Inspiration Ch 10

DISCLAIMER:

All or any Breath Play described within MY writing, I highly discourage those without experience from delving. Please do not attempt any Breath Play fetish without being knowledgeable.

CAUTION and PRECAUTION and a TRUSTWORTY PARTNER is a must!

EDUCATION IS KEY!

*****

Rosangela was more than nervous and tried to convince herself it was just a ride home nothing more. Yet, after the incident in the bathroom, she was more convinced of a continence. But, perhaps he would simply drive her home and that day would be ended.

The conflict continued.

The moment she stepped out of the bookstore her nerves worsened. He had stepped out before she did to start the Porsche.

The entire street was white, thick with white. Her eyes squinted against the brightness of the falling and blanketing snow. She huddled her arms around her, slight trembles from the cold mixed with nervousness.

She took an icy deep breath then maneuvered off the sidewalk, her feet were deeply frozen by the above ankle depth of the snow. Carefully she moved across the barren street towards the idling Porsche. Then she paused when the author got out the car and moved to the passenger side.

She continued through the thick layer of snow. She questioned in thought, how was a damned Porsche going to make it through that mess?

She stepped to the car and Victor opened the door for her. She gave a quick smile then carefully got into the car while chattering from the bitter cold.

The door closed and within moments Victor got behind the wheel.

She sat there for a minute then asked, "You remember where I live?"

He nodded with a smile then carefully steered the Porsche onto the white road.

What else was there to say?

She kept silent, the heat inside the car warmed her poor frozen feet. Her eyes stared down at her rubbing gloved hands. There were so many second thoughts that came too late. She felt a huge mistake happened in the bathroom followed by her accepting his offered ride home. She tried so hard throughout those months to set aside what happened though it never truly left her thoughts.

The car steered to the right then came to a stop.

She frowned, it should have been much longer to get to her place. Her head lifted and eyes peered out the slightly iced window. She was not looking at her town house or his apartment building.

Her head darted to the left and she quickly questioned, "Where are we?"

He put the car in park then looked to her. He confessed, "It's a hotel."

She grimaced with her nose wrinkled then she questioned, "A hotel?"

He nodded then explained, "The weather is too horrible to go driving all over town. Everything is practically shut down."

She shook her head then stammered, "No, no, you take me home."

He shook his head and stated, "I would if I could but this car is not equipped to handle these road conditions." He grabbed the door handle and started to open the door.

She reached and snatched him by the coat sleeve. "No," she protested then said, "You have to take me home."

He paused, looked to her and smiled, "I can't, sorry."

Her hand released his sleeve and she watched him get out of the car. Her eyes followed him move around the front of the Porsche then move for the passenger door, paused to hand over the keys to a valet.

The passenger came open and she sat there looking up at him in shock but mostly fear.

He urged, "Come on, you have to be freezing."

Her breaths were heavy, saw her breath clearly before her face. With slow reluctance, she brought her wet and cold feet out of the car then slowly rose up.

She felt nearly trapped but not by him, by her desire for him. She could attempt to walk home but it was so damned cold. Yet, inside her she had wanted that moment to be with him again. Again she wanted to be alone with him, not within the confines of bathroom, but alone with the freedom to do as they pleased.

The conflicts were almost visible as she trembled, she stepped under the hotel canopy. She lightly gasped the moment she felt his hands nudge against her back then forward she walked towards the hotel doors.

A doorman opened the door and gave a greeting nod and verbal hello.

The heat was instant the moment she entered the large hotel lobby. Maybe, she pleaded with herself, she would stay long enough for the storm to subside then perhaps she could get a cab to bring her home.

Victor turned to Rosangela and said with a smile, "I'll be right back." He left towards the front desk.

She was silent as she continuously trembled while her arms were huddled over her chest. Her eyes anxiously scanned the lavish lobby. She noted, it even smelled expensive.

He returned, quite quickly, and urged, "Come on, I ordered room service."

