by Micki L. Bailey

My own exclusive paradise…ecstasy reserved for no one else but me. The words wafted freely through her mind, maybe in a haze, so subconsciously that she was barely aware of them at all.

Her focus was concentrated on the intensifying heat under her skin, flowing along in her bloodstream; on the billowing fires throughout her body that were raising her heart beat to audible levels and transforming her breathing to panting; and on the tingling, hardening, and moistening reactions her flesh was exhibiting abundantly from the touches of Roger Lococco, her personal high priest of untold pleasures.

She lifted her head off the pillow enough to glance down at him in the near-darkness. Firelight bounced off his sandy hair. A small whisper got caught blind-sided in her throat as his thumb and middle finger gently pinched her right nipple. Stretched out over her, he had slid lithely and slowly down her compliant frame and hovered now at the trembling belly button. She lay down again and closed her eyes, chill bumps from his warm breath welling up on her abdomen.

"I’m swollen and aching, Roger…….Stop torturing me if you don’t mind," she groaned into the air.

His answer was soundless, but it made her gasp aloud. Easing two fingers into the liquid-fire caldron her opening had become, he massaged the small but volatile hooded "pearl" up and down until she was writhing spastically on the sheets. Then, as he anchored her hips down with his forearm, he slid the fingers inside her wet heat and immediately lowered his mouth onto the folds of engorged flesh where they had been.

He played her with his tongue, flickering all over and around and then back again, tracing and retracing this sensitive, salty-sweet mine field, missing not one spot. She ground her head into the pillow’s softness and arched her back, long ago surrendering to the building, burning waves of passion.

"Roger…" A hushed plea for mercy. "It hurts……You’re gonna kill me with the teasing."

Then, compassionately, he honed in on the most dangerous of the explosives staring him in the face and began to stroke her trigger button with a stiff and agile tongue. With a fuse so short, she detonated almost instantly against his mouth, but he refused to be deterred and kept at his feast until she shuddered with another orgasmic outburst.

Anxiously and expressionless, Roger sat up and watched her in her "afterglow." He followed the sound of her breathing returning to normal and lightly ran his hands over her legs spread out before him. Quickly moving back into the steamed-up crevice he’d just come out of, he parted her legs and lifted her ass enough to push his rigid cock into her.

She opened her eyes, surprised by the force, but then smiled at the pleasure all over his features. He could never resist the involuntary quivering and clutching of her vaginal muscles after orgasm. Shutting her eyes again, she relaxed to his rhythmic pumping. This is my heaven for sure…

"Get that pretty ass o’ yours up. On your knees. Now!"

Her eyelids flew open once more, revealing wide and startled orbs. Unnerved not only by his words, but also by the growl with which he spat them out, she sucked in a huge gulp of air and stared at him directly above her. Unable (or maybe afraid) to move because he still bore into her, she searched his face for a hint of kindness – and found none.

"What are you? Deaf?" To punctuate the last word, he backed out and then drove into her, up to the hilt, savagely. Thick apprehension bubbled inside her, but she didn’t move.

"What’s the matter, huh?" Glaring, he bent over and wrapped his right hand firmly around her fragile neck while holding her thigh with the other. She winced and watched his eyes nervously.

"Isn’t this what you wanted, baby? A good reaming?" His grip tightened around her windpipe, and she inhaled through her nose, more than a little alarmed now.

Stay cool. He’ll smell the panic seeping out through your pores. It’s only Roger, she screamed to herself in her mind. He’s not THAT dangerous…not when it comes to me. Right?

Still not answering him verbally, she only gasped at another blunt jolt he forced into her and then scrambled to meet his demands. He had loosened his noose and now pulled out of her quickly. But he didn’t move away, so that as she turned over he grabbed her hips to steady her. Or, perhaps, to position her to his liking since he had now taken control.

Momentarily, she forgot her anxiety as he ran his fingertips over her thighs and along her spine. "Nice," she thought she heard him whisper.

But suddenly, without any warning, threat as big as ever rushed in again. He somehow extinguished the votive candle that had been burning on the nightstand. She didn’t hear him blow it out, but there wasn’t time to wonder about it because next he snatched her hair and forcefully yanked her head back to within inches of his own face. She could hear his breathing in the blackness of the room.

"Keep it hoisted in the air like that, baby, or you’ll wish you’d never been born with it." It was a deafening hiss in her ear.

Then she felt the head of him pressing against her little hole and smelled her own secretions on his skin. Her scalp stung as he pulled her hair. With a trembling, cautions voice, she attempted to ask him, "Why are you—"

"Shut up!"

A tighter yank on the hair, a palm clasped over her panting mouth, and another brutal plunge of solid hardness into her canal. "Fuck," she heard him mutter.

