what’s involved and why I do the things that
I do. God forbid they ever have to find out, that they ever have to
face the limited options I’ve had to face. And make the choices
that I’ve made.
My cheeks burn as I brush past Sig in the
hall and hurry to the bathroom. I know he will follow me. I can see
the anger on his face. He’s too mad to think about
self-preservation, which is why I have to preserve for
him.
He comes in behind me and closes the door. I
cover myself as I turn, not expecting him to be right next to
me.
“Why?” he hisses. “Why the hell do you let
him do this shit to you? You’re better than this. Better than
him.”
“If I do things like this for him, let him
watch, he keeps his hands off me. It’s a deal we made a long time
ago. He can keep his whores or he can have me. Not both.”
“H-he doesn’t touch you? You don’t…”
“No. I don’t think I could live with myself.
Besides, it’s not his hands that I want touching me.”
He watches me, chest heaving, for two long
seconds and then his mouth is on mine, hot and urgent. His fingers
thread into my braid and fist, pulling my head to the side as he
slips his tongue between my lips. I taste the dark hint of whiskey
combined with a sweetness that seems to be just Sig, and I realize
that I’m thirsty. So thirsty. For this. For him.
He kisses me with a wildness that awakens an
abandon in me, a desire to throw caution to the wind and dive into
this. And for a few moments, I do.
I dig my nails into his straining biceps and
I open for him, I let him into a place that few people have ever
seen. It’s a place where I hide, I hide the real me with all her
emotions and hurts and wants.
Sig winds his arms around me, the fingers of
one hand squeezing my butt while the other skates up and down my
naked side. When his lips leave mine and trail along my jaw, I arch
for him, my only thought to feel his kiss on every needy surface of
my body.
“When you go back out there, you think of
me,” he growls lustily, his teeth biting into my chin as he passes
on his way to my neck. “My hands, my lips, my tongue.”
I feel breathless and hot. On fire, from the
inside out. When his mouth latches onto my nipple, I gasp my
response to him as quietly as I can. “I was. I was already thinking
of you.”
“Now you’ll know,” he says around my flesh,
his tongue and teeth and lips, licking and nipping and sucking.
“You’ll know what it feels like. And what it’ll be like when I have
you naked, underneath me.”
I’m panting, dizzy when his hand slides down
my belly and into my panties, one long finger finding my core,
driving inside me and bringing me up on my tiptoes.
“Oh god!” I whisper, my muscles
tightening as I spiral up and up and up.
Sig pumps his finger in and out of me, rough
and fast then slow and deep, pausing every few seconds for his
thumb to massage my clit. “Feel me. Just me.”
It’s too much–his mouth, his hands, his
heat. When he thrusts another finger into me, I shiver once before
the spasms of an orgasm start, the only orgasm I’ve ever
experienced at the hands of someone else. Oh, I’ve gotten off
before, a few times even in front of someone else. And I’ve faked
them, too. Hundreds of times, probably. But never has someone else
brought me here. And never, never has it felt like this.
My whole body burns and tingles, but in the
most delicious way. I feel like I’m floating, high above the floor
on which my feet are planted. I’m conscious only of feeling more
satisfied than I’ve ever felt and of Sig’s sweet kisses as they
draw ever closer to my mouth.
His fingers are still inside me, moving
slowly, languorously, urging the waves to keep pouring over me. But
for the pursing of my lips to stifle the noises that are poised at
the back of my throat, I’m paralyzed, at his mercy. And happily
so.
Until I remember where I am. And who waits
just outside this small room.
When I can breathe again, I cup
I do. God forbid they ever have to find out, that they ever have to
face the limited options I’ve had to face. And make the choices
that I’ve made.
My cheeks burn as I brush past Sig in the
hall and hurry to the bathroom. I know he will follow me. I can see
the anger on his face. He’s too mad to think about
self-preservation, which is why I have to preserve for
him.
He comes in behind me and closes the door. I
cover myself as I turn, not expecting him to be right next to
me.
“Why?” he hisses. “Why the hell do you let
him do this shit to you? You’re better than this. Better than
him.”
“If I do things like this for him, let him
watch, he keeps his hands off me. It’s a deal we made a long time
ago. He can keep his whores or he can have me. Not both.”
“H-he doesn’t touch you? You don’t…”
“No. I don’t think I could live with myself.
Besides, it’s not his hands that I want touching me.”
He watches me, chest heaving, for two long
seconds and then his mouth is on mine, hot and urgent. His fingers
thread into my braid and fist, pulling my head to the side as he
slips his tongue between my lips. I taste the dark hint of whiskey
combined with a sweetness that seems to be just Sig, and I realize
that I’m thirsty. So thirsty. For this. For him.
He kisses me with a wildness that awakens an
abandon in me, a desire to throw caution to the wind and dive into
this. And for a few moments, I do.
I dig my nails into his straining biceps and
I open for him, I let him into a place that few people have ever
seen. It’s a place where I hide, I hide the real me with all her
emotions and hurts and wants.
Sig winds his arms around me, the fingers of
one hand squeezing my butt while the other skates up and down my
naked side. When his lips leave mine and trail along my jaw, I arch
for him, my only thought to feel his kiss on every needy surface of
my body.
“When you go back out there, you think of
me,” he growls lustily, his teeth biting into my chin as he passes
on his way to my neck. “My hands, my lips, my tongue.”
I feel breathless and hot. On fire, from the
inside out. When his mouth latches onto my nipple, I gasp my
response to him as quietly as I can. “I was. I was already thinking
of you.”
“Now you’ll know,” he says around my flesh,
his tongue and teeth and lips, licking and nipping and sucking.
“You’ll know what it feels like. And what it’ll be like when I have
you naked, underneath me.”
I’m panting, dizzy when his hand slides down
my belly and into my panties, one long finger finding my core,
driving inside me and bringing me up on my tiptoes.
“Oh god!” I whisper, my muscles
tightening as I spiral up and up and up.
Sig pumps his finger in and out of me, rough
and fast then slow and deep, pausing every few seconds for his
thumb to massage my clit. “Feel me. Just me.”
It’s too much–his mouth, his hands, his
heat. When he thrusts another finger into me, I shiver once before
the spasms of an orgasm start, the only orgasm I’ve ever
experienced at the hands of someone else. Oh, I’ve gotten off
before, a few times even in front of someone else. And I’ve faked
them, too. Hundreds of times, probably. But never has someone else
brought me here. And never, never has it felt like this.
My whole body burns and tingles, but in the
most delicious way. I feel like I’m floating, high above the floor
on which my feet are planted. I’m conscious only of feeling more
satisfied than I’ve ever felt and of Sig’s sweet kisses as they
draw ever closer to my mouth.
His fingers are still inside me, moving
slowly, languorously, urging the waves to keep pouring over me. But
for the pursing of my lips to stifle the noises that are poised at
the back of my throat, I’m paralyzed, at his mercy. And happily
so.
Until I remember where I am. And who waits
just outside this small room.
When I can breathe again, I cup
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