Authors: Sylvia Ryan
Friday Afternoon (14 page)
Mia
I’ve been looking forward to this Friday afternoon with unbridled anticipation. Because of the long Christmas holiday, Levi and I did not meet last week. He gave me his “no masturbating” mandate more than ten days ago, and I’m more than anxious to relieve my sexual frustration.
Pulling into the driveway, I see he’s arrived home first. For some reason, I need a deep breath. As I let it out, I already feel some relief from the tension that’s been riding me.
I walk in, expecting Levi to be chomping at the bit like I am. Instead, I find him relaxed and reading in the family room. When he looks up, the glint in his eyes tells me he’s in full Dom mode, serious and intense.
“Strip,” is the only word he gives me. I comply happily, even though I’m a little confused by his apathetic approach to this time alone. It’s been a long time in coming and somehow I expected more of a frenzy, with clothes ripping off and his hands all over me. I smile and my nipples pop to attention just thinking about it.
After I’ve taken my clothes off, I approach and kneel next to his chair. My heart races. I’m wired, like an addict waiting for her fix. The seconds tick in slow motion as he continues with his book. I feel the beginnings of disappointment take root in the pit of my stomach. This is not at all what I expected. I stick my lower lip out to pout a little bit, hoping he’ll see it, even though I know pouting never gets me what I want. Actually, it usually gets me the opposite. I suck my lip in fast and hope he hasn’t seen my pout.
A second later, Levi’s palm meets the top of my head. His fingers sift absently through my hair. I feel starved for his attention. I want to jump into his lap and rub myself all over him, like a cat. Showing super human amounts of restraint, I relax into his hand instead. After some time, the pop of the book snapping closed startles me. I’ve been lulled into complacency by the slight caresses of his hand through my hair. It startles me how little it takes for Levi to have me pliant, kneeling at his hand, and willing to do absolutely anything he wants.
I look up at him as he stands and moves to a bag resting on the coffee table.
“Stand up.” He removes a strap-like contraption.
I comply again and watch as he encircles my waist with the thing. I have no idea what it is until he pulls out the biggest vibrator I’ve ever seen. It’s the kind available at any store, marketed as a wand massager. He crooks a finger at me after he plugs it into the wall socket. I approach. My heart thunders.
“On your knees, spread them wide.”
I kneel on the hardwood floor.
“Face the chair.” He points to the one he was reclining in when I arrived. The vibrating wand starts at a low buzz and Levi’s arms encircle me from behind. He cradles the huge “massager” into the strappy thing he’s buckled around my waist.
After a few adjustments, he has it placed over my clit. The rounded head is so big, it spans the distance between my clit and my entrance.
Levi checks the placement a few times, lifts my chin so I’m looking directly at the recliner and walks away from me. I gasp as I realize he’s going to leave me on my knees, looking at him with this massive vibrator slowly eating away my self-control.
“You may come whenever you need to,” he says after he rests back into the easy chair. He picks up his book and begins reading again.
I don’t understand what’s going on. If he’d rather read all he has to do is tell me so. But I don’t question. I don’t voice a complaint.
I look down at the contraption he’s burdened me with.
“Look at me.” He hasn’t even looked up from his book, but he corrects me all the same.
I’m nearing an orgasm. It doesn’t take long to get me there. I’d been working myself up for this time alone with him most of the week. I moan my opposition to what’s happening here. The sound prompts Levi to place his book in his lap. He watches me intently. A slight smile plays over his face.
“You look a bit flummoxed,” he says with mock concern in his tone.
I moan again. My climax is imminent. The muscles in my thighs tremble as I try to remain still despite the burning urge to grind myself into the wand and come. After ten seconds, I do it anyway.
Sweet relief washes over me. I’ve trapped the wand between my body and the floor and the grip of the orgasm forces me rigid as it courses through me. My pussy seems to convulse forever. When it’s over, I feel some small satisfaction that I’ve cheated and gotten off when he probably wanted to tease me.
When it’s over, I’m out of breath. I look up at him with contented expectation and a little bit of brattiness thrown in for good measure. I’m satisfied. He’s not.
I receive a full ten seconds eye to eye while he smiles at me with a satisfied, powerful grin. His eyes are actually sparkling and I feel as if the devil himself looks at me through those eyes. He takes my breath away. Literally, I don’t breathe. We’re locked together, yet feet away from each other. It’s a moment in time I’ll remember until I pass from this earth. I’m his. Every part of me down to the last cell in his.
The vibrator turns uncomfortable now, kind of ticklish.
I’m coated with sweat. The hair at the nape of my neck sticks to the hot, moist skin there. I look at him, waiting for him to do something. Still seconds pass and then the vibration begins to feel good. I notice the evil spark of satisfaction in his expression when he sees the arousal begin to build. Within the span of a few seconds, I’m near coming again.
