The next day I got to the airport early (it's a bad habit of mine, I'm always convinced I am going to miss my flight) and waited at the snack bar across from the gate. I wanted to watch Malcolm unobserved. They started making the pre-boarding announcements, and Malcolm still hadn't arrived. They started pre-boarding travelers with young children, and Malcolm still hadn't arrived. I glanced down at my boarding pass, knowing they would board first class next, and he was still nowhere to be seen. I shrugged inwardly and slowly walked towards the gate, throwing away my half-finished cup of tea, as they began boarding first-class.
I went to board the flight, glancing around one last time. Still no sign of Malcolm. "Dammit," I muttered under my breath, walking down the jetway. I took my seat by the window and got settled, putting the book I brought in the seat pocket in front of me and buckling myself in. I stared out the window at the early May sunshine -- a rarity in Seattle -- reflecting off the jets as they lumbered by, trying not to think about why the thought of Malcolm not being on the same flight made me want to cry. I sat staring, seeing nothing, not thinking about it, as the rest of the passengers began boarding and the flight attendants began their litany of announcements reminding them to allow others to pass and leave room in the overhead bins. I closed my eyes with a weary sigh.
"Are you alright?" A familiar accent. I smiled at the window while my heart rate doubled.
"Yes, fine," I said, turning my head as Malcolm took the seat next to me. "You?"
"Quite," he said. He looked at me for a moment, his eyes warm. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but seemed to change his mind, closing it again. He busied himself with getting settled in, standing up to dig something out of his carry-on in the overhead bin. He was wearing a dark blue t-shirt, not tight but fitted enough to know what was underneath, and button-fly jeans that accented his package perfectly. His shirt lifted a bit, showing fine, dark hair on his lower abdomen that appeared to continue down below his waist.
I turned my head back towards the window and closed my eyes again, telling myself my mouth was NOT watering because of Malcolm. I could hear Tony in my mind telling me 'of course not, you're just suffering from Iwannadickinme Syndrome'. I laughed quietly at myself as Malcolm took his seat.
"Care to share?" he asked, catching the chuckle.
"Just thinking about something my friend said to me the other day," I fibbed, turning to look at him. "Sort of an inside joke, sorry."
"Your friend...Tony?" I nodded. "You're just friends?"
"Oh yes," I said, laughing. The plane gave a slight shudder as we began to taxi out. "I've never been his type."
"No?"
"I...I don't have the right equipment." I raised my eyebrows at him suggestively.
"Ah, I see," he said as the plane took off. I turned and looked out the window as the plane sped down the runway, picking up speed, rushing towards the point of no return. The nose lifted, making the brush at the edge of the runway seem to stretch as the back of the plane followed, gravity giving one last tug that made the plane lurch as it broke free to climb through the clear air. I watched the ground recede below and blue swell above.
"You like to fly?" Malcolm asked, leaning to look over my shoulder out the window. He put his hand on my arm and I gave a slight jump.
"I like the take-off." I said, shifting in my seat to sit back.
"So, tell me," he said, settling back into his own seat and removing his hand, "how long have you known Tony?"
"Since high school."
"So that's ...8 years? 12?"
"Three or four, actually," I said, one eyebrow raised. He laughed and casually rested his hand on my thigh. It wasn't sexual, his putting his hand there. Hell, it wasn't even sensual. It was like he needed a place to put his hand and my thigh was just as good as anywhere else. And yet...and yet...I physically responded to it. There was a tingling feeling radiating out from the heat of his palm, and it hit every nerve.
"So no boyfriend?" he asked. It seemed an odd question, considering.
"No, no boyfriend." He nodded when I answered but didn't say anything. I sat quietly for a moment as I slowly realized his question was a way to let me know what had happened, what may happen, was inconsequential, just for kicks. I almost slapped my forehead for being so stupid, but managed to just give a little groan.
"Something wrong?" he asked, looking at me with real concern. His hand was still on my thigh.
"I forgot floss," I said, shifting over in my seat. "What about you?" I asked him, wanting to let him know his message was received loud and clear. "No girlfriend? No one pining for you back in foggy old London?"
"No. No one." He looked at me closely. "It's always been difficult for me to find a woman I could...connect with."
"Oh?" I shifted again, turning so I was facing him more, my back resting where my seatback and the wall of the plane met. "How so?"
"Oh, well, it seems they were either physically...intriguing," he said, giving me a wink that managed to be both sardonic and sexy. "You know, lovely to look at, and compatible sexually, but no hope of intelligent conversation." I nodded at him to continue. "It's empty, not being able to talk to someone...over dinner or coffee, whenever. There's no real affection. Only..."
"Affectation," I finished for him mindlessly. I was fascinated.
"Exactly." Malcolm smiled at me, a full smile filled with sunshine that captured my heart instantly. "Or I found someone smart, pretty, clever, and she would be...ill-suited to my needs."
"Your needs?"
"Yes."
"Your 'needs' are that hard to meet? What are they?"
"Nothing too outrageous," he said, a small smile on his lips.
"Oh," I said quietly after a moment, blushing furiously. I felt like an idiot.
