by JR King
“I’ve been watching porn.” I happily grabbed the gleaming dessertspoon and dug in. “Technically, I don’t have a choice.”
His head snapped up. “What do you mean by technically?”
“I’m making the best of my prison time,” I answered, licking my lips. “I was curious. Might have touched myself a few times.”
“Stop.” He scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “If I imagine you doing that, I’m going to come in my pants.”
“Bath and massage, possibly?” The ice cream raced down my throat, sending a rush of cold flow to my head.
He chuckled. “I might have a table dedicated to the art lying around here somewhere.”
With Boston’s freezing temperatures, baths meant a lot to me, and that Alexander had such exclusive tubs made me literally scream in pleasure.
His voice was soft yet full of danger, “My, I wished I were the reason you squealed.” He sat there, on the floor beside the Jacuzzi, and watched me with a severity I didn’t understand.
I ran my hands over my body. The warm water and the silky bath cream made everything feel slick and luxurious. “I’m milking it for all it’s worth. Speaking of milking, shouldn’t you know that I like taking baths? I guess you don’t know everything about me, huh? Whoever you paid to keep tabs on me milked you good.”
“I’m thinking this could milk me way better.” His fingers tiptoed over my arm.
I grimaced. “Ever heard of DIY? It’s a popular practice. Whackos are good at it, too.”
“I’m a whacko?”
“Well, yes, Mr. de Sade. You most certainly are.”
I finished rinsing. He picked me up under the arms, like you might grab a child, and set me on my feet. “Should I call you Justine or Juliette?”
I glared at him with all the hate I could summon. “I don’t want that.”
“Lighten up, baby. I’m not into come-dump girls or slut-buckets.”
A long massage was given to me. I slept dreamlessly and light enough to feel Alexander slip into the bed, smelling of body wash. He lay on his back, so I slithered closer and carelessly slung an arm and a stray leg over his body. He eased his arm around me and began stroking my back, and I found myself curling up against him, like a cat getting petted. Just like a heat-seeking kitten, I dug my nails into his shoulders, unmindful of his body shifting underneath me. I knew I’d done well today.
He’s mine, Carina.
Alexander Turner
The Third Week
Have you ever gone through a period in your life where you communicated your emotions to your partner through sex? Your dreams and hopes and fears and love and anger and even your secrets and shames? If you haven’t, I absolutely recommend it. Having a partner with whom you can share a part of yourself all the while dying the little death and being resurrected together over and over again is just…for a lack of a better word I’ll call it magical for now. I mean, I had better things to do than looking up pretentious words in my mental dictionary.
Not malaria, it was the chickenpox era. Sex with Elena was like that; the more I sweated, the more I itched and started to scratch. I’d christened the approximately fifty thousand square meters within a week, fucked her in most of the rooms.
At nightfall the bedroom was silence incarnate. I followed the trail of recently shed clothes, adding my own attire to it.
Elena’s head shot up as I stepped inside the walk-in shower. Even though I’d seen her naked hundreds of times, each time felt like a revelation. Her breasts had a creamier color than the light golden hue of her body, the aureoles were small, her nipples tight and reddish-brown in color.
She wiped the suds off her neck with the back of her hands and stood shakily. “Alex…you’re home early.” I towered over her, an imposing giant she couldn’t fight off. “I’ve made a mess.”
Unable to resist, I cupped the creamy mounds in my hands, squeezing them, kneading them. Hardened peaks poked the centers of my palms. Releasing her breasts, I cupped her sex with my right hand. My middle finger pushed into her small opening, and the warm moisture I found there was slimy.
She gasped then her breath caught when I pinched her clit. “Why are you late for dinner, Elena?”
“I went for a long walk. Please don’t be mad?” I liked the way she sometimes dropped her eyes when she asked a question, as if the answer frightened her. “Be nice.” Her cheeks rose, and a wide smile came to her lips. Whenever my surrounding triggered fury, this smile had a knack for calming me.
Invading her space, I pressed up against her, my swollen shaft poking her. I lifted her arms and examined her bruised hips and faintly puffy skin. Ah, well, on the whole, she was my property. “Turn around.”
