FicWad

CHAPTER FOUR


I had to force myself to face that damned painting. It seemed to embody the Scot’s sexuality and overwhelming presence. Those black eyes blazed at me from the canvas, offering pleasure and something I could not grasp. I trembled as I approached it, foolishly intimidated by a creation of paint and canvas.


Desire mixed with angst made for a potent and uncomfortable mix. I could not have him here again. Memory would serve to add the final details.


I spoke to Aunt Jasmine and told her I wished to bolt until he lost interest and moved on to another woman. She seemed to believe my plan flawed, yet nonetheless arranged for me to borrow a small house in a very quiet, older area of the city. We retained a quad of bodyguards for me, I packed and after sunset, departed with the darkness to cover my flight.


The house proved lovely and quaint, with diamond-paned windows, boxes of lushly blooming flowers under them, and a neat, homey interior sprinkled with luxuries. It possessed a kitchen with ice locker and secure larder, a dining room, salon with lovely antique furniture and the most exquisite set of cut crystal lamps. A small cozy study sat off the salon. Wide, curving stairs led to single bedroom with a petite, yet well-appointed bathing room. In there I placed all my personal grooming items. The sleeping space boasted a small verandah, armoire, reading nook with an undersized marble-topped table and deep chair. Trimmed in flowing tassels, a brocade spread in cream and light blue draped the large poster bed. That color scheme dominated the house. It soothed me, and when I slipped between the fine Egyptian cotton sheets, I sank blissfully into deep, much-needed slumber.

The following morning, I dressed in a more traditional ensemble, even draping myself in a mantilla. My guards and I visited the market, butcher’s shop, an unreasonably expensive ice vendor and a wine and spirit merchant. After we returned, I saw to the storage and putting away of my few, but appetizing purchases.


Mid-morning, I cooked a simple meal of chicken baked in a clay oven and tossed a salad of fresh greens and tomatoes. I ate, read for several hours and then went up and out onto the verandah. To my delight, in the sunshine I saw several pots hosting rosemary, thyme, oregano, and basil. A little wrought iron table with two matching chairs sat waiting for diners to enjoy the air.


That afternoon, I decided to have a bath. I warmed and toted my own water. Adding a little of the apricot and vanilla bath salts my uncle made for me, I then coiled up my braid and secured it with an abalone and silver comb. I took a moment to clean my teeth and wash my face. The water felt silky and refreshing as I stepped in and leaned back in the small tub. I had closed the door to the boudoir, so the only light came from a single, diminutive, crescent-shaped window up near the ceiling. The dimness added another dimension to the relaxing environment.


A muffled noise brought me up from a light drowse. Then a series of thumps and a loud grunt made me rise and reach for a drying cloth. My hand scarcely closed upon it when I heard someone in the bed chamber.


A trio of hard raps upon the door, then a voice I recognized too well bellowed, “Ivy?”


Glancing wildly around, I sought some means of escape or at least clothing myself. The drying cloth would barely cover the most private bits of me, and certainly not front and back at the same time. I heard him try the knob. The key sticking in the lock quivered.


“Open the door.” His flat, quiet command struck more fear into me than the shouting.


Stepping from the tub, I used the cloth to dry myself quickly. Then I pulled the comb from my hair, untied the ribbon at the end of my braid. I tossed them aside, shook out my hair to shield my breasts and lowered the fabric to cover my belly and hips.


The metal fastenings of the door ripped out of the splintering door frame as the portal crashed open.


Immobilized with fear and anticipation, I stared at him. Dressed all in black save his white shirt, hair drawn back, expression thunderous, he might have born the name Lucifer. Slowly his gaze moved over me and I witnessed the quick response to my state of undress.


“Was I not gentle, and considerate, Ivy?” he asked in a soft tone that made me positively shake. “Did I seek to force myself upon you? Harm you in any way? Did your desire not equal my own?”


Deciding he already knew the answers, I replied in truth. “You conducted yourself as more the gentleman than I the proper lady.” I swallowed with some difficulty, almost light-headed from my rapid respiration. “And, it was my desire that bid me flee.”


“I tore this city apart looking for you. Spent nearly a thousand pounds in bribes, and brutalized any who refused the money in exchange for what they knew.”


“Have you killed my guards?” I felt ill thinking of their deaths upon me.


“Because they but did their job, and did not oppose me personally, I spared their lives,” he returned.


