Would you like a sip more of Mr Bram Stroker’s heady concoction of alluring, but darkly sexy connections. – here’s part 2. (Can you afford to miss part 1?)
Her breasts swollen, and her chest radiating. The pulse quickened. Instinctively she wanted to fold her thigh across herself. To protect her modesty. He grabbed her, pushing her leg back onto the bed. The incense intensified in the room.
The swirling intoxicating scent and clouds filled her senses and she felt Him, as he placed one knee on the bedding, between her thighs. She ached. She wanted to press against him. To feel Him against her. Her lower back arched as her shoulders dropped lower.
He knelt upright, a knee on each side of her thigh. And she watched as her perfect hands, unbuckled the black metal buckle of His belt. His hands. Soft. But simultaneously work worn. The heat grew in the room. The warmth of summer. Of exhaled breath. Of bodies. Of whiskey infused memories. The heat of lust.
He leant forward. ‘Everything. It’s yours. I’m yours. Take it ‘ he whispered into her ear, biting the warm lobe as he spoke.
Her hesitation spent, she grabbed at his waist, and unclipped the silver fastening of his trousers. She remembered there were two, she’d never really known why. As they released she gripped the waistband and, like a long awaited gift, she began to undress Him. Inch. By slowly revealed inch. She already knew what was beneath. She could feel his eagerness. She took control.
The trousers slid over His firm backside. Along the length of his thick thighs. Pooling at his feet. He stepped from them. His shirt now open. She could see his torso. Her perfection. The lights dimmed.
He returned to the bed. His arms toned and braced either side of her. Legs now between hers. She curved her arms around his broad back and dug her nails into the flesh. A deep guttural moan.
He quickly grabbed her hips, and pulled her to the edge of the bed.
‘Show me ‘ he said.
And she did. She slowly danced her painted nail along her torso, knowing he was looking only at her. Lower. Across her stomach. Lower. To the waist of her knickers. Lower. Lower. She watched as He caressed the edge of himself through his own cotton
Lower. She felt the fabric of her underwear. Silk, lace, cotton. It mattered not. Lower. Her eyes fixed on him. She could see all. He wanted her. He needed her. She controlled Him.
‘Show me ‘. She said
She watched him nearing.
‘Now. Do it now. ‘ they both said.
They felt the rush within themselves. Swelling in the pit of their stomachs. Faster. Harder. The room filled with moans, incense, clouds of smoke swirled And they released.
Climaxing as one.
Shuddering together. That weakening vulnerable tremor of post orgasm.
Both soaked. Both aching. Both satiated. For now.
The siren outside sounded louder. She opened her eyes. And He was gone. She was there. Her clothing disheveled. Her need was fulfilled. But He was gone. The memory of her adolescence. The power of Herself.
And in that moment she knew, it wasn’t a man she’d needed to fulfil her. It was Herself. She smiled. Her knickers damp. And she left the room. After all, The devil wasn’t real. The Devil is in everyone
She closed the door of the room behind her. Closing another memory away. And as she left …
The Devil watched.
[To be continued …]