“I’m sore, Alex. Help me wash my back.” She nodded toward the hot spray of water.
Leaning down, I growled, “Turn around. Now.”
Frozen in confusion or stubbornness, she didn’t move, so I grabbed her shoulders and whipped her around. “Place your hands on the wall.” She obeyed. Not that she had a choice in the matter.
Elena resisted when I grabbed her hips and pulled her back to me, resting my erection between her gloriously mouth-watering butt cheeks. “Not that!”
“Well, since your sweet little pussy is so, so sore after yesterday’s fuck-a-thon, isn’t this a better idea, my pet?” I spread her open and began gliding my shaft back and forth.
“I swear I’ll stop you, Alex.”
Fucking safewords. Remind me again why I’d granted her one? “Just teasing, little one. I’m not going to penetrate you at all, unless…,”
“Unless?”
“Unless you misbehave.” I left my cock in a threatening position and began slithering my hands up and down her back, softly but possessively. I liked watching my huge hands roam over her tiny frame. I bit into her shoulder, causing her to cry out and jerk against the wall.
“You bit me.”
“Your turn to bite me.” I made her face me. “Wrap your legs around me, sweetheart.” She draped her legs around my hips and dropped to my shoulder. She didn’t bite me. One arm supporting her behind, I aligned my length against her silky flesh and used my other hand to grip her hip. I started moving against her clit. “How’s this? Does it feel good?”
She gave me a single nod of the head down. “Mmh.” Her legs clenched tighter around my waist. Her cries, when I thrust, were unlike anything I’d heard before. She was already close. So wet and so fucking sweet. My Elena—after all these years—was pleasuring herself on my shaft. Just the idea of her taking enjoyment from my rough, bestial treatments spurred me on, pushing me off the cliff of rationality. To wrest control over her, I coiled my hand around her throat and pinned her against the wall. I squeezed her neck but didn’t cut off her air supply. “You can breathe freely when you come on me, baby.”
Unable to voice her safeword, her eyes widened in terror and she began scratching at my wrists, her actions only increasing my pace. Her nails, short as they were, left crescent-like marks on my skin.
I ground hard and fast. “Come for me and you’ll retrieve your voice.” I wouldn’t slip up, I’d never felt so in control, never been this sure of wanting to spend the rest of my life with this girl. I pressed the pad of my thumb against the alluring resistance of her anus. I barely invaded her flesh, but it was enough to make her thrash. Caught between arousal and horror, her body tensed, her kneecaps poking my ribcage as she came. Her dilated pupils were shimmering and shrinking simultaneously.
“Hats off to you.” I dispensed with the pressure on her throat and began licking and biting her neck. “Such a good pet.”
“You fucking bastard,” she hissed throatily.
That’s me, always transgressing. I don’t care to go into the why, if that’s what you’re after.
I gripped the side of her neck and used my thumb to push her chin up. In a fatally quiet voice that teased all the same, I asked, “Can you give me another, pet? Or would you rather be off to dinner?”
>
She cursed like a sailor and trooper altogether at me. It didn’t last long, and afterward she started begging prettily for mercy. I loved this part. “Alex, I’ve…I’ve changed my mind. Dinner.”
“No, you haven’t.” I grabbed her by the back of her thighs. “Don’t go all coy on me.”
“I’m sore. Can’t you see I’m swollen?”
“Yeah, you are.” I brushed the back of my fingers over her swollen labia. “And you still want to fuck.”
We fucked like animals for another hour. For dessert that night, I set a platter with a ginormous chocolate covered strawberry and a caramel candied apple sprinkled with Smarties on the coffee table.
“No way,” she gasped.
“Way,” I smiled. “Did you happen to like candied apples?”
She grinned. “Grandpa and I make them for Halloween. My devil still looks better than his.” Her grin faded as quickly as it surfaced.
The cushion of the butter-soft Symbiosis leather chair sighed when I sat down. “You’ll see him soon enough, baby.”
