Impulses (15 page)

Oh, Samantha…why didn’t you stop?

My hands fist into my hair, my grip tightening in exasperation. I clasp my hands together, praying to a higher power that she will break the pattern that she has become accustomed to and stop running. But the car gets further and further…smaller and smaller, until I am left in complete bewilderment of this woman once again.

Eventually withdrawing from my need to delay the looming mockery of the rejection the evening resulted in, I return home to release my tension in the buildings gym, hoping, that if I drive myself to exhaustion, I should evade the small, sneering voice in my head…for the time being.

I sprint on the treadmill, running from my failings, escaping the awakened emotions I now have burdening me––running from the optimism that I hold about Samantha and I. My throat soon burns with every vital intake of breath. My muscles throb, my limbs are heavy…but my mind is free––only concentrating on the discomfort and exhaustion of my body. I gulp a welcoming mouthful of water from the bottle beside me. Drying my sweat coated upper body with the small hand towel––I then leave it hanging from around my neck. With my objective complete, and combating with the fatigue of my body, I make my way back to my apartment.

Turning on the shower, I allow the room to fill with an actual haze, unlike the one that is clouding my judgment. I drop my white sweat encased tank top to the floor and slip out of my gray sweatpants before stepping under the purifying torrent. I am grateful for the scolding heat that showers over me––burning my flesh and absolving the rampant discomfort I feel internally as my body surrenders and grows familiar with the presence of physical heat.

The minutes pass as I hold my head up in welcome. Finally smoothing my hands through my hair, I slick it back, and step out of the cubicle. Binding the towel around my hips, I stare intently at the man staring back at me in the oversized vanity mirror. My hands rest on the edge of the tiled top that houses my washbasin as I support my weight through my arms. My stomach and pectorals are taut and defined as a result from my workout, my flesh is flushed as a result from the scorching stream and the remaining droplets leave vein-like streaks down my body.

I hang my head, and screw my eyes closed. How can you mourn something that you never had? My subconscious sits crossed legged in his wingchair, glancing over his notepad,
it is the ‘hope’ that something more would have come from the situation, that you are mourning, Hayden.
I snigger at the thought. Hope?––I feel desolate.

Hayden, Hayden, Hayden. I warned you she wanted to tell you to your face how unwanted, how undesirable you are. Why would she freely waste her time with a man that fucks like a terrified hound? Oh, when will you learn boy…?
Stop fighting me, you know I am right. I’m always right,
the dry, condescending voice that is my terror sneers.

I glimpse up at my reflection, but it’s no longer me. His eyes are dark, narrowing and blazing with malevolence. The left side of his mouth twists into a cold-blooded smirk, looking down upon me…proud of the seeds he is sowing in my mind.

I lean in closer to the mirror, my fingers clenched into my palm.
Failure,
he whispers, caressing each symbol leisurely. His smirk widens with mocking satisfaction. Fury and resentment inundates me as my hindrance gawks scornfully from the safety of my mirror…from my mind––toying with my insecurities, like a cat with a mouse, taking its time before going in for the kill.

“Argh,” I growl, and my fist collides with the glass, shattering the mirror and the deep, wicked stare of the voice that has haunted me and ridiculed me for so long. Within that moment, I feel enlightened and momentarily at ease with myself.

I need a drink. With the towel around my hips, I leave the stifling room, and I pad through my bedroom, down the corridor to the open space of my living room. I approach the media center and press the little triangle button. The throaty voice of a woman resonates through the apartment, warbling about it being a man’s world. How apt. Turning over one of the tumblers, I pour myself a generous volume of amber liquid, and take pleasure in the burning of my throat, shadowed by the tingling that radiates through my extremities.

A knock on the door disturbs my carefree trice.

I glance at the clock, 11:15 p.m. The knock echoes again, more forcefully this time, and I wonder idly what the likelihood is that it is the neighbor wanting to know what the commotion was about.

Stepping down from the elevation of my window, I walk the length of the room to the door. Grasping the doorknob, I twist and pull it open hastily.

“Sorry for the––” I begin my apology, but my words cease as the being in the hallway lifts her head, her hair soaking wet from the rain and clumped together as it falls around her leather jacket.

