[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
nieces. He thought of his own quiet, sterile life.
I m so glad you re here, Kat, he said. For a thousand reasons, I m glad. He turned off
the lamp and held her close in the darkness. He thought he could hear her heart
pounding away beside him. He heard her breath lengthen and grow even in sleep long
before he so much as closed his eyes.
82
Fortune
Chapter Eight
Kat was slogging her way through a horribly boring text on animal husbandry,
trying to put thoughts of Ryan out of her mind. She had it bad for him. After two solid
weeks of hedonistic pleasure, even translating passages about pigs fucking gave her a
little thrill. She tried to focus, puzzling over a trick of phrasing. She hoped whatever
Russian pig-farmers-in-training read this text appreciated her attention to small
idiomatic detail.
She closed it right at five o clock and headed home. His home. Her temporary
home, where she felt more and more comfortable. He would be another hour at least,
maybe later since it was Friday. She might do a half hour or so on his treadmill while
she waited for him. Well, maybe twenty minutes. She d get plenty more exercise later in
bed.
He called when she was just finishing up to tell her he was bringing dinner home.
He sounded pleased to hear she was exercising. He had an endearing preoccupation
with her health, her eating and exercise habits. Well, it was kind of endearing but
mostly exasperating. At first she d pouted and resisted a healthier lifestyle. To her
horror, his house was a no-junk-food zone. No chips, no cola, no candy, no coffee, not
even any chocolate. Actually, he d allowed her a little chocolate the week before when
she was on her period. Otherwise, she d told him bluntly, she would cut off his nuts
while he was asleep. And she sneaked junk food at work for a while to get her fix,
bought chips and candy out of the vending machine. He would never know, she
thought.
But he knew. When he questioned her, she cracked and confessed. He spanked her,
she cried, they fucked. Afterward he held her and caressed her, pouring warnings into
her ear about the dangers of too much fat and high-fructose corn syrup. She heard
nothing. She could only focus on his touch, his smell, the deep tone of his voice. Well,
she heard something, she supposed, because his lectures were working. Just yesterday
at lunch she found herself craving salad. Salad!
Last week, one day after work, she d found herself snacking on haricot verts dipped
in hummus. Hummus, for fuck s sake. And what the fuck was an haricot vert anyway?
Some kind of rich doctor French green beans he d turned her on to. She was always
grabbing them out of his fridge.
There were other lessons, too, really intimate lessons about attention, pleasure and
discipline. He touched her, grabbed her, stroked her and manipulated her. He tied her
up regularly, practiced his art of shibari. She didn t totally get the art part or what he
got out of it. She just knew it made her feel strange and nervous. She liked the fucking a
lot more. She was even getting into stuff like going down on him. She was getting past
83
Annabel Joseph
her selfish impatience and starting to get into the ways she could make him react. He
said anal was next. She was dubious but that never stopped him. If anything, it drove
him on.
And he folded cranes every day. Sometimes just a few, sometimes a lot of them.
Every time he did it she thought of that first night two weeks ago, when she d crawled
at his feet and fetched them one by one with her lips and teeth. He still strung them on
lengths of fishing line, counting out groups of forty. He hung the completed strands in
the corner, like a colorful waterfall. She didn t ask why. She knew why. He believed in
wishes, fortune, fantasy. No wonder he got on so famously with her mother. They were
two of a kind.
But not her, Kat thought as she ran on his treadmill. She didn t believe and she had
no interest in learning how to fold them herself. But she still liked to look at them, the
riotous colors, the way they moved and rustled slightly whenever the heater turned on.
She was finding it easier to sleep in the silence. She was finding new, quieter noises to
listen to just beneath the hum of her lust.
She was just getting out of the shower when he came to find her. She loved to see
him after work, all doctor-y and businesslike. He would kiss her and she d kiss him
back and he d begin the slow slide from brainy surgeon to horny lover. It always
fascinated her. It melted her too.
While he changed out of his work clothes, she set out the food he d brought, some
Thai rolls and vegetable soup. She couldn t cook a lick, although she d tried for him.
He d choked her meals down, then told her he didn t mind doing the cooking or
bringing things home every once in a while. She loved him for that and she did what
she could to contribute to mealtimes, which was set the table beforehand and clear it
afterward so he had some time to relax.
Tonight after dinner Kat watched a little TV while he went over his medical notes
and upcoming surgeries at his desk off the living room. When he finished he looked
around at her. She was picking and fretting over a cut on her finger.
