Page 51 of Salvage Him
My insides tensed, my brain and my heart warred with each other. What was all thisabout?
Paul turned and fell onthebed.
"Cirses and I were talking one night after dinner, and he told me how he has to have a firm hand with all his wives." Paul clutched his chest. "That's how he keeps his home happy, and it got me thinking about your life beforewemet."
I crawled up on my knees and touchedhisarm.
He yankeditaway.
"That was in my past,"Isaid.
"Yeah, but you never talk about it. Maybe if you did, you’d be betterinbed."
I sat back; the wind knocked out of me for asecond.
Paulstoodup.
"I'm not saying it's bad, but it's just boring." Paul raised his hands and shook his head. His voice raised anoctave.
I scooted to the edge ofthebed.
"What is it you want?" I asked; the shock made my voiceshake.
"I don't know. Do something?" He lifted his hands. "Initiate it. Greet me at the door naked. Suck my cock while driving in the car, something, anything besides just lyingthere."
"I . . ." I had no words. I was confused, pissed off, and horny as hell. What did those wives in Dubai dotohim?
"Never mind." He kneeled on the bed and pushed me back. Paul took his cock out of his pants. It was no longer hard. He strokedhimself.
I reached down tohelphim.
He pushed my hands away. He leaned over and clamped down on my left nipple with his teeth, but his aggression fell flat, no urgency, nopassion.
After a few minutes, he pushed himself into me with agrunt.
I stared up at the ceiling fan, counting therotations.
He fucked me hardandfast.
I felt nothing. By the time I got to twenty, he hadfinished.
He kissed me on the cheek, rolled out of bed, and stood up. He stopped at the door to thebathroom.
"I'm leaving tomorrow. I need to go back to California." He peeled off his shirt. "Pack me some warmclothes."
He disappeared into thebathroom.
Iwaited.
I remained in the same position he left me. His cum dripped down my thighs and onto the bed. I cringed and covered my eyes with my hand. I needed a shower. I reached between my legs and held my fingers up in front of my face. It was slimy and gray. Even his ejaculationlookedweak.
I tensed as I ran my fingers over my clit. It throbbed with need. I swiped over it again and closed my eyes. I was beyond frustrated. I was sorrowful and in mourning. My grief over my dead sexuality was never more palpable than at that moment. After having had sex and feeling more need. It was sad and so unfair. I ran my hand over my nipple and squeezed it between my fingers as hard as I could stand it. It offered littlerelief.
I imagined Harrison's hands on my breast, kneading them and pinching them. Using the right amount of pain to conjure up the pleasure I so desperatelydesired.
I groaned as I ran my fingers over my nub in a frantic fashion. I moaned in disappointment at the impending orgasm. It would feel okay. All orgasms felt okay, but it would be nowhere close to what my bodycraved.
It would be weak in comparison to what a proper Dom could produceinme.