Vulnerable, rueful, blue eyes gaze back at me from over my threshold. In a daze, my mouth falls open. How?

“Please…be patient with me. I’m not perfect. I will make mistakes. This is all so new for me. But if you have patience…” she trails off, her voice breaking. She sinks her teeth into the plump flesh of her lip.

“Oh, Samantha––” Extending my arms out to her, I seize her by her upper arms, and without hesitation, pull her inside. I press my lips against hers immediately, kissing her passionately and desperately. I snare her against the surface of the door after I kick it closed.

I kiss her with such intensity, such untamed determination. I never believed this chance, to have my lips meld with hers, to have my hands wander her body freely, would be bestowed upon me again. So I make the most of it and revel in the wrapping of my present. My hands roam over her body, clutching urgently and frantically at the sodden material that shields her.

“You’re wet,” I mumble against her lips.

“You have no idea––”

Seizing the collar of her jacket, I peel her out of the sodden material, pushing it over her shoulders, down her arms and let it drop heavily to the floor. I push myself against the length of her, feeling her heat and the tiny tremors she surrenders to. I’m moulded against her, my hips holding her firmly in place, as she opens her mouth, and allows my tongue to invade, curl and massage her tongue once more.

Matching my frenzied bearing, she fists her hands in my hair, wrenching me down to deepen our wild, vigorous kiss. I taste the tanginess of the chardonnay combined with the sweetness of the coconut from dinner, which still lingers on her breath, on her tongue. The overwhelming desperation to claim her is uncontainable as animalistic intentions burns like a furnace at my libido.

Eager hands leave no area unexplored. Skating down my torso, her nails scrape my flesh, I tense as it tickles, but also drives me. I can hardly control myself with her hands on me, feeling me, exploring me.

“Samantha, you’re killing me.” I pull away and study her profile, her eyes glinting, her mouth swollen and flamed from my stubble.

She traces the flesh where my towel clings to my hips. “There are worse ways to go,” she smiles up at me. All the heat, all the desire and yearning is in that one twitch of her mouth. It knocks the breath out of my body, and puts what fragments of self-control I had on its ass.

Taking hold of her hands, I remove them from the waist band of my towel. A low whimper travels on her breath as I clasp both of her narrow wrists together in one hand and detain them above her head. For once in my life, I feel truly in control. That is until she peeks up at me, inciting me with that seductive, come to bed look. Exhaling loudly, my breath wavers, and my body stiffens and shakes as I compress every nuance of strength I have into a weighted sphere just to compose myself. I feel like an over-excited teen. It’s frustrating.

Using my unoccupied hand, I trace the arch of her cheekbone, before sweeping down the curve of her neck. Her nipple strains and peaks against the material as my thumb glide across it as I knead her breast. Through the saturated material, I continue skimming and caressing what lies waiting to be appreciated underneath.

Gripping her hip, she lifts her left leg and encircles my thigh, slowly grazing it up and down my leg, pulling my towel up with it. My blood and body ignites as I feel the sharpness of her heel tearing up the back of my calf and knee.

God, she’s making this so fucking hard…and not just my cock either.

The towel barely remains bound around my hips. She groans as my erection presses into her abdomen. All I want to do is let the material fall and sink inside her, to feel her around me again, right against this door. But I find the will to stow my urges, and curl my hand around my back to meet and caress the supple ankle that imprisons me, instead. Forcefully trailing my hand up behind her knee and thigh, her dress hitches higher, her pelvis grinds against me as her head tips back, knocking it against the surface of the door.

“What the fuck are you doing to me, Hayden?”

“Kissing you…” I kiss and nip at her chin, jaw and neck while simultaneously sinking my fingers into the pliable flesh of her ass. “…and familiarizing myself with your body.” I bend and grind my heavy, aching cock between her thighs as evidence of what she does to me, to my body, how excited she makes me when she’s touching me.

Dammit, I get the same reaction just hearing her voice.

