Impulses (16 page)

Air hisses between my teeth. I close my eyes briefly and toss my head back. I strain as I feel the flick of her tongue over my tip, followed by the warmth and the smoothness of inside her mouth, the hollowing of her cheeks. The sensation of her tongue massaging my length, has my hips thrusting instinctively as I groan and quiver in blatant pleasure.

“That’s it, Samantha…” I hold her head as I roll my hips repeatedly, feeling the back of her throat as she glides down my length with purpose, slowly making contact with the base of my cock. God, she is fucking amazing.

I feel myself building, my balls tightening and drawing upward.

“Enough,” I order, nudging her off me so she resumes kneeling in the middle of the mattress. “I don’t want to come yet.” For a short-lived moment she looks contrite, her eyes hooded with apologetic assertions. It’s like she’s sorry she’s displeased me. How could she think she has displeased me? My heart weighs and sinks heavily to my stomach.

Using my thumb and index finger, I coax her head back. I bore my gaze into her. “There’s no need rush.”

Her hands tighten on my upper arms, as I reach between her legs. Her skin is so smooth and indulgent, so slick. Grinding her hips into my palm, I sink first one and then two of my fingers inside her effortlessly, the smooth, moistness of her pulsing walls wrapping around my fingers as I circle her deeply, leaving no wall untouched as she lowers herself, eager to be filled.

“You greedy girl,” I whisper into her ear, while pulling out of her and massaging the silkiness of her juices over her folds. She tips her head back as I make contact with her heated, swelling clit, her hips gyrating regularly with my motions.

“Open your mouth.”

She complies immediately, and I place my fingers onto her tongue. She sucks gently, and licks in between them, tasting the sweet smoothness of her arousal. Watching the keenness in her eyes as she tastes herself inflames my flesh and drives me wild.

After withdrawing my fingers, I direct her to lie back on the bed. Her eyes wide, expressing her nervousness.

“It’s okay. Lay back,” I whisper.

Her hesitancy is tangible, yet she follows my instruction.

Her thighs fall open, granting me a full-on view of her stark-naked body, her nipples erect, and her bare sex waiting and writhing for me. I lower myself between the pale fleshes of her thighs and glide my tongue smoothly down from the top of her slit. Her clit swells under my tongue, her creaminess, her scent…the way she’s groaning and snaking her hips around under my mouth. God, it’s such a fucking turn on. Her back bows off the bed when my hands smooth over her hips, her stomach, and breasts. Tweaking her nipples as I continue circling her clit with my tongue, I seal my mouth over the lips of her pussy, and kiss her sensuously.

“Oh, God,” she cries, her moaning and whimpering getting louder and louder, her writhing becoming faster and faster as the tip of my tongue rounds her opening, then penetrates with shallow thrusts. Her legs fall further apart. I feel her body stiffen and tremor beneath me. She holds me in place as I flick and twist around the ball of sensitive flesh, which has her exploding over my tongue.

“Fuck!” she screams through the convulsion of her climax.

I allow her to ride out the waves of her orgasm, before whispering, “Turn around; lay on your front.”

Parting her legs, I crawl up her back, running my hand from the nape of her neck down her spine, her skin soft and damp with sweat. I grab her hip with my left hand, my right running between her legs, over her sex. Gathering her juices, I spread it over my cock and in one swift move I impale her. I feel her stretching around me, and the wet heat of her walls intensifies the deeper I sink inside her.

Locking our fingers together, our hands rest on either side of Samantha’s head. Pressing her further into the mattress, my clutch tightens with white-knuckle force as I pull my hips back and grind into her again, and again. The sound of the rhythmic slapping as I collide against her ass along with our laborious breaths and soft pleasurable moans has my toes curling and my body trembling as I strive to halt my release.

“You have no idea how long I have wanted you like this,” I whisper darkly against the side of her face as I pin her with my weight. “How many times I have dreamed of this moment––feeling you around me, hearing the noises you make as I push my body into yours––burying myself in you. Hearing and watching you come over me, knowing I’m the one responsible for your release.”