What s wrong?
There was a paperclip incident at the office.
Rusty paperclip? His lips curved in a teasing grin. He was growing accustomed
to her myriad mishaps and clumsiness. Weren t they together pretty much because
she d fallen down the stairs? He stretched out, his hands behind his head. Don t mess
around with it, doll. Let it heal.
She frowned. I think I m getting tetanus or something.
I m sure you are.
I mean it. I had a headache earlier today and my jaw s been feeling a little achy. It
could totally be lockjaw. What are the symptoms for tetanus?
I don t handle a lot of tetanus surgeries, to tell you the truth.
84
Fortune
Kat pursed her lips in annoyance. Okay. Go ahead. Laugh all you want. If I get
lockjaw where does that leave you? No more blowjobs.
He turned back to the computer and typed in some search terms with a sigh.
Hmm. He leaned his elbow on the desk, scanning the resulting pages. Interesting.
What? What are the symptoms?
Whining, frizzy hair and excessive paranoia.
I hate you, she said. You ll be so sorry after I m gone.
Come here. He turned to her, shaking with laughter. Just come over here.
She went to stand in front of him. He gazed at her, his fingers reaching out to run
over her fitted tee and up to her breasts. He cupped each one, then pinched her nipples
though her shirt and sheer bra. She stood still the way he liked, not pulling away or
flinching.
Good girl, he said. You know what I think? I think your aching jaw might be a
symptom of something else. She smiled as his hands fell on her shoulders and he
pushed her down with steady pressure. She knelt between his outstretched legs,
unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. He was already half-hard, his cock warm and
heavy in her fingers.
Jesus, Kat. Your hands are freezing. Just use your mouth.
She put her hands in her lap, scooted closer and took the head of his cock between
her lips. She tasted the salty drop at the tip of it, gazing up at him. He sighed and
leaned back, caressing her hair absently, his legs going slack on either side of her as she
ran her tongue along his length. He was quickly filling her mouth, growing hard and
rigid as she deep throated him. A great many of their lessons had focused on this and
she was getting pretty good at it, if his moan was any indication.
I m sorry for your achy jaw, baby, he said. But that feels like heaven. Don t
stop. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl szkicerysunki.xlx.pl
nieces. He thought of his own quiet, sterile life.
I m so glad you re here, Kat, he said. For a thousand reasons, I m glad. He turned off
the lamp and held her close in the darkness. He thought he could hear her heart
pounding away beside him. He heard her breath lengthen and grow even in sleep long
before he so much as closed his eyes.
82
Fortune
Chapter Eight
Kat was slogging her way through a horribly boring text on animal husbandry,
trying to put thoughts of Ryan out of her mind. She had it bad for him. After two solid
weeks of hedonistic pleasure, even translating passages about pigs fucking gave her a
little thrill. She tried to focus, puzzling over a trick of phrasing. She hoped whatever
Russian pig-farmers-in-training read this text appreciated her attention to small
idiomatic detail.
She closed it right at five o clock and headed home. His home. Her temporary
home, where she felt more and more comfortable. He would be another hour at least,
maybe later since it was Friday. She might do a half hour or so on his treadmill while
she waited for him. Well, maybe twenty minutes. She d get plenty more exercise later in
bed.
He called when she was just finishing up to tell her he was bringing dinner home.
He sounded pleased to hear she was exercising. He had an endearing preoccupation
with her health, her eating and exercise habits. Well, it was kind of endearing but
mostly exasperating. At first she d pouted and resisted a healthier lifestyle. To her
horror, his house was a no-junk-food zone. No chips, no cola, no candy, no coffee, not
even any chocolate. Actually, he d allowed her a little chocolate the week before when
she was on her period. Otherwise, she d told him bluntly, she would cut off his nuts
while he was asleep. And she sneaked junk food at work for a while to get her fix,
bought chips and candy out of the vending machine. He would never know, she
thought.
But he knew. When he questioned her, she cracked and confessed. He spanked her,
she cried, they fucked. Afterward he held her and caressed her, pouring warnings into
her ear about the dangers of too much fat and high-fructose corn syrup. She heard
nothing. She could only focus on his touch, his smell, the deep tone of his voice. Well,
she heard something, she supposed, because his lectures were working. Just yesterday
at lunch she found herself craving salad. Salad!
Last week, one day after work, she d found herself snacking on haricot verts dipped
in hummus. Hummus, for fuck s sake. And what the fuck was an haricot vert anyway?
