A Betty's Pledge: Volume One (35 page)

“Mmm, you know that’s not what I’m talking about. Emotions, Mady.”

“They come into play later,” I said, dropping to my knees in order to view him all
the better, my hands working frantically to unleash him. I worked his zipper quickly,
pulling the tough fabric down his fabulous legs, leaving him only in his boxer briefs.
The hard length of him stood in silhouette beneath the thin fabric, hard and proud,
full and thick. I traced it slowly with the tip of my finger, fascinated at how it
seemed to swell.

“Don’t fucking tease it,” Isaac said through clenched teeth, and I couldn’t help but
giggle at his desperation.

“See? Emotions are here. For example, I’m sensing a little humor mixed with an extreme
sense of power right now. How ’bout you?” I glanced up at him through my lashes, a
teasing smile on my lips. He glared at me with dark, lust-filled eyes, his hands clenched
in fists at his sides, every line of him as rigid as his sex.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

I swiftly pulled down his briefs, leaving his length bobbing in front of my salivating
mouth. “What, you mean love?” My tongue peeked out to lick his tip on the
L
. I glanced up at him as he let out a heady moan, and my lips curved in anticipation.

“No.” The word came out through tight lips. His arms shook at his sides as if he had
to fight to restrain himself. I knew he wanted to grab my hair, to push my face into
his groin so that he could fuck my hot mouth. But his words and the point he was trying
to make kept him leashed, wanting to conclude his asinine argument.

I didn’t care.

I was hot, horny, and wanted him there with me. Fuck the emotion. Give me passion
and a toe-curling orgasm. The rest will come later.

Much later . . .

“God . . . Mady.” Isaac moaned as I engulfed him completely, taking the round, plum-shaped
head of him all the way to the back of my throat.

I worked my tongue around him, creating a vortex, sucking him in. He couldn’t fight
it anymore, and his hand fisted into my hair, holding me down onto him, his back arching
against the feel of it all. I gripped his ass to help, and his glutes solidified and
undulated with his slightly thrusting hips. I couldn’t help but reach for the silken
strength, feeling both cheeks move beneath my hands, urging him forward as my mouth
consumed him.

“Ah . . . stop . . .” One hand tried feebly to push my shoulder away while the other
still held my head firmly. My answering ‘no’ came in the form of my tongue swirling
around the velvet skin encasing his steel rod. He tasted like eroticism and male heat:
spicy, silken with a hint of musk.

“Mady . . .”

My name sounded like a warning and swear in one, and I felt my legs spread a bit in
response. I’d never cursed a pair of pants so much in my life. I wanted to be open
so that either my hand or his could play with my clit, making me wet and ready for
once Isaac’s dick recovered, for I had no intention of stopping until he was good
and spent.

“Stop!” Two hands shoved me off him. I fell back onto my bottom, my lips giving a
little smack as I was forced off his superb erection.

“What the hell is your problem?”

“I was trying to have a fucking conversation with you.”

“And I was trying to fucking suck you off. That’s what we are here for, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but . . .”

I stood up from the floor. “But what, Isaac?” I took a small step forward, my hands
releasing the metal clasp of my pants. “If you wanted to have a get-to-know-you type
of conversation before we fornicate, you shouldn’t have taken me into that bathroom
at the party.”

I moved my hips from side to side, pushing the tight pinstriped slacks to the ground.
I stepped out of them, taking another step toward him. “That was your opportunity
for niceties and polite ‘how-do-you-dos.’ Instead, you led me to believe you wanted
to know my body more. Now we’re here, and I do believe a challenge was issued. So
far, I think I’m winning.”

“You—” He whirled around to glare at me, seeing me in my revealing undergarment. He
swallowed convulsively, and I had never felt more attractive or powerful with a man
in my life.

“If you don’t want me, I’ll leave,” I told him, taking another step closer. “If you
want to have a conversation with me, I’ll gladly have tea time with you tomorrow morning.”
I ran my hands up his bare chest, my nails leaving a trail of fine scratches in my
wake. “Right now, I don’t want to hear you talking. No more excuses or rationales.
Just kiss me.”

And he did. With a great exhaled breath, Isaac enveloped me in his arms and kissed
me passionately. His hands didn’t roam, his pelvis didn’t thrust into me, but his
lips made love to me thoroughly and completely.

His pace was slow yet fervent, his desire unbridled yet pensive, like he was expressing
something to me. Perhaps since I wouldn’t allow his words their due, he settled for
telling me with his body. I could handle that.

Isaac’s hands cupped my face reverently, the pads of his fingers feeling warm and
smooth upon my skin. His head tilted and suddenly the pace of his kiss felt more hurried,
hungrier. His tongue danced with mine, tangled and caressed, hinting at things left
unsaid between us.

Before I could react, he bent down to lift me below my bottom, and my legs automatically
wrapped around his waist. He spun and laid me out on the bed, his lips leaving mine
to travel down my neck. His hands skimmed the length of the lacy lingerie, trailing
along my ribs, heading toward where I wanted him the most.

He reached my white lace thong and groaned into the crook of my neck, his fingers
heading beneath the small piece of fabric.

“You are so ready for me.”

All I could do was nod vaguely in response. With a quick motion, Isaac ripped the
panties off me, and within a moment, he was sheathed completely inside me. My back
arched off the mattress, my head fell back, and my eyes closed against the overpowering
sensation. The feeling of being completely filled and stretched making a cry catch
in my throat.

“God . . . you are so beautiful,” Isaac whispered, and my eyes opened to see him staring
at me while he set a steady pace. His movements against me had me moaning and panting.
Every part of me heightened to the point of exploding.

His head bent down so that his lips could wrap around one of my nipples, my breasts
having long since escaped from the low-cut top by Isaac’s movements.