As he released her hair and unclamped her mouth, he grabbed her hips and began to drive in and out quickly. She met his thrusts, forgetting her trepidation again and adjusting to the groove. She sensed Roger was wrapped up in his own mounting pleasure, so she eased her right hand up to where the action was happening and rubbed vigorously. While he rode her hard and rough, hitting that electrifying spot, she dropped her head and moaned as the third explosion rumbled inside her, making her squeeze him tightly deep within the inferno.

Panting, she felt him pull out of her with a wet smack. "Ah…..just the natural lubrication I was hoping for," he said quietly but still with the gruff undertone.

Then, before she could even register what was taking place, he seized her hips again and pressed the tip of his penis into her other hole. She cried out involuntarily, and tears filled her eyes – tears for fear and for pain.

"And you THOUGHT you were being tortured before." Did he chuckle quietly? "Just relax, and it won’t hurt much at all, baby." He sighed with anticipation.

You’re not the one it’s happening to, she wanted to screech at him. But she restrained herself.

"Roger, please—"

"Shut the hell up!" He slapped the left cheek of her ass, stinging her. "If I want your input, I’ll ask for it."

Then, mercifully slower and gentler than before, he pushed himself all the way in. She clenched her teeth and tried to relax her muscles as he broke through what felt like barriers and filled her up. The initial onslaught sent shivers over her flesh, and she let the tears run down her face since she knew he couldn’t see. Stay cool.

He rode her again, pounding in and out, groaning and losing himself in the dark. She braced for the thrusts. Near the end, her dread had vanished, and she felt almost comfortable. When he could hold out no longer, Roger clutched her waist and groaned loudly as his release finally came deep inside her.

As if she’d sucked all the strength from him, he dismounted and collapsed on the pillow beside her. Feeling relative freedom again, she lay down on her back as well and listened to his labored breathing.

Freedom, maybe. But not security. She couldn’t find any words to put into the still-tense atmosphere.

"Hey……C’mere." Roger whispered to her and pulled her to him. His body, she discovered immediately, was covered with a thin, warm sweat.

"I didn’t hurt you, did I?"

She rested her cheek against the thudding in his chest. "I’m okay."

"Scare ya?"

"Maybe……just a smidgen." Her voice trembled.

He laughed quietly. "Sorry, baby. Fear is a necessary evil with that kinda gig."

"Well, then I’m oh so happy to oblige you, Roger."

"C’mon, sweetheart. You got into the whole scene too. How many times did you ring the bell? Three?" He hugged her.

"I was just a little…….unsure." She drifted off, not quite able to explain.

"Ah, but that’s the point. Gotta keep you on your toes so you don’t go soft on me and lose your edge. Don’t want you to be caught off-guard with the unexpected, ya know."

"Whatever, Roger."

"Sweetheart, you go getting complacent on me and I’ll start feeling old and predictable."

She lifted her head and turned to him in the dark. "You are any damn thing but predictable, Roger."

"Thanks. Love is grand, isn’t it?"

"A rose by any other name woulda punctured my lungs." She smiled a smile he couldn’t see.

But he felt it. "Ah, my wife, the drama queen. A photo of her lovely visage serves as the definition of ‘hysterical exaggeration’ in medical journals all over the world."

"Fuck you, Roger."

Then he slid down in the bed to be face to face with her and touched her chin. "You know I wouldn’t hurt you, don’tcha?"

"Yes."

"And if you don’t wanna—"

"Shhhh…….Surprise me, honey……..You’ll always surprise me."

* * *

Weeks later.

"Roger! I’m going down to Thai Garden to pick up the food," she screamed at him.

He was welding back in the recesses of the loft. Now he snapped off the torch and slowly pivoted around to her, raising the goggles over his eyes.

"What?"

She sighed. "I havta go and get dinner. I’ll be right back."

He feigned confusion. "You’re not whipping something up yourself?"

She shot him a bird, and he in turn blew her a kiss. "Just watch yourself. It’s getting dark out."

As she rolled her eyes and turned to sashay off, he lowered the goggles again and smiled. "Hey! Take the car," he called to her. But she didn’t respond.

Whip something up myself my ass, she thought as the loft elevator plunged to the basement. It was Monday night, aka Monday Night Football Evening. A night on which they rarely, if ever, cooked. A night of tradition when they’d order out and then huddle together on the leather couch to share an evening. She’d no doubt go to bed just after half-time, but he’d inevitably join her later.

"Take the car." Yeah, right. Twilight in the city was much too alluring to waste in the damn Beamer. She stepped out onto the street from the parking lot. Besides, Thai Garden was just over—

"Up against the wall, lady, and nobody suffers!"