She nodded, seemed to lack any type of control of everything. The control seemed to have been chiseled away the moment he again stepped back into her life and the bookstore.

She felt lost but simply followed him towards one of the three elevators. She entered the elevator with him, her uneasiness continued which kept her silent. Her eyes remained down as the elevator moved upward.

She forced herself to ask, "Um, when it lets up can you take me home?" She dared herself and looked to him, he didn't look at her.

He replied, "Yes."

She nodded then again aimed her eyes at the floor.

The elevator opened and out they both stepped.

"This way." he instructed as he removed the key card from his coat pocket.

Her heart raced with multiple flutters. Her eyes focused on the fancy multi-toned runner his expensive leather shoes moved over. She stopped when he did then watched his shoes shift to the left. She listened to him unlock the door then stepped passed him as he held the door open.

She entered the hotel suite, went to a complete stop the moment she looked up and saw an immaculate room that was not your typical hotel room.

It was a definite suite. It had an actual living room set up, a small kitchen area to the far right and obviously an actual bedroom somewhere.

She slightly startled when he moved passed while removing his coat.

He urged, "Make yourself comfortable." He dropped his coat on a plush chair then removed his snow dampened fedora. He turned to the side, she remained standing near the entrance with an odd expression over her face.

He set the fedora down atop his coat, started to remove his gloves then explained, "It might be a bit before room service arrives." then he gestured to the sofa, "Get comfortable and warm yourself up."

Her head bobbed and she stiffly moved forward while her hands shakily started to undo the buttons of her coat. She stepped towards the sofa as he retreated towards a small bar in the corner of the room. She removed her coat and laid it over the back of the sofa then, almost with caution, sat down on the white plush sofa.

Her fingers worked off the damp gloves as her eyes watched him prepare a drink.

He knew she was nervous, reluctant, and suspicious, and he noted, she had right to be.

With a glass of brandy in hand, he turned then approached the sofa. She didn't hide her awkwardness well, he knew that not all the trembling was caused from the cold.

He paused before her and offered the brandy and stated, "This will warm you up."

She gave him a quick glance then took the crystal brandy glass and gave a simple thanks. Oh, she thought, liquor she needed. And then she simply downed the Brandy.

He sat down beside her, his lips grinned with amusement, watched her face grimace in response to the strong liquor then listened to her slightly hiss.

Casually he removed his cold and damp leather shoe then worked off the other one and lastly freed his feet from the damp dress socks. Always barefoot when inspired and creating.

She set the glass down, felt the instant warmth churn in her stomach then slowly swirl outward. An entire bottle, she thought, would be nice. No, she continued to think, if she downed an entire bottle of Brandy things would escalate quicker. Yet, she grimaced, they already escalated at a high rate with those damned antics in the bathroom. The very thought of what occurred sent more conflicting emotions, arousal and regret.

His eyes focused on her profile, studied the obvious thought reflected by her subtly changing expression. His eyes shifted downward, followed the outward curve of her lovely tits, down the curvy shape of her waist then along the line of her shapely thighs. His eyes stopped at her feet and a brilliant idea emerged.

He commented, "Your feet must be freezing." His eyes looked to her face, she glanced at him from the corner of her eyes then he offered, "I can warm them up for you."

Her eyes darted away from his and aimed down at her definitely icy cold feet tucked in damp heels and wet stockings. Oh, she groaned in thought, he was up to something which she knew would likely top the other something in the bathroom. Yet, the something he might be up to, she somewhat chimed in thought, made her damned curious and further horny.

Her eyes again looked to him with a curious lift of her brow.

He lifted his hand and gestured for her lift her leg to him.

Her eyes shifted to her foot then back to his hand. She knew how wonderful his hands would feel and likely warm more than her feet.

Then, as if no control over her body, she slightly shifted on her rear then lifted her leg and his warm hand gripped the back of her ankle. She held back a gasp, the heat from his hand nearly stung against her poor frozen ankle but sent a quiver aimed directly between her legs.

He slipped the damp heel off then brought his full right hand against the sole of her foot. The deep freeze was obvious and the wet stocking hindered his efforts.

