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PART 8: BEST SPOT IN THE HOUSE
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Alex was not in bed when I woke Sunday morning.
I remembered cuddling last night. Spooning while he lightly ran his fingers up and down my arm. His head resting against mine on the pillow, his other arm under my neck and our hands loosely connected above us.
For the most part, we had just lain there. Enjoyed the silence. The casualness of being together without sexual intimacy, although we were both buck naked.
But there was also the discussion about what we had done before crawling beneath the covers.
It had taken some coaxing on his part, but I'd finally admitted my hesitancy on topping him. On doing it again. It went against everything I had thought about myself in this lifestyle. I had been and always expected to be a submissive. To have a partner request I dominate him was all new to me. Especially when I felt that he took greater pleasure in that role than controlling me.
He had assured me that it pleased him immensely to have me submit to him. That it had been some time since he'd had such a willing partner. One who at least would consider his fetishes beyond the normal Dom eccentricities.
I had accepted his apology when he begged for forgiveness because he'd disobeyed me. He just hadn't been in that sub space in so long. It had thrilled him to return, to know he could trust me to help him reach the heights he had once summited. He hadn't realized it had scared me...and pissed me off at the same time.
"I'm so proud of you, Emma," he'd said, pulling me closer and kissing the top of my head. "Thank you."
That was the last thing I remembered until five minutes ago. Not even any dreams.
I ran my hand along the space beside me where the sheet was thrown back...the slight indentation that remained in the other pillow. Considered if I should curl up and get more rest or go searching for Alex. The sudden urge to pee answered the question for me.
My clothes were not where I'd left them on the floor beside the bed. But I found a black-and-white striped dress shirt draped over a chair, which matched the dining room set. I sniffed the former, groaning softly at the scent of Alex's cologne on the material, and pulled it over my shivering shoulders.
He wasn't that much taller than I was. But apparently his arms were longer since the cuffs of the sleeves ended at my second knuckle. The hem of the shirt fell to mid-thigh, just barely covering up the fact that I wasn't wearing any panties. And my medium bust was just shy of filling out the chest area too tightly.
All-in-all, it was the typical "sexy woman in a man's shirt" look. My bedhead hair probably only added to the effect. The perfect ensemble to be leaned over a piece of furniture and fucked from behind.
In the hall, I saw that the office door was closed again. I used the facilities then padded my way to the kitchen to pour myself a cup of coffee. Maybe get something to eat since I was up.
There was one banana left in the bowl beside the coffee maker, the latter looking to have enough left for one cup. I searched for the cereal I'd eaten yesterday, but it had been mostly gone then. I eventually found the empty box in the trash. Knowing there was nothing in the fridge except milk, I swiped the fruit and pulled the peel half-way down, practically inhaling the exposed white part in one bite. I moaned at the feeling of my mouth being full before I remembered it was okay to chew.
He really needed to go grocery shopping. And I needed to get my mind off sex.
A warm mug in one hand and the rest of the fruit in the other, I stood in the living room window, alternating between which hand I raised to my mouth while watching cars and people pass below.
Although Alex's apartment was at the back, only his bedroom window faced the rear. The view from where I stood, and presumably the other bedroom, were of the street. A row of hedges behind the building provided some privacy from other residences and offices. But on this side, there was just open road and sidewalks lined with the barest of grass in between. The nearest tree was at least a block away where campus started.
One of my favorite things to do was people watch. To try to figure out where they were going, what they did for a living, or just who they were based on their mannerisms...clothes...and especially how they treated others.
That's how I came to think of the current story I was writing...or stalled on, however one wanted to look at it. I'd been standing in my office window, staring at the asphalt three floors below, which was usual when I was trying to collect my thoughts while working. That day, I saw a young man standing across the street, leaning against the lamp post. He had one hand in the pocket of his leather jacket while the other raised a cigarette to his lips every fifteen seconds. His hair and face were neatly groomed; his jeans and shoes seemed designer.
I assumed he was waiting for someone. I didn't have to wonder long before a dark sedan pulled up, and the man leaned down to the passenger side window. I couldn't see anything being exchanged except words...and possibly directions because the man pointed down the street. And then the car left. Almost a full minute later, he finished his cigarette, stomped it out, and walked in the opposite direction.