"And you?" he asked after what seemed like a long while of letting me stew in my embarrassment.
"Oh...well...I never really met anyone I liked, I guess. I mean, I would like them for a bit, you know, but it would always fade."
"Fade?"
"Well...yes. You know, that giddy feeling when you meet someone. You start talking, start dating, start...you know...'doing it'" (great, way to actually be an idiot, my mind screamed)"...but then the fun, the anticipation goes away and it would be dull, predictable."
"Doing it?" he smirked.
"Having intercourse? Screwing? Choose your verb, Malcolm."
"What's wrong with fucking?" he said quietly. He removed his hand from my thigh and leaned with his elbows on the armrest separating our seats. "I happen to prefer that verb."
"Alright then...doing that."
"Say it, Melody."
"Fucking," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I suddenly felt very small and very...shy. It wasn't embarrassment, but I was thinking about the last time I'd said 'fucking' in his presence.
"Mmmmm," he said, so low I felt it more than heard it. I thought he might kiss me. I hoped he would. I looked at his lips briefly, trying to telepathically encourage him to kiss me, but he just smiled and sat back again.
"So you never married?" he asked. He put his hand back on my leg and I realized how exposed I had felt when he removed it.
"What? No...no. Never." I chewed my bottom lip thoughtfully for a moment. "I've honestly never wanted to." I looked at him closely. "Is that unfeminine?"
"Not at all," he said, caressing my leg briefly and sending my nervous system in to orbit. "You know your own mind, don't you?"
The question surprised me, but before I had a chance to formulate an answer the flight attendant was there with our lunches. He removed his hand again to have his lunch, and didn't put it back on my leg for the remainder of the flight. We spent the rest of the flight chatting about nothing and everything. We talked about our favorite movies, our favorite books (he and I shared a love of D.H. Lawrence) and music -- he was a child of the 80's as well. We discussed our childhoods, our families and friends, vacations, politics...I don't think there was a topic we didn't touch on. It was one of t
he best times I'd had on a flight (after take-off I usually find them quite dull), and I was annoyed that the four hours passed so quickly and we were already landing in Houston.
We picked up the rental car and made our way downtown towards the Houston skyscrapers and our hotel. It was warm, much warmer than in Seattle, and I was overdressed in my jeans, boots and sweater. I was looking forward to a quick shower and changing into one of the summer dresses I brought. We pulled in to the hotel and I was surprised Malcolm didn't use the valet service. I never did when I traveled, believing it to be a wholly unnecessary and irresponsible expense, but I also knew it was common among executives. It impressed me. We parked in the garage and walked to the elevator in silence. In the elevator I avoided looking at him, fiddling with my luggage and cell phone, staring at the numbers over the door. I heard him laugh quietly behind me as the doors opened on the lobby and I sprang out, walking as quickly as possible to the front desk.
I checked in to my room -- a junior suite - aware that Malcolm was right behind me, allowing me very little privacy. I got my room key, 709, and turned to head towards the elevator. I wanted to avoid another uncomfortable elevator ride with him, and the knowledge that I was the only one feeling uncomfortable made me almost frantic to do so.
"See you later," I mumbled lamely before I practically sprinted to the elevator. I made my way up to my room -- thankfully alone -- and unpacked quickly (the layout of the room was a little odd, it had a semi-private bedroom/sleeping area with a dresser, but the closet was in the sitting room area). I pinned up my hair and hopped in the shower, relaxing a bit and laughing at myself for being so silly. I decided I would act as if nothing happened, and put the image of the two of us together out of my mind. I just...wouldn't think of it again.
My plan of inaction decided on, I scrubbed quickly and got out. I slipped on a strappy sundress and some flip-flops, pulling my hair back in to a ponytail. I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror closely, turning my head to scrutinize my face, noting the shimmers of gray at my temples and the way my eyes wrinkled when I smiled. I stood up with a shrug, deciding to forgo any make-up in the mucky Houston heat. I grabbed my wallet and key card and head towards the elevator. I'd spotted a cute little bistro across the street and I was dying to get some real food in me.
The elevator doors slid open and I found myself face to face with Malcolm. I started to speak but he stopped me, stepping off the elevator and grabbing me by my elbows. He bent to kiss me, pulling me to him. I had always been in heels before so I hadn't really noticed the height difference between us, but in my flip-flops it was impossible to miss. He's six inches taller than I am, and when he bent to kiss me, I instinctively went up on my toes to meet him.
He slowly kissed me, thoroughly kissed me, kissed me like he had nothing else planned for the day and was luxuriating in kissing me. I felt devoured in that kiss. As if I ceased to exist outside his kiss, and when he stopped I would kind of blow out, like a match in a breeze. (Does that sound ridiculous? I don't care.) I had never been kissed like that before and it had my knees weak. When he broke the kiss I had to remind myself to breathe.
"709?" he asked, letting go of my elbows and taking my key card out of my hand. I nodded, unable to speak, as he grabbed my wrist and led me back to my room. He opened the door and gently...shoved me...inside, following me in and locking the door behind us. He stepped up to me, making me step back until I was leaning against the wall. I was so turned on by this point my panties were soaked and I knew they would be sticking to me. He pressed himself against me, and I whimpered, shaking against him. He looked at me closely, thinly veiled amusement in his eyes, and I had the feeling he knew exactly what I was thinking.
