A Taste of Pleasure (14 page)

On the plane, it was as if he'd read her mind somehow, and he certainly did not disappoint her. He took her twice in the restroom and toyed with her repeatedly under the blanket that he purchased from the flight attendant. But soon the plane landed and her old life resumed, working, wanting, and waiting for Deacon to call.

W
hen London arrived back in the United States, she didn't see much of Deacon. He seemed to avoid her at work and didn't call in the evening. She had a hard time getting him out of her mind and found herself longing to feel him inside her body on a daily basis. To thwart him from consuming her mind, she found a mystery man on the internet who called himself “Bruce.” As she chatted with him, she imagined him as “Bruce,” the sweetheart butler from La Fontaine Hotel who had given her a rose and tended to her every whim. She and Bruce would chat often, but they did not exchange photos or video pictures. They played with themselves, exchanging savory details and coming separately, but to each other's joy.

Today she walked away from the computer, feeling tired and forlorn. Her lover had taken her several times in her mind, through the fantasy world they'd created, but she had never seen him in person. Her body ached for a human touch and she felt it reaching out to him. Her mouth cried out to be kissed. But it was a fantasy she knew would never come true.

She got out her toy and played with it. It felt so good on
her hotness as she inserted it deep inside herself, thinking of Deacon as his face continued to loom before her. She felt the passion build into a full climax and she let it flow. After a few minutes she bathed herself, carefully put her toy away, and snuggled into bed. She turned over on her side, sliding the pillow between her legs to cradle it, and drifted off to sleep.

Her mind did not shut off. Her passion passed over the lines into her dream world . . . a world she loved and waited for every night.
Deacon was there waiting for her. He took her in his arms and kissed her deeply. She loved him and loved being with him. He fondled her breasts and skimmed his rough shadow of a beard across her nipples, nibbling and kissing. She melted into his arms as his tongue playing with hers, his hands moving over her body with sensitivity and firmness. He toyed with her and rubbed her body with his, moving her into positions he knew she loved. This dream lover of hers was taking her to places she never thought possible in the real world. His hardness was full of precum. She licked it. She loved it. She loved how it made her feel. He had it so stiff and hot for her. She sucked it, feeling the hard swollen end with her tongue. She licked the shaft all the way down to the end and up again, making it wetter and harder than ever before. He took charge of the situation by pulling away from her hot, wet mouth. He was not going to let this be a wham, bam, thank you ma'am situation. He was going to thoroughly enjoy this love feast and she was the main course. He cupped her face in his hands as he kissed her again and again, her mouth wet with his juice, his smell—his taste, his touch took her to a new world. He went down to her passion pit and licked it wildly, then back to her clitoris, where he spent time sucking it, licking it, and going to the entrance, where he tongued her deeply, watching her move, her passions growing, her hips swaying to his rhythm, his movements, his commands. He knew she was ready and so was he.

He placed her on her knees and entered her from behind. The walls of her vagina awakened to his fullness. She felt him at the end, all her nerves awake and ready for him. He felt her body, her wonderful passion parts that he massaged so well. He pumped into her gently at first, then sped up as she coached him, her body moving rhythmically back and forth, sideways, her hips swaying to the rhythm set by him. She reached underneath and played with his hard, filled testes, moving them, squeezing them. Then she touched herself, wetting her toy before she inserted it inside his ass, gently. He moaned and she screamed as he went deeper into her. It felt incredible.

She felt him speed up and felt his hardness grow larger, filling her insides, her mind, her body, all in one passionate spot. He lifted her up higher and went deeper yet as he groaned her name passionately and came with such a force that it made him fall on her chest, her body shaking as she also came. He took her in his arms, holding on to her as he brushed her hair from her face, kissing her tenderly while wiping the love sweat from her lovely face. He kissed her again and again while he held on to her.

When she awoke to the darkness, she felt as if he'd really been there. She even thought she could almost sense his fragrance lingering. She was on her tummy, her rear was in the air . . . and her sheets were wet. She lay back down, thinking about her dream lover. She smiled then and drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

She awoke the next morning, remembering the dream she had. It felt so real she had to touch herself again. She mentally pictured Deacon as he was in the dream, his face, his expressions, his smile, the dark hair, and his deep-set eyes with the dark eyebrows protecting and shielding them. “Hunting eyes,” her father used to call them. Everything about him tantalized her. She closed her eyes and pictured him again, walking right
up to her, grabbing her around the waist, and kissing her with his strong and demanding mouth. She melted and her heart ached for him as she wondered to herself,
Why has he been so distant at work? Why hasn't he called after work?
There had been no connections at all since their Paris trip, no texts, no emails, nothing. She decided she would confront him as soon as she saw him at work. She would corner him in an office or even a closet if she had to, wherever she could grab a moment with him. But right now, she was sexually hungover. She touched her passion part and it was still stimulated from the darn dream. She was wet like she had just come, but she was so hot that she knew she hadn't. She reached for her toy and placed it inside herself. It felt so good. She moaned and knew that she needed this. As a matter of fact, she was going to need a lot of this before the feelings would go away.

It had been a long time since she had been with a man, since France, she thought. She loved being with men, especially Deacon. She closed her eyes for a moment and could almost feel him there with her again. She rubbed her breasts till her nipples were hard, pinching them, making them hurt . . . a good hurt. Her passion pit was tingling, waiting, and wanting. Her toy was not doing the job. She got her other toy and it massaged her well as it vibrated. She rubbed herself with it, wanting a man badly. She felt like dressing and going out to find one. She inserted the toy inside her, turned it on, and felt herself float away on a cloud of passion and wonder.

Before her eyes, Deacon appeared. His lips touched hers and his hand replaced the vibrator.
She felt her climax soon approaching and she enjoyed the fantasy immensely. Afterward, she tidied up and got ready for work.

