Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Rabbit
   by Nysidra
   Erotic Romance (MF)
Summary: Mika's chance encounter with an enigmatic sorcerer.
   <->
   Music blared so loud that it sent vibrations through the walls.  Voices
raised in drunken conversation made individual words hard to distinguish.
Three in the morning, but no one looked as tired or sleepy as I felt.
   I crouched behind the railing on the second floor.  No one noticed me in
my dark corner of the house.  That was just fine.  I didn't want to be
noticed.  If these people and this drunken party were going to keep me from
sleeping then I would spectate.
   The busty woman with spiky brown hair giggled while the big guy beside
her reached under her skirt.  She wasn't looking at the guy.  She was
giggling while holding a conversation with someone across from them.
   The skinny guy in the white t-shirt could not dance.  He looked to be
jogging in place while trying to play tennis.  He was going to hurt someone
like that.
   This guy ...  my brain stalled while I watched him.  He didn't look
drunk or awkward.  He looked out of place, like one of those pictures where
you try to find the object that didn't fit.  He didn't.
   He set my imagination aflame.  First of all, he was gorgeous.  Trim
figure, strong facial features - kissable face.  In my imagination, he
kissed me and told me he wanted no one but me.
   We went out on fancy dates to restaurants with cloth covered tables;
where they presented bottles of wine that paired with the meal.  We went
for long walks under the moonlit lake.  He held me, caressed me, and told
me I was the only woman for him.
   He approached the snacks foods and the large punch bowl, but he didn't
take anything.  His hand passed over the items as if he were looking it all
over.  No, as if feeling it, his fingers wriggled slightly.
   Weird, never mind that.
   Our imaginary relationship blossomed.  After those first stellar dates
we saw each other regularly.  We ate dinner over our imaginary houses.  I
cooked for him, and he raved over my culinary expertise.  We cuddled in
front of the fire while sharing dessert.  He was my sweet perfection, and I
was his.
   Such is the beauty of fantasy, forever suspended in flawless happiness.
At night, he carried me to bed in his arms, and our bodies kept each other
warm at night.  We woke in the morning and shared dreams of the future over
coffee and bagels.
   Stare long enough at someone and you're bound to get caught.  I did.  He
turned around and looked up at me as if I'd made a sound or someone had
pointed me out.  Through the crowd, through the dark and smoke, his eyes
met mine.
   I was too caught up in my own head space to have the good sense to look
away.  He turned away for a moment, but turned back and held my gaze.  We
stared at each other.  People moved around him as if oblivious to his
presence.
   Damn, now I was the creepy stalker girl hiding under a table behind the
banister.  He didn't appear annoyed.  Maybe he was good at hiding it.
   He really was gorgeous, not like the way you see a guy and think he
looks good only to find out you were just making things up.  Someone passed
in front of him, and I got annoyed.  I wanted to remember every detail so
that I could figure out what our children would look like, how he would
look in a tuxedo.
   In my ongoing fantasy, he proposed over an elegant candlelight meal, and
I said yes.  We were going to have a spring wedding.  My colors were
robin's egg blue and coral.
   When the crowd parted he was gone.  I searched the floor, feeling a pain
in my chest, I even moved closer to the railing, trying to see if he'd
left. I found him standing near the base of the stairs.  He pointed toward
the back of the house then angled his head in invitation.  He took the hall
that led to the back door.
   My upstairs room had stairs that would lead down to the back porch.
   I didn't scramble to my room.  My fantasies were just that, fantasies. I
knew better.  This guy had seen a girl staring at him and figured he'd take
the easy bait.  I stalled a full minute or two before I entered the meager
room I rented.
   I liked him, was it so bad that he liked me back?  I slipped on a pair
of flats and changed into a nicer shirt.  By the time I got downstairs he
would have had plenty of time to abandon me.
   He hadn't.  He was sitting in a chair on the porch playing on his phone.
   "Have a seat." He didn't look up or otherwise acknowledge me.
   I took the cushioned chair beside him.  The porch light was off.  The
street light on the side of the house cast us in shadow.  His voice played
nicely in my mind, low, luxurious, a bit rougher than I imagined.  So?  now
what?  How would I answer for my blatant stalking and staring?
   "Do you drink?" He turned off the phone display.
   "Yes."
   "Do you scare easily?"
   "I don't think so."
   "We'll see about that.  Do you like what you see?"
   "I did." My fantasy frayed.  The more he talked, the more I caught
arrogant, prick vibes from him.  Each second in his presence destroyed of
my idyllic vision of him.
   He leaned back in the chair.  "You're beautiful, and though I'm
flattered to be noticed by someone so keen, I need you to forget you saw
me."
   "Will someone ask?"
   "If I was sloppy."
   I opened my mouth to speak before my brain processed his response. 
Thus, I was slack-jawed like a simpleton for a few seconds.  "Okay, I never
saw you."
   He chuckled.
   I felt like he was laughing at me, but I liked making him laugh.  I
enjoyed the sound.  I was both embarrassed and enamored and the mixture
made me feel like more of a socially awkward freak than usual.
   "Do you like me enough to give me a blow job?"
