Sansara watched her future man approach her car, loaded up with puppy supplies and Max on a leash. He had a lop-sided smile on his face, pleasantly surprised that she had shown up. Since he was fairly certain that she was a mind reader, he didn’t think too much of it. If he didn’t, he probably would have decided she was a stalker.
Crystal wasn’t a stalker, though. Cheryl and Christina were pals, not to mention she’d seen him briefly when she drove that way home from the grocery store one day. She knew where he lived, but never once dreamed of visiting. For one thing, Cheryl’s energy was too negative for her to stand.
In fact, Cheryl was the reason they hadn’t met yet, unbeknownst to him. Crystal met Cheryl once before she got hitched to Mr. Donovan. There was a darkness in her soul that put Crystal en guarde. She remembered something Cheryl had told Christina the one time they had met: I love summer. All I do is eat strawberries and whipped cream and I lose ten pounds!
Anyone desperate enough to lose ten pounds was not on the list of people Crystal wanted to know. At that time in her life, she was fifty pounds overweight, at least, but she was not willing to try this diet. It sounded tasty but unhealthy and she happened to love herself, thank you very much.
It was more than that obvious streak of vanity, though. The light behind Cheryl’s eyes was tainted and tinged with the most incredibly vile mix of yellow and sepia. She was almost as close to a demon as Crystal believed in. She didn’t believe in angels or demons, you see, but if there were any, they’d be human beings with dirty or pristine souls. She could see their souls, which was an energy vortex in the middle of their head. At least, that’s what she called it. Soul sight.
Cheryl’s soul was dirty. The only way to get a soul that dirty was to actively betray your own sense of morality and duty constantly. That woman was a liar and a drug addict. She was as vain as could be, and her eyes were vacant even when she smiled. She looked artificially bright to anyone without soul sight, what with her artificial sparkly white teeth, her light colored eyes, and her bottle blonde hair.
Crystal, in contrast, knew her own soul wasn’t as bright as it could be, but it was not tinged with any color. It was white, even if it was dim from time to time from lack of nutrition or self-esteem. Actually, she fancied that it was a little blue, like her somber moods.
She wondered how that leech attached to Michael. The man’s soul was positively blinding to behold and it made her look away from him quite often. She wanted to know his secret, actually. Her own used to be just as bright, but lately it looked more like a night light instead of a radiant sun. She wasn’t completely sure which variables she had to manipulate in her life to increase the intensity of her own soul. She was tired of being sick and wanted to return to the pinnacle of health.
Sansara popped the trunk so Diego could load it up with the pupper’s supplies. Diego let Max into the car before he slid behind the driver’s wheel of her Chevy Cruze. It was spotless. Immaculate. Just like her OCD style apartment. He wondered briefly if she was a psycho murderer or a serial killer. A mob boss. Someone who whacked people or had them whacked, at least. But why would she employ him if she was? It didn’t make sense, so he discarded those ideas.
Sansara put a hand on his arm and he felt the healing run through him again. It was incredibly strong. He found himself sitting up straight and becoming perfectly alert. “I had a feeling you forgot Max when I saw how little you brought with your first trip,” she told him, skipping the platitudes and greetings. “You mustn’t forget you choose to be responsible for him, you know.”
He nodded at her. A trace of a smile was still on his lips. She wished in that moment she was brave enough to kiss the handsome man seated next to her, but she wasn’t. A moment later, she withdrew her hand. This time, the healing energy continued to work inside of him, making him feel twenty all over again. He was just about forty, so it’d been a while since he’d felt so good. He tried to remember the last time Carrie made him feel like a million bucks.
She found herself wanting to touch the man driving her back to her apartment, despite taking care of her bodily needs in private just minutes before that. As soon as he’d left, she’d taken herself to bed with her toys. She tried not to think about him at all, but as she got closer and closer to climax, she couldn’t help herself. She felt guilty about it, too. She didn’t think she had his consent at all. The closest thing he’d said that even acknowledged she was a hot-blooded woman was him insinuating she was a whore with gentleman callers. She pushed that out of her mind, ultimately, figuring he didn’t understand what he was insinuating because he was too stupid. Most people seemed to be really dumb, she thought. Or they play dumb really well.
Simultaneously, Max stuck his nose into her ear and against her cheek from the back seat. He licked her vigorously, happy to be reunited with his former owner. Michael was feeling left out. He wanted to touch the lady, as well, but he didn’t have a fur coat to hide behind as an excuse.
