WARNING: This letter includes graphic adult content of the
BDSM variety.
Dearest L – By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. It’s
the way we both wanted it, anonymous, intense, two beings colliding in an empty
apartment, no rules, no boundaries, no lights, no names. Even the heat had been
turned off, which is why I tied your wrists to the radiator and fucked you
until my cock was raw, until you’d come more times than I could count, until
you’d screamed all your words and had nothing left but hoarse whispers -- please…again…stop…oh
God.
We weren’t big on words, were we? This letter already
contains more words than we exchanged last night. A bigger variety of words, at
any rate. I recall telling you to take off your clothes. I know I told you to
kneel and suck my cock. The excitement I saw in your eyes, the hitch in your
breath, the eager peaking of your nipples – these spoke to me more than any
words could have. Even when I first saw you in the café around the corner, one
long leg crossed over the other, your short dress riding up on your silky
thighs, I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to have you, consume you, possess you.
Words were irrelevant.
So why am I writing to you now? Why am I not following our
agreement and disappearing into the night, taking only your panties to remember
the encounter branded forever in my mind, in my flesh? I can picture you
reading this now. Even though you’re probably still in that apartment, alone
except for the echoes of our lovemaking, you’re probably tilting your legs together
– exactly the way I told you not to.
Open your legs. Now.
I know you, you see. You can’t experience a night like that
without coming to know your lover on a level beyond the ordinary. I know your
instinct is to hide your beautiful cunt. I know you long for someone to free
you, to open you up, break you down, until your true ravenous nature shines
through. There’s a word for how you fuck: insatiable. The more I restrained
you, the more you wanted it. When I took you into the kitchen, bent you over the
counter, and worked my hand into your tight, hot cunt, two fingers pressed
against your clit, I thought you’d have a stroke from pure pleasure. I came
like a rocket too -- all over myself. When you slid off the counter, all damp
and flushed, sank to your knees and cleaned my cock off with your tongue, I
thought you were too good to be real.
Of course I returned the favor. I put you up on that kitchen
step stool, one leg on the ground, the other bent to the side, the better to
enjoy the sight of your weeping, red velvet pussy. First I made you touch
yourself, while I stroked my rod. Then I ate you out, your sweet, swollen lips
dripping under the lash of my tongue. I loved feeling them burn with need for
me. Loved hearing your little whimpers. Loved telling you to pull at your own
proud nipples. I watched those dark points swell deliciously, then watched you
hide them behind your hands. Couldn’t believe you would hide yourself from me,
from anyone. That’s why I made you reach up to that light fixture and grab on,
why I took my time with your nipples, giving each one it’s turn in my mouth,
arousing it until it went hard and stubborn against my tongue. God, you were
beautiful, especially when you threatened to knee me if I didn’t let you come.
I let you come, of course. I’m sure you remember. If you put
your hands between your legs right now, I bet you’re wet all over again, just
reading about it. Do it. Put your hands between your legs. Stroke
yourself.
You’re my dark, unforgettable goddess. And that’s why I’m
breaking the rules and writing this letter.
One night isn’t enough. Can’t possibly be enough. If you
feel the same, meet me at the café again tonight. Maybe we can exchange one
piece of information about ourselves. I’ll start. You know that empty
apartment? After the first of the month, it won’t be empty. It will be mine.
And I’m intending to add furniture. Very interesting furniture. Of course, we'll always have the radiator.
So, my dearest Goddess known only as L -- consider this a
Valentine. I want you. I crave you. I’ll never get enough of you. I’ll count
the minutes until tonight.
And one more thing. Don’t come until I tell you.
Yours,
Z
Hello, Valentine's Blog Hoppers! I've got an extra contest going on this weekend. This letter is from a man named Z to a woman named L. Give me an L name and a Z name in the comments, and I'll put you in the running for your choice of book from my backlist or an ARC of Beautiful Obsession, my next release, as soon as it's available.
Have a wonderful Valentine's Day! Enjoy the rest of the fabulous Cupid's Choice Blog Hop. Here's
the link to get back on the
tour bus!
Love,
Juniper