“I appreciate your mercy.” Most men would not have given such consideration amid conflict. It registered then he’d not a hair out of proper place or mark upon him. He had beaten down four professional bodyguards without so much as ripping a shirt cuff. “I don’t suppose you would wait for me down in the salon?”


He rumbled low in his chest. Black eyes burning, he said, “I will not.”


The dangerousness of this man in his current mood palpably filled the small space. However, down somewhere deep, I knew I alone need not fear it. I walked to him, scantily covered and more vulnerable emotionally and physically than ever before in my life. He stood there, holding my gaze, huge and savage for all his stillness.


I dropped the cloth and put my hand upon his chest over his heart. It beat steadily despite his recent violence. “You have earned a victor’s right to spoils, Con. But I need and deserve the tenderness you gifted me with before.”


He hauled me against him, hands moving over my back as he held me. “Do not ever flee from me again. It makes a demon of me.”


I clutched his big, hard body, recognizing the change my words had wrought. “Give me a few moments to come out to you.”


He released me, closed the rather ruined door as best as one might manage considering its state. I stood there, for a moment, accepting my desperate escape had but prolonged the inevitable.


Nervousness and simmering excitement fizzed in my blood.


CHAPTER FIVE


After standing a few moments, I recovered my wits enough to recall something that would have proven very helpful in the frantic time between his beating upon the door and then kicking it in. Because I traveled so much, I kept a short nightrail in with my grooming supplies. That way if I ever forgot to take something with me to the bathing chamber, I would still have something clean to put on afterward. Made of twin layers of white gauze, it would serve my purpose.


I removed it. It looked fresh and smelled just laundered. I smoothed my apricot and vanilla lotion over my skin, and had plied my depilatory the previous day, so he would find my skin smooth. Also, Uncle Walks Softly made my lotions and creams all with consumption quality ingredients and oils. They tasted as good as they smelled.


Thus too would I.


I donned the short, almost sheer garment, brushed out my hair. Gazing at myself in the looking glass, I noted how wide my cerulean blue eyes appeared. Papa always told me his mother’s eyes stared at him from my face. It made me think of him. Only he in my family would object to what I prepared to do.


I love you, Papa. But I am a woman full grown.


Opening the ruined portal, I stepped out into the bedchamber. Con had drawn the drapes, lit candles and turned back the bed. He sat upon its edge, pulling off his high boots. His eyes cut to me at once.


“God in Heaven,” he murmured. His burr thickened with arousal. “God in Heaven.” He rose and strode to me. Bending, he lifted me into his arms. I reached up to touch his face as he gazed down at me. “It is my privilege to carry you to bed for your first loving.”


I felt bereft when he laid me upon the bed. Then, his body came half atop mine and his lips covered mine. I reached around to untie the ribbon securing his luxurious hair. The heavy, silky mass spilled forward and I groaned. The tie I tossed to the floor. My hands went to his shirt. I pulled it free his breeches and urged it up and over his head. He broke our kiss just long enough to have the garment pass between us.


I placed my hand upon his lips to halt the resumption of kissing. “I am virgin, Con, yet you shall encounter no hymen. My uncle is a gifted healer and I had him cut that bit of skin from me long ago.”


He caught my hand with his own, and for long moments, did no more than place my fingers into his mouth for individual attention from his teeth and tongue. Delightful sensations raced up my arm. Nipping the sensitive pad of my thumb, he responded, “It honors me you chose me for your first. Still, I must admit I rejoice that I need not hurt you.”


I smiled, “Did I ‘choose’ you when you hunted me down and came through a solid portal to get to me?”


He returned my smile and my breath caught seeing it for the first time. His lips lost that hint of cruelty, long deep dimples framed them and the whiteness of his teeth in his swarthy face struck me a swift, sensual blow. “Nay. When you could hardly paint for wanting me.”


Smiling changed his entire face, I marveled. His straight black brows seemed less ominous and serious above eyes that now sparkled with humor. His cheekbones became less harsh, and even that implacable jaw line appeared less daunting. Overall, it made him more … human. Less godlike and intimidating. I caressed his shaved-smooth face, marveling at the hard planes and their perfection of symmetry. “Aye,” I agreed. “That is when I chose you.”


He grew serious again. “You must tell me at once if anything displeases you, if I move too quickly or slowly, whatever you desire.”


The gift of understanding and generosity in his words undid me. As if those nights of torment returned to me at once, I replied, “Move faster, Scotsman.”