“Will you call me Michael today?” he asked her, deciding to ditch the small talk himself and get to the point. She looked at him curiously as he pulled into her driveway. He was incredibly grateful she’d rescued him from his poor planning. He’d have to tell her when he wasn’t waiting for a response. Once the car was parked again, he looked at her.
“Okay, Diego. Michael,” she said. Michael laughed suddenly. He felt like he was always going to be Diego at this rate. His new landlord didn’t know it yet, but her bodyguard and tenant was schizophrenic. He figured she had to have done that on purpose, using both names, but didn’t talk to her about it.
Instead, he said, “Thank you, Sansara. You were right, I needed a hand moving Max’s things over.” Sansara gathered some of Max’s things herself, noting he didn’t have a doggy bed. Michael melted a little more. This was nothing like having a regular landlord. It was like having a partner, even if there was no romance between them. Another area where Carrie fell down on the job, he thought, as he walked up the front stairs to unlock the door and admit the three of them.
Sansara forgot one thing about having orgasms. She just remembered. She always had to pee afterward. Once inside, she set down Max’s things on the buffet next to the door and made a beeline for the bathroom. She didn’t even tell him he was welcome, he thought, as he watched her shut the bathroom door behind her.
She seemed to have to go urgently quite frequently, he mused, as he set up Bruno’s food and water dish on the kitchen floor. He noted that although she’d gone to bed with a wine bottle and a glass, none of the mess they’d left the night before was to be seen. He decided to be nosy and look in the dishwasher, too, but he found there was nothing in it. Her kitchen was truly clean, aside from two mugs next to the coffee maker.
He realized just then that there was art on the wall. He poured himself a mug of the promised decaf and stared at the original pieces lining the walls. They were all done by the same artist, he saw with some surprise. A past lover, maybe? It was impossible to tell, really, as they were all signed “C. Scordias.” An odd thing to keep, if it was from someone in the past that had meaning like that, he thought.
She emerged from the bathroom quietly and saw Diego staring at her absolute favorite painting. An abstract painted to simulate a landscape on some world where mountains were orange and the grass was green. She tried her best not to make a sound as she walked closer to watch him look at her art. She wondered what he thought of it. She was too sensitive to solicit an opinion or feedback, though, so she just took it all in. A man with a mug of coffee, staring at her own private art exhibition. She could have painted him in that moment, and she thought to herself she might anyway.
Just then, he caught her watching him. She changed trajectory to go to the coffee maker and pour her own mug of coffee. First, though, she poured some creamer from a small pot into her mug. She liked to let it warm up to room temperature so that her coffee wouldn’t get too cold, so she had prepared it before she left to pick up the man she hoped was her future husband. He hadn’t even seen the creamer there, though he preferred his coffee black anyway. He idly wondered what kind it was.
“Nice paintings,” he remarked, lifting his mug a little to give kudos with the caffeinated beverage. She looked at him for a long moment, wondering if he was being facetious or duplicitous.
“Do you really think so?” she asked, coming closer to where he stood. “My favorite it that one,” she said, motioning to the orange, magenta, and green abstract that looked like a surreal fairy tale landscape.
“Hmm… that’s the one I like best, too, though I can’t quite figure out why,” he admitted. He was dying to ask her where they’d come from, really, but he refrained. He didn’t want to see what she’d throw at him next if he made her angry again and he didn’t fancy a face full of coffee.
“It makes me think of fairy landscapes,” she said simply. He waited for her to say more, but she didn’t. He returned to studying the paintings, finding his eyes on that particular one more than the rest.
“Would you let me buy it from you a bit later on?” he asked. “When I’ve recovered some from my divorce, I mean.”
She bit her lip, looking between him and her favorite painting. “Only if it continues to stay right there,” she replied.
Now there was a loaded statement. He could own it, but he couldn’t move it? Was she suggesting something… more… than being roommates? He wondered how much she’d want for it. He imagined it’d cost him a small fortune, something along the lines of the furniture she bought him. She’d called it his furniture, though. He was beginning to wonder if there was something she wasn’t telling him, something stupid obvious he was missing that was something other than a potential marriage proposal.
“Crystal…” he began. She flinched upon hearing the name, so he paused and tried again. “Sansara…” he almost murmured. She looked at him like Krista the fairy from Fern Gully, eager to hear whatever he had to say next. And… he totally lost his cool. He closed the gap between them. Before he knew it, he was halfway to pressing his lips against hers. However, she was in the middle of taking another sip of her coffee, so it became awkward really fast. Especially when she startled and spilled coffee all over herself.
