Story of Us trilogy 01: TouchStone for Play (46 page)

I don’t say a word. I’m content to look
upon my handsome suitor and quietly glow.

“Nothing I have done before could possibly
compare to the fun we had,
I
had today having
you
as my tour
guide. Watching you and your Sat Nav leading us up every back alley in Rome was
priceless.”

“Are you ridiculing my orienteering
skills?” I smile, feeling a little self-conscious but bemused at the same time.

“Skills!” His laughter is a roar and so
forceful, he almost launches me off the sofa.

“I got us from A to B didn’t I, eventually?”

“Eventually being the operative word.”

I pretend to be offended. “You weren’t
exactly Marco Polo yourself, you know?”

“I chose not to be, it was
your
day.”

I look into his eyes; they are filled with
warmth and love. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been around Rome several times.”

“You didn’t say.”

“You didn’t ask.”

That’s true. “So, all the time you knew
where we were going?”

“More or less, or rather the Sat Nav on my
iPhone did.” He gives me a ‘got ya’ smile.

“But you didn’t use it, why not?”

“Because it was more of an adventure for
you, for us.” As hard as he tries he cannot hold back on the laughter. “But
when we were five metres away from the Trevi Fountain, could almost feel the
spray on our faces, and you were pirouetting, trying to find your way, it was
beyond funny then.”

I burst into laughter. He does have a
point. “It was that bloody arrow, it kept shifting and changing direction on
me.”

He cannot speak for the laughter, he’s
throwing his head back and tears are gathering in his eyes. “That’s what
happens when you’ve reached you destination Beth.” Still chuckling, he reaches
for our glasses of champagne. “To memorable days.” Still he finds it difficult
to drink because of the stifled laughter.

“I hate you,” I muse playfully, climbing
over him until he is lying beneath me, eyes full of laughter, heart full of
love. “I’ll get you back for this.”

“Please feel free.” He takes my head in
his free hand and pulls me to him. “Happy days Beth. Happy Days.”

The laughter subsides and we snuggle
together, basking in the afterglow; pheromones thick in the air, triggering my
desire for sex. But what I have in mind is more of a sexual
fantasy
than
physical intimacy.

I stand before him. “Give me a minute then
go and sit on the chair in the bedroom, don’t turn on the light, don’t
undress.” He’s curious and I’m resolute. I glance back at him, he looks so
refined and in control, but not for long …

He calls out, “I’ll be waiting.” and I
picture a sexy smile.

***

When I appear from the bathroom, I know I
look good. The black basque Celine suggested I buy gives me confidence and God
knows I’ll need it to pull this off: Victoria’s secret is not a secret any
more.

I set myself, winding the supple cord I
brought from home around my hands as I walk out of the bathroom. At first
glance, I see he is sitting comfortably, resting his right leg across his left
knee. When I appear, he leans back in the chair, tips back his head and widens
his stare. “Wow! Look at you.”

With the glow from the bathroom acting as
a backlight I stand, legs splayed, black Louis Vuitton heels firmly planted on
the carpet.

“You have been very bad Ayden.” I press
the iPod remote and Mr. Timberlake sings
Future/Sex, Love/Sounds
and my
alter ego strikes a pose.

“I have?” He tries to mask a smile, but
the warmth radiating from his handsome visage tells me he’s enjoying himself.
“Can you find your way over here, or should I fetch your Sat Nav?”

I try to suppress a chuckle, feeling the
effects of the champagne and the left over laughter from ten minutes ago. “No I
have you in my sights.” I approach him and feel his eyes burning through my
half naked torso. I like the feeling.

“You seem to have gone out of your way to
make me jealous today.” I trace the shape of his face with the fingers of my
right hand and slip behind him building his anticipation and trying to contain
mine. “I saw you, coveting the curvaceous Miss Magnani.”

“…  Coveting?”

He tries to speak but I lean into him and
place my fingertips over his lips. “Hush. I saw the way you smiled at her, I
know that smile. I’ve been on the receiving end of it often enough.” He’s happy
to play along. “Because of your fuck me eyes, you had her making all kinds of
assumptions.”

“Really?” He is genuinely surprised. “Tell
me more.”

“Oh I intend to, do you know what she said
on the phone?”

 “No but I suspect you do.” He’s smirking.

I circle him, brushing his hair as I go,
feeling the softness between my fingers. When I am position behind him, I slide
my hands from his shoulders, over his pectoral muscles and begin unbuttoning
his dress shirt from behind; it’s stuffed into his trousers and after a couple
of gentle tugs, frees itself from his warm body. I peel it back until it drops
off his arms leaving him deliciously naked from the waist up. At no point do
his hands leave his thighs, he’s letting me take the lead and I intend to keep
it that way.

“I want to tie you up and fuck you.” I
mutter softly into his left ear.

He tips back his head and groans, raising
his left hand to take a handful of my hair.  “I was hoping you were going to
say that.”

“Place your hands behind the chair.” He
obliges and I tie his hands together. “Is that too tight?”

“No.”

I pull on the cord. “Is that tighter?”

“Yes.”

I whisper in his left ear again, “Now I
have you where I want you, I’ll explain.” In one languid movement I drag my
left hand across his back and shoulders and then his chest, watching it rise
and fall as I circle him like a skulking cat.

I position myself in front of him; legs
spread wide, the moonlight at my back. “She said you were coming onto her and
she was planning to slip you her phone number, but there was one
small
problem. What do you think that problem was?”

Without a moment’s hesitation he answers,
“That problem would be you baby.”

“Exactly. She considered me too ...” It
pains me to say it. “Too
plain
to be a permanent fixture.”

