The Summon
The summons came, a simple text.
'The Library. Now.'
My gut clenched.
Two months.
It has been two months of denial, of leather binds at night, of herbal teas that left my body heavy and my desires seething in a pot with a locked lid.
My balls ached with a deep, constant throb, a physical weight I carried everywhere. My flesh was perpetually hard, a red, angry testament to her control. I’d grown used to the dull, persistent pain of being full to the point of bursting.
I walked through the silent halls of her estate, the plush carpet muffling my steps.
My mind was a defensive fortress.
'She won’t let you finish.'
'Don’t hope for it.'
I kept reminding myself.
'Don’t even think about the release.'
'Just do the act.'
'Survive it.'
It was the only way to stay sane, to not shatter from the anticipation.
Her private library was warm, lit by the low glow of a fireplace. She was seated in the center of a vast canopied bed, propped against a mountain of silk pillows.
A book lay forgotten beside her.
She was wearing only a dark, sheer robe that did nothing to hide the curves beneath. Her dark eyes found me in the doorway and held me. They weren't just looking; they were devouring, consuming my tension, my ache, my pathetic attempt at mental preparation.
“Mm,” I managed, the word dry in my throat.
She said nothing, just watched as I approached the bed. The air was thick with the scent of her perfume and the cedar from the fire.
Every step sent a jolt through my restrained flesh. I stopped at the edge of the mattress. My heart hammered against my ribs. I needed to assert something, anything, even if it was a lie.
“We should just… get this over with,” I said, my voice tighter than I intended.
A slow, devious smirk spread across her full lips.
It was the only warning I got. Her hand snapped out, fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt, and she pulled. I stumbled forward, catching myself with my hands on either side of her hips, caging her in. Her heat radiated against me, a furnace compared to the cool room.
“Then get to it, Juan,” she whispered, her breath warm against my lips. “Please me.”
The command unraveled the last of my composure.
My hands, trembling, went to the tie of her robe.
She didn’t help, just watched me fumble with the silk knot until it gave way. The robe fell open, revealing her.
My breath hitched.
She was flawless, and the sight was a physical blow to my over-sensitized state. I pushed the fabric off her shoulders, my fingers brushing her skin, and she shuddered. A tiny, victorious reaction that sent a bolt of desperate pride through me.
I moved between her legs, my own hands shaking as I freed myself from my pants.
The cool air was a shock, but it was nothing compared to the inferno I was about to enter. I positioned myself, the head of my achingly hard flesh nudging against her heat.
I looked into her eyes, searching for the usual denial, the cruel twist that would stop me, but I saw only challenge, and a deep, hungry amusement.
