Chapter 1: Click
-Present-
Wild raven tresses draped past tanned shoulders, caressing soft and pliant skin that always fascinated him. Her body was a mosaic of mocha hues from her dark chocolate nipples that sat atop firm cocoa breasts to the creamy insides of her curvy thighs. However, even now, she still looked defiant with tear stained cheeks and swollen pink lips.
"Over a fucking barrel," John shouted at her while a single thought waged war in his head. "Huh, Sienna, that's what you want," he demanded while forcibly pointing at his expansive chest. "Me, at your mercy... always."
Arghhh! John thought, running his tightly fisted hands through his dark hair. He was fucked.
Sienna groaned internally, only allowing for a wordless moan to be audible. Contemplations of prolonging the "talk" had seized her faculties but every syllable John had uttered vibrated with his cock pressed at her opening. She was the one at his mercy. He was the one that had the power to make her body betray her better senses. He was the one holding her release and her sanity. It was she being rolled over in a barrel; never him.
Numb to her discomfort, she held no protest to his solid cherry wood desk pressed beneath her rear and elbows. The cool air teased her moist nipples, wet from John's angry kisses, fanning the flames burning between her thighs. Determined, she held her quivering legs locked around his muscular waist, urging him to find her center. John, however, in his arrogant stance refused to move an inch deeper.
The faint rays of sunlight escaping through the blinds behind him had painted an orange glow in the room. Carefully, she noted the frustration lined on his handsome face; in the beads of sweat running down his neck and through the actions in his fingers running through his disheveled hair. Sticking firm to her resolve, she held her half smile poker face while her perceptive eyes studied him for a hint of something, anything.
Enough time had already been wasted. The sun was setting.
Good, you should be frustrated. The words played on her tongue but would not escape her lips. NO! She swayed her head as if to dislodge the thought. She was not going to start another row for he said more with his words in her silence.
John rummaged on his state of contrition and after four years of marriage never would he have imagined being here. Here being forced to look at his wife through the empty barrel of his gun. Their marriage was built on passion, he inwardly mused. He had missed this side of them. They were total opposites but she was his equal. Damn, if this woman did not challenge him, he resolved, deciding to play along in her little game.
"Come on SIENNA," he said louder, with more force, eliciting another moan from her.
Reveling in the delight her movements were stroking inside her, she eased herself further upwards and released the safety.
He was angry, but never shocked nor even concerned lately. Just once, Sienna thought, she could at least rouse some emotion out of him other than the angry bore her husband had become these past months. Holding the hand gun pointed at his chest as the cool metal soothed her sweaty palms, she noted the changes in weight from memory.