Samantha’s grip on my hands tightens with brutal force. She pushes herself against me, meeting me thrust-for-thrust. I feel her tense and tighten as she slowly builds again.

“I have…I still do…Hayden please…harder…Fuck––” she calls, pleading as she continues to push back onto me, taking everything I have to give, and swallowing me to my very base. Her body bows, her ass raises, her hips press back against me as her sensational body vibrates and quakes around me once again.

Her orgasm is my undoing.

One final thrust and I come hard, her lips enclosed around me, milking me until I am empty.

NINE

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SAMANTHA

Hayden stills. Our hands still locked together as one on either side of my head. Our breathing matches each other as we gasp and pant, franticly endeavoring to retrieve a meaningful lungful of air. I feel the dampness of his front pressing deliciously against my back and the rough graze of his stubble on my flesh as his places a kiss on my left shoulder.

That felt…different somehow. How can sex feel different? Sex is sex, yet that felt more significant. Is it my revelation about needing to have self-acceptance in the past choices that I have made? Or is it because we aren’t two strangers wanting a meaningless feat for sexual gratification, which made it so?

I shudder as Hayden pulls out of me. Freeing me of his weight and runs his tongue down my spine, and softly blows against the wet trail. I feel the cold against my heated, sensitized skin. It feels nice––cold, but nice.

He repositions himself and lays to the left of my clammy, naked body and uncovers my face of the veil of locks as it pastes to the dampness that coats me. I cringe inwardly at the affection behind his touch, but unlike our time in the office, I don’t attempt to pull away, or shift from his tender strokes. I absorb the contact, wanting to maintain this mellow, sated feeling. I don’t need to flee and hastily wash away the grime and disgust along with the loathing and demoralized feelings that swamp me––I don’t feel that combination of emotions with him. Right now, I feel appreciated, cared for…respected.

It’s new.

“You are amazing, Samantha. Don’t let anybody convince you of anything different,” Hayden whispers with a form of attachment. His fingertips make feather-light strokes up and down the length of my back. He smiles contented, serene, and even in the muted light I can see his eyes shining with some incomprehensible emotion.

The soft trail of his fingertips rhythmically brushing up and down my spine ceases. I readjust my position and I lay on my side facing him, resting my head on my right arm that is stretched out lazily overhead. This is a first in a very, very long time for me––laying naked, and relaxed in front of someone after sex.

Hayden’s head is propped up on his elbow, gazing down at me, into me. We are both naked…but I feel bare––completely unguarded in front of this man. I offer a weak, shy smile at his pleasant remark before hanging my head. I focus on the comforter that we lay upon, unable to bring myself to get lost in his intense stare.

He nestles his index finger under my chin, tipping my head up gently so I have no other option but to suffer defeat and place myself under the scrutiny of his hypnotic and devoted eyes––memorizing eyes––with modesty and unease.

The pad of his thumb traces over my lower lip. “You don’t accept compliments easily.” The mass behind that of his gentle words is wounding. His brow creases significantly.

I sigh heavily and with great haste, I tug away from his grasp averting my anguished, self-conscious demeanor away from him.

“Samantha…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to coerce or offend you.” He attempts to salvage the serenity of our moment. I sit up, and push myself to the edge of the bed. Hayden is immediately at my side, enfolding me into a supportive, tender embrace. All my instincts are screaming at me again to move away, screaming that there’s an intruder, a stranger touching me in a manner that is unacceptable. I struggle like a fish trying to escape the capture of a net.

Eventually, Hayden loosens his masculine grasp from around my naked body and places his elbows on his knees. Lowering his head, he lets out a defeated breath.

I conceal my face in the palms of my hands, and begin to rock to-and-fro as though in an old rocking chair. It relaxes me, and helps put things into perspective, transports me to my place of tranquillity. Jessie says that I use it as a calming mechanism––a way to clear the fogged up thoughts and memories that monopolize my blissful and elated feelings, before they deteriorate into dark voids that cannot be filled. So many dark voids, so many demons that derive from my scandalous and unworthy past.

