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Suddenly, the thought of playing with my woman with a toy between her legs becomes very appealing. But not tonight.
“You can try, but I’ll tie you to my bed. And every so often, I’ll do this.” I slide my fingers inside her and start the process all over again, and when I know she’s close, I rip them away.
“No!” she moans. “It’s yours. Take it. It’s yours.”
My very needy, and greedy, girl needs to come, and she needs it badly. I lean up and put my mouth near her ear. “Good girls get rewards, my doe. Here’s yours,” I murmur. One hard thrust, and I’m inside her.
“Yes!” Her hands come off the pillow. I grab them, holding them over her head, and continue to fuck her hard. Her legs come around my waist, locked tight. I watch as our bodies meld into one. Each stroke is glorious. My cock is slick and wet with her juices, sliding in and out, faster and faster. Her legs are like a vise, and when they spasm, I know she’s there and ready. I kiss her to swallow her screams. I watch her ride through her orgasm, then flip her onto her hands and knees, my hand at her back guiding her downward as I come inside her again. From this angle, I can come in deeper as I edge closer to my release.
“Hand between your legs. Play with your pussy,” I command. She’s hesitant at first, but does as I ask. As she becomes more sure of herself, a spark lights, and her pussy grips my cock. I fondle her breasts, playing with the nipples, tugging gently. I’m close. I’m not going to be able to hold on for much longer.
With my front covering her back, I whisper in her ear, “I need you to come again for me now, baby.”
“I can’t,” she cries with frustration. I know she wants it. I move her hand away from her pussy and find her clit. Taking it between my fingers, I pinch it lightly, causing her to jolt, then press my palm flat to her clit and fuck her hard. She moans, then lets go, and I finally allow myself the release I crave.
I release her hands, and she immediately clutches my arms, burying her face in my neck. Her heavy breath warms my already-heated skin. I frame her face with my hands.
“You’re spectacular,” I tell her, searching her eyes, then taking my time to kiss her deeply. Her lips tremble under my own. When I lift my lips from hers, I see a single tear running down her cheek. “Did I hurt you?” I frown.
She shakes her head and whispers a shaky “No.”
I run my thumb over the apple of her cheek. Was I too rough? Was this too intense for my sensitive girl? Have I royally fucked us up?
“What is it?” I’m compelled to know, yet dread the answer.
“It was perfect. You were perfect.” She nibbles on her lower lip.
“Then why the tear?” I kiss her tear away, tasting the salty drop.
“I can’t imagine anything more beautiful than this moment with you. Women are silly. We cry when we’re happy, or sad, or mad. Basically, we cry easily,” she says with a silly, lopsided grin.
“Challenge accepted, my doe.” She looks confused. “It’ll be my job to make sure that every night we’re together is pure magic.”
“It’ll be my job to keep making chocolate chip ice cream sandwiches.” She giggles.
“We’ll branch out. There’s maple syrup, caramel sauce, and much, much more,” I tease. I begin to rise and feel the stickiness between us. “Shower time,” I announce. I get to my feet and slip my arms under her knees and back, lifting her into my arms, then sauntering into the bathroom.
Later that night, after I changed the sheets, Gwen is lying asleep in my arms. I’m relieved she seems to get off on my dominance in bed. It’s something I’ve always known about myself, and I’ve never hidden it from the women I’ve dated, but nothing compares to this night with Gwen.
The evening is quiet, but I sense that something is off. I move Gwen to the side, careful not wake her. I check all the doors and windows one more time.
Normally, I’d take a look outside around the perimeter, but I’m not willing to leave Gwendolyn alone. I peer out the living room window. A smaller, sporty, two-door vehicle is driving off. I don’t recognize the car, but the uneasiness in my gut begins to subside.
I’ll look into it tomorrow. For now, I return to Gwen’s side.
TWELVE
Bitch
GWENDOLYN
“I need to start going home at night. One of these days, I’m going to be late.” It’s too late to do anything with my hair, but I pin it up on the sides, away from my eyes, and let the waves hang loose around my shoulders. I’m lucky to have hair that’s easy to manage, but I would like to spend more than five minutes on it. After all, I’m going to work, and I want to look nice.
Most people think that because it’s usually kids who come to the library, it doesn’t matter how polished I look. I think it’s more important. Kids are impressionable, and they’re also little parrots. They mimic what they see and hear. We are their role models.
When I see kids who are misbehaving, I know there’s more to it than that. Something could be happening at home or at school. What seems like small problems to adults are a big deal for the little guys. Losing a best friend because of a tiff or having them move away seems insignificant to parents, but it can be a huge problem for a child.
I like to take my time to get to know the kids who walk through our door. I love it when they come from the local schools. I get to learn their interests and what kind of books excite them. From fairy princesses and ogres to autobiographies from sports heroes, there’s something for each of them.