This time he kissed me differently. I tasted raw hunger and possession. My hands roamed over him everywhere I could reach. His lips moved to my jaw, throat, then ear. I shuddered and moved to give him better access as lightning-like bolts of pure libidinous delight shot through me. His sharp teeth whispered over the lobe of my ear and I cried out, holding his head to me.


Clearly assessing my response, he halted in his attentions to remove my scanty covering and his breeches. Free now, I grasped his erection immediately. “Oooooh.”


Con’s breath hissed from him. “Ivy.”

“Your skin is like satin, yet you are living marble underneath.”


He removed my hand. “Not this time. Next time you may have cart blanche with my body.”


My breasts felt very heavy and my nipples tightened. Before I could realize they ached for his touch, he caressed me there. I arched up from the bed. “Aye, please.” If that touch had bent me to his will, the hot wet velvet of his mouth made me his slave. I gasped and writhed, ignited by lust. I would gaze down to watch and close my eyes by turns.


He moved a bit away and his hand stroked my belly while his mouth wreaked havoc. Wetness flowed from between my thighs. I felt damp and heated all over, with that hungry part of me the epicenter of neediness. I grasped his wrist and pushed his descending hand down.


Con stroked a part of me that begged for it and I reached down to learn it as well. I joined my hand with his, exploring my drenched, swollen body with much excitement and curiosity.


“Have you not done this for yourself?” His lips returned to mine.


Our mouths touching, playing, I spoke. “Nay.”


He assumed control of my first finger and placed it over that raised nub granting me so much stimulus. “This is your trigger.” I cried out, starved and beyond shame. He moved my finger over the outer, fleshier parts of me. It felt lovely, just not so intense. “Pluck at them, play with them. Inside,” his finger accompanied mine and I thrashed.


“No more lessons now.”


Con kissed me long and deep, until I wondered if the arousing would ever stop. “Your whim commands me. Yet I long to give one more experience.”


Trusting him and on fire, I whimpered, “Very well.”


He pushed me up the bed and scooted down himself. The touch of his lips to my naval almost rolled my eyes back in my head.


Con murmured, “I wish to taste you.”


“My mother prepared me for this,” I answered. “I wish it as well.”


Watching his face coming close to me almost pained. He kissed the sheath of my body as he did my mouth, then he sucked and played with the fleshy outer parts. I grasped his head and dragged it to my ‘trigger’. He obliged me with stimulation. Not orgasm.


Inflamed beyond control, I urged him up and over me. My breath lodged in my lungs. The hammering of my heart might slay me. He settled between my quivering thighs, slid his hands beneath my torso to cradle my head in his hands. The very, very wide blunt tip of his erection pushed into me.


Midnight eyes hot and loving, he spoke. “It is not yet too late.”


His sweetness caused my body to blaze beyond control. I lifted my legs to place my feet upon his round, tight bottom. Recalling the words he stated he would beggar himself for, I repeated them. “Please, Con.”


I screamed as his huge phallus shoved up into me. My scalp tightened. I held him, held onto him as a drowning man might a raft.


He kissed me, asking, “Are you all right? Talk to me, pet.”


Voracious, I commanded, “Fuck me.”


Con pounded himself into me and I climaxed so strongly it almost hurt. Then, he withdrew, devoured me with his miraculous mouth until the excitement poured out of me. He placed me upon my knees over the chair and I lost capability to rationally think.


I dissolved into sexual nirvana and I became aware he withdrew to pelt my back with semen.




CHAPTER SIX


Con helped put up my hair, returned me to my abandoned bath. He washed me like a lady’s maid, expression intense. Naked and unselfconscious, he soaped and rinsed me, offered me a hand from the tub, then patted me dry. I wondered if he would hesitate at the lotion application. He did not, and soon I stood as clean and scented as before we began.


Con had opened a new world for me. I now understood why my parents and uncles forever ran off to topple into bed. However, I also knew I must keep my emotions as removed as possible. I would enjoy a few days exploring my sexuality with a generous lover, then return to Jasmine’s and from there mayhaps my family’s island.


He carried me back to bed. As he placed me upon it, and came down to join me, I toppled him onto broad back. “Cart blanche,” I reminded.


I knelt beside him, taking in the sight of so much male flesh. So much dark skin over swelling brawn. His loose hair spread out, catching the light. The symmetry of his face and body awed me. Only the proportion of his again hard phallus seemed out of place, a bit exaggerated.