“Oh my god,” he said, quickly setting his coffee cup down on the kitchen table before trying to relieve her of her mug. “Are you okay? Will it burn you?” he asked as he ripped a few sheets of paper towel off the roll and handed one to her while he used the other to try to mop up coffee.
And that’s when he first noticed that she wasn’t wearing a bra. He gulped as he dabbed delicately at her jet black Muslim-style caftan. The irony of it all was lost on him. In Muslim society, men and women did not fraternize at all, let alone dab at one’s breast to mop up spilled coffee. He found her hand stilling his hand just then and she collected the paper towel from him. “Daniel, I’ll just change. I have plenty of clothes, it’ll be alright.”
He turned beet red. He wanted to keep dabbing, to keep taking care of her the best he could. He desperately wanted to kiss her. Maybe he even needed it. She drew him in like a siren singing her song. His boat was definitely going to capsize any moment.
“Are you okay?” she asked suddenly, looking at him worriedly. She brushed the backs of her fingers over his cheek gently. “It’s okay, accidents happen. I’ll just go change. It’s not that far away, really.”
“I want to watch,” he said suddenly, then covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes going as wide as they could. That is not what he meant to say at all. She tried to suppress a grin, but failed. Her eyes danced as she stared at him. Then without a word she walked away, going down into the cellar. He wondered why she headed into the cellar. Was he supposed to follow her? He had no idea, but fortune favored the bold, so he followed tentatively.
She definitely saw him following her, because she looked over her shoulder at him, still mirthful. She said nothing as she disappeared behind a closed door in the first basement level. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs and trying to steady himself. He held a hand out and pushed the swinging door that led straight into the finished laundry area.
He was extremely happy Max hadn’t followed them as well. She was sitting on the edge of the folding table, a sturdy metal table from the looks of it, in the most inviting position he could think of. She stared at him from across the room, then she shifted to lean on just one hand so she could beckon him with the other to come closer. “Come here. Diego, Daniel, Michael, Mr. Donovan or whomever you are today,” she said to him. As she spoke, the fire in his eyes became impossible for her to ignore. “Come here and kiss me now,” she demanded, pointing a finger down at the ground directly in front of her.
Was he daydreaming? He closed the gap, trying not to rush it. He wanted her to perceive him as a god descending upon a goddess, taking his due time to reach her. He gulped on the way there, wondering again if he dreamt it, which made him falter slightly. She wiggled her shoulders as she watched him, taking his eyes from her face to her breasts, then back again to her face. All the signals that he could see were green. If he was mistaken she was going to call the cops on him. He was sure of that.
Sansara reached out and grabbed a fistful of his shirt once he was close enough and pulled gently at the fabric, bringing him closer to her. She was definitely an assertive woman. He tried not to think about what she’d said about Ben, it would simply ruin the moment. He didn’t have to think so hard, because just then she fluttered her eyelashes at him and she said, “Don’t you think you’ve made me wait long enough, Mr. Donovan?”
He nodded and lowered his mouth toward hers. She shifted, putting her arms and legs around him, pulling him in close. He could almost envision Scorpion calling “Get over here!” as he speared his opponent. He was doomed if she ever changed her mind about him, he thought. He wanted to be like this forever, he thought, as his mouth pressed gently against her own.
She moaned softly, her body pressing against his as his own arms snaked around her body. He decided to be just as assertive as this lovely woman, pressing his engorged member against her pubic mound to bring to her attention that she was definitely under his skin. He was surprised when she moaned again, even more loudly, against his mouth in response to the teasing action.
The moan egged him on and he pulled back slightly from her, to which she pouted heavily. His fingers fumbled with the jeans for a second time that day, unbuttoning and unzipping. She bit her lip as she watched him proceed to become unclothed in her presence. Her fingers were at the hem of his shirt before he knew it, sliding it upward. He felt a little self-conscious suddenly, as she exposed his beer belly. He’d grown a bit soft in the midsection, he had to admit. If she cared, it didn’t show on her face. She was staring everywhere her hands explored, looking delighted with the skin on skin contact.
“Sansara, do we need protection?” he asked her softly as he hesitated to let his trousers drop. He had a condom stuffed in his wallet since last night, actually, just in case.
