Category Archives: erotica

Another Place

“Are you okay?”

Rafe looked at her when she walked back into the apartment.

She was not okay.

She had gone to Oscar’s to soothe him from his heartache, and instead, they argued about their relationship. Her unexpected jealousy over Cleo which she should have recognized earlier. They eventually ate in silence and embraced. They would be okay, but she had not gone there to fight so she was a bit shaken up.

“I will be,” Eliza looked at her husband with soft eyes, and wrapped her arms about him. “I love you,” she said softly looking into his eyes. When she married him, she remembered that she knew that he was the one that she could look at with certainty and know that she loved him and wanted to be with him and that he was forever for her.

“I love you,” he said, punctuating his sentiment with a kiss.

Their apartment smelled delicious, and she knew that he had made something delicious for them, but the taste of his mouth against hers filled something much more in her. Rafe took her hand, and they went to the bedroom where things escalated rapidly.

“I want to be full of you…” Eliza purred.

“That was exactly what I was intending,” he smiled and she looked at his familiar erection and thought of the pleasure that he gave her when he put it inside of her.

She took his hand and kissed it over and over again. Rafe groaned and he looked at her with gentle eyes.

“You want this,” he made a fist, and she felt herself clench with the ache for it as he did.

It took them awhile, when he penetrated her like that. He did not always even get all the way in, but having his penis inside her was a different sensation than having his fist. Besides, she wanted to be close to him and she loved the way their lovemaking seemed endless when he fisted her. They looked at each other and touched each other in other ways, and after he held her close and kissed her temples asking her if she was okay–was it good for her?

It was always good for her with him.

“Eliza,” he said her name and it sounded thick to her like through a dream.

She had gone to another place…

 

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Now

To anyone looking, they looked like a couple terribly in love all throughout Paris. Lovers in Paris—what a shocker!

Mathilde knew that her expression definitely contributed to that. The way she clung to Cadmus, and the way that he held her to him. Once out of the corner of her eye, she saw a man taking a picture of them by the Seine. At that moment, could he capture the lust in her eyes? The gape of her mouth, as she felt Cadmus hard against her and needing him right then? Cadmus’ dark lust was not on view for the camera, but was for her eyes only.

It was all love for the camera, and behind the scenes too. When they were alone, they smoldered the same way.

The frame of their hotel room felt like fire when they returned to it. Their proximity as they were both so eager to get inside and at each other. His lips would rest on her temple or neck, and she would combust.

His touch was so incendiary.

She needed him, even as she did not know if she trusted him. If she trusted him not to break her heart.

Again.

Before she left, Mathilde was sure that she saw Cleo’s shadow at their door and heard a scratch at the door before the sound of heels walking away dragging a suitcase down the hall.

For now, she was the one he was set on fire, she was the one that he wanted now. He touched her and she felt him like flames. He wanted her like he had never wanted her before, but it was only now. Now was not an infinite period of time. 

It was just now.

He kissed the tip of her spine, and his hand moved up the sides of her ribs until she burned.

She wanted to burn…

 

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Remembrance

Mathilde sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed. The tears had cooled on her face, because she had finally stopped crying. She had even cried when they made love, which was the way that Cadmus tried to say sorry to her—with his body.

Had she ever really fooled anyone at that point, as many times as she had transformed herself? She could see her face in the mirror, and she looked far removed from herself, but if someone really knew her they would know her body and how could she have supposed that he would not have remembered her body?
She assumed that he had not remembered her.

“I remembered you after, I remembered not being with you and missing the way that you were always there for me, but that I was not ready for it. By the time I met Cleo I was better, but not completely–she can tell you about that,” he said, pulling her close to him after they made love. After he had confronted her, and let her know that she was not hiding anything from him.

No matter how much she had run away from her life, she had not even run even half away from anything because she brought her same issues with her. As Cadmus kissed the slope of her neck, she could feel he wanted her again, and she could not say no. For him to be after her was so different than before—when she was always so desperate for him. He moved against her backside, and she moved against him in return. Their gnawing hunger for each other rampant…

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Engulfed

Cadmus unzipped the back of her dress, and his hand lingered at the small of her back. Mathilde felt his hand there like a wanted weight and it soothed her. He slipped the dress down over her shoulders.

“What did you say to her, what happened?” she asked him because she needed to know. He had been in Cleo’s hotel room, and she needed to know what he had said to her.

What had happened in her room.

“Cleo is mad at me, she is mad at me what else is new?” Cadmus sighed, and pulled her dress down more roughly over her shoulders.

Mathilde shrugged roughly, matching his rough pulling down of her dress.

“How long were you with her? As a couple?”

He caressed his shoulders, and kissed her neck.

“On and off for several years…I just started sleeping with her again, but then I saw you…” He caressed the small of her back, as she stepped out of the dress.

“I have a question for you,” he said. 

Mathilde stiffened.

“What?”

“When were you going to tell me?”

His hand lingered over her hip, and she bit her lip.

“What?” she repeated, a bit indignant this time.

He spun her around like a carousel, and she looked at him. His face was so close to hers, it looked like a caricature.

