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As I yell loud enough to wake the people in the next village, Alex increases his violent strokes and very soon, he too is roaring with elation. I feel an enormous fountain of hot semen shoot up inside me. Panting hard, he collapses on top of me dripping with sweat, the two of us a mass of tangled limbs. For a long time, we just lie there, and then slowly, I attempt to extricate myself, but Alex refuses to budge, not wanting to let me go.
“No,” he breathes against my neck. “Don’t you dare move. I want every single drop of my cum inside you. I want you to take it all in and savour it.”
My breathing grows shallow, and I can feel his heart beating against mine. Then at last, he releases me, gets up and goes into the bathroom, returning shortly with a flannel and a bowl of water. Kneeling beside the bed, he proceeds to gently wipe all the blood from my private parts, the cool water a welcome relief from the stinging soreness down below.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you...but you enjoyed it, didn’t you?”
“Y-yes,” I whisper.
“Good. I love making you come. Do you think you can take more? I think I’m ready to go again.”
I squeeze my thighs tightly together. “I-I don’t think I can take more right now. It was mind-blowing but once was enough. I’m much too sore.”
“Okay,” he says softly. “If you change your mind, let me know.”
Silently, Alex finishes cleaning me up and then, placing the wash things on the dresser, throws back the duvet covers, climbs into bed, and pulls me into a vice-like embrace it’s impossible to escape. It’s like I’m his property now and he has no intention of ever letting go.
Locked in his frighteningly powerful arms, I feel so hot and stifled I can barely breathe but dare not complain in case I upset him. We just had the most explosive sex ever, but at the same time, in the back of my mind, I know I still need to work to keep him sweet. I can’t do anything to sabotage getting that final twenty-five grand to my mother, so I’ll need to play nice for as long as it takes to get out of here. Her life depends on it.
“What are you thinking about?” Alex whispers, stroking my cheek. “Are you okay? Talk to me.”
“No, it’s nothing,” I reply. “I-I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t tell you how privileged I feel to be your first. That you opened up and gave your body to me so freely will be something I treasure forever. What we just did was so…so magical, I can’t even describe it. This has truly been the best night of my life.”
I have no words. I am too choked up with emotion to speak.
Lovingly, he kisses my forehead and I’m so exhausted, before long I fall into a deep, slightly troubled sleep. Lord knows what tomorrow will bring.
The next morning when I wake up, the space beside me on the bed is empty. Alex is nowhere to be seen. The curtains are drawn but thin rays of sunlight peak through to reveal a magnificent room of opulence and splendour. For a few minutes, I lie in a daze, buried beneath the quilt, not wanting to leave the warmth and sanctity of the four-poster bed. The mattress is the most comfortable I’ve ever slept on and highlights just how hard and springy my one is at home. I try to turn sideways and wince as a sharp twinge of pain shoots through me. Every part of me is still so sore from last night, especially between my legs. Holy fuck, last night…
Closing my eyes, I momentarily cast my mind back to the wild sex I had with Alex. Him going down on me. Touching and caressing every inch of my body with his lips. The delicious feeling of his monster cock tearing through me. I get wet just thinking about it and instinctively, reach down to stroke my clit. Without him inside me, it feels as if a part of me is missing.
And then I snap out of it and desperately push salacious thoughts from my mind.Shit, what time is it?Turning, I glance at the clock on the dresser and see that it’s just gone ten am. I begin to panic as I realise I’m stark naked in a strange house with no idea how long it’s going to take for me to be allowed to leave this place.
Then I start to notice other things. On a chair by the wall is a fluffy white dressing gown and a bath towel. On the cabinet, lies a single red rose. Beside it, propped against a table lamp, is a large, laminated card with William Morris’The Strawberry Thiefprinted on it. Reaching out, I pick up the card, flip it over and read an inscription written in the most beautiful, old-fashioned handwriting:Dear Jessica, thanks so much for a wonderful evening. You have given me memories that will stay with me forever. Yours, Alex.
My throat closes up. A rose and a card.How beautifully romantic.Nobody has ever done something like this for me before and under different circumstances, I would be over the moon. Unfortunately, because it’s coming from Alex Kingswood, the cute gesture leaves me feeling sick and more than a little guilty. I don’t want him having these kinds of thoughts about me. No way do I want him getting attached. What we did last night must never happen again and after today, we must both go our separate ways.
Still, it was awfully sweet of him…
Suddenly, there’s a timid knock on the door.Christ, who can that be?In a panic, I grab the quilt and pull it up to my chin to preserve my modesty. Then, clearing my throat, I tell the person to come in. Tentatively, the door opens, and Mrs Bullivant enters the room carrying a tray laden with tea, toast and jam plus a full English fry up of bacon, eggs and sausages. At the sight of it, my stomach begins to rumble. The scent of freshly fried bacon makes me realise how hungry I am, having not eaten since yesterday afternoon.
“Good morning,” the old woman greets politely, placing the tray before me. “I hope you slept well.”
“Um, yes I did, thanks,” I reply, blushing at my nakedness. My God, what must she think of me? But Mrs Bullivant doesn’t bat an eyelid. In fact, she can barely bring herself to look at me. Something about her evasiveness makes me uneasy, like she’s privy to some dark secret I’m not in on.
“I wasn’t sure what food you wanted,” she continues, “so I brought you a little of everything. If there is anything you don’t like, please let me know and I can get you something else.”
“No, no, this looks great, thank you. I love a full English.” I crack a smile, but it’s not reciprocated.
She gestures to the towel and dressing gown on the chair. “Once you have finished your breakfast, please feel free to take a shower in the en suite. Everything is laid out for you. After you’ve finished washing and dressing, Mr Kingswood has requested that you stay in this room until he comes to get you. Is that understood?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “Loud and clear.”
