AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Go ahead, be honest, Gail. You have so much pent-up in you, it’s begging to get some satisfaction.”
Remembering the serenity of the last two weeks, I wouldn’t have agreed with him; but just his saying so, I recognized the wellspring of my past desires was opening again, spilling free the Rossi stuff again. It had sat inside me, ignored and turned things sour like old milk left outside the fridge. It was pissing me off.
“You want to be as tepid as my actors, or do you want your life to crackle? If you want to slip back into your whining, dullard, self-absorbed funk, go ahead, but I’ll be leaving you behind.”
That did it. My hand flew to his face, hitting him squarely on the cheek. After all I’d been through, confessed to him, and endured on my behind, he’d tell me that!
He slapped me back, abruptly shocking my whole aroused system.
I wanted to cry; instead, I just stood there, dazed.
“Don’t ever slap me again,” he said. Now he looked angry. What the hell was going on?
“You told me to,” I blared.
“I know, just don’t it again. It makes me really mad. And when I’m really pissed off, all I want to do is blister your behind.
I got it good that night—really hard and hot on top of what he’d already done in front of his audience. Living up to his word, he blistered my behind, first with his hand again, and when that got too painful for him, he picked up a wooden hairbrush and laid a vigorous burst of fire on my ass until I was screaming for him to stop. Only as he eased, did my cries soften. But the lament that followed was full of anguish.
As soon as KC stopped, he was all over me. He fucked me nasty, right in my ass end—a drilling as good as Rossi and the old doctor put together. My genius actor was much more inventive in the middle of a screw. KC liked to change positions; and his dick could last forever without exploding. In-between his bouts of fury, he prodded my sex hole with his fingers getting my vagina all worked up for more. There was a crashing conclusion as he let loose spewing all he had into me. Afterwards, there was lots of time to drift.
I worried sometimes that we needed to stop. We couldn’t take these passions any further. I worried, too, that I’d simply wear out.
Chapter Ten
A week after my public spanking in the black box, I was sitting by the window of my loft drinking wine, letting the tension of the last few weeks drain away—or at least trying to. My biggest project of the year was complete. There was not one earthly thing I could do to improve the outcome. At last, I could relax. KC had been finishing his latest play, and we had been too busy to see each other—though he was never out of my mind. KC missed me, too. He seemed to need the relationship as much as I did and would initiate our times together as much as I did. I knew I loved him. I trusted that he loved me, and assumed we were in a very good place.
Letting myself relax again, my desire for him was stirring in my body—everywhere—warm cunt, itchy ass and especially by brain. I pictured his face—the smile, the anger, the intensity, the calm—and his muscled body, and the two of us locked in some pre-spanking battle… My desire began to rant through me like an angry teenager so furious I was about to start playing with myself right there by the window. If I hadn’t been wearing
a pair of stretchy leggings, I’m sure I would have been fingering my cunt. Jerked from my musings by a sound outside the loft, I let my mind come to, focusing on the sound of a Harley. KC.
Looking down at the street, I smiled seeing his broad shoulders and the sexy swagger in his leather pants as he hopped from the bike and moved toward my building.
He knocked, then walked right in. “Hi!”
“And how are you?” I said, as I moved from my chair into his arms. His kiss went to my crotch stirring up more thrills. His hand placed firmly on my ass seemed a signal of something to come, then he changed his mood abruptly.
“Gotta talk, Gail.” He pulled away, and took a seat opposite mine as I sat down. “I’m leaving for the summer,” he suddenly announced.
“You are?”
“I always do.”
“And leaving me here?”
“Only if you want to stay. You can come.”
“Come where?”
“I visit theatre friends and work at a Renaissance Faire until I’m tired of being on the loose. I’m usually home by the end of August to get the fall season at ACT started.”
“And you expect me to go with you?”
“Why not?”
“I have a job,” I tried pointing out what was obvious to me.
“Quit.”