He looked to her face, she was focused on his hands, then stated, "We'll have to remove the stockings, they're soaked."

Her eyes quickly looked into his. Oh, she wasn't stupid and knew exactly why he wanted the stockings removed for he wanted to remove them himself. Yet, she didn't say yes or no, simply held her eyes with his.

He rested her right foot against his lap then slid his hands upward passed her ankle. His eyes held hers as his hands moved smoothly over her stocking covered calves then up and over the curve of her knee. His right hand continued its journey, tucked under the hem of her dress, previously raised during the bathroom incident, but hooked it with his thumb and bit by bit exposed her stocking covered thigh.

She slightly leaned back, propped her hand against the sofa cushion. Her lips firmly pressed together as her eyes shifted back and forth from his eyes then to his hand. She desperately wanted to deny how wondrous his hand felt against her inner thigh. Her body tensed, all nerves were on high alert as every joint seemed locked. She felt the garter detach from the thigh high stocking. She quickly held her breath.

Across his lips a grin formed as he continued his hand further under her dress. He went to lean forward to deliver the hand to the desired target between her thighs but a knock sounded on the door.

His eyes narrowed then aimed at the door, knew it was room service. He reluctantly drew his hand back then drew her foot from his lap. He rose up and headed for the door.

Her held breath was released and the tension throughout her body eased. Her eyes drifted close as she heavily sighed. She rested a hand against her forehead, heard the room service be instructed to put the order at the makeshift kitchen.

Her hand slid down over her eyes, she felt beyond confused. She was consumed with regrets but also riddled with acceptance of what was again transpiring as it had months before.

Months and months she fantasized about another moment with him but was so desperate to convince herself it wasn't wise to allow it to happen. But obviously she was lousy at convincing herself of anything when it came to Victor Hardway. Her body definitely was incapable of being convinced with exception it was eagerly convinced by him and his actions.

She barely heard the quick thanks to room service and the suite door close. She sat with her leg still propped atop the sofa while supporting her weary head with her hand. Then abruptly she was snatched away from her consuming the thoughts.

He refused to put a gap between moments, once room service was speedily dealt with he rushed her. His hand grabbed the back of her bundled hair then jerked her head back and within a second his lips devoured hers. Though she whined with protest, physically there was none which opened her thighs to his eager hand.

Against his aggressive kiss she whined but gasped the very moment his hand darted beneath her dress and firmly cupped between her thighs. She predicted it would happen and in more ways than one, she wanted it to happen.

Back against the sofa she dropped, the aggression of his kiss escalated and filled her mouth with his firm tongue. There was no stopping her eager responses. Several months no other man has touched or kissed her and much of those months she was even less eager to touch herself.

His hand pressed up against her pussy through the thin crotch of her panties, she whined but with a sexual response. There was something more fulfilling given by him that no other man from her past couldn't compare, the bathroom incident proof. It wasn't just because he knew exactly how to perform her breathless desires but he knew exactly everything that sent her mind and body sexually driven in his direction.

He was on his knees before the sofa, held his hand firm between her thighs, then withdrew his kiss. Though they experienced quite a wondrous moment in the bathroom, he still felt starved of her inspiration. Yes, he recognized instantly she refused to attempt taking the control from him which, for him, was a blessing. Always in control and those few days where she dealt all the cards between them was the first time he willingly allowed that control to be snatched and held by another.

She was the first in all his life to pry away some of his control. Yet, now it seemed he was again on top when it came to control which he loved. Though their last night those six months passed he had adequate control in pleasuring her, the moment in the bathroom was where his full control was returned. He wanted nothing but to pluck her every string, make her beautifully dance with pure sex and the entire time he controlled with an expert puppet master's hand.

His breath breathed against her lips, each breath deep with excitement of again proving his skill as master manipulator. He confidently stated, "You're not leaving this room tonight." His lips grinned as he withdrew his hand from her heated center.