I leaned down and explored his strong throat with my mouth. His hands cradled my jaw and he tilted his head to accommodate me. The rumbling in his chest made the slightly abused flesh between my legs clench. I gripped his shoulders, licked and nipped a path to his chest. I saw his flat male nipples had tightened and I tormented them with my tongue. He tasted as delicious as he smelled. Learning from his lessons, I raked my nails down his hard belly to grip his erection.


“Aye, Ivy,” he growled, “touch me.”


I shifted to lie upon my side for comfort. Dabbing my tongue in his naval, I savored the sight of his stomach muscles jerking.


My courage threatened to fail me as I continued my descent. He flexed in my grasp as I lowered my head to kiss the crest of him. He groaned. I could smell myself upon him and the slight tang of male musk. A floodgate opened within me. Wet readiness flowed. I licked him experimentally. His hips lifted. I moaned at the combined flavors of our bodies. Not precisely certain how to proceed, I lowered my head and let his lovely erection slide deep into my mouth. I tasted him more strongly and sucked to better have it.


His hands moved over my head. “More.”


I lifted and lowered my head, reproducing the movement of sexual congress. Although I held the position of power, I felt a slave to my desire to please him. I took as much of him as I could, then drew upon him as I pulled back. When he made a soft, vulnerable sound, I realized the crest of him more sensitive. I covered my teeth with my lips, ‘bit’ down just under the crown of his erection and did my best to suck the crest of his erection off entirely.


Con cursed and rolled sideways. I followed him, licking, gripping his shaft with my hand and moving him around in my mouth to grant more stimulus.


“Ivy, I shall spill,” he gasped.


I drew more strongly upon him, wishing to taste his semen. He weakly attempted to move my head from him. I swirled my tongue around him, awaited his climax. Wetness flowed from me in a steady deluge.


“Ivy,” he groaned.


His orgasm erupted in my mouth. My entire body reacted to the taste and texture: sweet, thick, abundant, hot.


I shuddered, whimpering as I swallowed his semen. Then I licked all over his softening penis.


He dragged me off him. “Kiss me. Kiss me.”


I did and he delved deep, moaning and melding our tongues. Then, he reversed our positions, spread my legs and lowered his head. I closed my eyes, savoring his mouth upon me. Then, too briefly, it ended. He sank two fingers carefully into my body. I rolled partially upright to complain when his other hand pressed down upon my belly and some electrical erogenous zone inside me became caught between his hands.


“Nay.” I protested. The urgent need to urinate overwhelmed me. “Cease.” I attempted to squirm away.


Con maintained the stimulation. “Trust me, pet.”


His fingers inside me pressed rhythmically upon that spot. Of a sudden, the urge to pee evaporated and a powerful rush toward climax gripped me. “I trust you.” An overwhelming surge of satisfaction struck me. I cried out, experiencing the peak. Then a second assaulted me and to my grand surprise, a jet of clear liquid, the satin of arousal, shot from me. It struck Con’s chest and he growled in clear delight.


Breathless, I gasped, “What did you do to me?”


“Proved what I suspected.”


“Is that normal?”


My rather intimidating lover rubbed his hand through that wetness upon him, then bent his head to kiss my throbbing trigger. “There is no place for that word in the bedroom. Yet, I assure all is well.”


I closed my eyes and shivered.


#


That evening Con hired a runner to order our meal from an inn. We dined upon the verandah, he wearing naught save breeches and I in only a dressing gown. I ate with my fingers, staring at the big dark man across from me. The food, a mix of Caribbean and Spanish proved beyond delicious. Rice with black beans, lobster stewed in rum-spiked cream, olive stuffed chicken, paella.


We drank rich red wine and spoke not at all as we watched one another.


“Ivy,” he murmured, “the very sparkle in your eyes begs my lust.”


I nibbled a bite of lobster. Aroused and receptive, I answered, “I welcome your lust.”


“Take care.”


I stood. Abandoned the meal and walked inside. Untying the sash, I shed my covering. Lamps gave their light. I halted mid-room. I felt him step up at my back. A thrill lanced me. I had called down the thunder, and had no issue with answering the demand.



CHAPTER SEVEN

“You are not even a day from losing your virginity. Baiting me sexually is ill-advised.”


“I have no fear,” I replied. His hands settled on my sides. I lifted my arms above my head and his wide palms came to rest over the sensitive skin under them. I gasped quietly, but I knew he heard. In response, he caressed me there. It seemed so risqué. No one ever saw or touched that bit of me. I always plied it with depilatory, so I knew it smooth. All the same, I swiftly lowered my arms.


