The Arrangement (Erotic Novella) (8 page)

He laughs
behind me, pressing kisses to my heated flesh, then fucks me harder
with the dildo. I writhe against it, my clit twisting against the
couch. I can’t take much more. “I need you
now
, Harry. Do
it!”

“Ready for the carrot?” he chuckles, and I almost tell
him
‘fine - whatever - carrot, cucumber,
courgette - just stick something inside me!’
but then I get his meaning. He’s going to reward me for
something. Now, ain’t that a tantalizing thought…

“
Please!”
I beg him, but he’s
already preparing. I can hear the slap of the latex condom, then
the teasing head of his cock at my slippery cunt lips.

“Make me,” he
says, toying with the dildo still lodged inside me. “Tell me
something I want to hear, and I might just thank you for it?"

"What? What
kind of thing?” I’m frantic now, so charged with the urge to come
around his big, swollen dick. “Like that you've got a huge
cock?"

"Try
harder."

"And it's the
most beautiful thing I ever saw, and I'm burning for you to fuck me
with it…”

“More.”

Oh man, this
isn’t fair. “And the first time I saw you get a stiffy for me, I
had such an urge to touch it that I accidentally-on-purpose knocked
a display of cock-rings over, just so I’d have something else to do
with my hands.”

His groan
surrounds me as he slides in deep, straight to the hilt in one firm
thrust. Forcing his way in, alongside the toy. I’m under-siege.
Stuffed to bursting and totally at his mercy. I’m riding on the
brink of orgasm, my juices flowing slick down my thighs as I shake
with the need to come.

“I remember
that well,” he pants. “You spent the next five minutes bent over
with your arse wriggling in the air. I nearly shot my load just
watching you. OK - good - what else?” And he slows right down,
grinding too leisurely for my release.

Oh, God, have mercy! “OK -
OK
- last Christmas, when we had that conversation…
when
I
had that
conversation…”

“What about
it?” He’s stopped thrusting at all now, and I’m starting to think I
shouldn’t have brought this up. Oops.

“Well -
remember how I said I was still seeing other people? And I told you
not to start getting attached?”

He doesn’t
answer, but his cock twitches inside me.

“I lied. I
wasn’t seeing anyone. I haven’t wanted anyone else for a long time,
Harry.”

For a second, I
wonder if he’s heard me. Then he’s withdrawing everything at once -
pulling his cock from my cunt then the toy from my butt, leaving me
empty and bereft. But not for long.

He unties my
wrists and removes the blindfold, then he’s cradling me in his
arms, and we’re off. He’s kicking open the door, striding toward
the bedroom at speed, the tip of his erection nudging my side as we
go.

I think he’s
going to throw me down caveman style, but he doesn’t. He lays me
down so carefully on the cool sheets, studying me with such a wild
sparkle in his eyes, that I think I must have morphed into some
precious artifact. I’m the Holy Grail, that must be it. And here’s
Indiana Jones, ready to claim me.

He nips at my
lips, then trails languid kisses down my neck. His mouth surrounds
one hard peaked nipple and he sucks me deep into his mouth,
spearing electric pulses straight to my wanton cunt.

And then he
smiles. “Alright, Em. Carrot time.”

I can’t
remember ever having laughed so hard while being fucked. It’s not
even his dumb line that sends me over into giddy hysteria. It’s the
relief that does it. The overwhelming joy of not having to keep him
at arms length. I’m letting him in and he’s taking all of me, not
just the physical bits I let him have before.

And once we’ve
thrashed out our orgasms, that’s what hits me most. I’m taken. But
that’s fine, because I’ve taken him too.

I own you, boss.
Oh, yes
-
I like the sound of
that.

*****

I'm nearly
asleep when an odd sensation wakes me. Harry's shuffling in the
bed, clamping my left hand in an awkward position, fiddling with my
fingers. A gentle scratching tugs at my skin, too light to hurt but
odd enough to puzzle me. "You drawing on me?" I murmur, paralyzed
by drowsiness. But Harry just chuckles.

A minute or so
later he kisses my hand and tucks it under the duvet. His naked
body nestles in behind me, pressing us gently together, his arm
draping over me like a human seatbelt. And safe in his warmth, I
drift steadily, easily, into unconsciousness.

*****

I wake before
Harry. Earlier than I usually would. I'd trained fuck-buddy-Harry
to rouse me with tea, but lazy-lover-Harry is so much better. This
Harry is very much asleep and has no choice but to let me gawk. And
gawk I do.

He's far from
magazine-perfect, my Harry. His nose is probably a little big, his
lashes a bit pale, and his shaving habits leave a lot to be
desired. Yet somehow all those imperfections are perfect in their
own right. And he's so relaxed right now, this big, rough, stubbly
lover of mine. He's so content, his strong features so beautifully
defined that it's impossible to resist brushing my fingertips
across a well-sculpted cheekbone.

That's when I see it. An arrow stretches across my left hand,
drawn in Biro, pointing toward my ring finger. And by the arrow
there's a message:
Don't freak
out.

I think, at first, that he's drawn a ring on my finger, but
no. When I look closely it's more than that. He's written
something. Two words curl around my finger and it takes a moment to
decipher them...
new
arrangement.

I should be freaking out. We've been together - properly
together - for all of twelve hours. But the freak-out isn't coming.
Instead I’m smiling so damned wide my cheeks are going to cramp,
and I barely resist shaking Harry awake to yell
‘Y
es! Yes! Yes!’
in
his probably shell-shocked face.

But I don’t have to tell him
yes
. Harry lifts a sleepy eyelid and
sees my silly grin, and he knows my answer. Sorry Amy, but I got it
wrong - I
am
good,
after all. Good enough for him. Good enough for me.

And this new
arrangement of his… well that sounds pretty effing good too.