“D… Michael,” she said softly, “I haven’t been tested lately. I got tested six months after I broke up with psycho and I was clean as of then. That was over a year ago. And I’m on birth control. If you have an STD, wear it… if you don’t… then don’t.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve been cheated on, but just in case…” He took his wallet out of his back pocket and retrieved the condom he stuffed in there. He inspected the packaging to make sure it was in tact before tearing it open. He moaned suddenly as her fingers found an entirely different package altogether. She was certainly driving him crazy. She had to know it, too. His pulse was racing and he was rock hard despite the minor interruption.
“I… Michael… will you tell me. Is it really over with Carrie? Are you sure you want to do this with me?” She looked at him uncertainly as he dropped the condom altogether.
“What?!” he looked at her dubiously, disbelieving his ears. “What do you mean am I sure?” Her eyes sparkled a little too much, indicating some tears were on the horizon. Good lord! What did he do now to stop from being one with the magical woman? Then again, there was no rush, he had promised to stay for an entire year… they could resume this any time.
His hands framed her delicate face and he looked into her eyes for a long time. “Crystal? Are you sure you want to do this with me?” he asked her. Her eyes slid to the side for a moment, then back to him.
“I do, but maybe we should wait. If you don’t know if Carrie was cheating on you, we ought to be sure… I mean, there’s still a possibility of transmitting diseases even with protection. A female condom is much more sanitary when unsure and I don’t have any right now,” she said, looking apologetic. She actually happened to know Carrie was cheating on him.
Carrie was sleeping with Psycho Boy Ben, her private investigator had found out. Then again, she thought… if Ben succeeded in killing her, she’d never be with the magnificent and sexy beast that was coming onto her just moments before. On the other hand, she wanted to be married. For good. No more playing games.
She bit her lip again, looking at him. “You know, I really want to, even with that consideration, but I really want to be married.” She put extra emphasis on the word, just like she had the first time she’d told him. “And it’s going to look really bad if we get married in the wake of your divorce, and I know that. I’ve been celibate for a while… I can manage a while longer, even if I don’t want to.”
He was perplexed. “Will you marry me?” he asked her. She turned her wide eyes on his, staring as she nodded at him.
“Yes, I would be very happy to marry you,” she said to him. She knew more about him than he could even understand just because of the private investigator’s work. The most challenging thing she’d discovered is that he was schizophrenic, but she figured it was a small price to pay for a chance at eternal happiness. The man had never been found to cheat on anyone he’d ever been with, unlike every single asshole she’d been with to date.
He kissed her then, his lips parted slightly as he did so, gently rubbing his skin on hers. Her tongue came out to tease his parted lips, inviting him to rub his own tongue against hers. The extreme passionate need had passed through them both, nowhere to be found right now, but their bodies were still singing to each other.
Crystal decided she didn’t care anymore, they were as good as married. She knew if this one ended badly, she would follow through with her master plan. Suicide. He was a good one, according to everything she’d discovered and it seemed unlikely he would leave her, as long as she did her best. She didn’t really want to know everything about Mr. Diego Donovan, honestly. Her P.I. was too thorough, however, and she had a dossier of information regarding his entire family.
She took his hands and put them on her calves, pushing them and the skirt of the caftan up until his hands were on her knees. He broke off the kiss as tenderly as it began and stared at her with a mixture of desire and a request for permission. She smiled at him as she pulled at his waistband to disrobe him further. “I’ve made up my mind,” she said slowly. “If you really will marry me, I don’t care to wait.”
“I wish I had a ring in this moment,” he whispered into her ear before kissing along her jaw and her neckline. She moaned in appreciation of his warm lips moving over her flesh. His hands stroked her thighs, as well, and suddenly he found his erection being caressed in return. He grunted softly, maneuvering himself so that she could line his member up with her vaginal entrance.
She teased herself with the head of his cock just then, rubbing it against her vulva until he was slick with her arousal. Now that was positively hot. She made it more than obvious when she wanted him to press forward, so he did. A moan came from her as the tip cleared the entrance. She smiled as she looked up at him, then pushed him away gently by the hips until they disengaged again.
He bit his lip, staring at her as she forced him to tease her, partially entering her and withdrawing completely again, getting a little closer to being fully sheathed every time. He noticed that he was becoming ultra slick with her wetness as she guided him this way, which he got more and more excited about. She made a loud moan every time he fully disengaged and re-entered her, and he decided he loved that. After four or five partial thrusts, she coaxed him to push himself into her to the hilt.
He looked at her in awe as she whimpered and moaned simply from that singular act, as slow as it was. He waited there. She was so assertive, he half-expected her to orchestrate the whole encounter. He was not disappointed. And that smile on her face… he loved that, too. She put Carrie to shame, he thought, unable to keep from comparing the two women. Carrie never made him feel like he was a star found in pornography, but Crystal? She made it seem like he could be nothing but.
