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“Hello, Carlie.” He said in a deep, husky voice with an accent that I couldn’t quite place, but I was sure that anything this man would ever say would always seem exotic to me. Even my own name.
“Ivan.” He said, and I smiled as he extended one large, rough hand to me. I went to shake it, but instead he clutched my delicate hand in his massive one, bringing it up to his lips as he kissed my knuckles. That’s when I knew that he must be a God. No one acted like that anymore, and yet it had that pulsing, desire and need double inside of me. I was truly caught.
Chapter Two
Everything seemed to pass in a blur. I couldn’t help it. He had romanced me off my feet in a way that I didn’t think men could. There was that small voice inside of me that didn’t think that I was worthy of this man, but wherever we went people stared. No matter where we went they smiled at us. Both men and women checked us out in turn. Some seemed to gawk, and I thought at first that it was because of him, but I realized soon that they were also looking at me. I was used to attention here and there, but it was nothing like the attention I received when I with Ivan.
“They know what we are.” I remember him whispering in my ear as I got in the car that night, going from the restaurant to his loft.
“What?” I asked, as he opened the door for me. I slid into that black, elegant Porsche like it had always belong to me, but it was his. He didn’t answer until he was sitting behind the steering wheel as well. There was a devilish, almost childlike grin on his face as he looked at me with those dark, piercing eyes. He filled the car more than any man should. His presence seemed to crackle in the air around us.
“That we’re top in this world. Lean, fit, beautiful.” He said, each word like a gentle caress.
“That we belong at the top. You belong at the top too, my darling.” He told me.
* * *
Nothing around me was the same. Even my own apartment flat didn’t seem perfect enough. I wanted more. Being with Ivan made me feel like I truly deserved more. Being the envy of every woman in any room that we entered hand-in-hand, I knew simply standing next to him, I looked like a woman whom deserved a man like him. Breaking myself out my daydream, I sighed, because the truth of the matter was that he wasn’t here at this moment, and all I had of his to hold right now were my thoughts.
Cutting vegetables to have my mother over had never seen such a daunting task to
concentrate on before. My mind once again wandered.
That night was like no other. It was beautiful and it was primal. The way that he had me bouncing up and down on the largest, hardest cock I had ever seen. It was thick, long, and muscular like everything else about him. I wanted to marvel at it, and I quickly took it in my mouth as I watched those perfect, dark eyes narrow in amusement at me as his fingers wrapped in my wild hair.
I mewled around it with need, and he hadn’t let me stay like that for long. Unlike most men who would have just climbed on top of me, it seemed that Ivan had no intention of rutting on top of my lean body until he was finished. Instead, he had picked me up, placing me on my hands and knees with my ass prominently in the air before his large, calloused hands had grabbed my hips, pushing himself deep inside of me with one long thrust.
It seemed like my entire world exploded into the pleasure that he was bringing me, entering me and pulling out again in a rhythmic perfect pattern that I still couldn’t seem to predict. He was gentle at first, but determined with no words seeming to be needed between us. I hadn’t been drunk. I hadn’t even drunk that night, but I was drunk on anticipation and lust that I had been feeling since I saw him that day in the gym. I had found out that he was sixty-one, and I was about to turn twenty-one. I knew that should be a turn off, but as I thought when I heard it, it just meant that he was more skilled of a lover than I had imagined. My own personal sex God, which he proved again and again as I came, writhing on his cock as he filled every inch of me.
* * *
I nearly cut myself. The knife grazed my skin, making me swear as I was sharply pulled back into reality. Cursing, I went to clean the blade and put the cabbage in the colander so that I could rinse it. Stir fry was one of my mother’s favorite, and since I hadn’t seen her in so long (she had been in Wales for the longest time on another ‘finding herself’ mission, and had gotten in earlier this month without telling me), I wanted to make a good impression. It didn’t take long for me to get back in the hang of everything, once again feeling the slickness between my legs as I started to drip, thinking of all of the ways he had opened me up before him, making my most primal side scream with wild abandon for him to never stop.
I hadn’t thought such positions were even able to be done. With the way he had me bent almost in half. I could see myself dripping. I could see my pussy lips stretched out around his dark, midnight shaft as it plunged into me again and again. I could see his glutes squeeze every time he thrust into me particularly hard, and I stared at our lovemaking, my small hands on my large breasts. It had taken me a week to trust him to contort me in such a fashion, and even now my muscles strained, but it felt good. It made the release all the more worth it as I watched my legs were held up in the air by his strong hands. My back curved against the headboard as he pounded into me.
“Oh God, Ivan.” I shouted as I came. Again. I had come so many times I had long ago lost track. This man seemed to know how to play my body like no other could. He seemed to be able to play my body better than even I could, and he had long since made any toy I had completely worthless to me. I was addicted, and in that moment I didn’t care.
“Oh, Carlie.” He grunted as he continued. “Shush, now. I’ll put that pretty little mouth of yours to use cleaning me off when I’m done.” He had growled at me, much like the animal he was when he was lost in the pleasure of my body. I came at those words too.
* * *
The vegetables were all done now. I made a mental note, trying to wrench myself from the thoughts again. It had been a week since I had seen or heard from him. I couldn’t help but to wonder what I had done wrong. I knew I’d have to find him again, and it irked me how he obviously felt it okay to go missing in action whenever he felt the need, as if what we had was nothing. I’m not a doll to be taken off a shelf and played with at will, I fumed with irritation, thinking of how badly he handled me emotionally at times. But, honestly at the moment my body needed him far worse than my ego, and I had been aching since the last time he had played my body to a tune that only he seemed to know.
Cauliflower? Check. Broccoli? Check. Cabbage, carrots, onion, sweet potato, which my mother loved. It was all there, and yet I couldn’t help but to think I was missing something. The jasmine rice was waiting, and then it hit me. I had almost forgot the damn chicken. I had marinated it yesterday in all of the Caribbean spices my mother loved, but I had almost forgot to actually start cooking the damn thing. God. Even without him being here he wreaked havoc on me. I started to heat the coconut oil in the large skillet, putting the chicken in just as it started to sizzle before being pulled back into my own head, consumed by my need for him.
Chapter Three
Moving around the kitchen, as I prepared dinner, I was practically entranced…overcome by memories of our various coupling. My body ebbed in and out of lust with desire, as I mindlessly recalling the sweet pleasure of our last encounter.
* * *
Ivan had tied me up tonight. I had expected him to use silk bondage rope, maybe his tie, anything but what he had used. Just like everything about him, he once again surprised me by pulling out the zip ties. Hard plastic cut into my wrist, and I knew I was completely at this god’s mercy. He was going to play my body like the violin it was.
I had looked at him with excitement, a mild amount of fear running through me as he put the blindfold on me. After weeks of not seeing him, my body was ripe, primed and ready to be plucked. My hands were secured behind me. I was thrown onto my back, and his silky, satin sheets seemed too soft in comparison to what he was going to do to me, making me vulnerable to him again because without my eyesight, all I could do was feel. It made Ivan that much more intense, just like every orgasm he pulled out of my supple body.
“You’ll have to trust me now, little one.” He teased.
He often called me ‘little one’ or ‘little slut’ due to our age difference. At first it had bothered me, but now it seemed a dark promise that he would soon make me become undone. I didn’t trust him, but now I had no choice. I knew that he’d do anything to cause me pain and pleasure, mixed together in an intoxicating way I just couldn’t get enough of.
