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I laugh. "I had some anger to burn off," I reply.
"I could feel that," Petra says with a grin. "Helped me work off some energy, all right. And the calming poses at the end did good for the soul. I can go home and fall asleep peacefully now."
I smile at her. This is what makes teaching yoga such a pleasure–what it brings to the students. It's not just about fitness but about shifting one's mindset.
"Happy to hear it. Have a good night, and I'll see you next week."
"You too," Petra chirps and walks toward the changing rooms.
After grabbing my things, I hurry home to check on Damien, who has been on my mind all evening. I hope he remembered to heat up the dinner I left for him in the fridge and finish his homework.
I smile to myself. I'm certain he remembered the dinner, but I'm less certain he remembered the homework.
"Damien!" I call out as I unlock the door to our Lower East Side apartment. "How was school?"
"Fine," he replies, emerging from his room with a basketball in his hands. As we chat about his day and basketball practice, I set to work preparing his lunch and dinner for tomorrow.
"So, how are you and Daniel getting on with the other kids these days?" I ask. Damien and Daniel are best friends. Recently they had a falling out with some of their other friends.
"All right, I suppose. We've started hanging out with some of the older kids. They don't bug us about talking about basketball too much or being too smart in class."
I nod. It's hard being a kid. If you are too smart, too slow to learn, too nice, too nasty... it all backfires one way or another unless you're a natural-born jock. My guess is that Roland, for example, had no issues at school.
"So, the older kids are nice?" I ask. Older kids always ring a bit of a warning bell.
"Yeah, they also play sports and stuff. And they do all right in school too."
We keep chatting for a while; then, at nine, it's time for Damien to head to bed.
"Night, Maddie," Damien says. I give him a hug and a kiss on the forehead before taking a deep breath and sitting down by the kitchen table. I'm exhausted, but I need to look at some stuff for class. I handed in the assignment–the business plan that is–online today, but for class, we need to read up on some stuff.
"Only thirty minutes," I promise myself as I crack open a textbook.
Thirty minutes later, I practically stagger to bed.
I want to sleep a deep, restful sleep. Unfortunately, my dreams seem to have other plans. Instead of them being restful, I find myself in a steamy, passionate encounter with Roland.
We are standing alone in his living room. My body feels on fire as Roland's hands roam over my skin, igniting every nerve with desire. I can feel his hard length pressed against me, and my body arches into his, craving the contact. His lips are on mine, his tongue teasing and exploring as he skillfully undresses me with his hands. I'm helpless in his embrace, lost in the intoxicating sensations he's creating in me.
I try to focus, try to tell myself he is my boss and an insufferable one at that. Instead, I gasp as I feel his hands caressing my breasts.
Suddenly, his hands are gone, and I open my eyes to see his dark, intense gaze locked on mine. He kneels between my legs, his hands gripping my hips as he pulls me closer to him. I gasp as he leans forward, his mouth closing over my aching center. His tongue is magic, flicking and teasing until I'm writhing beneath him, my hands clutching his hair.
Roland then pushes me into the couch as he starts to undress himself. I watch as if transfixed as his clothes come off. His body is athletic, and I enjoy the sight of his muscles. I also stare at his cock as he removes his boxers. He's hard and ready.
"Now," he growls and pushes me back on the couch, so I lie down, and he settles on top of me, his hard length pressing against me. I gasp as he thrusts into me, my whole body quivering with pleasure. His movements are punishing and relentless, and I meet his every thrust with one of my own.
"Do you feel how good it is to be fucked by me?" he asks.
I want to say no and tell him he's a jerk, but instead, the words that come out of me are, "Yes, please don't stop."
I open my eyes as he smiles wickedly at me and thrusts even harder.
I wrap my legs around him and dig my nails into his back as my body tightens around his. I cry out as I come, and Roland lets out a deep groan, thrusting harder into me as he finishes.
With a start, I wake just as my orgasm comes to an end. I'm a sweaty mess tangled up in my own sheets. What's more, I'm flushed and breathing heavily, completely flustered by the intensity of the dream.
"Ugh, no!" I groan, burying my face in my pillow. "Not him, of all people!"