Then I experience a moment of clarity. He’s trying to win the fuck bet. A full smile explodes on his face as he sees the exact moment I put the whole scenario together.
Shit, shit, shit!
There is no way I’m losing this wager. I want to experience two men so badly. And I know this bet will be the only chance I ever get. I grit my teeth together and try to ignore the climax building exponentially at my core. The more I try to tense my muscles against the barrage, the closer I get to coming. And then, against my will, my body reacts to the stimulation.
“Fuck,” I wail, long and loud. My circuits overload and my whole body trembles. It’s too much sensation. Tears stream down my upward-turned face.
When it’s over, I’m in agony. I open my eyes and use them to plead. My mouth is too busy sobbing to ask.
Our gazes meet and lock.
“I win,” he says quietly. But he doesn’t move to relieve me of the contraption. I shrink away from the buzzing between my legs as much as I possibly can. I’m shaking visibly now.
“God, Levi, please.” I groan.
He ignores me, raises his book and begins reading.
I raise my hands to remove it myself.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“Levi, please!” I whine as my body abruptly spasms with another orgasm. I’m ready to push my face into the floor at his feet when the vibration stops. I roll from my knees to my side and curl up in a fetal position.
My body feels weird. I’m an elastic band that’s been stretched too far.
I’m a quivering Jell-O mold.
I’m so relaxed I begin to fall asleep.
Levi takes off the contraption, lifts me from the floor and moves to his chair, sitting with me snuggled in his lap. He hugs me and rocks me and then gathers up my hair, pulling it away from my neck and blowing on the moist skin. His lips are close to my ear, brushing my hair gently.
“Make sure you make arrangements for the girls to spend next weekend with your sister.” He looks down at me, eyes blazing. “I can’t wait for next Friday afternoon.”
Other Lyrical Books By Sylvia Ryan
Being Amber
New Atlanta Series, Book 1
Being Sapphire
New Atlanta Series, Book 2
About Sylvia Ryan
I know. I know. This was not the typical Sylvia Ryan book. There were no end-of- the-world-as-we-know-it scenarios or alpha male supermen. There wasn’t even new love. What you got was an already married couple in a long term relationship. Bleh! Am I right?
Well obviously, I wrote
Friday Afternoon
anyway. Mostly because I couldn’t
not
write it.
Simply put, I was inspired. And I wanted the reader to become inspired too. Going from drab to fab in the bedroom can be a game changer. It’s never too late to inject some exuberance, some experiments, some play– unless things are fabulous already, and in that case…nice going!
Everybody else, let’s get some clothes flying off, create some sizzle and recapture romance because stable and comfortable are great words to describe a marriage, but not so much when describing what goes on behind closed doors. How about different words like frenzied and wild instead?
For me,
Friday Afternoon
is a reminder that sometimes all it takes to re-kindle the passion is a small chunk of time and the willingness to try something new.
And the rewards…Oh God, the rewards…
Friday Afternoon
9781616504816
Copyright © September 2013, Sylvia Ryan
Edited by Antonia Tiranth
Book design by Lyrical Press, Inc.
Cover Art by Renee Rocco
First Lyrical Press, Inc. electronic publication: September 2013
Lyrical Press, Incorporated
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PUBLISHER'S NOTE:
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.
Published in the United States of America by Lyrical Press, Incorporated
Preview
Playing the Game by M.Q. Barber
Chapter 1
Three flights separated Alice’s apartment from the ground floor, but she didn’t notice a single step Friday morning. She raced the daylight, as if getting to work sooner would make it end sooner, too. Warp time to deposit her at the dinner with friends she’d anticipated for days. With Henry at the helm, dinner couldn’t be less than divine.
She emerged from the stairwell with a growing grin for the man crossing the lobby with sketchbook in hand. A suit and tie, sans coat, though it wasn’t eight yet and he didn’t have an office to go to. Did he not own jeans?
“Morning, Henry.”
“And a good morning to you, Alice. What a beautiful vision for the end of my walk.”
She shook her head. He could charm a thief out of robbing him and call it common courtesy. “Out people-watching?”
“Yes, the sunrise first–the sky offered up lovely hues this morning–and then the early morning joggers. Exercise for them, and an exercise in the movement of light and shadow for me. Now it’s time to see if Jay has slept through his alarm. Are you off to work, my dear?”
“Got it in one. What gave me away, the basic black pantsuit or the overloaded satchel?” She twirled, knowing he wouldn’t take her flirtation as an invitation. Henry had whatever he had with Jay.
The safest sexy guys I know.
“Simply the time of day and knowledge of your schedule,” Henry demurred, his gaze flicking over her form. “Though you do look quite striking in basic black. Have you any plans for the evening?”
He managed to look innocent asking. As if he hadn’t left a note on her door a week ago asking for the pleasure of her company.