This weeks Friday Feature comes from another lovely new friend from Twitter Tracie Podger.
Tracie PodgerHi, I’m Tracie and currently live in Kent, UK with my husband and a rather obnoxious cat called George. In between being a Padi Scuba Diving Instructor and having a full time job, I’ve managed to, so far, write four books with a fifth in the planning stages. I’ve been so fortunate to have dived some of the wonderful oceans of the world and it’s only under the water, that I feel the most relaxed.
Thank you for giving your time to read my book and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I loved writing it. If you would like to know more, please feel free to contact me.
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Fallen Angel – Chapter One
It was in a small room in an office block in Washington, DC, that my life changed, forever.
Sam, my best friend, was sitting at his desk, occupied by a call. Whilst waiting, I headed to the kitchen, some coffee was needed to get me over the jet lag I was feeling.
It was the oddest thing; I simply felt someone behind me and my heart quickened in fear. There had been no sound, no footsteps or the noise of the door opening. My hands gripped the counter before I slowly turned around. I found myself looking into the darkest eyes I had ever seen, the blackness took my breath away. It took all my strength to draw my eyes away to look at his face and then he smiled, unblinking at me. He was so close, I could feel his breath and I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe.
He was tall, over 6’ and powerfully built, his shoulders well defined in his suit. His black hair was cropped short at the sides, slightly longer and spiked on top. He had a little stubble around a strong jaw line and a slight crook to his nose. If anyone could be described as perfect, it was this man.
I guessed him to be in his thirties with just the right amount of laughter lines around his eyes to soften the intensity of him, slightly. As he looked at me, his eyes seemed to grow darker. I felt a heat creep up my neck and my stomach knotted. The air around me felt charged and sparked with electricity and yet he did not say one word.
“There you are,” I heard. “I’ve been looking for you, are you ready to go?”
I looked over to Sam and found my mouth so dry I couldn’t speak, so just nodded. He slowly turned to Sam.
“Oh, good evening, Mr. Stone. I didn’t realise you were working late,” Sam stammered.
“Always, Sam. Now, introduce me to your friend,” he replied, his voice low and commanding.
“Brooke, this is Mr. Stone, owner of Vassago. Mr. Stone, my friend from England, Brooke Stiles. She arrived this morning, to stay with me.”
Mr. Stone turned back to me, a slow smile creeping across his face and he held his hand out. I took it and as his hand closed around mine, a thousand images flooded my brain, too fast to be able to see any one of them, but it unnerved me greatly.
“Pleased to meet you, Miss Stiles. I look forward to seeing more of you,” he said, those dark eyes boring straight through me.
“Umm, pleased to meet you too, Mr. Stone,” I replied.
With that, he let go of my hand, nodded to Sam and walked away. Finally, I let out the breath I was holding and felt my legs start to shake. Glancing up at Sam, he was smiling with a quizzical look on his face.
“Wow, what just happened there?” Sam asked.
“Oh my God, Sam, I don’t know. I came to make some coffee and just felt someone behind me, I turned around and there he was, just staring at me,” I replied.
“Come on honey, let’s go searching. I’m starving and you can tell me all about it.”
Ever since I can remember, I’ve felt like I was searching for something. There was something missing from my life, a piece of a jigsaw to fit before I was complete. I’d tried to explain to Sam many times, but I had no idea what it was I was looking for. It became our joke, instead of saying let’s go out it was, let’s go searching.
We linked arms and left the building, Sam leading the way. We planned to meet his boyfriend, Scott, for a meal before jet lag finally took hold of me. The restaurant was lovely, the food good, but I felt so unsettled. I couldn’t place what was wrong with me and putting it down to the journey, I just tried to enjoy my evening with my two favourite guys.
I had missed Sam so much, we’d been best friends since we were five years old. I remembered that I’d cried and clung to him at the airport when he’d left the UK. Thank God for email and Facebook, a cheap way to keep in contact. It had been wonderful to hear about Sam settle into the Washington life and to see his relationship with Scott bloom. More importantly, it was great to see his career take off at Vassago Corp, one of the largest property development companies in the USA.