He was surprised as she herself began to move. He put his arms around her, kissing her face as she rocked her hips forward and backward again. She pulled at his long ponytail just then, which tilted his head back, and nipped him lightly on the neck. It stung a little, but it was incredibly exciting. He was enjoying her calling the shots, but getting restless, as well. He decided to experiment, pushing himself into her depths gently as her hips descended upon him in that same moment.
Sansara stared at him, her eyes half-closed, the corners of her mouth upturned as they met each other halfway. He leaned her over backwards, which led her to flinging her arms around his neck. He stared into her beautiful eyes as their hips continued to tilt against one another, driving his erect penis deep into her birthing canal. She cried out in utter delight, her back arching suddenly as an orgasm shook her body. “Diego,” she started to chant as he continued to make love to her, half-whimpering and half-moaning the name into his ear.
He knew she was his number one fan in that moment, no matter if she used the name he hoped for or not. He continued to stare into her eyes, his hips thrusting forward and withdrawing rhythmically. To his surprise, she was shaking in his arms again. It wasn’t that long since the first time it happened, either, which heightened his arousal. He was trying to make it last as long as he could, however, so he took his time. His eyes were glued to her face as he continued to make love to her.
Her face had become flushed as she stared back at him, a loving expression written all over her features as she continued to writhe in his arms. Her noises were much less sporadic now and damn near constant. And they were the sexiest sounds he’d ever heard, he thought. He felt like a king. No. He felt like a god, especially when she trembled in his arms again, crying out his pseudonym this time. Her eyes fluttered shut as she spasmed uncontrollably in his arms.
He couldn’t hold back anymore, he found himself moaning along with her as he got closer and closer to the edge. She opened her eyes again, just barely, as she screamed in utter delight. Her nails dug into his bare back as she tried to maintain eye contact. She spoke, though the sounds were mostly moans and whimpers, “Come with me, lover boy. Come with me this time. I’m going to come so hard. Come with me, DIEGO!” The last part was almost feral scream as he moaned low and loud, thrusting into her once more as he also reached his climax.
He breathed hard as he stared into her eyes, one arm around her to keep her from falling over and his free hand moving to smooth her hair. Their mouths met again in a sweet and tender kiss. He touched his forehead lightly against hers as he closed his eyes, murmuring to her, “I’m pretty damn sure I’m in love with you, sassy witch.”
“I hope so,” she replied unevenly. “I need to tell you some things I’ve withheld unintentionally when we’ve recovered, Diego,” she murmured at him. He stiffened a little bit. “I didn’t know this was going to happen, or I’d have already told you.” He nodded, still a bit tense. She wouldn’t let go of him yet, so it wasn’t anything that upset her, at least. “This is the absolute worst timing on my part, I think, dear man.” He nodded, holding her close even though he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what he heard next.
“The first thing I want to confess to you,” she said directly into his ear, “is that was the best sex I’ve ever had.” He found himself smiling happily at her words. She certainly had a way to turn the ship around when it was sailing in the wrong direction, that was for sure. “I had no idea you were interested in me, that’s the second thing I need to tell you.”
He squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in her bosom. She didn’t know he was into her? He thought it had been beyond obvious. She couldn’t be a mind reader, then. Wait a minute! How did she know where he lived? He pulled back from her bosom to gaze upon her face again. She smiled softly at him, still deep in the afterglow, it would seem. Everything about her seemed soft as can be, actually. The fighter of a woman he met yesterday was nowhere to be seen.
“How… why do you know where I live?” he asked her, watching her for any traces of guilt to cross her face. They didn’t. He couldn’t believe it. Was she a stalker?
“I saw you once on a drive home, actually, it was very happenstance and it was last year. I stopped driving that way altogether… Um…” she paused and placed a hand over his heart before continuing. “Carrie is sleeping with Ben, according to my private investigator,” she said, deciding to be blunt. “I didn’t know we would… you know… or I’d have told you sooner. I… don’t know how our lives got tangled up this way, honestly.”
He scanned her face for any tell. Anything to tell him she was lying to him. There was nothing but concern in her eyes and features. She had to be telling the truth… If there was a private investigator (just how much money did she have? his brain interjected simultaneously) there should be photographs or something to prove it, right? Maybe he watched too many movies, though.