I know I’m setting myself up for a fall. The cue ball is being strategically placed in front of the black, with only one graceful stroke to top me off, to discard of me and the heinous years I have lived. Maybe Jess was right about that, too. Living my life with only one-nightstands has placed me
into a worse position over time.

I wanted to save myself the gaining of trust and the possibility of falling in love, only to finish a marathon-like relationship hurting, broken and unresponsive. There is only so many times that you can trust a person, to love a person, for them only to repay you––not by returning the feelings that you hold dear for them––but by ripping large segments out of you until finally, they have accumulated all of the positive factors that you held: your morals, your beliefs…your self-worth––everything that creates your individuality, your uniqueness. To wake up one morning and stare at you reflection and all you see is a timid, anxious, suspicious person, who has been ground down so Goddamn bad, that they can’t even accept a fucking compliment.

Pulling my face from the encasement of my hands, I push my hair back, stopping at the nape of my neck. My fingers locking as I hold my position and search for an answer. I wrack my brain for solutions of how to make Hayden contemplate my plight, but without expressing, too much. My past––even now, over five years later––is still raw and is not something that I wish to discuss…ever.

I turn to face his glorious, naked body and with caution, rest my right hand on his shoulder. Hayden instantly regains his composure as he straightens himself, holding his head high, his eyes meeting mine…his puzzled and avid to understand, while mine are hurt and anguished as I realize that maybe one day, he will be dragged into my dark former years…into voids that maybe only one person could possibly invalidate.

I push back a lock of his floppy hair that rests on the left side of his brow. My eyes betray all of my pain and my insecurities, but my mouth curls remorseful. Cocking my head to left, I glide my hand down his cheek to subsequently end my journey at his jawline. His stubble is rough and prickly yet so comforting beneath the softness of my palm. Hayden rests his face into my caress, he lifts his hand and seals it around mine, holding me there in place, both relishing the warmth of each other’s skin, and the contentment of the gesture that offers so much attachment, sentiment, tenderness and support.

“I…” Hayden gapes at me, his patience growing and radiating off him in waves. This is what I need to acknowledge, the depth of his perseverance and understanding. I welcome the warmth that spreads throughout my veins. “I…” my head is a totally blank. The only thought I can pinpoint in my mind is that of Hayden and I, his expression, his consideration…his touch.

Hayden places his index finger lightly against my lips, stopping me from speaking. His eyes are wide and attentive, his lips full and parted as he hushes me. He shakes his head with gradual acceptance.

“You will let me in, when you are ready,” his finger scraps down my lips to my chin. “I understand that you can’t accept a simple compliment, Samantha…I just don’t understand why.” His eyes are narrowed and pained, mirroring my own. “But I will compliment you, Samantha, and I will…” he trails off as I attempt to hang my head and focus on my lap, but his finger under my chin disallows me to ensue with the indication of my unease.

His eyes widen again as he continues. “I want you to see yourself, as I see you; gorgeous, determined…beautiful, Samantha. You are beautiful.” He enunciates each word as though talking to a child.

He leans towards me, resting his forehead softy against mine as I close my eyes endeavoring to keep the burning of my tears at bay without being released. His lips search my face, kissing my eyes, my cheeks and my nose, until finally his forehead is resting against mine. The softness and warmness of his breath tickles my face as he parts his lips, and exhales lightly.

His words echoing in my head,
I want you to see yourself as I see you. You are beautiful
. His determination, his patience, it’s overwhelming…it’s beautiful…it’s what I need.

I wrap my arms around his neck and fall against him, pushing him into the mattress. With my arms still clung around his neck, his hands are placed on my hips as I hover over his immaculate body whilst straddling him. Sealing our mouths over each other, we utilize the perfect amount of pressure behind every fluid movement. I slip my hands free, and frame his profile before breathlessly pulling away from his mouth.

Hayden looks up at me and searches my thawing, icy blue eyes as my face hovers a few inches above his; my hair falling around us like a veil. Instantly gasping and shuddering when his right hand smoothes over the left side of my face, I appease my fears and push back my insecurities––focusing intently on forcing that lid shut. I feel more at ease when my eyes spring open, and I relinquish my barrier ever-so slightly.