I watched her licking chocolate from her fingers and lips as she ate the strawberry. Not so much eating as licking. Vixen. I covered the distance between us and snatched the half-eaten strawberry out of her hand. Swallowing it, I moaned loudly.
“Food thief!”
“Once a thief, always a thief.”
Working late, I watched her murmur in her sleep. My hand moved. I heard ice clinking in my glass. She let out a cute snore as I sipped my whiskey. I was sucking on shaved, icy shards while I reminisced about our first time. When she’d taken me in her mouth, the feeling of her lips wrapping around my shaft blew what I’d imagined away. On her knees, looking up at me with big blue, doll-like eyes, leaving pinkish lipstick smears as she sucked. Thanks to Aidan I managed not to lose it down her throat, his speeches always came in handy. And though I wasn’t a fan of tasting myself when I ate out a girl, I failed to instruct Elena to go into the bathroom and get cleaned up after we’d fucked.
Did little things like that still matter?
To tell you the truth, dear reader, I no longer cared.
I watched Elena sleep for a very long time, watched the circle of light she gave off. I kneeled in front of her and urged her legs open. Small lips tucked in, waxed smooth, and pretty pink, her cunt was absolutely lovely. I parted her with my fingers, rubbing gentle circles around her clit. Hard and peeping out from its hood, it wordlessly begged for attention. Her body jerked when my mouth settled on her clit. It glistened like a jewel amid the softest water-giving flower petals, and I sucked like a man parched in the desert. I worked it with the tip of my swollen tongue, fluttering over it while I fingered her. Mired in sleep, Elena’s hands clutched at my head and her hips rolled upward to meet me. I twisted and hooked my finger, heard her make an indescribable noise. I’d found it. Hers was a bit farther than most women’s G-spot. God, she tasted too sweet. I wanted to bury my face in her.
Just before sleep took me too, I murmured, “I love you,” in her ear.
I wasn’t certain she heard me.
Enough cuddling, I better show her my animalistic side, I concluded. Just a little. It’s not like she’d ever understand the depths of my depravity.
Alexander Turner
The Incestuous Paradigm
Listening to the slick click of my John Lobb cap-toes, I reassessed what I’d put Elena through until now. She was, presumably, a conservative girl. A girl for whom promiscuousness was both a pleasure and a sin, for whom the sexual experiments—the occasional clandestine positions, places, and rough penetrations—were simultaneously a source of shame and a spring of satisfaction.
And yet I wanted more.
For any dominant male, a woman who knew exactly what she wanted sexually and was demanding of it was a terrific prospect. Likewise, we enjoyed teaching a girl because it was in our nature. Boy, was I happy playing Elena’s teacher.
The problem of the day was Katherine. Now that I had Elena, I no longer danced attendance on her, so she wanted to start a fight.
“How do I look?” Her approach was nothing but infantile, trapping me aside a ceramic planter.
“Looks trashy,” I answered deceptively, inspecting her from head to toe. Bah, her nail color was black as a stack of black cats.
Lunch with my cousin was far more insufferable than what you can imagine. I bore no prejudice against young girls, they were predisposed to infatuation, and all I had to do was be charming and cogent at the same time.
“Champagne for the road. Here’s to you,” I toasted.
“To you, Alex,” she murmured in a small, airy voice, a shy smile curling the corners of her mouth.
I palely kept up my end of the conversation, smiling as the memory of being inside Elena commanded my every waking thought. I’d long since showered, but the smell of us having morning sex lingered.
Katherine kept annoying me with monosyllabic answers, and after a deep inhale and exhale, I elbowed her. “What’s cooking in your mind?”
“Bogged down with this whole dating guys thingie. It’s like the boys in school have too much excess baggage.”
The hairs on my arms stood on end. Was she trying to tell me she’s a lesbian? “I’m sure there’s a rich prick you like, right Katherine?” It was as if I’d plucked the fucking question out of the air. “Ordinariness is overrated, all you need is someone who can think on his feet.”
“I like it when you use my full name.” A slow rise of color tinted her cheeks. “Sounds sweet when you say it.”