Sam told Scott that we had bumped into Mr. Stone in the kitchen and Scott wanted the details. It seemed Mr. Stone was a bit of an enigma, closeted away in his penthouse office. He would be seen wandering around occasionally and the most people would receive would be a nod and maybe a smile.
“Oh Scott, it was so strange. One minute I was there on my own making coffee and next, I just felt him behind me. The hair on my arms stood to attention. I didn’t hear him come in the room at all, but bloody hell, Scott, looking in his eyes is like staring straight at the devil himself,” I told him, the memory provoking a shiver. “I’ve never felt anything so intense in all my life.”
“Honey, pray, tell us more?” Sam asked, dramatically.
“Well, I don’t know how to explain it. It was like he just absorbed me, he didn’t speak words but his eyes spoke volumes,” I said.
We finished our meal and stifling a yawn, we made the short walk back to the apartment. The guys lived in Columbia Heights, not far from the Tivoli Theatre, a wonderful, diverse area of DC, full of restaurants and colourful bars. After walking out of a ten-year relationship back home, Sam and a holiday in America was just what I needed.
That night I dreamt of Mr. Stone, or to be more precise, I dreamt of his eyes, how dangerous and alluring they were at the same time. What puzzled me was that I wanted to see him again. The thing that disturbed me, the thing I had not told Sam or Scott was this feeling of familiarity I felt. I knew this man yet I’d never met him before. Something deep inside me confirmed what I felt, that I really did know this man.
***
I woke late the following morning, my body clock still adjusting to the time difference and stiff from sleeping in a strange bed. Sam had already left for work. I knew that he hadn’t been able to get much time off during my visit, but I didn’t mind. I enjoy my own company and it would give me time to think about my situation back home. It was only a couple of weeks ago that I’d ended the relationship with Michael and needed to get my head together. Being with my best friend and some time on my own would help me do that. More so, what I needed was a gym. Pounding away on the treadmill was my way of getting rid of all the stress that had been building up for the past couple of years. I sent a text to Sam asking if there was a local gym I could use.
Sam called me straight back. “Honey, there’s a gym in the basement of my office, I’ll call reception and get you a pass. Maybe I’ll meet you.”
It sounded like a good plan to me, so I packed my gym kit and made my way to his office. I signed in with security and was given a pass and instructions of where to go.
I knew Sam was on the tenth floor and there appeared to be at least another three or four above that. Having to stop once to ask directions, I eventually found the changing rooms and put on my workout gear. A mile run would clear my stuffy head and loosen my limbs. I liked to keep fit and the solitude of running alone gave me time to think.
I entered the gym. Sam had not arrived yet and focussing on the treadmills, without catching anyone’s eye, I made my way over. There were a couple of people already there, getting a lunchtime workout and plugging in my iPod, I started with a gentle jog increasing the speed until I was at a comfortable run. The treadmills faced a wall of mirrors, something I normally hated. I didn’t like to look at myself, sweaty and panting.
However, looking in those mirrors I was able to scan the room. There was a range of high tech equipment, running, rowing, weights and in the far corner a boxing ring. Surrounding it, punch bags and speed balls. Kick boxing was something I had learned to do so I watched as a couple of guys warmed up, ready for a workout. I noticed him straight away of course. Although his back was facing me, I knew it was him. Stone, in shorts and a vest top, his hands bandaged and his hair already slick with sweat. His bulging arms glistened and his vest had stuck to his back. I stumbled a little, losing my step and slowed down the treadmill. I had taken a machine in the far corner in the hope of not being noticed by anyone and was now glad of that.
I watched as he pounded the punch bag, he obviously knew what he was doing. He looked every much the professional boxer, skipping around while his friend held the bag steady, only just though. He hit the bag with such force his friend would stumble a little having to correct himself quickly as another succession of punches found its target. They carried this on for a little while and then I watched him stop and raise his vest to wipe the sweat from his eyes.
He had the most amazing body, his stomach taut, muscular and when he turned around his whole back was covered in one large tattoo. It looked like an angel, a body with wings. Glancing around, I noticed several other women and saw that all eyes were on him.
