Bonus content: Extended Ending – The End of the Innocence

FOUR YEARS LATER

 

 

It is nerve-wracking. Waiting for a stranger to come fuck you. Knowing nothing about the man who waits behind the door. I am blindfolded, nothing but dim darkness visible, a glow of soft light peeking in around the edges of the cloth. I prefer it this way. It hides any initial awkwardness, allows me to fully turn myself over to Brad, allowing him to take it from there.

 

The blindfold will eventually come off. It always does, sometimes by me, ripped off with eagerness as I am yanked into the heat of the moment. Other times it loosens and falls off, jostles out of place by hard rapid movements of my head. Sometimes by Brad, his fingers lingering questioningly over my face, waiting for me to nod, before untying it and unveiling the kinkdom before me.

 

I am on the bed, still in the dress from dinner, Brad tying the blindfold on, his fingers grazing my neck when the door opens, and I feel the second presence enter. Brad’s hands continue, pulling the silk tight, and my world goes black, the comforting blanket reassuring in its anonymity.

 

“Stay here.” Brad’s voice is just authoritative enough to give me a chill. The good chill, the kind that makes my pussy pant and my back subconsciously arch. I hear him walk, over by the door, and then the door slides closed, and there is a click as the lock turns.

 

I stiffen, trying to decipher the lock sound, wondering if he is still in the room, or if he just left and locked it behind him. There is a weight on the bed and suddenly, a hand on my arm. Fingers, trailing up the inside of my arm before moving across. Traveling lightly along my collarbone before dipping down, along my breastbone, following the neckline of my dress as it dips low. I tense, every sensor in my body following the movement of his hands, yearning for more. I feel the tug of material, the straps on my shoulders tightening as they slide from my skin, air suddenly hitting the delicate skin of my breasts, and I feel the hot blow of breath as hands tug expensive material down, lower and lower, until my torso is covered only by my strapless bra.

 

Hard breathing, quick and excited, the stranger’s hands move to the front of my bra, fumbling slightly, and then the pressure on my ribcage is released, and I am exposed to his eyes.

 

There is a moment of silence, a moment when I wait expectantly, unsure of what is to come, my breasts growing heavy with need, my nipples standing to attention in the exposed air. I listen, every pore on my body alert, waiting, my belly curling with anticipation. I wonder if Brad is watching, or if he is out of the room. The fact that I may be alone with this stranger excites me.

 

I swallow as tentative fingers, their surface rough, travel over the curves of my breasts, brushing over my nipples, softly tugging on their surface, my sensitive skin crying out, and I gasp when a soft, wet mouth is suddenly upon one.

 

Then, Brad’s hands. I instantly know when he touches me. There is such certainty and confidence in his touch. He pushes me back against pillows and slides the dress and panties from my body, lifting my limbs and ass until I am bare and naked on the bed.

 

The man sighs, a sigh of want and desire, a sigh that causes my arousal to bloom, his mouth lifting from my breast and my skin instantly begging more. And more is what I’ll get.

 

An hour later, the man leaves. I can hear the clink of his belt buckling, the swoosh of fabric before the door opens and closes. There is the quiet sound of Brad, saying something to him, then silence. I roll off the bed, my limbs barely functional, multiple orgasms stealing any strength from their muscles. I walk to the French doors, opening them slowly, the suction of ocean air tugging at them, my firm grasp the only thing keeping them in control. I whistle softly, rewarded quickly by the click of nails against pavers, and Benny, our Golden Doodle, bounds up, the nuzzle and lick of his nose against my knees causing me to let out a soft laugh. He pushes past me, going inside, and I leave the doors open, wanting the warm breeze against my skin, loving the sound of waves crashing. I step into the shower, sudsing up, unsurprised when Brad’s blurry image moves past, the door opening and his large form stepping in. I welcome him, turning on the second rain-head and moving into him, his hands sliding over my body, spreading the suds with an intent look, his hands curving around me and tugging me closer, until our bodies are together. “I love you,” he says gruffly.

 

“I love you, too, baby.”

 

“Turn around, let me wash your back. Did you enjoy that?”

 

“Mmmm.” I tilt my head down, loving the feel of his slow movement, the play of strong fingers across delicate muscles.

 

“You are so beautiful when you fuck. So sexual and open. So eager …” One of his hands drops lower, rubs a teasing hand between my legs.

 

“Stop …” I mumble. “If I come one more time, I won’t be able to walk out of here.”

 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He runs his teeth along the back of my neck. “Have I mentioned that I like your hair short?”

 

“It’s not really short. Just shorter. But yes, several times.”

 

He reaches over, spinning the dials until the water stops, then opens the door enough to reach out and snag a handle of towels. He shuts the door, keeping the heat inside and wraps me in white fluffiness, rubbing down my body with his hands. “Ready for bed?”

 

“You’re naked,” I whisper, my eyes dropping to his cock, my mouth curving into a smile.

 

“Is that a problem?”

 

“Not at all.”

 

He bends down, scooping me up into his arms, a surprised shriek leaving my throat. Stealing a quick kiss, he knees the door open, carries me through the bathroom and drags back the sheets, dropping me on the bed and snagging the towel, yanking it off in one quick motion.

 

Then he joins me, naked skin against naked skin, the doors open, the fan pushing the cool scent of ocean across us, Benny’s warmth settling into the covers at our feet.

 

Tomorrow is Monday. Monday means a late breakfast. Then we’ll head to town. Open up the office, conference-in Rebecca, and check on things. Brad’s still doing divorces. But now he works from Nassau, handling his clients via phone. We fly back every month or so, spend a few nights there in the security palace that Martha now reigns over. I see Olivia and Becca, do some shopping, and spend time at the office. Brad’s no longer at the firm. He opened his own practice, something he should have done a long time ago. His new firm De Luca Law, has a grand total of two attorneys, though one contributes absolutely zero to the bottom line. I’ve become one of those wives. The kind who enjoys—far too much—doing nothing. I keep up the house, read most of the day, and dedicate hours to massages, naps, and my husband’s cock. I tried to work, tried to take on a case, tried to spurn my competitive nature enough to care about an outcome. But I enjoy our life far too much. It was a struggle just getting through law school, my realization coming early that I might not want to do this my whole life. That I might, for the previous five years, have been trudging along on a career path that doesn’t really interest me.

 

So I go to the office. I pay bills, shop online, log into social networks and email accounts that I typically ignore. Chat with Janice and Evelyn and get caught up on Saffire. Grab lunch and bring it back. Take over the conference room with Rebecca and gossip. Make polite conversation with the four paralegals and three secretaries who make up Brad’s staff. Then give Brad a kiss and head to the house. Cook dinner with Martha then gently nudge her on her way. Welcome my sexy husband home with naked skin and chicken piccata.

 

I love this man so much. More than I ever thought I could love. More than I knew someone could love. He slides an arm over me, wraps it around me and pulls me tighter to his chest, letting off a soft sigh as I snuggle deeper into his embrace.

 

“My baby,” he whispers.

 

“My love,” I return.

 

I fight to stay awake, to stretch out this moment as long as I can, but I lose the battle. It doesn’t matter. I have thousands of more nights. Thousands of more moments. I have to remind myself of that. This is not now. This is forever.

 

 

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