Love was the only four-letter word Maven vowed never to speak, despite having named her sex club ‘AMOUR’. She’d been in love once—or thought she had been. Looking back, she still wasn’t sure.
She’d traveled to Europe to further her religious studies, but found herself skipping class to visit museums. That was how she met Michael.
With the face of an angel and a devil’s charm, he’d been a patient hunter, showering her with words, wine, and candlelight. Well-studied in rhetoric, he plied his skill in a similar manner that pastors mesmerized congregations—except Michael peddled sin as salvation. He’d teased and seduced until on a cold winter’s evening, he hadn’t even needed the hotel room he’d reserved.
He fucked her in an alley against a rusted rail, like a common street whore, and she’d loved every second of it. He’d released her inner bad-girl that night, transformed her with every thrust of his cock.
She’d been so ready for him that her sex should have steamed when he lifted her dress and tore a hole in her tights to reveal her naked and shaven beneath. He didn’t hesitate to sink his fingers into her syrupy warmth.
“God, woman, you are so wet. There’s no better kind of condensation than this,” he whispered as her loud moans and dirty words floated into the night’s sky.
“Oh…fuck! Don’t stop! Shit…damn…fuck…!” She said, pouting profanities with each thrust. She became the carnal creature she’d hid in the shadows of herself as he pumped two fingers inside her, slowly stretching her. Like a snake, she felt herself shed her skin as he gently ruptured her hymen.
The snowflakes kissed her eyes while he took her mouth, his tongue mimicking his fingers as their breath mingled, melting the snow on her cheeks that mixed with her tears of elation.
“I’ve been dying to do this from the moment I saw you primly standing before that Rodin with raw passion transforming your face.” His voice was rougher now as he turned her, forcing her to bend over the rail.
There was the sound of his zipper then she felt his hard shaft replace his fingers, splitting her, finding her molten core as he took her from behind. His nearness blocked most of the cold as he pumped slowly within her body.
Through squinted eyes, she watched as puffs of water vapor left her lungs laced with words that belied the depravity in her soul. Every wanton aspect was perfectly aligned as her first orgasm shot through her body.
“That’s it…come for me?” She did…over and over in waves as he’d rubbed the pulsing nubbin of flesh at the crest of her sex.
Michael awakened a beast that night. One so powerful, that he alone could not feed it…or tame it. There were other men…other women, but never love. It was lust that fueled her shadowed-self and taught her how to hunt…leaving Michael out in the cold. ■
Beatrix_B | The Pink Seam © 2018