I tried to concentrate on my run, closing my eyes briefly so as not to be distracted by the image of him. I was out of luck, he was imprinted behind my eyelids. Hearing him laugh, a low throaty noise, I watched as he climbed into the ring. A third, older man, laced their gloves and the two friends boxed, pounding away and making me wince.
They laughed, taunted each other and I found that I couldn’t take my eyes off them. Luckily at no time had he looked my way, so focussed on what he was doing and I managed to get through my run. The machine beeped telling me that my mile was up and it started to slow, to warm down and come to a stop. I leant forward on the rails and steadied my breathing, although I doubted my rapid heart beat was just because of my run. I suspected it was also the effect of watching Stone.
“Miss Stiles?” I heard.
I turned to see him standing next to the machine, again he had managed to sneak up on me without a sound, making me start. I looked around and noticed the other women watching me, wondering who I was and why did I get his attention and not them. It was obvious that they were not here to workout, their perfectly made up faces and not a bead of sweat on their brows gave them away. Taking my towel, I wiped it across my face, conscious that I looked hot and sweaty. I watched a bead of sweat roll from his forehead, cross his temple and I wanted to reach out, trap it with my finger and taste it. I blinked, rapidly, shocked at the thought.
“Hello again, Mr. Stone. I was waiting for Sam but I guess he worked through lunch,” I blurted out. Why did this man make me feel so uncomfortable? “Do you work out here often?” Oh, what a stupid thing to say!
His eyebrows shot up and a smirk played on his lips. “Everyday,” he replied.
I fidgeted, eager to leave, wanting to get away from that stare. “Um, well, I guess I ought to take a shower, nice to meet you again,” I said and scurried away. Without looking, I knew he was watching me leave.
I stood under the shower lost in my thoughts. “How do I know you?” I whispered.
Dressed, I found my phone and noticed a text from Sam, he would have to work through lunch, he was sorry, an unexpected meeting but would catch up with me later. I decided to take a walk and leaving my gym bag behind in a locker, I headed off to see some of the sights of Washington.
I was having a lovely time, that was until the black Range Rover pulled alongside me. It had blacked out windows, chrome finishes and I had no idea of its occupants. I was standing on the pavement wanting to take a photograph when the car had pulled over. The rear door opened and I stepped back, assuming its occupants wanted to exit and to be honest, was a bit annoyed they had to choose this exact spot.
I moved slightly away and raised my camera concentrating on the picture I wanted to take when I felt the air around me change, become dense. Looking to one side, he was there. Stone had exited the car so silently and was standing beside me.
“Brooke, can you get in the car?” he asked, his hand holding the door open.
I looked at him, stunned. “Excuse me?” I replied, shocked at his request.
“Can you get in the car, please? I would like to take you to lunch.”
Lunch? What planet was this man on? How on earth did he know I was here? I wouldn’t flatter myself to think he was following me but I don’t believe in coincidence. I stood my ground, though he still unnerved me.
“Thank you for the invitation, I’m sure you have better things to do. I’m sorry, Mr. Stone, but I’ve already eaten.”
I watched a slow smile cross his face and those eyes bore into me. I was rooted to the spot and I got the feeling that Stone was a man not turned down very often. He did, thankfully, seem a little amused by it.
“No you haven’t, but that’s okay, you don’t want lunch so instead we’ll have dinner.”
Before I could even reply, he turned, got back in the car and it moved away. In all my thirty years I don’t think anyone has spoken to me that way, demanded my time and attention and made me feel so totally confused. I needed to speak to Sam but he was busy, I left a message for him to call me back when he could. My tour of the city didn’t seem so appealing anymore. Fuck you, Mr. Stone, I thought. He had just seriously spoilt my day but somehow I knew I would go to dinner. He intrigued me and I racked my brain to remember where I knew him from. I also wanted to know what those images, the ones that had flashed through my mind, were.
Making my way home, Sam returned my call. “Hey honey, I’ve just received a call from Mr. Stone himself, can you believe that. He asked me if we had plans as he wants to take you to dinner tonight.”
“Jesus, Sam. I went to the gym and he was there, boxing. It was just so embarrassing, he came over and I’m standing there all red-faced and sweaty. Next thing, I’m on the street, taking a photo and a Range Rover pulls up alongside me. He demands I get in the car, he’s taking me to lunch.”
