape my hands over his strong neck, to stroke his face, to run my fingers through his hair, but I clenched my fist as he bore deep with in me. My slippery swollen clitoris rubbed once again against his rock hard abs.

  The weight of his sweaty body in complete control over me was so thrilling and exciting that after just a few moments of him over me, exerting his power, strength, and sex, I came. The inner walls within clinched tightly as I came down from my release.

  His beautiful rhythm in sync with mine, as he came long and hard. It sounded so beautiful. So romantic. I had never been so proud to hear a man come because of me than in this moment. I felt him release inside of me as he grunted long and hard.

  Even though in the beauty and excitement of the release and in the aftermath of fulfilling my fantasy, an aching developed inside of me. A longing for him. A realization, a wondering if I would ever be with him again. I had to be with him again. This was too wonderful. Too amazing. Too perfect to only experience one night. But even it was, the memory was lush enough to last a lifetime.

  But I didn’t want it to be just enough to carry me through a life that he belonged in.

  He collapsed on top of me and I could barely breathe but it was exactly what I wanted. Him.

  What was happening to me? Strings of attachment were sown rampant between us and there was no lessening them.

  He let out a long sigh as he kissed me on my neck.

  “How was it?” He breathlessly asked. “Everything you ever imagined?”

  “Amazing.” I whispered as a small tear shed down my cheek. He lifted my blindfold off and stared deeply in my eyes.

  “You are so beautiful.”

  I smiled at him as I wondered if he truly meant that or if he had someone back at home.

  He probably has someone at home!

  He undid my wrists and I naturally covered my breasts protectively, suddenly
feeling very vulnerable. I went to immediately untie my ankles, but he untied them with care.

  Once freed, I sat up and let out a deep sigh.

  I stared at him as one stare at a loved one who was saying goodbye for the last time. I turned on my side as he lay next to me with his arms around his head, with his eyes closed and a smile on his face. I stared at him like a love struck hormone crazed teenager.

  He had my heart. No one else would ever compare. Ever.

  I stared at the soft stubble along his chin, his perfect lips, and his aristocratic nose and noble brow, his wavy hair gelled back in the gentlemen’s way, and I pretended as I lay there and as I placed my arm gently, ever so cautiously over his arm, that he was mine, my lover, my soul mate, just for this night. And we both drifted off to sleep until we were awoken to leave.

  I was blindfolded by a lingerie dressed woman and escorted out of the home.

  It felt so traumatic to leave something so grand. A lump rested continuously in my throat as bricks lay heavily on my chest. It didn’t feel natural to share something so real, so great, only to be pulled away for probably ever.

  As I journeyed home at the breaking of dawn in the limo, I sat in bewilder. I couldn’t believe it. I, McKenzie Kane, worked a night in a sex club for money. Not only was it electrifying, it was stirring! Here I was thinking it was going to be dreadful at first thought, but no. Not at all. Would I go again? Ummm . . . maybe the next blue moon.

  The limo dropped me off at my apartment and I pensively walked to my door engrossed in the memories of the craziest night of my life. No one would ever believe me and it was my secret forever. After all, I was sworn to secrecy. But heck, I learned so much!

  Even feeling proud and excited that my first year of medical school was paid, I wondered how long it would take to feel up the gaping hole in my heart.

  I sighed.

  I was just about to turn my lock when I saw a black envelope on my doormat. The red wax on the back had a lion’s head seal.

  I tore it open.

  McKenzie,

  I have to see you again. It’s me. Your bidder. There are certain rules to abide by in the BC fraternity. Do be on the lookout in your mailbox. I do hope you will do this. I hope to see you again.

  In Fervent Devotion,

  Me

  Your Fantasy Giver

  PS—Do burn this once you read to ensure our safety.

  PSS—I will be thinking of you.

  Chapter Ten

  It had been over four months since I had been at the elusive and exclusive billionaire’s club, a night that no matter how hard I tried, I could not remove the memories shared with him. No, the memories lingered remaining fresh and I revisited them at least once every hour, it seemed.

  As I recalled the intoxicating feeling, the overwhelming flood of pleasure that the mystery man caused me—the way his chocolate brown eyes stared deep into mine, the way I felt our intense connection, the way he fulfilled my secret fantasy in every way I could imagine, a stirring in my being that I belonged to him—this all served as a kinetic reminder that this event actually happened and that it was not a figment of my imagination nor was it a lucid dream.

  It was very real.

  I have to see you again. Do be on the lookout in your mailbox.

  He had written to me and I clung to those words every second of the day.

  If only I still had his handwritten letter to confirm he wanted to see me again, as a tangible visual reminder. But alas, I burned it just as he instructed.

  Yes, it had been four months and medical school had already started and I still tried to check my mail thrice daily. Nothing.

  Zilch.

  I began to grow panicky, fidgety, something I really never struggled with before. So I took up distance running to blow off steam. It seemed to do the trick. My first half marathon was days away. But no matter how many miles I ran, there was one place I could not run from—my memories of him and his warm sweet breath on my neck, his touch along my breasts, his fingers caressing me down there.