“Yet you shy from my touch,” he pointed out, tone hushed and intense.


My heart performed a curious maneuver as he swept me up and carried me to the bed. He placed me upon my back, used his heavy body to immobilize me, and then caught both my wrists above my head in one of his big hands. I realized what he intended and I cried, “Nay!”


His hot mouth pressed the vulnerable flesh his fingers had tormented and I yelled inarticulately. His tongue dabbed at me, then slowly licked over my skin. An eruption of sensation traveled through me. I could feel the wetness flowing from my body.


“What say you now?”


I thrashed, unable to dislodge his superior bulk. “You Scot git!”


He restrained me, kissing and nipping those overly sensitive places. I was reduced to quivering and cursing. Then he released me and stood. I bounded off the bed, shaky and inflamed. I walked up to him, angry and excited. Beyond caution, I launched a punch.


The timeline of the universe had changed, I learned. Before I could strike, I lie on the bed, my belly pressed to it. His big fingers sank into me. He restrained me again, growling, “I could fuck your ass, or ram your cunt until it became so swollen it closed around my cock.”


Superior in my estimation, I whispered, “You would not.” His fingers withdrew from me and then one large, slick finger pushed into my bottom. Excitement crashed over me. I scooted closer to have more inside me, moaning.


He moved his finger in my bottom until I became quite hot. Then, keeping his finger there, he slapped his big hand over my buttocks. A mix of pleasure and pain assaulted me. I vocalized without cognizance of content.


“You like that, pet.”


“Aye.”


He whacked my backside repeatedly. I enjoyed the experience greatly. It thrilled me to feel the size of his big hand. “More.” Dimly I realized how much experience a man his size would have to possess to prevent his harming a much smaller, softer female. The sensory overload made me dizzy. As he plied his one hand, his finger moved in my bottom . I became so aroused, I trembled violently. “Fuck me, Con.”


He withdrew his finger and I saw him go to wash his hands in the bathing chamber, I rolled over, turning and drawing my feet up closer to my pleasantly tingling and stimulated backside. I let my thighs fall apart and when he emerged the expression on his face grew thunderous. Watching him, I reached down to stroke myself as he taught me. An involuntary groan emerged. “I have sponges to use,” I told him. “You could climax inside me.”


“I am going to teach you a lesson, Ivy,” he said in a low, fairly ominous tone, “by giving you exactly what you’re asking for.”


I crawled from the bed and went to retrieve my kit. He walked back into the bathing chamber and took it from my grasp. I looked at him. “I intend to use that.”


“So do I and I shall see to it. Get you on the bed.”


As I knew I would receive what I wished, I did not balk. He opened the case and laid it beside me. He removed the treatment jar’s lid, worked the salve-like preparation into the sponge as if he’d attended my uncle’s demonstration of it. I squirmed when he put the device in place


Con carefully returned the preparation to the kit and closed it. He carried it to the bathing chamber and I heard him wash his hands again. Maman had spoken to me at length about that, telling me that if a man did not respect my body, he would not know how to please it. Con’s concern for me validated her teachings.


When he returned, I saw something dangerous in his eyes. Ignoring my instincts, I awaited his pleasuring me. Con flipped me onto my belly, placing several pillows under my hips. He shoved my legs wide and pushed his very broad phallus into me just a little.


“Desire you a hard fucking, Ivy?”


“Aye.” I wiggled my hips.


“I shall give it.”


A wordless cry ripped from me as he slammed deep. His erection stretched me as it hammered in and out. I reached my peak and he pressed fully into me. The post-orgasmic contractions of my body continued. I panted, attempting to recover. I could smell his skin and the Dragon’s Blood musk. As my lids lowered, he began to move again. I whimpered and he gripped my hips harder, gradually increasing the pace of his thrusts. Weak and vulnerable, I began to approach my zenith again. A scream ripped from me as I orgasmed.


Gasping for breath and disoriented, I attempted to crawl away. He hauled me back to him. “My turn, pet.”


He thrust at me like a battering ram. Until my back teeth must have loosened and I quivered, insensible and cowardly.


Con withdrew from my body, tossed the pillows to the floor, and placed me upon my back. I wanted to get away. Yet, as he gazed at me something changed in those ruthless black eyes.