“What did you say?”
“I told him I’d already eaten. I’ve met the man for a couple of minutes and now he wants to take me to lunch.” I then recount the rest of the story about the dinner invitation.
“What’s up with this man, Sam? There’s something really strange about him.”
“You know what, I’ve only met him a couple of times and I’ve been here three years. No-one really knows that much about him. I mean, he’s often in the society pages but other than that, I don’t know. Exciting though, isn’t it?” he said.
I don’t know about exciting, he was very compelling and attractive of course but there were undercurrents of such power it was scary. I was reminded of a film, I couldn’t remember the name. Al Paccino played a powerful businessman who turned out to be the devil himself. Arriving back at Sam’s I opened the door and noticed an envelope on the floor. It was hand written, addressed to me, so I opened it and took out a small white card.
Brooke, Dinner, Seven o’clock, I’ll send a car. Robert Stone
I flopped on the sofa, I needed a beer. So his name was Robert. Somehow I didn’t see him as a Robert, perhaps Damien would have been more appropriate. I would go, I thought I could just ignore the knock on the door when ‘the car’ arrived. I would go because something in the back of my mind niggled at me, this feeling of familiarity I felt. Without realising, I spent an awful amount of time getting ready, making sure my black hair shone and my makeup was perfect. I had selected a fitted red dress to wear, something bold to give me the confidence I needed.
At seven I heard a buzz on the intercom, not one minute before or after. I walked down to the main door and opened it to find a man, not Stone, in a grey suit, the black Range Rover at the curb. It was the same man I’d seen him spar with earlier. He was as muscular, but with blond, short hair and blue eyes, the total opposite of Stone.
“Miss Stiles, would you like me to take your coat?” he said, as he escorted me to the car.
“Thank you, but I can carry it,” I replied. I felt agitated, more at myself for accepting this dinner invitation. As much as I wanted to go, I also didn’t, it was so confusing.
I couldn’t place his accent. Although it was American, I thought there was a slight Irish twang to it. He opened the rear door and not another word was spoken until we pulled outside a brick building with just a gloss black door and a gold handle. It didn’t look like a restaurant and I hoped to God this wasn’t his house. I sat until the car door was opened for me and before I took the last step up to the door, it was also opened.
“Miss Stiles, please follow me,” said yet another suited, rather formal looking guy.
Inside, the building was obviously some kind of exclusive restaurant. Rich, brown coloured walls, matching leather chairs around tables laid with crisp white linen and silver cutlery. I was led to an alcove, an area slightly away from the main seating and screened off by planting.
It was a truly wonderful place and obviously very expensive. As I approached he stood, those black eyes staring at me. He nodded to the concierge and pulled the chair out, his hand on my back, guiding me. I wanted to recoil at his touch, not that it was horrible but I could feel a searing heat where his hand had been and a tingling all over my flesh. It unsettled me. He gestured to a glass, already filled with red wine. I took a large sip to steady my nerves.
“I’m glad you came, Brooke,” he said.
“I’m not sure you gave me much choice, Mr. Stone,” I replied.
He laughed a little, “Please, call me Robert.”
“Well then, Robert, thank you for the invitation. This is an amazing place,” I said, looking around. He simply smiled.
“I’ve taken the liberty of ordering for you, I trust you don’t mind,” he told me.
To be honest, yes I did mind but I didn’t want to offend any more than I had to, so I smiled my thanks.
“You seem nervous,” he said.
Trying to hold his gaze, “Well, I, um,” I stumbled, not finding the words to explain I had never done this before, met someone for a couple of minutes and then agreed to dinner.
“Tell me about yourself,” he said, cutting short my answer.
I was a little unsure what to say. How much does one divulge to a complete stranger, one that not only intrigued but also unsettled me.
“Well, I live in the UK obviously, in Kent. I’m here on holiday and like Sam, I work in marketing but for an agency in London. Sam and I have been friends since we were little and I haven’t seen him for a while so thought I would come and visit.”
I really didn’t want to go into too much detail about why I was here, I tried to keep the conversation light.
“So where are you really from? Your black hair, blue eyes and fair skin, that’s not typically British,” he asked, leaning slightly towards me.