  Oh God.

  During one long run in a chilly morning in the foothills of Orange Country, I compared my feeling to this one time when I was searching for the culprit behind my slow computer speed. It was on the verge of crashing. It was then I discovered files upon files on my computer of over hundreds of videos I had recorded on my Iphone over the past four years that some how were synced and stored in this file I never saw. In my eager haste, I accidently deleted them all instead of transferring them successfully to my hard drive.

  Four years of memories! That left me with an aching inside that made me wonder, was it better to have never know of the memories? After all, throughout those years, I had no idea that the videos were stored and even existed. But boy once I did, and once I realized they were gone, a gaping hole was left. A longing for what was lost.

  That was how I felt with him.

  I never knew what it was like to be made love to like that. To connect with someone like that.

  Was it better to love and have the memories, the reminder? Or was it better to have never known the aching longing of lost love?

  Could it even be called in fact that. Love?

  I relived our conversation a thousand times. I even made up continuations of conversations. I imagined him telling me what it was like having a life in the ministry with a pastoral father.

  I imagined him telling me how he got into business.

  And yes, I realized I was losing it in infatuation-land and I had to get my bearings.

  I needed to date again.

  I needed to do something or I was going to lose my mind!

  I dated a few men . . . er, boys compared to him. It was pointless. I would just sit there with a glazed look on my face, the whole time picturing him. His strong hands. Those puppy dog brown eyes. Him telling me he was on the cover of Forbes. And oh, the way he filled me.

  Sigh.

  I even tried praying to God about it. It went something like this.

  Dear God,

  I know I went to a sex club, and you kind of have a few choice words about how you feel about that in the clause of orgies in the book of Philippians and a few others I’m sure. But as you know, I’m going to medical school to help people in third world countries. I’m sure you know my intentions of my heart. So I have a favor and I know you’re busy and all. But it was at that heathen place, there, that I met a man who filled me in every way. I mean, cough, not in the physical sense but in the intellectual, spiritual, and emotional sense. And yes, you did create him to look pretty damn, er, darn amazing. Especially south of the border. Please let me see him again. Pretty please. And if you do, I promise to finish medical school and help a bunch of people. Can you just help me this one last time?

  Love,

  McKenzie

  I prayed this variation of a prayer every night before I went to sleep. I started to feel pathetic. I felt like I was someone who had been abducted by aliens, the good kind, and taken back to her real home she never even knew of. So every night “she” waited and searched the sky, waiting to be taken again.

  On the outside, it looked like a lost cause. But on the inside, when you’ve been taken home, you know what it feels like when everything else seems foreign. When you feel lost. And that was me. Every day. Feeling a bit of me lost.

  It was the morning of my big race, in attempt to clear my crazed mind and to find centering, I was at the local Starbucks bright and early, ready to order my oatmeal and venti coffee. As I stood in line I saw a woman who looked extremely familiar. I stared at her under my baseball cap that kept my long blonde wavy hair in check and studied her profile as she spoke.

  That chin, the way her black shiny hair curled perfectly above her shoulders.

  And then she spoke.

  “No thank you, keep the change.”

  That British accent.

  It was the woman from the club who had warned me in the restroom to stay away from the dangerous men in the club.r />
  She wasn’t smartly dressed like she was the night we met. She wore a baseball cap, sweats and running shoes.

  Ah, she must be running! Like me! I just had to speak with her.

  I quickly and discreetly exited the line to speak to her at the coffee fixing area.

  “Excuse me,” I said quietly. I looked around to see if anyone was staring. No one noticed.

  “It’s you. Isn’t it?”

  She looked up at me behind her dark sunglasses and stopped stirring. She nearly spilled her coffee. She quickly reached for the lid and firmly placed it back over the piping hot liquid. She looked frantic.

  “Wait, I’m terribly sorry. I don’t’ mean to alarm you. I just—“

  She then ignored me and fled the Starbucks like a maniac. Like a lost puppy, I followed her.

  “Hey! Don’t you recognize me? I know I look different without the hair and make up but—”

  She turned around and removed her sunglasses. Her eyes were pale, dark swollen circles hung underneath, and she looked exhausted.

  “Are you running in the race, too?”

  “Those men are dangerous. This is the only way for me to escape today in the middle of the race. They won’t ever . . . I’ve said too much.”

  She looked around studying bystanders and those reading their paper. No one seemed to notice.

  “Run your ass off away from them. Away from here. Trust me.” Her British accent sounded.

  She pushed her glasses back up against her nose and hastily brushed passed me.

  I watched her pace fast.

  Cautiously, yet purposely, I followed her down the sidewalk that led to a shopping center with a lush green courtyard and fountain with a beautiful stone clock. The time was 6:15am. The race would begin in 45 minutes.

  She sat down on a bench and put earphones on.

  “But I, . . . have medical school.” I sat next to her.

  “Then go somewhere else.”

  “Somewhere . . . else? I don’t think you understand how hard it was to get into this school.”