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We dive inside the messy sheets, his cock quickly swelling as it pulses strongly in me. This passion makes me breathe again—as though I’ve been holding my breath for weeks. I can’t clutch him hard enough, hold him tight enough, and kiss him deep enough. I need to climb inside his skin and become him, take away the hurt we shared and the emptiness that remained.
He is my master, the one that matters, and yet, he’s still like a child at times—just as I am.
I awaken in the morning, and he’s sitting in a chair across from me staring into my sleepy eyes. Heinrich’s dressed—black suit, crisp white shirt, red tie. ‘What a hot stud,’ my friends said when I first showed up with him when I was twenty-three. In seven years, he’s hardly changed. His good looks melt me, his smile arouses my crotch, his body brings out pure lust, and now there seems to be more than that.
“Are you leaving?” I’m almost feeling desperate because I don’t want him to go.
“I have work to do,” he looks at me a little coldly and I worry.
“Yes, of course. And you’ll come back tonight?”
“I’ll come back when I feel like it,” he says, as a good dominant would, with a hint of irritation in his voice. And, yet, I see a little twinkle in his eye.
I feel like a playful kid with my heart suddenly bounding and rebounding.
“I need a good dominant, Heinrich. But more importantly, I need you.” I reach out my hand and he stands. Moving closer,he takes my palm in his.
“I know that, Anna. I’m afraid Bernard was right again,” he muses whimsically.
“If we’d only listened before.”
“No, dear. Now’s the time to be together. We needed to live through other worlds so we’d understand the one we have. It may be rough for both of us for a while, but this time we’ll get it right.”
I believe him. I believe in his vulnerability and mine, the tentativeness, the caution and fear we feel right now. I am not the same person anymore, and neither is he. We seem like old friends and brand new lovers, and the world is fresh and life is new and ready for us.
“Better behave yourself while I’m gone, or I’ll have to punish you tonight,” he tells me in his most austere voice.
“Oh, you are coming back tonight,” I giggle happily as I pull up on the bed and give him a hug.
“Watch yourself, Anna,” he says as he pushes me back, “Don’t get too haughty.”
“Oh, never,” I assure him.
“Remember, I have a year’s worth of dominant lust to satisfy. It’s been a long time.”
“Oh, my, I am in for a treat.”
After we kiss, he’s gone, leaving his scent on the sheets and in my living room and beside my desk, and in my hair and on my skin. His indelible imprint just won’t fade away. It once grew faint. But it will never disappear.