She was watching him, he realized, looking for his feelings to register on his face. He’d given up on Carrie years ago, he realized, even if he hadn’t fully acknowledged it consciously. Probably at least two years ago. She kept nagging him and fighting with him without giving him constructive feedback, so he withdrew to protect himself from her ire and abuse last year. It didn’t really surprise him that she found someone else… what bothered him is that she slept with him bareback while she did so.
“If it helps any,” Sansara said timidly, “cheaters generally don’t love themselves and that’s the reason they cheat.” Nope, she was not a mind reader at all. He melted for her all over again, too. She was trying to make him feel better about Carrie going to the arms of another man, but that wasn’t what bothered him at all.
“They started seeing each other almost two years ago,” Sansara told him. He gulped just then. Two years ago?! He wasn’t even sure there was trouble in paradise until a year ago! What the hell! He might as well kill his ex-wife, too, while he was at it… but that wasn’t the right answer, either. Their children needed a mother.
He realized then what Sansara did by foregoing protection. He felt himself getting erect again as it dawned on him that she knew he might have something, but she was committed enough to be with him for the rest of her life regardless. She whimpered as she felt his cock stir within her again.
“You are one crazy witch,” Daniel said into her ear, now fully aroused and already inside of her velvety folds.
She stroked his cheek as she replied, “I can’t really disagree with you, but I’d rather you say my name.” She turned her head to kiss his other cheek. “I think I love you, too, Sir Deli Man.”
“Which name, witch?” he practically growled, smiling a little as he looked down at her in his arms. He moved his hips in a tight circle to force her to feel him deep inside of her. She didn’t answer immediately, instead pulling the caftan over her head and disrobing for him. He stared appreciatively at her body, his hands moving to her breasts now that she’d become upright again.
She half-moaned her own name and he nearly lost his head again. He nodded at her, his mouth traveling over her flesh hungrily as she herself started to wiggle about on top of his cock. He could definitely get used to this. In fact, he hoped it would never end. And now he understood how she’d spent more time on her back than not with the sex addict she called her ex. He vowed to himself just then that he would not do the same to her.
“Crystal,” he whispered into her ear. As if that was a cue, she moaned loudly and came all over him. He’d barely done anything. He definitely needed to marry this woman, he thought, as he resumed rolling his body against hers, being as gentle as he could muster. He really wanted to lose control and pound away, but something held him back. It was probably the fact that even the slightest movement sent shivers through her and her auditory response was over the top.
He would have thought she was faking it, but the mess they were creating together increased at regular intervals, corresponding with her body shaking and trembling and her constant sound-making. In fact, she was going hoarse at this point. He nuzzled her neck gently as he asked her, “Is there anything special you’d like, ultra babe Crystal?”
She blinked at him a few times, then said, “We could change position, if you’d like, sexy man Diego.” Diego really was his name, but he dissociated regularly. It felt a little foreign in his ears at that moment. He knew she only had eyes for him, though, so it was a momentary blip. He got even more aroused, if possible, at the idea of how saucy this minx really was.
“What position were you thinking of, my love?” he breathed at her, half holding his breath. He was afraid to suggest doggy style, but it really would be amazing to see the rest of her, as well. She didn’t answer him in words. Instead, she pushed his chest gently, asking him non-verbally to back it up. He complied, getting more and more curious.
He couldn’t believe how aroused he was in that moment. What was in that healing touch? He wondered about it as they disconnected. Cool air collided with his wet dick just then, a sensation that he appreciated as he awaited his future bride. He wondered if he was wrong about her reading minds once more when she stood up and bent over the folding table, wiggling her behind at him.
There would be no other woman for him ever again, he decided, as his hands grasped her hips gently. Then, on a whim, he decided to delay re-entry and instead he rubbed his hands over her ass cheeks. She moaned at that, which made him smile. She was perfect, he thought, as his hands trailed over the backs of her thighs. She widened her stance just then, pushing on her own behind a bit to try to entice him. He could resist her no more and he buried himself deep inside of her.
She tossed her head back just then, her hands reaching for him as she screamed his name again, but this time she called him Michael. Oh for the love of God! Was she the hottest woman on Earth or what? He threaded the fingers of one hand through her short hair and grasped as much of it as he could, spreading an even pressure over her scalp as he pulled on her curly locks. He was going to lose it soon. She was too delightful. Thankfully, she lost it first.
He watched her convulse on his cock, screaming in pleasure as she did so. His free hand held both hers behind her back, as lightly as he could. He didn’t want to hurt her, after all, just touch her. Both her hands grasped his arm and he took his time pushing his erect member deep into her, withdrawing completely before doing it again and again. This time, she chanted for Michael. She was close to making him lose control, he thought, but he wanted that control.
