The back storm door creaked on its hinges and fell closed with a crack. The actual door came behind it with a room-shaking thud. His slow stride. Boots thudding against the floor.
For just a second, she had the thought what if it’s not him? What if it’s not her husband? What if a stranger has made their way into her home, found her like this, what if—
He was finally in the room with her. She heard his sharp intake of breath, the pleasing hum that followed. The heat of his body as he crossed the room and bent over her. Devoid of sight, it was like everything else, every other sense had been cranked up beyond 100, beyond normal. She could smell him. Not his cologne, but the laundry detergent they used. Faintly, his deodorant. She could sense the gentle examination he gave her. First one side of her body and then the other.
With pressure that made her gasp, he pressed the pad of one finger to her sternum. Traced a line first down, between her breasts. Just having him that close they felt heavier, hotter, her nipples standing at aching points, already begging for his touch. His finger ventured back up, bringing a shiver along with it. It went first left and then right, smearing through the lipstick on her chest. It read, in big letters: USE ME.
She’d used a bright red lipstick. It had come out in a slightly wobbly hand, but her own message was clear too: however you want, as much as you’d like. Any doubt that the man in front of her might not be her husband was erased when he laughed. She would know that laugh anywhere. Even when it was a rasping, dark, mocking thing.
“Cute,” he said. “I think I’ll take you up on that.”
He squeezed her nipple, making her yelp, then pant as he grabbed her whole breast, fingers tightening so she could finally feel the leather. Her instructions, delivered hours before, had been simple: Get ready. Wait for me. And now, he was here, his touch against her skin. Gloves. He was wearing gloves. The leather was smooth and supple as he played with her, as he pinched harder and harder until she arched toward him, gasping already, unsure whether she wanted to ask him for more or ask him to stop.
“Oh, don’t make all that noise,” he said, voice too sweet. “I thought I had an open invitation?” She whimpered and he said something that sounded suspiciously like so dramatic.
He let go of one and...
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Read all about the wonderful author: Gabrielle Johnson
Very nice
Raw, passionate energy. Very Nice!