As his mouth devoured me, I ran my hands up and down his taut back, feeling the muscles
working to bring us both to completion, enjoying each other’s bodies until we were
left in a puddle of pleasure and euphoria.

“Isaac . . . oh God . . . yes.”

A spiraling heat began low in my abdomen. My muscles fluttered and then tensed, preparing
to explode. Isaac sat up onto his haunches and grabbed my thighs to pull me closer,
going further within me.

“Do you feel that? Or is it a blank void? Nothing there but your body’s natural response?”

“Yes! I feel it, Isaac.” My spine elongated as the orgasm swarmed inside me. I moved
more urgently against him.

“No. You don’t. You feel only what you allow yourself to.”

“I feel you.” My eyes watered against the strong sensations. “Deep inside me. Filling
me. Oh God . . .”

My muscles clamped down around him, the floodgates opening, releasing the built-up
energy until I was left seizing and contorting, my voice nothing but a mix of unintelligible
words.

I heard Isaac swear as he jolted above me, his movements sharp and sporadic as he
found his goal. God, he was angelic in his climax: hard lines, strength and power,
gloriously masculine.

He fell on top of me, spent, his face falling onto the crook of my neck.

“You speak of sex with emotion, and God, I’ve wanted that for so long,” I told him,
my breath coming out in pants. Isaac lifted his head to look at me, a mixture of emotion
in his eyes, wary of my words. “But I hide my emotions here to protect myself. Sex
with emotion is something I want desperately, Isaac, but how stupid would I be to
hand it out freely, knowing that it doesn’t have a place here? Outside these walls,
with a man who cared for me as much as I did him, emotion would be all-consuming.
I’d call it
making love
instead of sex, because in reality, that’s what it would be. Yes, it is sex now,
but that is such a mundane description of what two people can do together. It’s like
a form of communication between our bodies, and how better to learn every language
there is to offer but here? I can’t set myself up for that.”

“I just don’t want you to be hurt,” he told me, the pad of his thumb wiping the moisture
under my eyes.

“I won’t be. I know what I’m doing.”

And I did.

For the most part, I was fine with what I was doing. In six weeks from now, when the
program was completed and I was left with the experiences this place had given me . . .
well . . . I’d reevaluate then. But for now, having Isaac as both a concerned friend
and a lover felt like I’d just won the lottery. I was content with how things were.

Peaceful.

Orgasmic.

Excited.

And completely without love.

The Creep

~ Madeline Cain ~

“I’m not avoiding him . . .”

I stared at my image in the mirror, hair wild from my newly awakened state. I looked
like a cross between a mad raccoon and Medusa looking for her next victim. I hadn’t
removed my makeup from the night before, which I was sure to pay for later. My naked
body was wrapped in Isaac’s discarded black shirt. The wrinkled fabric only added
to my disheveled state, and the smell of him seeping out of every pore on my body
just completed the picture. My lips were still swollen from Isaac’s kisses, my body
deliciously sore in all the right places.

Or wrong, depending on how you looked at it.

I’m not avoiding him . . .

In truth, I probably was. For the second time in a row, I had found myself asleep
in a bed that wasn’t mine, next to Isaac, after spending another orgasmic night together.
The first time it happened, I didn’t think anything of it until I’d mentioned it to
the other Pledges. I guessed something like that wasn’t routine. For me, it had felt
natural, as it had last night.

Now, looking back on it, after my speech about ‘non-emotional sex’, it probably wasn’t
the best idea. There was a distinct amount of intimacy when one shared their bed with
another, and even though that bed technically wasn’t
his
, we’d done more than just have a heart-to-heart on it.

Damn.

I knew he was probably waiting for me downstairs, wanting to talk over tea, as I’d
mentioned during our pre-sex mind games. He’d mumbled something about “see you in
a bit” when I tried to make my escape this morning, but I didn’t really reply. What
did he want to discuss? Avoidance seemed to be easier than trying to figure out exactly
what Isaac tried to tell me last night.

Was he saying what I think he meant? Did he have feelings for me outside of the sexual
desire we clearly had for one another?

God, I hoped not. It would just complicate things, make me have to rethink once again
my motivation for being here, and I’d already done that countless times already. Wasn’t
it just my luck that once I’d resolved myself to be comfortable with my decision,
something would happen to mess that up?

It wasn’t that I couldn’t see myself falling for Isaac. In fact, there didn’t seem
to be anything about him I found unattractive. Even his occasional cockiness and supreme
self-image was sort of appealing to me. Insecure men were never something that made
me want to scream “oh, baby, give it to me.”

But still, the Isaac I saw last night was different than the one who’d pulled me into
the bathroom at the costume party. One was consumed with passion and lust, the other
more reserved. I couldn’t tell who he really was, and part of me had no desire to.
Not yet.

I turned away from my horrible image and turned on my shower, hoping the nice warm
water would help my wayward thoughts sharpen into something comprehensible. Once the
mirror began to fog, I figured it was warm enough and jumped in. The feeling of the
water cascading down my skull, running deep into my hair was euphoric. Starting from
my head and ending at my toes, washing seemed to be a cathartic equivalent to ridding
myself of the night before. I needed to start over again, take away all the conflicting
bullshit and get my head back in the game.

Sooner, rather than later.

I spent the rest of the morning wrapped in a soft robe, reading my old copy of
Great Expectations
. The moment would’ve been perfect with a cup of steaming coffee, but I was too chicken-shit
to brave the kitchen at this point. I made a promise to myself to pick up one of those
tiny coffee makers for my room. If today was any indication, there might be several
times I’d want to lock myself away. Maybe a mini-fridge was in order as well.

A soft tinkling echoed from my bathroom counter, and I reluctantly left my soft, downy
retreat to answer my annoying phone. It was a text from Mina.