Déjà vu. Suddenly, her hair was pulled and yanked backwards again, and an insistent sharp object was poked into her right side. A shove knocked her face-first into the brick wall beside her, her hands barely catching her fall in time. The small side street behind them held no witnessing cars at all.

"What do you want?" she blurted out, quivering just a little.

"Well, let’s see…….your fucking money would do for starters…….and then I guess I’ll just havta go from there."

It was dark now, but mercury-like adrenaline raced through her, waking up thoughts and ideas. That smooth, silky voice in her ear broke through everything. She felt her "attacker" slide his palm down the curves of her body. Yes! It was surely Roger! In one of his clever "undercover" guises.

"Don’t want you to be caught off-guard with the unexpected, ya know……..I’ll start feeling old and predictable." She detected a familiar aching begin between her legs.

"Okay……then let’s go…….I’m game." Now her voice was thick and choked. She felt him tense up behind her.

"Look, bitch. I dunno what kinda wacko you are, but if you don’t drop that purse on the cement right now, I’ll gut you in less than five seconds."

She smiled, still hearing Roger’s intonations in the snarling coming from over her shoulder. He flirted with such extremes.

"No problem. You can take whatever you see that you like, mister." She sighed heavily and loudly, playing along perfectly.

"Okay, you twisted cunt—"

The piercing sound of a gun’s hammer being cocked tore through the night. Then, "Okay, you low-life scum. One tiny move on your part and I spray your malfunctioning little brain all over that wall there. Whadaya say?"

She froze and listened to the shrieking silence. That was Roger’s voice. Not the first one. Oh, god.

"Yeah, man. No moves, just like you said." The first voice. Much less vicious now and altogether unfamiliar to her consciousness.

"Good. Now drop that knife and turn the lady loose, you goddamn piece of garbage." Roger’s voice. Unequivocally. Delicious cold vodka flowing smoothly over mountains of clear jagged ice.

The intrusive object left her side and clamored on the sidewalk. Her hair was all hers again. The man directly behind her was then brutally slammed against the brick wall himself. She heard him grunt on impact and turned her head to see him double over after being punched fiercely in the midsection.

Then she whirled around, right into Roger. His steeled, serious eyes met hers for only a second before they darted back to the stranger who’d attacked her.

"You okay?" His pointed gun on the attacker’s chest held the man motionless.

"I think so……Just a little shaken up." She couldn’t manage a sound above a whisper. Reality was pouring in and congealing fast.

"Go upstairs and wait for me. No phone calls. No nothing. Just lock the door and wait." With his eyes still on the "bad guy," he wrinkled up his nose in a snarl.

"But Roger—"

He cut his glare at her sharply. "Did you hear me? Get the fuck outta here!"

Back in the loft, she paced the den and watched the huge door. And beat back the panic that threatened to overtake her. What a freaking moron! How can Roger Lococco tolerate such an imbecile incapable of common sense and logic?

The door swung open, and she stopped dead still in her tracks, staring at him. Disheveled outwardly, he held her eyes as he sauntered over to her, dropping the gun onto a soft leather chair for a muffled plop.

She stood there and let him engulf her, giving in absolutely to his warm, silent reassurance. "Sure you’re okay?" she heard as she pressed her face into his neck, inhaling him.

"I thought it was you…….with some of your high drama and secret games."

"No, baby. Real danger this time."

"Did you kill that asshole or what?"

He laughed into her hair. "Not quite. But he won’t come around anymore."

"Did you maim him, Roger? What about the police?"

"Don’t worry ‘bout it, okay? It’s taken care of."

Then she pulled away and looked at him. "If you hadn’t followed me……How’d you know?"

Roger smiled just for an instant. "Telling you to take the car was as good as daring you to walk down a blind alley with cash pinned to your naked body."

Rolling her eyes, she turned and stepped toward the kitchen. "Oh, and who’s the wiseass hysterical exaggerator now? I need a drink."

"Why’d you havta take the side street anyway? Trying to drive me crazy, hmmm?" He’d followed her and now leaned on the bar.

"It’s closer to the restaurant. And I’m hungry," she said, pouring wine. "Want some?"

He shook his head. "You’re impossible, ya know……..and stubborn as hell……a natural-born trouble-maker."

She eyed him over the rim of the crystal glass. "Is this complaining I’m hearing?"

Roger chuckled silently and looked down. "Nah, baby. Where’s the fun in being….um……average anyway?"

"Exactly. Gotta cherish that element of surprise, right?"

Meeting her eyes again, he smiled. "So what about dinner?"

"Actually…….I was hoping to delay dinner just a bit……..I think I need to show my sincere gratitude for your heroic chivalry, my flame-carrying guardian." She bit her lip, aware of swelling and stiffening in zones all over her body.

Roger didn’t hesitate to hold out a welcoming palm towards the bed. "Always at your service, madam."