The unkind look I gave her markedly improved when I heard her giggle. The tinkle of it always led me by the nose, because it had that perfectly pitched decibel that reminded me of the day she was born. A total squealer.
“There must be someone you like. Tell me about him.”
She put down her flute and folded her hands in her lap, then looked at me. Her lips curled back into that smile, her thick, sooty eyelashes batting fast. “There is.”
“Tony’s little brother? Which one?”
Her face registered a flash of surprise, settling almost immediately into a quick you’re-way-off-the-mark look when she shook her head.
“Who?”
She squeaked like a barn door, “Yu.”
I stabbed my fork into my fruit. “Yu who? Chinese American family or exchange student?”
“Y-O-U. I like you, Alexander.”
I wished it’d sounded hollow. I wished it were a lingering effect of the mimosa she was slurping. I wished the white cantaloupe didn’t taste so sweet. I wished the Anadama bread wasn’t so soft. My perception of Katherine altered. Fucking comedown, the revelation hit me like a wall of water. I could hardly breathe. If I weren’t seated, I would have dropped.
She started shifting her weight nervously from one foot to the other one, stroked the band of the signet ring on her right hand against the stem of her flute.
“See that ring? Every child in the Turner family receives one.”
I wasn’t sure if she knew that tears had begun to fall from her eyes. “Don’t lecture me. I love you. I loved you from the…,”
I couldn’t withhold myself from coughing as she confessed, which was a good thing. I didn’t hear any of it. “Shut it, Kate!”
She flew out of her chair. For the briefest of moments, I thought she was going to storm out of the room, and so the full on kiss she gave me came out of left field. Before today, I’d never thought of her as temerarious. Flabbergasted, it took me a moment to react. With one hip-sled thrust, I pushed her away. Fool me once…shame on me. Unequivocal truth falling upon me, my blood roared and hissed. I all but saw red. “Don’t even think about telling anyone. Only children and fools talk nonsense. Do I make myself clear? Should I call Sophia?”
“Please don’t call my mother, Alex.” I saw the flickers of fear registering on her face. Now she was on the brink of a real-life crisis, her cry a twanging, intermittent noise I’d never heard before.
“Jesus�
��Kate. Jesus! What happened to you?”
“You!” Her voice was explosive. “I can’t stop thinking about you!”
“It’s just a passing fancy, okay? Nothing else, absolutely nothing else.”
“Lots of cousins date, Alex. They even marry—,”
“I’m blushin’ already. Never mind the dinky rathole we’ll move into after the wedding.” I finished what was left of my cocktail. “Katherine?” I gave her the most charming smile I could marshal.
Her sobs suspended for the briefest of moments. “Yes, Alexander?”
“You’re not welcome in my home anymore. Get out. Out, now!”
I could hear her swallow, a wave of shock choking her before she acquiesced.
I wished I could divorce myself from this happening. On my way to work, I called her mother so her fucked-up parents could deal with this shit. Sophia foresaw a massive blow out, I guesstimated, so she punished Katherine in the worst way. I hated myself. I let fly and made a pinheaded hick visiting the tower cry for no good reason, and enjoyed doing it. In general, I easily found my feet after a family dispute. But this? What the fuck was this? An incestuous dispute? And, as if my last Friday of January wasn’t bad enough, Elena added to it.
Incensed, I jotted down my excuse on a sticky note before I fled the boardroom, searched for Meredith, telling her I had a family matter I needed to attend to. There was little congestion on my way back home. Traffic flow was fluid this early in the afternoon, and the Jaguar XKR racing at breakneck speed showed me it was worth every penny. Not that you’d be able to see it right now, but I loved each one of my cars like they were progeny. With a death grip on the steering wheel, I drove in typical pissed-off guy mode, hitting the horn at the faintest provocation, high-gear turns and brusque stops. My teeth ground together until my jaw cramped. When I set foot inside Elena’s suite, the snafu began.
“You…you,” she began, her disapproving headshake feeling like a vertical slash into a wrist vein, straight down to the artery, “you pig.”
I narrowed my eyes and walked over to her, backing her into a wall. “What did you do?” My voice was a growl, a primal roar.
