Page 86 of Madam, May I

And when the anticipation of their rising climaxes quickened their moves, they clutched at each other’s bodies, quivering and gasping as they gave in to the white-hot pleasure of release. Together. It seemed endless. They didn’t rush it. Slow stroking to one climax that left both shaken, spent, and speechless.

Chapter Twelve

Monday, March 4, 2019

The only difference between “hoes” and “whores” is not the number of lovers, but whether you charge or not...

Desdemona stood at the full-length mirror and stroked her butterfly charm as she looked at her reflection. It was delicate and beautiful. And troubling.

The last thing she wanted was for Loren to expect more from their liaisons. She was teaching him, and he was fulfilling her sexual needs. That was it.

Beautiful, thoughtful gifts were a complication to a simple plan.

“Come back to bed.”

She smiled at Loren in the reflection as he stood behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist to lightly jerk her nude body back against his. She felt his growing hardness nestled against the divide of her buttocks and reached up to stroke the side of his face as he kissed her shoulder and brought his hand up to warmly cup her breast and lightly stroke the taut, brown nipple.

Desdemona shivered, seeing her desire heat her eyes in the mirror. “I wanted to take a shower,” she said softly. “You were sleeping.”

“I could get lost in the scent of you,” he said. “Do you smell this good everywhere?”

“I guess so,” she said, biting her bottom lip.

He came around her body and kneeled, lifting one of her legs over his shoulder as he nuzzled his face against her clean-shaven mound. He kissed it before tilting his head back to look up at her. “Madam, may I?” he asked, his voice deep and sexy.

Desdemona’s body went stiff as her eyes widened. “What? Huh? W-w-w-what did you say? Huh?” she asked, jumping back and then falling backward when she forgot her leg on his shoulder.

She landed on the floor on her back with anumph. She closed her eyes in embarrassment as some pain radiated across her body.

“What happened?” Loren asked. “Are you okay?”

She opened her eyes, and his closeness, as he stood between her sprawled legs looking down at her, was startling.Breathe, Desi, breathe.

He extended his hand and she took it, letting him help her to her feet.

“Why did you call me that?” she asked, trying to sound aloof.

“What? Madam?” Lo asked, his handsome face filled with his confusion.

She nodded.

“I didn’t want to call you Mother,” he explained. “You know the game ‘Mother, May I’? My bad. I was trying to be playful.”

Her mouth widened in understanding, and she felt herself relax with relief. “Oh,” she said, drawing it out as she lightly touched his chest. “I get it.”

Loren relaxed as well. “Besides, I wouldn’t disrespect you by calling something so lowlife as a madam,” he balked. “That’s a female pimp out there selling souls and not caring. All for the sake of money.”

Her steps faltered, and she squinted at his judgment. If he felt so strongly, he might even call the police. “You don’t feel a woman has a right to do what she wants with her body?” she asked, knowing a heated debate might lead to her slipping and revealing her truth.

His judgment stung, whether he knew he was insulting and degrading her or not.

Well, damn.

She turned and walked into her bedroom, leaving him with her question as she pulled on a black silk robe.

“Of course I do, but there are a lot of women who believe their worth lies between their thighs and twice as many being forced into prostitution via sex trafficking,” Loren said, coming into the room behind her and walking to his side of the bed to retrieve his glasses. “Not to mention the kids in the middle who think they’re in control of their bodies and foolishly don’t realize they are being used and demeaned. No one should be paid for sex. It’s revolting.”

Desdemona was brushing the tangles from her soft hair. She paused as she looked across the width of the bed at him as he searched under the covers for his discarded boxers. She bit the inside of her cheek but failed to hold back her thoughts. “Prostitution is the world’s oldest profession, and you don’t feel women played a powerful role in any of that.”

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