Some kind of rich doctor French green beans he d turned her on to. She was always
grabbing them out of his fridge.
There were other lessons, too, really intimate lessons about attention, pleasure and
discipline. He touched her, grabbed her, stroked her and manipulated her. He tied her
up regularly, practiced his art of shibari. She didn t totally get the art part or what he
got out of it. She just knew it made her feel strange and nervous. She liked the fucking a
lot more. She was even getting into stuff like going down on him. She was getting past
83
Annabel Joseph
her selfish impatience and starting to get into the ways she could make him react. He
said anal was next. She was dubious but that never stopped him. If anything, it drove
him on.
And he folded cranes every day. Sometimes just a few, sometimes a lot of them.
Every time he did it she thought of that first night two weeks ago, when she d crawled
at his feet and fetched them one by one with her lips and teeth. He still strung them on
lengths of fishing line, counting out groups of forty. He hung the completed strands in
the corner, like a colorful waterfall. She didn t ask why. She knew why. He believed in
wishes, fortune, fantasy. No wonder he got on so famously with her mother. They were
two of a kind.
But not her, Kat thought as she ran on his treadmill. She didn t believe and she had
no interest in learning how to fold them herself. But she still liked to look at them, the
riotous colors, the way they moved and rustled slightly whenever the heater turned on.
She was finding it easier to sleep in the silence. She was finding new, quieter noises to
listen to just beneath the hum of her lust.
She was just getting out of the shower when he came to find her. She loved to see
him after work, all doctor-y and businesslike. He would kiss her and she d kiss him
back and he d begin the slow slide from brainy surgeon to horny lover. It always
fascinated her. It melted her too.
While he changed out of his work clothes, she set out the food he d brought, some
Thai rolls and vegetable soup. She couldn t cook a lick, although she d tried for him.
He d choked her meals down, then told her he didn t mind doing the cooking or
bringing things home every once in a while. She loved him for that and she did what
she could to contribute to mealtimes, which was set the table beforehand and clear it
afterward so he had some time to relax.
Tonight after dinner Kat watched a little TV while he went over his medical notes
and upcoming surgeries at his desk off the living room. When he finished he looked
around at her. She was picking and fretting over a cut on her finger.
What s wrong?
There was a paperclip incident at the office.
Rusty paperclip? His lips curved in a teasing grin. He was growing accustomed
to her myriad mishaps and clumsiness. Weren t they together pretty much because
she d fallen down the stairs? He stretched out, his hands behind his head. Don t mess
around with it, doll. Let it heal.
She frowned. I think I m getting tetanus or something.
I m sure you are.
I mean it. I had a headache earlier today and my jaw s been feeling a little achy. It
could totally be lockjaw. What are the symptoms for tetanus?
I don t handle a lot of tetanus surgeries, to tell you the truth.
84
Fortune
Kat pursed her lips in annoyance. Okay. Go ahead. Laugh all you want. If I get
lockjaw where does that leave you? No more blowjobs.
He turned back to the computer and typed in some search terms with a sigh.
Hmm. He leaned his elbow on the desk, scanning the resulting pages. Interesting.
What? What are the symptoms?
Whining, frizzy hair and excessive paranoia.
I hate you, she said. You ll be so sorry after I m gone.
Come here. He turned to her, shaking with laughter. Just come over here.
She went to stand in front of him. He gazed at her, his fingers reaching out to run
over her fitted tee and up to her breasts. He cupped each one, then pinched her nipples
though her shirt and sheer bra. She stood still the way he liked, not pulling away or
flinching.
Good girl, he said. You know what I think? I think your aching jaw might be a
symptom of something else. She smiled as his hands fell on her shoulders and he
pushed her down with steady pressure. She knelt between his outstretched legs,
unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. He was already half-hard, his cock warm and
heavy in her fingers.
Jesus, Kat. Your hands are freezing. Just use your mouth.
She put her hands in her lap, scooted closer and took the head of his cock between
her lips. She tasted the salty drop at the tip of it, gazing up at him. He sighed and
leaned back, caressing her hair absently, his legs going slack on either side of her as she
ran her tongue along his length. He was quickly filling her mouth, growing hard and
rigid as she deep throated him. A great many of their lessons had focused on this and
she was getting pretty good at it, if his moan was any indication.
I m sorry for your achy jaw, baby, he said. But that feels like heaven. Don t
stop. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]