"What is it?" he said, his hands pulling down the straps of my dress.
"What is this?" I retorted. I hated the shakiness of my voice but was powerless to stop it.
"This is me getting ready to fuck you."
"No," I sighed as he licked lightly along my jawbone. "I mean...what...what are you and I?"
He looked at me, squeezing my breasts through my dress, talking to me in a soothing voice. "You are so lovely, Melody." He kissed along my shoulders, and it was as if his lips were magnetized, and attracted the iron in my blood; everywhere they touched on my skin tingled. I closed my eyes, relishing the sensation. He lifted my dress up and I obliged, raising my arms so he could take it off me.
"The moment I met you I wanted you," he said, turning me around to face the wall. He ran a hand from the nape of my neck to my ass, caressing it slowly. "I couldn't keep my eyes off you; you are so sensual, so womanly, your movements so sultry. All I could think of was kissing you, touching you, tasting you." He licked the small of my back, just above the waistband of my panties and I gasped. "Is that enough?"
I looked back at him, seeing the need to possess, the greed in his gaze. "Yes, Malcolm."
He turned me around and kissed me, another consuming kiss, and all reason departed. There was only this need, this aching hunger to deliver myself, to give myself over to his whims. He maneuvered us towards the bed and stood behind me, raising my arms.
"Hold on to me," he whispered, running his hands up and down my sides. I locked my hands together behind his neck as he gently caressed my breasts, making my nipples hard. I sighed, arching my back a bit and pushing my breasts out further, and he began to roughly pinch and twist my nipples. I moaned as the rough treatment sent waves of pleasure from my nipples to my clit, and I watched his hands, in a kind of swoon.
You are always so put together, always in control, always so correct," he whispered, nuzzling my neck. "But deep down you're a dirty little girl, aren't you?" I pressed against him as his hands slid down my sides to my hips. "You dress in your fine clothes and live in your posh condo...." He slipped his fingers under the waistband of my panties and pushed them down, making me wince at the way they seemed too peel off me. God! I was so wet already. "Dating nice men. Respectful men. Men who would never grab you and kiss you." He grabbed my ponytail and pulled my head back, kissing me hard. I opened my mouth to him, no resistance, aroused by his strength. "They didn't excite you, did they?" He reached down and slipped his fingers between my pussy lips, gently stroking my clit. "They couldn't. They couldn't see what I see, Melody, what I saw the first time I touched you." He kissed me again and I tried to keep his mouth on mine, sucking at his tongue. He slipped a finger inside me and I moaned into his mouth. "They didn't see the little slut that you are." He kissed me again, his mouth and tongue claiming mine, possessing my mouth and tongue. "They didn't see her, but I did. I saw her, and knew I had to have her."
"Take off your panties and climb on the bed," he said, removing my hands from behind his neck and giving me a push. I stepped out of my underwear and moved to the foot of the bed, glancing back at him over my shoulder. His eyes were on my ass as I climbed slowly on the bed, moving towards the center.
"Stop," he said. I stopped, on all fours, and looked back at him. He had taken off his t-shirt and belt. The bulge in his jeans was unmistakable. He came over to the bed and began caressing my ass. "Lovely."
I put my head down, trying not to think about what he was looking at, but raised it as his fingers slipped inside me again. I shuddered, feeling my pussy clamp around his fingers. He started moving his fingers slowly in and out.
"Malcolm..." I began, but was stopped by a sharp slap on my ass. It stung and brought tears to my eyes.
"Call me Sir."
"What? I don't understand, Malc-"
SLAP! Another spanking, this time harder. This stinging heat seemed to shoot out from where his hand connected with my ass cheek and aim straight at my pussy making me cry out.
"You are to address me as Sir when we are not in public. Do you understand now?"
"Yes, Sir," I moaned.
"Hmmm...." he said, moving his fingers deeper inside me. "I think you liked that, didn't you? Did you like the way I slapped your ass, my little slut?" I shook my head no, embarrassed,
thinking back to the conversation I'd had with Tony the night before.
SLAP! SLAP SLAP SLAP! Malcolm spanked me again, four times in quick succession, and I couldn't stop myself from moaning and angling my ass towards him, lifting to give him fuller access to it.
"Liar," he laughed. "I'll ask you again -- you like it when I spank you, don't you?"
"Yes, Sir," I whispered, .
"Good girl," he said. "I'll give you a right proper spanking later if you behave." I shivered at the dark, delicious promise in his voice. "Now...spread your legs, and put your head down, your back bowed for me." I obeyed, knowing it opened myself up to him obscenely and feeling my clit throb as I thought about what he was looking at. I was so wet I could feel it running down my thighs. "That's my little slut." I moaned as he pulled his fingers out and began stroking me from my clit to my anus. I lowered my head to the bed and pushed back, angling my hips towards him, as he slowly smeared my wetness around. "You like this?"
Darker Ecstasy Page 3