She arrived at work on a mission to track him down. She found him in the kitchenette.

“You've been naughty,” he said to her, his eyes hard.

“Yes, want to help next time?” she asked timidly with a smile.

“Of course, but first you must tell me about your night. I want details of what you did and how.”

London sat down, whispering discreetly as she explained her sexual cravings for him, how he stimulated her thoughts and desires, how she'd dreamed about him loving her, their bodies and souls becoming one together. He smiled at her animated stories and kissed her tenderly. She melted at his touch. She knew he could take her and she wanted him desperately, but not here.
Not at work, not again
, she told herself as she attempted to restrain her animalistic hunger for him.

“Can we meet later?” she asked in a low, steamy voice, batting her lashes innocently.

“Sure.” He agreed and invited her to his place.

She was delighted as she floated through the remainder of her day.

After work, she raced home to indulge in a luxurious bubble bath. As she soaked, she pondered why Deacon had been avoiding her at work, and why he was all get-up-and-go now. Tonight she was determined to get some answers. She dressed in black lace lingerie, silky stockings and stilettos, covering her bedroom attire with only a heavy black trench coat and a scarf. She felt fabulous and couldn't wait to be with him.

As she stood before his door, memories of their first time together came flooding back. She smiled as the chills and tingles returned, overwhelming her. He opened the door and she untied the sash on her coat, revealing her lacy teddy, which barely hid the fact that she had no panties on. He was astonished and pleasantly surprised as he pulled her inside. He kissed her again and again. She actually felt suspended in
midair. Her own world dissipated and in place of it was the one man who had completely captured her heart.

She smiled and spoke boldly in a low, sexy voice. “Are you going to fuck me or what?”

“No. You're going to fuck me,” he said sternly with that sinister smile. He sat down on the love seat, his pride emerging as he stroked it.

“You want this? You're going to have to earn it,” he said with a grin. She walked away and over to his sound system, flipping through his musical selections and choosing some sexy dancing songs. She loved to dance. She had taken classes with her friends long ago and had the hang of the erotic moves that strippers use. She discovered it was a great way to get in shape and harder to do that it looked.

She danced all around him, using her scarf to touch and tease him, peeling off her stockings as she bent over, her sex in full view, then taking off her teddy and placing it under his nose before pulling it away. She watched his maleness hardening and she could see precum forming at the end. She approached him and put her legs on each side of him, easing in slowly for a lap dance where she could take him inside of her. But to her surprise, he pushed her off.

“Not just yet, my darling. You must sit in front of me first and masturbate.”

She blushed.

“Oh, now you're getting bashful? Okay,” he said as he got up and started to put his hardness back into his pants.

“No, No,” she pleaded. “I will.”

She took her toy out of her purse and licked it for a moment, staring deep into his eyes before placing it by her clit. It was already waiting for her to release the emotion. She inserted it in her hot spot and got it wetter. She moved it back and forth as he
sat watching, his hardness mimicking her motions . . . watching, waiting for its turn and the thrill that it was temporarily being denied. She kept her eyes on him, watching him massage himself up and down. He went in rhythm with her and she felt her passion building stronger and stronger. She moaned and moved, wanting him to invade her. With her eyes she invited him to fuck her, but he let her take herself as he watched. They both came together, separated only by the awkward empty space.

He smiled as he walked over to her and kissed her strongly on the mouth. He touched her wetness with his hands full of cum. He rubbed them on her already wet spots. She moved away from him teasingly, feeling slightly exploited. He pulled her back and continued to kiss her.

“Oh, baby, you have no idea how that turns me on.”

He played with her toy, putting it inside her, taking it out, and touching her clit with it, watching her get turned on yet again.

“Please take me again,” she begged.

He placed his fingers on her lips. “Sh . . . ,” he whispered as he kissed her again and again.

She felt him come alive, his maleness hardening again as they kissed. He put his finger inside her, massaging her, taunting her, taking it out, and touching her tenderness, rubbing it. He went down, kissing the most sensitive part of her and flicking his tongue back and forth across it. She moaned with delight, trying to get some rhythm out of him, some form or something inside her, moving her body so his hand would be next to hers, urging him to invade her with his one finger again. It was all she would need right now for her to enjoy another huge climax. But no, he held her at bay while she slowly lost her mind, crossing over to the dark side again. She would do anything for pleasure and he was sure of it.

He took her toy in and out, turning the vibrator on and off. She screamed with delight, knowing she would soon be reaching her orgasm again. He left it there as he flipped her over and reached for her stockings, which he used to tie her hands to the bedposts. She wasn't thrilled about this, but she remembered her French trip and what a turn-on it was. She hated that she could no longer touch herself.

She reminisced about how wonderful it had felt, the mix of pain and pleasure, but she still didn't like the restraints. He put lubricant on himself and rubbed it across her ass.

“My dear, you're going to be fucked harder than when I took you in Paris.”

He placed it by the opening of her anus and slowly entered her, despite her pleading “No”s. She squirmed and tried to avoid it as much as she could, but it was no use. He was determined to enter her there and he did so slowly, turning on the vibrator and enjoying the feeling at the end of his swollen hardness. She groaned as he pushed inside, deeper and harder, and still she resisted within herself as he pressed on. Finally, she relaxed, welcoming his fullness. As she did, her body shook into climax and they exploded together. She sank into the bed, completely exhausted. He pulled out of her and untied her arms and held her tight against his chest. She snuggled deep in his arms. He smiled as he touched her face and kissed her. She realized that she trusted him to the depths of her soul, and she knew he was the one for her, now and forever.

She did not want to wear out her welcome, so she decided to head home. She bundled back up in her black trench coat as he scolded her for traipsing around half-naked in the cold. She giggled as she kissed him good night.