Day Two: Evening
"But," he continued, his fingers sliding up her leg to lightly stroke her sex. "Wouldn't you like to spend the rest of the afternoon out?" He stopped, his fingers resting over her hooded clit.
"Mmmm, hmmm," she hummed, her eyes closed. "I...what is happening?" She said it sleepily, like she'd had too much to drink. But it had only been a glass of wine. And they hadn't ridden that far or hard; not hard enough to make her feel this exhausted. "You're doing something to me." She heard the slurring in her words and the panic bubbled up.
He shook his head, keeping his fingers on her. "I've never met anyone like you, Madeleine. Less than 24 hours ago you agreed to go out to dinner, and now." He stopped. "Now, you're sitting spread eagled in my kitchen, your pussy wet and swollen. Not an hour ago, you had my cock deep in your throat, begging me to fuck you with my hand." He pressed the point, literally, forcing a moan from her. "And last night. Last night was incredible. I just hope you'll let me do it again." Pausing. "Will you?"
She moaned as his fingers pushed her lips apart, sliding into her again. Even as she pushed against him, the inner voice, the one that had always protected her, woke up and quietly worked itself up to her conscious. "Roland," she whispered. "Please stop. Please."
Miraculously, he did, backing his fingers out, raising his hand to his lips, breathing in her aroma. She shivered watching him, her need almost blocking out the little voice, but not quite. Her legs were beginning to cramp and she suddenly saw how exposed she had been.
Just being the slut you are.
NO! The inner turmoil began again, and with it, she pulled her feet down to the floor and turned her head to find the door.
"Tilson's? We have plenty of time before the game begins." He was up, offering his hand to hers to help her out of the chair.
The change in subject was abrupt, catching her off-guard. She couldn't speak, looking at her feet, shrugging slightly. Why do I feel so sluggish? Why I am standing here naked in his kitchen? It's not because I'm a slut! The majority rule was quiet for the moment, a small blessing.
"Let's get dressed and visit the city a little, have a bite to eat and come back. You'll perk up with a little fresh air and food."
They had returned to her pile of clothes at the entrance to the bedroom, and he helped her carry it back inside, setting it on the bed. "I'll get dressed and meet you back here." He looked concerned. "You're going to be alright. You're okay."
As soon as he turned to leave, she immediately felt as if a veil had been lifted. Watching his tight ass walk through the door lit a spark inside her, but she couldn't let it spread – she had to get dressed, had to get out of the house and find her way back to the hotel. If he was going to drive her, all the better.
She met him at the front hall, gym bag in hand, a brush run through her hair. Looking in a mirror, she grimaced at the face looking back at her – no makeup, her hair barely presentable.
At least you remembered your underwear this time.
It was true, thankfully, as she double-checked. He was doing something to her, she was convinced – a drug - something. She'd never acted this way before.
"Super!" He walked into the hall, dressed in summer slacks and a golf t-shirt, his smile radiant and disarming. "You look so great, I can't believe you chose to spend the day with me!" He gave her a gentle hug and kissed her forehead, then her nose, and then, she tilted her head up to meet his lips.
Slut.
NO! But she didn't pull away, letting him push his tongue into her mouth, feeling her arousal stirring again. She could see the drive to the bookstore, her sex leaking again. She couldn't!
"We need to go, right?" She said, pulling away. "Let's go see this bookstore of yours."
In the car, she remembered something he'd said. "What game? You said we'd be back in plenty of time before the game." She turned to him, wondering why she was even asking. She would be in her room, away from this madness.
"I have a small group of friends who meet a few times a month. We play cards until late at night. What time is your flight tomorrow?"
"Oh. I...3PM, I think."
Shit. Shit!
"So you can stay up a little later than usual?"
She didn't answer, hoping she'd find a way to escape him.
Tilson's was an amazing store, she had to admit. Several stories tall, with multiple buildings spread across three city blocks, there was no way she'd see it all. They arrived at 3:30, he suggested they get to dinner around 6:30, which would let them return by 8. His guests would be there by 8:30 or 9.
"Three hours," he said, his arm around her waist. "It's barely enough time to get your bearings. What interests you?"
He showed her the map, suggesting he would be in the map
room
, looking at the latest travel guides. It was a perfect opportunity to find the nearest exit and make her way out of there.
"Graphic novels, I think," she said, pulling a random label off the floor plan.
He raised an eyebrow and smiled.
When she looked up, she was standing in front of a bookshelf filled with graphic novels: super heroes, villains, erotica, manga. Turning to each side, there were shelves and shelves of more of the same. She wasn't sure where she was in the store, and she couldn't remember how she had gotten there, or how long she'd been standing there. Her gym bag was nowhere to be found, and the panic shot up along with her heartbeat. Struggling not to hyperventilate, she went in search of an exit, knowing she had to get out of there, before he found her.
At least you still have your clothes on!
Stop it!
Tears from her frustration were beginning to spill onto her cheeks. Where was the door?
"Madeleine!"
She turned in terror at his voice.
"Hold up!" He was across the room, her gym bag in his hand. "Hey! Are you okay?"
She couldn't take hearing that question one more time. No, she wasn't okay! It was like a bad dream, her body moving in slow motion, her feet slogging through mud.
He was next to her, touching her elbow, his face filled with concern. "What's going on? Where are you going?"