“Another serious miscalculation on her
part,” he points out, tipping his head to the side and setting my flesh alight
with a vertical stare.

“Quite.” I move closer to his face, close
enough for him to look, to smell. I stretch out a blindfold. “Now tell me, do I
look
plain
to you?”

He smirks sexily. “Oh, baby you could
never be plain.”

I descend onto my knees and look up into
the dark pools forming in his eyes. “And what flavour would you say this is?”

“It ain’t vanilla,” he states without a
second thought.

My insides clench in response. “No, it
ain’t and we’re just getting started.” I play with the blindfold. “I was going
to blindfold you, but I’ve decided against it. Watch how I please you.”

The searing look he lets fly causes me to
arch my body towards him, he’s just too fucking hot; he’s tied up and still
calling the shots. “Choose a safe word.”

“I won’t be needing a safe word,” he
states holding my attention for far too long. “You think too much of this body
to damage it.”

How right he is…

“Oh I wouldn’t be so sure, what I have in
mind may surprise you.”

“Then surprise away.” He’s actually
calling my bluff. I hate and love it in equal measure.

 “In that case we’ll say it’s ‘Romeo,” I
declare, confidently.

“Whatever.”

I crawl up his knees and then his thighs
before sitting astride him, rubbing myself against his swelling erection while
my mouth lingers on his left ear, his neck and finally his mouth. “Do you want
to call me Beth or Elizabeth?”

He takes no time to decide. “Elizabeth.” 
He pushes his nose into my hair and even his breath excites me. For a second I
forget who’s supposed to be in charge, and he feels me giving into him.

“This isn’t something Beth would do.”

When I lean back he is so indecently sexy,
he makes me want to sink myself onto him. “Ok, Elizabeth it is then.” He
constructs a semi-serious stare and I feel as if I have control, or the
illusion of it.

I make my move and head south; his dress
pants are welded to his perfect body by a soft, black leather belt. I slip it
out of the loops, drag it through with my left hand and wear it around my neck
like a scarf. He jerks slightly, feeling my hands squeezing his thighs on my
way down to his feet.

“I’m going to take off your shoes and tie
you up.” From his expression, it is clear he is enjoying this game; he is
passive, cooperative and utterly delectable.

I fling his hand made shoes across the
room and massage his muscular calves. Making it up as I go, I slide the belt
from my neck and loop it around the leg of the chair, securing his right leg
and then his left leg. Stringing out this game will not be easy.

“Let’s get started.” Even though I’m not
seeking permission, he nods. I scrape my fingernails down his bare chest, only
stopping when my hands rest on his waistband. I make short work of his buttons
and zip and, with my eyes on his, slip my hand inside his boxers, feeling
through pubic hair until I reach firm flesh. I’m not sure whose breathing
hitches first but I know mine is getting to the point where I’m having to open
my mouth, to inhale extra oxygen.

“You’re hard and ready for me Mr. Stone.”
I gasp.

The look he gives me is hot enough to
start a fire.  “I’m always hard for you Elizabeth.”

“We’ll see.”

My words resonate and we have a shared
recollection of the previous night’s conversation. I’m unprepared for the
increasing intensity of his libidinous look: it sets my insides alight, forcing
me to squirm at the thought of him inside me.

In a spontaneous act of physical longing,
I pull down his trousers and his boxers to his knees. He’s tied, hands and
feet, virtually naked and clearly aroused, and yet it is he who has the power
over
me. I want to ask for guidance but dismiss my need for direction. I
can do this. I have to set him free.

I position myself in front of him and
wriggle out of my black lacy panties, giving him time to take in the
implication of my exhibitionism. This time, when I settle my sodden crutch on
to his flexing cock, he is visibly overcome with carnal lust. His expression
hardens and his top lip twitches unconsciously.

“You feel so wet,” he mutters, dragging
out the vowel for effect and tipping back his head, giving in to the sweet
sensation of moist flesh rubbing up against moist flesh. My clitoris is aching
for attention, and my hand fulfils that need. I’m so wanton and allow him to
watch as I please myself.

“Jesus, untie me.” He’s becoming agitated,
pulling against his restraints as I edge closer to climaxing. I brush away his
words with my other hand and he sucks ravenously on my fingers until I am able
to fold my lips over his, moaning into his open mouth.

Words hiss from his lips, “That’s it, let
me hear you.”

My gentle punishment gets underway: I’m
denying him access to my sex and it’s driving him crazy. He’s frantic with
lust. I begin to cry out, I’m so close.

“Fuck me Elizabeth.”

I ignore his plea, taking his chin in my
right hand, turning him to the left, allowing access to the right side of his
face and neck. I drag my tongue along his chin then taste his lips with the tip
of it as I come loudly against my hand. He sucks my tongue into his mouth,
desperate for physical contact, tugging and pulling against the cord and the
belt keeping his feet in place.

Still panting I reach for the condom,
concealed in the top of my basque, tearing it apart with my teeth. He’s
lurching and rearing off the chair, his hard cock is pulsating underneath me,
frantically seeking me out.

“You can’t do this.”

I look into his eyes, knowing this is fast
becoming more than a game. “I can and I will. You’re not giving yourself to me
Mr. Stone. All this time you have been pretending and that’s a very naughty
thing to do.”

“Stop ...
Beth!”

He just took himself out of the game.

“Stop pretending Ayden.” I stand over him,
leaving his most treasured organ exposed. I slide the condom down it, causing
him to throw back his head in ecstatic agony. I grip the rigid shaft and place
the tip against the entrance to my vagina; it slides back and forth against my
saturated skin

“Christ Beth!”

“Now I want you to give yourself to me,
say the words and make it real Ayden.”