“Do you think I don’t remember your body? Do you think that all men are such dogs that they do not remember? I remember this mole Zara, I remember…”

Mathilde looked at him with wide eyes.

“Do you want a medal for remembering?” she said, naked and indignant. “I remember a lot too…”

“I know,” he said, his hand on both of her hips and the way he looked at her made her burn with desire and she hated him for that. Why did he always do that? Her burning in this hotel room, and Cleo burning in another? “I remember I did not treat you the best Zara…I remember…I am going to spend the rest of my life making it up to you…”
He bent before her and kissed her just where she was burning, and she was engulfed.

 

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Naked and Shivering

Naked and shivering, the sweat from both of their bodies cooled on hers after…Mathilde pulled her hair to one side, it was stuck to her face and below her shoulder. She looked at him, and then around at his hotel room. 

That was another thing about him, she never expected that he would not rise to the top of his field. He was always very focused, and that additionally made her feel silly around him because she was going to school too but she was much more into the fun part of the college experience. 

He even told her that she was not serious, like she was a bit of fluff.

But he had been serious about her in the moments past. He wanted her on top because he wanted to see her body move, and he touched every part that he wanted to see…

…move.

He made her feel like a goddess—like he never had when she was younger. His hands on her breasts, her hips and thighs. She moved so that she would drive him mad because she was very good at sex and she knew how to do that.

He looked wrecked beneath her, and it made her smile. She wished that she could be evolved and have sex with him and let him go. But everything old was brought up now that they had renewed their intimacy.

Mathilde turned on her side, and she felt him follow her as she did. Her smile tasted like tears because she did not know what she wanted.

Almost sounding like he was talking to himself, Cadmus said,

“I used to be in love with a girl you remind me of…”

“Tell me about her?” she said hoping she did not sound too interested. She had been playing it so cool all along.

“She was beautiful, and I wasted it all.”

Her bottom lip saltier with the tears now, Mathilde closed her eyes.

 

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image via House of Eclipse

Submerged

Mathilde sat on the metro—she could still feel him between her legs. She could still feel him moving there, the heat of him outside and inside her and she pressed her thighs together from the memory.

Biting her lip and clutching her bag, Mathilde realized that she had come all the way to Paris to be alone for the first time in her life and she did not really want to be alone. She wanted to be close to someone, she just wanted it to work this time.

Every time she wanted it to work, but somehow it never worked the way that she wanted it to. Not that she had not been with people and loved them, but it was never quite what she wanted…

Phenomenal twosomes, threesomes and foursomes had filled her—literally—but it was never quite what she wanted. On the metro now, she realized that maybe she was not built for real intimacy. What she had just experienced in the bedrooms of two men she barely knew, let her know that she was always ready for her body to be submerged in whatever—but real love and intimacy were something she could only scratch at the surface of.

Her body still ruminated with the pleasure she had submerged herself in—a man who seemed to know her intuitively. There was something base and animal about the way that he knew her, while he was inside of her it felt like he was entering more of her than just her body. It felt like he was penetrating deeper, to something that she was not able to stop him from searching for within herself.

She felt like he awakened something in her that she had not known was there. And now hands on her thighs, she tried to settle herself from the pleasure and the torture of it that she could still feel throughout her body and soul.

 

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Spellbound II

Cleo hated herself for what she had done, but she could not help but embrace herself beside Cadmus.

In his bed.

It felt like a place that she belonged, and that she had forsaken. He was asleep—he had rolled off her and curled into fetal position still clutching her. He played with her breasts, and explored the contours of her curves.

He always made her feel like a woman.

At the cafe, when she went to meet him she had not imagined that she was going to sleep with him. But after a few glasses of wine, and looking in his eyes it was like she was spellbound. She felt dazed and overwhelmed like a woman on the cover of an old Spicy Mystery.

Her body however was not confused, and she wanted Cadmus even as she knew it was wrong. That he could not give her what she wanted now because he was fast asleep. Her eyes closed, but fluttered violently because she wanted him inside of her. When he was inside of her she was not lost. She held him close, probably bruising his butt from the desperate way she clutched it and mewled underneath him not being satisfied no matter how much he gave her.

She wanted more.

That was why they were not together anymore, because it did not seem that he had more to give her than this. Lovemaking, followed by wakeful sleep as he clutched her breasts like a security blanket he did not want to let go.

Cleo knew she would have bruises from him later, and she was not sad about it. She wanted the residue of their love—it was all she had ever wanted.

Cadmus squeezed her breasts more, and she wondered what he was dreaming.

If she was in them.

Panic clawed at her as she became desperate for him again, but now he squeezed her breasts and he was awake—

She wanted what he wanted.

 

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Sunlight

It was as cliché as she could have imagined, lying in bed with the Parisian sunlight falling on her. On him too, this time she would not ask what his name was because she really did not want to know.

He was a bad sleeper so he was not holding her, and the sheets covered his body in a disarray. He did look sexy, and she had had a good time with him,

But Mathilde was ready to go.

Running down the stairs, ascertaining that she had her phone, purse and looked nothing like she had had a long night she left. 