“I don’t know.” I answered, uncomfortable with his scrutinising of me. “Perhaps there’s a little Irish on my father’s side. I must admit, I look nothing like my parents,” I replied, with a nervous chuckle.
The whole time I spoke he looked at me. Even when our starter was laid in front of us, he picked up his fork and ate without taking his eyes from mine. I found at first it was too hard to look back at him, to hold his stare but the more I spoke, the more I found I couldn’t look anywhere else.
It was as if there was nothing else, just this table and Robert Stone. Thinking back, I don’t believe I could even hear anything around me. I didn’t notice the waiter remove my plate, replace it with another, replenish my glass. It was as if time did not exist, just the moment.
Before I realised, we had finished our meal. I can’t tell you what I ate but I know that I’d not stopped talking and he had hardly said a word. How had he managed to get me to do that? Being a reserved person, I don’t share what’s in my head but there I was, telling this stranger my life story. I skipped the bits about why I was in DC but told him about my family, my job, my hobbies, pretty much everything else. It was as if his stillness, his quietness, could draw me out.
At some point I seemed to run out of things to say and the air stilled around me. It was suffocating and I had an urge to leave. Perhaps he saw my discomfort because he folded his napkin and placed it on the table.
“Would you like to leave?” he asked, I nodded.
He held out his hand and led me from the restaurant. It hadn’t dawned on me that there had been no bill, we’d simply walked straight out to the waiting car. For the second time, I slid across the black leather seats and Robert spoke quietly to the driver.
“I would like to show you something, if you’re not in a rush to return home,” he said when he got into the car.
We drove a short distance to the office where Sam worked, the building Robert owned. Arriving, we exited the car and walked into the foyer, past the security guards who seemed to stand to attention. With his hand on my back, Robert guided me into the lift. Again I felt that heat where his hand touched and that tingle across my skin. I noticed a small key pad and watched as his fingers keyed in a code and the lift ascended, beyond the floors numbered.
The doors slid open into a reception so very different to the rest of the building. The floor was a dark oak, a glass, abstract sculpture stood in the middle of the area and beyond a single, large door. Taking a key, he opened it and we entered a penthouse apartment. I was not ready for this. I had no idea I would be taken back to the place I assumed he lived in, but I was totally blown away, it was stunning. The walls were a stark white, a large black leather sofa dominated the lounge area and a sound system hung on the wall. Walking to it, he pressed a button and music flowed through the whole apartment.
One wall was completely glass, slightly tinted and I walked across and looked out. The view was simply amazing. Washington was spread out below me, the lights of the buildings, traffic, the White House in the distance, all shone in the night. I could see for miles.
Robert moved behind me, again so silently it took me by surprise to see his reflection in the glass. I felt like his prey and my nerves were on alert. My heart hammered in my chest and my breath caught in my throat. He stood directly behind me, I felt an immense heat radiating from him and a strange, magnetic pull towards him. It was as if my muscles took on a will of their own and my body needed to be close to his.
“Thank you for spending your evening with me,” he whispered, his breath caressing the side of my neck. “Do you like the view? This is what I wanted to show you.”
He described some of the landmarks, leaning so close, his arm pointing over my shoulder. All the time I looked at his reflection, at his mouth. I wanted to taste him, to feel his lips on mine and it troubled me to feel, to think that way.
“It’s wonderful, do you live here?” I asked, forcing my eyes away from him, to the view.
“Not permanently, I have a house outside the city, Great Falls. Perhaps you would like to visit.”
“Can I ask you something?” I said
“Sure.”
“Why did you invite me to dinner? I mean, you only met me for a couple of minutes really. It’s a bit odd, don’t you think?”
“Not odd enough for you to refuse,” he replied, unsmiling. “I met you, I wanted to know more about you.”
We fell silent, looking at the view below. He lifted his hand and moved some hair from my shoulder exposing my neck. Lowering his head, he placed a small kiss on the side, his eyes meeting mine in the reflection of the glass, a question in them.
I should have been outraged but I wasn’t, I just felt this immediate attraction to him. A fire raged in the pit of my stomach, my heart missed a beat, fluttering in my chest and I felt my legs start to shake. I wanted to lean back into him, to feel his body against mine. All the time I faced the glass wall with him behind me, watching his reflection.