“Ivy,” he murmured. He kissed me. I heard my sounds of delight as his tongue played with mine. He whispered his touch over my throat, breasts and belly, then shifted lower to apply that talented mouth to the aching flesh between my legs.


Recalling the sponge treatment, I pushed his head away. “It must taste unpleasant.”


“I taste only you.”


I surrendered. In much short order, I longed for him back in me. “Con, make love to me.”


He moved up and over, and his huge cock sank into me amid much inner muscle squeezing. Gentle and attentive, he made love to me. Very soon, I clawed his back and sides as my hips bucked to meet his thrusts.


“Ivy,” he growled, “Ivy.”


I held him to me. “Please spend in me.”


He did and I dissolved into a wracking release.


CHAPTER EIGHT


I woke predawn to the sensation my pelvis had broken into several, equally bruised pieces in the night. I drew in a startled breath as I attempted to sit up. Con sat up beside me. We’d left the windows and verandah doors open to admit the breeze. Meager lunar light diffused the darkness.


“I knew this would happen,” he declared quietly. He put a big hand on my back and lifted me upright.


My female parts throbbed. Even the insides of my thighs seemed bruised. “What did you do to me?”


“This is why I sought to avoid fucking you again, pet.”


I cuffed him in the head. “Cease calling me ‘pet’.”


“Goddamn it! Cease striking me.” He surged up from the bed. “Do not you move and I shall fetch you ice.”


When he had gone, I hobbled to the bathing chamber to relieve myself. It burned and I wished to inflict harm upon him. After shuffling back to bed, I lowered my bottom to the bed gingerly. Of a certain, he had ruined me.


Not long after, that devil Scot returned with a decanter of red wine and a bundle. Laying them upon the reading nook table, he went into the bathing chamber and emerged with a second cloth. He lit a lamp, filled that second piece of absorptive fabric with ice and brought it to place it between my thighs. The coolness made me sigh. Afterward, he carried the remainder of the ice in the first binding and placed it atop my mons.


I watched him pour a measure of wine into a goblet, then came to support my torso with one arm as he brought the libation to my lips. “Drink deep.”


I did. He removed the goblet and lowered me to the bed. Heady fumes laced my brain. The cold mitigated the pain.


Exhaustion vanquished me. I slid back into slumber.


#


I roused hours later to the scent of toast and tea. A smell I could not place wafted amid it. I carefully exited the bed, went to perform my morning ablutions, bathe from a basin, then attired myself in stays and a dressing gown. I descended. Appetizing aromas intensified. Con turned from his casual stance of leaning against the door frame of the kitchen. I glanced beyond him to the small, tidily attired woman cooking.


He shoved away from his vertical place of repose and poured me a cup of tea. Placing it upon a saucer, he handed it to me. “Take care. The brew is laced with hashish to ease your pain.”


It occurred to me he had done much to accommodate me. That spoke of his generosity. I accepted the cup and saucer, sipped the brew. That unfamiliar scent and flavor ensnared me. I gazed at him. “I trust you.”


Later, I labored under much sleepiness. Con carried me to the bathing chamber that I might attend my private needs. Then he carried me to bed.


“I am ever so influenced by the drug you gave me.”


He stripped and stretched out beside me. “Perhaps you shall sleep.”


I drifted in a twilight of substance-induced persuasion. I rolled over, caught his half-formed erection in my hand and took him in my mouth. He tasted so delicious. I drew upon him, explored his balls and the flesh behind. He relaxed, letting his thighs fall wide. I recalled how pleasurable I found his finger in my bottom. Wetting my finger in my mouth, I then sucked his phallus down my throat as I pushed my slick finger into him.


Con roared and rolled half up from the bed.


He thrashed. I worked my finger in him, lifted and lowered my head to mimic sex. His hands gripped my head and his semen erupted in my mouth. I savored it, tasting the more subtle elements of his orgasm. Recalling my experience, I wiggled my finger inside him.



My lover bellowed and continued erupting. I swallowed his climax and withdrew my finger.


#


I roused to evening light. Slowly sitting upright, I blinked. “Con?”


He walked in from the verandah, garbed in naught save breeches. His dark hair hung loose. The warm, deep hue of his skin beckoned. “Has your state improved, pet?”


“Do not call me ‘pet’, “I complained. Secretly I began to like it.


“We shall discuss that later,” he responded. “Tell me how you feel.”


I placed my bare feet upon the floor. “Tenderized.”


He came to sit by me. “We must rectify that."