   He had to be joking, another way to amuse himself.  "Now?"
   "Yes, right here.  I have," he glanced at his phone, "ten minutes to
kill." He didn't laugh, not yet.
   I should have felt upset or something, but I wasn't.  I honestly thought
about it.  It was dark, people were keeping to the front of the house, and
I'd never see him again.  Also, I been seriously dating him in my mind.  We
were planning our wedding when we caught me staring.
   What's that thing they say?  Seize the day.  I stood and grabbed the
pillow in the chair.  I placed it between his feet and kneeled.  This was
his cue to start laughing.  Point and laugh at the stupid weird girl.
   He didn't laugh, and he didn't unzip his pants.  He leaned forward,
cradled my face in his warm hands and kissed me: soft, enticing kisses -
not too wet or needy, almost loving.  My stomach did all kinds of
calisthenics as my tongue slow danced with his.
   "Thank you," he placed a final kiss to my nose then reclined and loosed
his pants.  He didn't have a raging boner.  No, his cock was relaxed in my
hands waiting for me to put some life in it.  Once I got him in my mouth,
he swelled to an impressive length.  He was a big boy.
   His fingers combed my hair back, grazed the curve of my ear.  He may
have been arrogant, eccentric, possibly morally bankrupt, but his slight
caresses and touches made him better than the fantasy version.  After all,
I was getting the chance to be adventurous, a little wild and daring.
   I forgave him the attitude.  I could understand the kind of bravado that
waking up with a fist between your thighs could foster.  Okay, perhaps I
exaggerate, but what did I know?  I'll tell you: not much.  I wasn't a sex
expert.  I could barely boast being anything more than a novice.
   Either way, he had my full attention.  I put him as deep into my mouth
as I could manage and made sure to keep my tongue active as I bobbed up and
down his shaft.  I wanted to give him my best.
   "I'm close." No need for the warning.  I felt the swish in his shaft
just over my tongue.  He tensed, groaned, shuddered, and my mouth filled
with his taste.  I swallowed while he put himself together.  That wasn't
bad at all.
   I just gave a blow job to a complete stranger.
   "Stay here." He pocketed his phone and went back into the house.  I sat
in the spot he vacated.
   What did I just do?  And why?  Did I really think he was that good
looking?  Was that reason enough to let him use me like a whore?  Was I so
lonely, so needy?  So desperate?
   The questions continued without answer as my tongue traced the
teeth-indentions on my lips.  I'd never done anything like that, and I
enjoyed it.  Temporary insanity.  That could never happen again.  I let
myself get caught in the moment.
   Either way, I was going to masturbate like a mad woman for months after
this night.
   He returned and handed me a drink.  I knocked it back and followed the
burn down my throat to my stomach.
   "Did you drug me?" I should have asked that first, but now he had no
reason to lie.
   "It's just liquor.  Come on.  Time for us to go."
   I frowned, blinked.  Did I miss something?  "Why?  This is where I
live."
   "You don't want to come with me?" The corner of his mouth curled into
the hint of a smile.
   "I do." I hopped to my feet.  Where was he going?  When would I come
back?  Who was he?  He didn't really seem to be one of Garrett's guests. 
What part of this night was based in reality?
   "Good.  You don't want to be inside when the police show up."
   "Why would they do that?" I hugged my arms to myself as I walked around
the dark side of the house with him.
   When we reached the street he opened the door to the black coupe and I
got inside.
   He cranked the car, pulled out the drive.  "You didn't like those
people. You didn't belong there any more than I did."
   All true, but what did that matter?  I was just renting a room.  I
couldn't muster the nerve to complain.
   "You felt fantastic on my cock." He said while looking at my lips.
   While were his words were crude and brash, his tone was reverent.
   "You have a sexy pair of lips and not just because they fit so snugly
around my shaft.  I like the way you didn't immediately pull away from me
when I came.  You let me come to a rest in your warm, wet mouth, didn't
move too much.  I liked the way your hands grasped at my thighs, like you
enjoyed sucking me off.  Did you?"
   I blushed so hard that my cheeks began to hurt.  Here I was batting my
eyes and swooning when any other person would turned me sullen and
combative.  Damn him!
   I nodded.
   "You have a beautiful smile." He whispered.  "I'm going to enjoy fucking
you."
   My fantasies about him had been saccharine, cutesy, almost puppy-love in
their naivetÃ(C).  Everything I imagined was in error.  I didn't know any
better - that's how inexperienced I was with relationships - if that's what
was happening.
   I became a nervous child under a fresh onslaught of sexual attention. 
Oh, he sounded sweet enough, looked sweet, but there was something elicit,
dangerous, and almost cruel about him.
   I bit down on my lip and shut my eyes when he put his hand on my thigh,
not near my knee, my upper thigh, inside, near my crotch.  He teased me
with his touch as he drove.
   "That's what I thought." His fingers rose to the crease at my hip, under
my shorts.  I sat there tense and unsure, neither spreading nor closing my
legs to his lazy exploration.  I was wet, getting his fingers soaked as he
played with my outer labia.