“I want you, Brooke,” he softly said. I couldn’t answer, I felt entranced and all rational thought left my brain, leaving nothing but an overwhelming desire for him. I gently nodded my head.
He unzipped my dress and it fell, crumpled to my feet leaving me standing in just my underwear and shoes. I stepped out of the dress and wanted to turn to face him but he held my hips, keeping me still. With one hand he ran his fingers up my spine sending shivers through my body. His hands travelled over my shoulders and down my arms, holding them to my waist while his lips trailed a path from my neck to my ear. I wanted to reach up, to run my hand through his hair, to touch him, but all the time he held me still.
A small moan escaped my lips and I felt him smile at my response. A burn started between my legs, my body was aching with desire for him. One arm circled my waist and with the other he ran his fingers down my throat, over the top of my breasts and down my stomach.
“Do you know what I want to do, Brooke? I want to watch you come and then I want to fuck you.”
Although the words were harsh they were said with a strange softness. His hand moved to mine, covering it and he ran both to the top of my panties. He slid our fingers under the material. All the time, his head was just above my shoulder, looking at me in the glass.
I held his gaze and swallowed hard, licking my lips in anticipation of what was to come. Our fingers brushed across my clitoris, gently teasing, his fingers circling and squeezing, guiding mine. I gasped, the throbbing escalated with every movement he made. My legs began to shake and I leant back into him for support. His other hand cupped my breast, rubbing across the nipple.
He pushed my hand further down, using his finger to push mine inside me. I was so hot, so wet. It was erotic, both of us inside me at the same time and I cried out, our fingers slickly entwined. He took my hand, trailing our fingers over my body and he raised them to my mouth, running my finger over my lips.
“Suck,” he whispered.
I opened my lips slightly allowing him to push my finger into my mouth and I tasted that sweet, metallic taste of me. His eyes never left mine and no matter whether I wanted to or not, I could not look away, I could not close mine. I was totally devoured by him.
Robert grabbed my shoulders and turned me so quickly I nearly lost my balance. His lips were hard on mine, his tongue forcing its way into my mouth. His hands gripped the sides of my face and he held me to him. I raised my hands to his head, running my fingers through his hair.
I could feel his erection pushing into my stomach and I wanted him as much as he clearly wanted me. As he stepped back his teeth pulled on my lower lip, sending a delectable pain shooting through me.
Looking down at me, he smiled and took my hand as he started to lead me to his bedroom. I reached down to remove a shoe.
“Leave them on,” he said.
Walking across the lounge, he opened a door into a bedroom, the only furniture being a bed occupying the centre of the room with two small tables either side, glass walls on one side and two doors on the other. I turned to face him and reaching up to undo the buttons, I slowly slid his shirt from his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. I ran my hands over his chest, he was so well defined, sculptured even, with a faint scar running down his side.
My fingers ran down his stomach to the top of his jeans, I undid his belt, pulling it from the loops, then the buttons and the zip. Allowing them to slide down, he kicked off his shoes. Stepping back I was able to look at him.
As much as he intimidated me, I wanted to take him all in, every curve of his body, every hair and commit it to memory. Yet as I did, I realised, I already knew it. I kissed his chest, gently bit his nipples and let my tongue travel over his stomach. His hands wrapped in my hair, guiding me.
My fingers, either side of his very tight shorts, hooked under and I pulled them down. His erection sprang free and my hand caressed him, feeling the silkiness of his skin as my nails scraped gently against him.
I listened to his breathing change, become more rapid, raspier and it pleased me to hear the effect I had on him. He pulled my face towards him, his mouth found mine and he kissed me hard. He undid my bra, letting it fall from my shoulders and his mouth travelled over my breasts to the nipples. He sucked and bit one then the other, marking my skin.
My hands were in his short hair, my fingers digging into his skull as the most intense feelings of desire flooded through me. Feelings far stronger than any I’d felt before. Just his hands on my body were enough to make my legs shake and my stomach flip.