Watching her orgasm was something magical to him. He wanted to make it last as long as possible, to give her as much pleasure as possible. Carrie would die if she knew the woman her new lover had spurned was the best he’d ever encountered. That thought delayed him. He slowed down to a stop, buried deep inside his future bride. He bent over her and whispered into her ear, “So how many times have you come for me so far, my lovely woman?”
Sansara shivered beneath him, moaning as the hot air reached her ear. “Twelve, I think,” she replied. Well, that certainly cleared all thought of his ex!
“Ready for more, Crystal, baby?” he murmured, flexing the muscles in his groin to make his penis waver about while inside of her. She moaned again immediately, betraying her intense sensitivity and then she nodded, pulling her own hair and moaning again. Yup! He found paradise and he knew it.
She kept hold of his arm behind her back until he slowly and gently disengaged, whereupon she put them on the table to hold herself up. “You know,” she said suddenly, “I think we need a mirror right here.” She had to be talking about directly in front of her, he thought, which made him grin wide.
“I think you’re right,” he said next to her ear as his hands found her breasts. He cupped them gently as he kissed the back of her neck and, unexpectedly, she bucked against him and cried out his name as another orgasm rolled through her. God damn, she was hot. He idly wondered how long this could last, then reminded himself her back needed rehabilitation from too much of the same thing. He’d just have to do yoga with her, he thought, to help her balance it out.
“Thirteen,” she said just then, which made him chuckle before resuming the love making session. “How many do you need to know you’re my god?” she asked, looking at him over her shoulder.
“Two,” he said, which made her smile at him. His heart stopped. She looked so happy just then, so pleased to be with him. Him! He’d been feeling like a failure and then this goddess came out of nowhere. He hadn’t been moving enough, he guessed, when she started to rock into him. “Where have you been all my life?” he asked her suddenly.
“Just as far away as you’ve been all my life,” she said. Touche, he thought, then picked up the pace just a little by counter-thrusting into her. She whimpered amply as she tried to say more. Eventually, she got out a full sentence: “Just tell me you’ll be here for the rest of mine, please.”
“Yes. Ma’am.” That’s all he bothered to say before he continued to kiss her all over the back of her neck and her shoulders. She must really like that, he thought, as he found her trembling in his arms not once but twice more. The slickness was starting to recede, so he stopped again, buried inside of her. He murmured to her, “May I touch your clit, baby?”
“You may. I’d like to revise my position, as well,” she declared. Before he knew it, she dismounted, though that was more a byproduct of her climbing onto that table. She was on her knees on the table now. She lowered herself to the lowest profile she could muster so they could line up again. He found it was the perfect height. He didn’t have to bend his knees into an awkward partial squat anymore, which was relieving. He bit his lip as he pushed himself back into her. She moaned in delight, leaning back against him so that their torsos would be in contact once more. “Now imagine a mirror right there,” she said, pointing to the wall in front of her.
He tried to imagine looking at her from this angle and felt the urge to climax start to mount inside of him. He told himself to slow his horses down as he licked his fingertips and sought out her clitoris. He was glad he cut and filed his nails recently, as well. He knew that long or sharp nails would destroy this moment completely, or at least it had with anyone else before.
He stroked lightly from her vaginal opening upward until his fingertips found her hard little bud hidden between folds of flesh. He bit her shoulder ever so gently, pressing his teeth against her skin so lightly he hoped she could barely feel it and began to strum his fingers over her clit lazily, as if he had all day to accomplish the task. He was getting closer even though they weren’t moving at all, he found, so he tried to think of baseball games to distract him from the finish line.
She began to moan and whimper anew, her hands moving to rub along his arm. That was enough of a distraction to delay him, he thought, so he focused on that instead of the plethora of noises coming from his woman. He didn’t care if Ben tried to come back for her — he definitely knew why anyone would come back for her, she was authentic and delightful in every way. He was going to fight to the death if he had to.
He continued to explore that tiny sensitive cluster of nerves at the apex of her labia, changing direction any time she fell quiet. It took some time, but he knew he was getting somewhere when he could feel her getting wetter again. She began to move, rocking gently against him. He would never forget this day, he thought, as he continued to titillate her clitoris, delighting as she rode his cock of her own volition.