She closed her eyes, fought the urge to whine in protest from his hand's departure. Her head turned and faced the back of the sofa as her legs lightly closed.

Everything in the form of common sense screamed the situation was wrong, those two days, everything was wrong. Yet, deep inside she truly wanted it to explode into a reminiscing scenario from the past and that days events.

He saw her struggle, she refused him a verbal comment. Her body language proved her refusal. His grin broadened with a sly lift at the left corner then he asked, "What's wrong?" He watched her subtly shake her head, she was desperate to avoid speaking and deny herself the desires he knew was simmering into another moment of boiling over.

She felt his hand move from between her legs then she tensed and pressed her thighs together attempting to deny his hand's exploration which would only heighten the trouble she was already in. She reached up, grabbed the back of the sofa and pulled to pry herself from the compromising position off her back.

His brow furrowed as she pulled herself up. He leaned back, she obviously fought hard against his advances which was a pleasant challenge he preferred over the early display where she caved much easier.

When they first met, she was a challenge because she was willing but only on her terms, now terms weren't being given. She was different, he noted, she had a struggle of wills inside her which he admittedly found intriguing.

He rose up onto his bare feet as she sat up and kept her eyes closed. Those glimpses of her weaknesses from months ago were now becoming more prominent within her demeanor. She had no feisty comments and snide quips, practically void of speech. The inspiration he wrote about within the three hundred plus pages of January was not the inspiration awkwardly seated on the sofa before him. But, he noted, inspirational nonetheless in a whole other manner.

She took a breath, shook her head and, more so to herself, stated, "I can't do this."

"Do what?" he questioned then commented with a question, "You can't or just plain refuse to let yourself receive what you want?" then bluntly he reminded her of the bathroom incident, "Earlier you were quite willing."

Her eyes slowly opened and they shifted upward in direction of his voice. She peered up at him and she silently admitted he was what she wanted. Yes, she wanted everything he could offer sexually but more so, she wanted what she realized could never be given.

She came to terms that he was a man who had lived his life for his passion of his art, his writing and paintings. He lived to have success with his expertise in the artful world of fetishes, a fortune made by writing words that threw women into sexual overdrive which was only enhanced by his glorious image at the back of each book.

She was one of those women but upon meeting him, she became a woman in part of those written words along with the designed image on the cover. She had a taste those female readers desired but that taste simply wasn't enough.

Slightly hesitant, she answered his question, "I would let myself if I truly would receive it all."

His brow tensed, those lines deepened and the expression about his dark eyes reflected his thought of her replies meaning. He knew what she meant. But, what he wanted, did it have the same definition?

She saw it clearly in his eyes, those eyes that were always the feature with the most expression. His mind was obviously taking in her reply. Even her own reply seemed unreal in comparison to what had transpired months ago.

After her marriage ended, she swore there would never come a moment she would truly desire a man completely but that changed. She had three days with the author and received every sexual desire but that only triggered the desire for more.

Yet, could she even explain what she truly wanted to receive?

Her eyes quickly dropped and she broke the silence, "I need to leave."

His eyes blinked and quickly looked down at her then he protested, "No."

She nodded, leaving seemed the right thing to do and she verbalized it, "I have to leave."

He again protested but with more reason, "No, you're not leaving again."

Her head quickly tilted upward and eyes looked to him with question. She shook her head, confused by what his protest meant. There was fear to read between lines for they could easily deceive her into reading what wasn't there.

She questioned him, "Why not?"

His jaw clenched then flexed, the tension across his eyes grew.

The moment she walked out of his life six months ago it changed something inside him. He was faced with something he never knew before. Though he never protested her departure, he never wanted her to leave. Yes, his inspiration was easily achieved and complete but in a whole other process which she caused to happen. She changed so many directions of his life though he fought against admitting it was so.

She witnessed for the first time an expression of struggle within his tensed eyes. There was always confidence in his eyes and moments there was nothing. The moments in between were typically filled with lust but right then there was something seemingly unlike the author being reflected within his large dark eyes.