He walked me backwards towards the bed and picked me up. Putting me gently down, my head resting on the pillows, he moved to the end and climbed on. Removing one shoe, he brought my foot to his lips, kissing the arch, my ankle and all the way up the inside of my leg, stopping at the top of my thigh. His mouth travelled down my other leg, removing the shoe and his teeth nipped my toes.
Moving up, over me, he hooked his fingers in my panties, pulling them down. His mouth was on my stomach, his tongue probing my navel, sliding down until it circled my clitoris. My hands gripped the bedding as his tongue flicked in and out of me while he gripped my hips, holding me still.
I wanted to arch my back, to force his tongue further in me. He brought me to the brink of an orgasm and then he bit me. At the same time as coming, the most exquisite pain shot through me, intensifying the feeling, every nerve ending burnt and I screamed out.
He moved above me, his legs forcing mine further apart and he reached over to the table. He ripped open a foil packet with his teeth and without taking his eyes from mine he placed a condom on himself. Supporting himself on his arms, his hands held mine above my head, the tip of his cock just brushing against me. I wanted him in me and I raised my hips, every time I did, he moved just out of reach. All the time his dark eyes bored into me, straight to my soul.
“Do you want me to fuck you, Brooke?” he whispered.
Oh God, did I! “Yes,” I said as he gently rubbed against me, tormenting me.
“Look at me,” he demanded as he slammed into me.
He completely filled me and I cried out, he stilled before moving again, so slowly yet so deep inside me. He was totally in control of my body, my mind, he decided when to bring me to the brink of an orgasm and then stop. It was terrible and wonderful at the same time. I wanted to just let go but he wouldn’t let me. I was totally at his mercy and I loved it.
He moved in and out of me, picking up the pace until neither of us could hold on anymore. His mouth crashed onto mine and our teeth clashed, his tongue forcing its way in as we came. For the first time in the whole evening I watched him lose control, unravel a little. It was only for a spit second but I’d seen it. He released my hands and rested his forehead on mine, as he tried to slow his breathing, with his eyes closed. I felt his heartbeat racing and I wrapped my arms around him, holding him to me. It was a moment of vulnerability that I got the immediate impression he did not show often.
He rolled off me, pulling me onto my side and facing each other, we lay for a while. He removed the condom and then wrapping one arm around me, he stroked the side of my face. It was a tender moment and when I looked into his eyes I got a fleeting glimpse of a lost soul.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “Will you stay the night?”
I closed my eyes for a moment and then reality hit. What on earth had I just done? Having sex with someone on a first date, staying the night, was not something I did, normally. There was a slight wretched tone to his voice when he asked and I knew for some reason, at this moment, he needed me.
He was intense, closed, and somehow I knew, trouble. But I wanted to comfort him, to have him fall asleep in my arms. It just felt the right thing to do.
“I need to text Sam,” I told him as I moved out of the bed.
I felt no awkwardness walking naked to where I had left my bag. I felt no embarrassment in him watching me as I sent a text, telling Sam I was fine and that I would see him in the morning. Turning the phone off, I returned to the bedroom, climbed back in the bed and snuggled into his arms.
“Robert, I’ve just had great sex with you,” I smiled. “I don’t know anything about you though. I don’t do this normally, I don’t sleep around. I have no idea what just happened there, I want you to know that,” I said.
“I know. So what do you want to know?” he replied.
“Well, tell me something about yourself.”
“I was born in London, my parents died when I was six or seven and I was sent to America to live with an old, mad, religious aunt I’d never met before,” he said.
“I spent time running away, living rough, getting in with the wrong people and doing very bad things, but I made a great deal of money along the way,” he continued.
I was stunned and he seemed shocked that he’d just told me that. I didn’t want to hear about the bad things but I felt terribly sorry for him. It must have been awful to have lost his parents, move countries and live with someone he didn’t know. Despite knowing he might be trouble, I wanted to know more. Something pulled at my heart, especially when I watched him drift into sleep. A peacefulness settled over his face and I truly believed the person I was looking at now was not the person many people got to see.
Despite never having done this before, I was glad for tonight, glad that I was here when he needed me. Glad that he shared a piece of himself that I guessed was normally hidden and with a smile on my face, I acknowledged the sex was the best I’d ever had.
Mags' Musings 