Although I release my grip of her wrists, her arms remain above her head, her back arching against the solid barrier of the door, pushing her breast out farther to entice me even fucking more. I hear the whistle and catch of her breath as I skate down the inside of her arm and neck. Her lower lip trembles and her jaw strains. I fist her hair, pulling her head back further to give me easier access to her throat. She smells like candy and marshmallows and tastes just as sweet. I dip my tongue into the hollow beneath her throat, barely able to contain my need of wanting to dip it between her legs.

During the course of indulging my ravenous hands and lips on her flawless, smooth body, Samantha lets her hands fall free of the door and travels down my half-naked body. She sinks her nails into my pectorals and the surge of the bite beneath her indentations radiates through my chest and tightens southern muscles.

Like a caveman, sheer, unrestrained savagery spawns a growl from deep within my throat as her hands continue their voyage down every muscle and valley of my torso, to settle at the edge of the towel once again. But she drifts over the material, and her fingers clutch around the prominence of my girth. I thrust into her touch…aching to thrust inside her.

“Pleased to see me?”

I lift my head and pin her with my stare. “I’m always pleased to fucking see you,” and soon my lips are sealed over hers again.

In an impatient, passionate haze I remove her dress, and discard of it to meet her jacket in a crumpled heap. I glance down at her naked breasts in approval, and she rewards me with an innocent grin of satisfaction before biting her lower lip.
How did I not notice she has been braless the entire night?

“Yes”––I lick my lips––“definitely pleased to see you, Samantha.”

I press myself against her…flesh on flesh, feeling her warmth and the peaking of her nipples against my body. It’s heavenly. And it means so much more because I never contemplated any chance of this ever happening again. Against the coolness of the door, I lift Samantha up and she binds her legs around my waist; our breathing heavy and frantic.

Touching, kissing and caressing our way through my apartment, her legs still wrapped securely around my waist, we stumble our way to the bedroom, stopping to devour each other against nearly every surface, wall and archway that we encounter along the way.

I lower her down in to the center of the bed, before straighten myself and releasing the corner of the towel. It falls heavily from my hips onto the floor behind my ankles, my rigid cock bouncing freely. I feel a unexpected wash of insecurities anchoring me, holding me against my will as I stand before this siren in all of my virility, offering all that I am to her, and apprehensive of what will follow afterwards. I’m already wound tighter than a fucking jack rabbit, what if i can’t contain myself and…

Staring down into her big, beautiful, clear blue eyes, she gapes up at me from the middle of the bed and all of my worries fade away. Resting herself back into the mattress, she props herself up on her elbows and rouses me with those prominent, come-and-fuck-me-now eyes. She rolls her tongue over her lips and arches her brow.

Taking a deep breath, I curl my thumbs under the thin straps of her black lace thong and peel them down her legs. Placing my knee on the edge of the bed, I crawl up the length of her sensational body.

“Wait––”

She spares the weight from her elbows and pushes herself up. Swinging her legs around, she tucks them under her so we are kneeling before each other, and it feels so…intimate. Her thighs are parted, supporting her weight. Her long, dark wet tresses hang down her breasts, ingeniously and enticingly concealing her nipples. Everything is drowned in the darkness, only the glow from the moonlight streaming through my window, and the light from the bathroom shining through the doorway distinguishes our silhouettes. But I can discern her eyes widening, and are hooded with an aching hunger.

Twisting my fingers in her sodden mane, I draw her to me, our lips melding in a deep and meaningful kiss. She bites down on my tongue lightly then sucks on it––drawing it further into the possession of her mouth, as though she is sucking on a different, southern part of my anatomy. Damn, it feels good, and I cannot help but wonder how her mouth would feel around me. I wouldn’t last two minutes with her sucking on me with that skill.

I shudder and press myself into her body when her fingers trace their way over my shoulders, down my shoulder blades, my back. I feel the tiny dimples on the small of her back as my right hand lays splayed on her warm, smooth flesh.

She pulls away from me and I gaze into her eyes feeling bereft and an inkling of rejection.

Not again, please…

Shaking her head coquettishly, her lip finds its way into the grasp of her teeth. She bends and leans forward so her mouth is an inch away from my cock. Looking up seductively from under her thick mascaraed lashes, my keenness swells and my breath hitches as she makes her motives crystal clear.