He’d only ever dated pillow princesses, so this was his first experience with a sex goddess. He never wanted to let her out of his sight ever again. Her whimpering was growing more and more urgent. She used the one name she hadn’t so far, this time. It was interrupted time and again as she gasped in pleasure. She leaned her head back against his shoulder to try to look up at him as she most assuredly got closer and closer to the edge. “Dan-Dan-Daniel!” she managed, eventually. He decided it didn’t matter what name she called him. He knew it was for him.
As if she knew that, suddenly she exploded with noise as her body crashed into his. He almost didn’t know what was happening, really, and he put one arm around her belly as her own arms shot up around his neck. Her hips were on full speed now, taking him deep inside of her again and again as she screamed, “Diego!” Her scream wavered and she drew out his name, continuing to make noise as she trembled and shook against him. It was like she brought him back into his body and suddenly he was cumming alongside her. He growled in her ear softly as he let go, his hips twitching as he himself bucked into her, causing her to scream again and again until they were both spent a second time.
She became still, trembling like a leaf in his arms. He felt like he’d done so much right in the short time they’d been joined together. He felt like so many wrongs from other women in his past had been erased. The pain just left altogether. Something in this copulation had healed his heart.
He held her gently, hugging her from behind, not daring to move again lest he begin the cycle again. In fact, this time, he decided to gently pull out of her, taking it really slow as she made little noises. They weren’t like the ones she’d made in the heights of passion, and he wondered at that a little. He’d learn, he thought.
She pursed her lips, her head back on his shoulder. “Diego, baby?” Sansara said softly.
“Yes, Crystal?” he responded just as softly.
“Would you help me up? I’m stuck… my hip just locked,” she said.
He nuzzled her neck and then picked up his fair maiden, helping her to her feet. That was the most exciting wardrobe change he’d ever witnessed, that’s for sure. He wondered if she wanted to continue on with their original plans or not. He couldn’t tell and he didn’t feel like asking when she turned around and hugged him. She was all smiles, despite her hip issue. He started rubbing her buttocks, hoping it would help her hip.
She sighed gratefully and kissed his cheek. “You’re lovely,” she declared. “The best, even.”
Oh damn. He could get used to this. He found himself grinning at her, feeling like a boy again, honestly. They smiled at each other for quite a while before she said her famous line. “I have bad news… I’ve got to pee.” He nodded at her and looked around her clothes washing room for the very first time.
He realized this was her walk-in closet and laundry room. She didn’t have to take her clothes anywhere if she didn’t want to. That had to be because of her hip, he thought. He sniffed the air to check for mold. He could only smell the proof of their union, though.
“It’s not moldy down here, is it?” he asked as she pulled on another caftan.
“I don’t think so. I had it checked before and there’s a dehumidifier back there near the washing machine drainage pipe,” she replied, swinging open the door to reveal pleading puppy eyes. Of course Max was waiting for them. She dodged around him and went to a door he hadn’t really noticed before, ducking into the bathroom.
He put his own clothes back on, wishing he had a towel or something down here. Maybe the bathroom had something convenient. He wondered… there must have been a bathroom on every level but the wine cellar. He’d put money on it. He wondered if that was why she chose this house as she re-emerged, smelling like a burst of flowery perfume.
“Is there a way for me to uh… get cleaned up… in there?” he asked, suddenly a little bashful. She smiled and nodded at him. He smiled back at her gratefully, and went into the bathroom himself. It was a tiny thing. A water closet, at best. It had a toilet paper roll holder, a pedestal sink, a toilet, and a mirror. He got distracted momentarily when he caught a look of himself in the mirror: he looked younger than he had in years. Talk about sex magic, he thought, studying himself for a moment. Normally he had an almost cross expression on his face, or a tension, maybe. He smiled in wonder, then renewed his search. He found a wash cloth and a bar of soap.
He wondered if she’d used it herself, as it was wet. He sniffed it. She definitely did, he decided, smelling their combined mess faintly underneath the lavender soap he could also detect. Hmm. Lavender. I love lavender, he thought.
He washed up and discovered he, too, needed to urinate, which delayed his emergence a little longer. When he did emerge, he was surprised to see Sansara sitting on the floor with Max, petting him. He had expected her to go up to the first floor, but she waited there for him instead. How many times would she melt the ice around his heart in one day?
Too many, he thought, as it happened again when she looked up at him, all smiles. He crouched down beside her and pet Max, too. “What’s next, my lady?” he asked her softly.
“Hmm… food, I think. Are you hungry?” she asked as she held her hands out to him. He took both her hands in his and stood up, helping her to her feet in turn.