A cafe a few blocks away looked like a good option for coffee, and she sat down with her cup and the extra chocolates she had not asked for. But the man who had placed them on her saucer just under the dolie smiled at her with each one, like it was an invitation.

Breakfast—those tiny chocolates and coffee were breakfast before she decided what she and Paris were going to do together.

“You could have at least gone to a cafe across town so you would have no chance of seeing me,” Mathilde cringed when she heard the statement from the man she had just left. The timbre of his voice rolled under her skin.

She looked up at him and smiled. He pulled a chair next to her.

“Why do I get the feeling that you are a grand escape artist?” he mused aloud.

“Like Houdini.”

“You tried to leave before anything even happened between us.”

“But you made me stay for a bit.”

Mathilde felt her traitorous body respond to his proximity. Daytime brought about his fresh cologne, and another crisp suit. The man behind the counter looked at her like she really was a traitor, as she placed a square of chocolate on her mouth.

“I did.”

“Don’t you have a conference to go to?”

“It is Saturday, so no. Nice to be on vacation and lose track of time like that!” he laughed.

Mathilde nodded as her mouth was flooded with decadent chocolate.

His kiss tasted like chocolate. Back in his bed, Mathilde looked up at him as he moved on top of her. He was not inside of her, but pinned her down with his naked body and she liked the feeling of it. She was wet from when she sat at the cafe with him, and the hunger between her legs meant she had had to touch herself quickly when she went to the bathroom to curb some of the ache.

She wanted him inside of her now, but he was intent on being slow and lazy about it. And being that she did not have anything to do that day, it was kind of nice to be lost.

For a little while.

 

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Fishnets

Cleo wore fishnets that day, and she was startled when she saw Eliza come into her office. First of all, Eliza worked from home now mostly to be with Bibi, and secondly Eliza was also wearing fishnets.

It seemed so odd that she and Eliza had on the same thing. They did not wear it the same, but they were both wearing fishnets and Cleo felt awkward.

She was not sure how to explain it, but Eliza intimidated her. They were friendly, more than friendly if she could go to her apartment and start dating one of her friends. But she sensed that she had crossed a line maybe. Eliza was not any less inviting, but there was something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

Sometimes she thought about the fact that she saw Eliza and Oscar walk out of a darkened room at Bibi’s birthday party. She put it out of her mind again, as soon the thought returned. No one would sleep with a lover in the middle of their daughter’s birthday party with her husband there!

Or maybe Cleo just did not want to think it could be anything because she wanted Oscar. 

Thinking about Oscar, Cleo remembered why she put on those fishnets. It was because when she was getting dressed that morning—after they had made love almost as soon as he got up—he caressed her legs and told her that he did not think she would ever wear fishnets. He was right—she liked hosiery without patterns. She preferred to wear the patterns on her clothes. But just to let him know that he did not know everything about her, she wore them. Went to the pharmacy, and changed the smooth hosiery she wore when she left him.

“I got the memo last night,” Eliza said to her, and gestured to her legs. Cleo was delayed on catching the joke.

Later, Oscar tore her fishnets right off of her. His finger pushed through the grid of the tights and he slipped his finger inside her. Cleo was wet, there was nothing about that for her to hide. He fucked her so fast with his finger, she almost passed out when she came.

“I like you in fishnets,” he said, as she heaved breathlessly.

 

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Ghosting

Mathilde hated it, but she was still with Aaron and she did not want him to go if she was honest at the moment. If at least for sex—she still wanted to have sex with him.
She still wanted to have sex period.
Just because she had left everything did not mean that she was not still a human, that she did not still have human urges. In bed with Aaron at his hotel room, where he still was because he had blown off his flight that morning she wanted him inside of her and she wanted him to be rough with her. He was not necessarily rough, but he was very specific about what he wanted from her and she gave it to him.
She just wondered when she would ghost him.
She was ghosting before it was a thing in Urban Dictionary—she just left when she was ready, and became someone else.
But she was not ready to do that yet, sitting cross-legged on Aaron’s bed where he surprised her and instead of takeout or room service he cooked. Mathilde was not opposed to cooking when she had time, she would not have had time if there was room service to be ordered for sure!
He placed a disposable plate in front of her, and served her crispy orange chicken that was better than anything she had ordered from a Chinese restaurant, so good and filled with vegetables that she did not need rice.
She ate with chopsticks that he had in his suitcase.
“You keep chopsticks in your suitcase?” she asked him.
Aaron looked at her, his eyes sliding down her body.
“I travel a lot, so I cook a lot in hotels and need condiments and utensils for when I do so I keep them
in my suitcase.”
Mathilde got up and opened his suitcase. There was takeout residue at the bottom, like she might have found on the kitchen counter of her own apartment when she was not a hotel nomad.
As she was bent over the suitcase, Aaron curled over her and she felt her underpants shift against him before he forthright pulled them down her. He made it such a domestic scene between them, cooking for her in and out of bed. Her legs straddled his as he moved in and out of her in the bed, both of them looking far from sexy in regular underwear in the mirror but their faces revealed their deep pleasure.

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