I pondered who he was. What he was doing. Was he mafia? A CI? Maybe a secret agent. I bet he hit up the club scene at night. Had a favorite girl...or two. Or none at all and brooded over an expensive drink, like top-shelf whiskey, wishing he were somewhere else. Someone else.
A car alarm pierced the morning air, reaching through the glass panes of the window just enough to bring me back to the present.
The coffee was gone, as was my breakfast, so I decided it would be a good idea to check on Alex. Because if he planned to be holed up in his office all day or even all morning again, I'd leave him in peace and go home. Let us both relax a little. Yesterday had been more intense than I'd expected, though it had turned out to be good. Still, if he was busy, he needed to concentrate. Not worry about entertaining an older woman.
I knocked softly on his office door and waited until he called to enter before I opened it.
"Whatcha doing?" I leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, which raised the hem a little and pushed up my breasts inside his shirt.
"Mmm. Just working. You?" he said, not looking up from the book on his desk.
"Had breakfast." I watched him for a minute. "So what do you do for work while you're in school?"
He finally glanced my way, and a low moan reached me from across the room. "Mmm. Just a lot of reading and writing."
"Oh. I thought you meant you had a 'job,' job."
"Well, yeah, I have a job as a freelance writer," he chuckled and sat back, crossing his own arms. His finger and thumb stroked his bottom lip while he observed me.
I gulped. Did he know how seductive that simple gesture was? "Ahh. So like me, but the easy part."
His eyes crinkled up at that. "Mmm hmm."
We both continued to stare at each other, neither making any attempt to move from our positions. Eventually, he relaxed his arms and absently played with a pencil beside a stack of papers.
"Am I disturbing you?" It was almost a whisper.
"Not at all." He sat up and held out his left hand, gesturing that I should approach.
Without needing to be told, I knelt on the carpet beside his chair and sat back on my heels. My head tilted to rest on his left thigh while I stared at the underside of his desk, my hands on my lap.
"Good morning, Little One."
"Good morning, Sir."
When nothing else was said, I closed my eyes, and he returned to his work. Ignoring me. Or so I thought.
After a few minutes, I felt his hand on my head. Stroking my hair. I was getting drowsy from the gentle motions when his hand wrapped around my chin and his thumb pressed at my lips. I opened, letting him slip inside.
Moaning softly, I suckled his thick thumb. Whether that was his intent or not I wasn't sure, but he didn't stop me. I bathed him with my tongue contentedly while he read. Occasionally, I heard the pencil scratching on paper when he wrote something down. But otherwise, it was quiet.
The longer his thumb was in my mouth, though—twitching slightly whenever he caressed my jaw with his fingertips—the more difficult it was not to suck harder. I tested a nibble, and he made one of his soft noises of approval that was part hum and part moan. I took it as a sign I could continue.
Alex suddenly pulled on my chin and removed his thumb. I rose up on my knees, adjusting to face him. He kissed my forehead, stroking the back of his hand along my cheek.
That made me purr. My eyelids flutter. I wrapped my arm around his calf when my knees wobbled, watching him intently.
Without a word, he slid two fingers into my mouth and returned to working.
I closed my mouth as best as possible and swallowed. Soon after, I felt drool gathering at the corners of my lips. Since it was harder to suck now, I rocked my head back and forth slowly, imagining I was sucking his cock.
When he pumped his fingers himself, I looked up to see him smiling at me. I opened my mouth wider to take a breath, and he pulled out only to add another finger a second later. The three stacked like a triangle and made me feel full. Not dissimilar to the banana I'd stuffed in there earlier, except I could seal my lips around a banana.
"Touch your breasts."
My heart beat faster at the depth of his voice...the three simple words. I moaned, cupping and fondling both of them appreciatively. My thumbs stroking over my nipples through the shirt.
His other hand rested on the back of my head and gently guided it down until I was nuzzling his knee with my cheek, staring at his crotch this time. The angle allowed him to still keep eye contact as well as push his fingers in all the way up to the third knuckle, stretching my lips.
"Good girl. Now stop. Put your hands on your lap."
I blinked slowly.
