….he’s coming…..June 15th.
A dark seduction into the forbidden and taboo. Can you deny it?
I step quietly behind her and clamp one hand on her mouth, then wrap my arm around her waist, pinning her arms down in an iron clad hold.
“Gemma,” I whisper against her ear, her skin moist and her hair dripping.
She screams against my hand as her body goes rigid.
“Sssshhhhh, I’m not going to hurt you,” I whisper gently.
Her chest is heaving, I can see her eyes are wide in terror, and her body begins to shake.
I press my front firmly to her back, knowing she can feel my erection pressed against her round cheeks. She jumps in my grip but I hold her tight.
“You know me.” She thrashes in my tight grip. “I’ve seen you watching me, Gemma. I’ve seen the hunger in your eyes, your need.” She freezes. “I want to take my hand from your mouth…if you promise not to scream.” She feverishly nods her head. “Good girl.” My hand loosens on her mouth but doesn’t leave it. She makes no sound, my hold turns to a capture of her jaw. I feel her hard intake of breath. I shift my face slightly and slide my tongue slowly up her cheek.
“Who are you?” she pants out, her heart pounding against my arm.
“Who do you think I am?” I whisper against her ear.
She doesn’t answer.
My first screeching thought was someone Malcolm had robbed was coming to kill me.
The next thought was it’s some maniac coming to rape me.
My wish is that it’s Alexander Black.
He said I knew him, said I wanted him.
“Let me see you,” the words come out choked.
“No,” he whispers firmly.
His grip loosens around me to free his hand to rest on my stomach, fingers splayed out. The intimate touch sends a ripple through every part of me.
“Are you going to kill me?” I rasp out, barely hearing the words over the pounding of my heart.
“I told you I’m not going to hurt you,” his hushed words lick across my neck.
I can’t think, my thoughts are swirling around my mind in a chaotic mess.
“Ssshhh, Gemma, just relax…and let go,” he whispers again roughly, his breath brushing the flushed, damp skin where his tongue stroked me. Another heated tremor.
His fingers begin to float against the flesh of my rigid body causing goosebumps to erupt over my nakedness and my nipples to harden.
“You have such beautiful tits, Gemma, absolutely perfect,” his whisper is rougher as he begins to draw slow circles over my breasts with his fingertip. Jolts of electricity surge from the point of his touch straight to my loins.
The tidal wave of emotions pounding down on me makes my knees buckle: lust, fear, need, confusion.
“Stop,” the word comes out in a gasp.
I know I must fight him but I can’t. The sweetest drug of desire is melting me, caress by torturously delicious caress.
“No.” He flicks the nipple gently with the tip of his finger as his teeth softly capture my jaw. His tongue slides along my skin and I have to swallow the moan that almost escapes me. Molten heat morphs with the fear coursing through me and ignites the nerve endings in my skin where he touches it. His fingertips capture the point and he begins to tug and twist it, pinch and flick it, sending a rush of pulsing shockwaves straight to my core.
The desire from Black that had begun on Monday, the one that had never quite seemed to dissipate, the fiery liquid that had burned hot all through dinner, was now escalating into the beginnings of a raging inferno. He is seducing me, breaking me down, consuming me in the darkness.
This man I can’t see licks then nibbles, sucks then bites, blazing a trail down my neck with his mouth, (my neck instinctively bends freely under his assault), then over the curve of my shoulder. I could sense he is tall, tall enough to curve over my body, and hard, his body pressing against my back. And very aroused. I know this because my body wants to grind onto his erection pressed against my ass. I hadn’t comprehended he’d tugged the towel gently from my grip, but it’s gone because my hands are empty, clenching at my sides. With one hand teasing and tantalizing my breasts, his other begins to mimic the circular strokes down the flesh on my front, going round my belly button, over my hip bones, then to outline my highly sensitive mound. I must have parted my legs because they are open, allowing his fingers to brush along the creases on each side of my sex. A soft hungry moan slips past my lips.
He’s expertly stripping me of my defenses bit by bit, with each touch of his finger and every stroke of his tongue. I have no control. His take-over of my body is happening so fast I have no time to think, only feel and surrender. My mind is frenzied, crashing in a sea of erotic oblivion as the darkness envelopes us in a thick cocoon of danger and passion. The only thing I’m aware of is his touch, his breath, his mouth, and the places he touches me with them.
“So wet…,” he whispers huskily.
I knew I was wet, very wet, I’d already been aroused when I’d gotten home. This ravagement had grabbed that lingering need and was running with it.
A single finger traces my folds, circles my entrance then dips inside me.
“No…,” it’s a moan.
“Yes…” His lips flutter against my ear, the soft moist tip of his tongue outlines the shell.
My walls grip it, needing more, wanting him to fill me. My traitorous body yields to him as my head falls back against his chest. I hated that I loved how he smelled like a man, a hint of sweat, male muskiness, and soap. It made my mouth water wanting to taste him. His teeth bite down on my collar bone, just shy of too painful, but just enough. My back arches pressing my ass into him and my breast into his hand.
“I’m going to touch your clit, Gemma, and you’re going to come.”