   I've had sex before, more than once, but no one had taken enough time to
touch me unless it was to guide his dick inside me.  His touch was soft,
lazy, like he did this all the time, reaching over to fondle a woman's
intimate parts.
   I stifled a whimper as he teased my throbbing clitoris.  I had no clue
where we were when he stopped.
   "Help me get this stuff inside." His matter of fact tone startled me.
   By the time I opened my eyes, he was opening the trunk.  I took two
duffle bags and followed him to the third floor apartment.  My thighs were
cool and wet, bereft of his touch.
   He put on music - electronica, a mellow lounge piece I didn't recognize,
and began to unpack one of the bags into a safe.
   I was about to sit down, but I hovered in place while he stacked piles
of money.  From the other bag, be stocked the kitchen cabinet.
   "Do you live here?" My voice cracked with the strain of not asking,
'where'd you get all that money?'
   He chuckled.  "No.  I'm staying here for a few days." He brought two
small glasses out to the living room.  He unzipped one of the two bags I
brought in and lifted a long, cylindrical, frosted glass bottle of clear
liquor.  The words on the glass weren't in a language I understood or
recognized.
   Me?  I hadn't moved, still awkwardly and painfully hovering over the
couch.
   He filled both glasses and reclined.  "Are you comfortable?  Temperature
wise?"
   A bead of sweat rolled down my arm.  "Actually, it's a little warm."
   "Good point.  It is." He leaned forward and lifted his shirt overhead,
then stepped out of his pants.
   Walked right into that one.  I took my shorts off, then my shirt and
sank onto the couch.  I kept my legs closed tight.  I had on dark blue
underwear, but I was sure they were soaked through.  What was I doing here?
What was in that fourth bag?  What had he done?  Why did he carry around so
much cash?
   He pushed the glass of liquor over to me.
   "What did you do?" I stared into the cup as if I were talking to it and
not the man in his adequately filled underwear beside me.
   "I exacted revenge on someone at the party, but covered it up to look
like a case of food poisoning.  You really don't want to be there right
now."
   I grimaced at the mental image.  "Is that why you pulled me aside? 
Because I was watching you?"
   "Because you noticed me, yes, but I brought you here for more than
that."
   "I still have a choice in that matter." My words were sullen and
petulant.  I hated being thought of as a foregone conclusion.  Having been
treated that way before, it hurt.  I knew I was only of interest until he
came inside me, but I wanted to keep up the illusion.
   Maybe that was my problem, me and my illusions.
   He laughed, deep and full, then drank from his glass.
   I was too wary to sample mine.
   "I apologize.  You're right.  You are welcome to change your mind.  I
can still go with Plan A - hit the club, see if there is another, possibly
inferior, female out there that catches my eye." He paused and caught my
eye just as powerfully as the first time I saw him.  "But you caught my eye
first.  I want you.  I brought you here because I want more of you."
   "My mouth." I needed to add clarity to the situation.  My heartbeat
raced hearing him speak words I'd imagined an hour ago.
   "And many more body parts." He pointed to the glass in my hand.  "Try
it."
   I did.  Vodka.  Sinfully smooth.  I sipped (gulped) till it was gone. 
There was no burn just a low warmth in my belly.  I was going to compliment
the spirit, but he pressed his lips to mine.  His kisses were small but
imploring, testing, restrained.  This wasn't high school.  I didn't have to
be coddled.  I knew why I was here.
   I was a foregone conclusion after all.
   I flinched.  That final thought sapped my nerve.  I crawled away from
his sexiness.  I got to my feet and put distance between us, enough that he
could give chase, but where would I run?  No one knew where I was.  I
didn't know who he was, where I was.
   I paced while he poured more vodka, pushed the glass toward me, then
reclined.  Damn, he had a nice chest.
   "What's your name, rabbit?"
   "Mika." I grabbed the glass and leaned on the far wall as if that would
protect me.  The music changed, and I recognized the band, Zero 7, one of
the instrumental pieces.  "And yours, wolf?"
   A broad grin, lowered brows.  His eyes narrowed to slits - a wolfish
countenance indeed.  "You have nothing to fear from a predator on a full
stomach.  Have you heard that phrase before?"
   "Yeah, so," I drank from my glass.  My eyes never left his.  "You admit
that you're a predator."
   "Oh yes, but I'm not after you.  Enjoy yourself."
   "Nerves, just nervous.  I don't ...  I mean ...  I," another gulp of
vodka.  "This isn't exactly my comfort zone.  Handsome men don't just
appear in my life and want me."
   "Lucky me.  My name is Cameron." He folded his hands behind his neck and
closed his eyes.  "When you get over your nerves, I'll be here.  In the
meanwhile, take a good look in the mirror, beautiful.  There's plenty to
want."
   The man was gorgeous - intelligent - cunning.  I needed to be careful
around him.  I downed the rest of my drink and went in search of a mirror.
There was one just before the hallway.  Yeah, my panties were damp, and I
was standing around half naked.
   I saw what I usually saw, too soft, too rounded, too little, too big,
too short and too long.  I tried to look at myself like he must have saw
me. Breast, full and round, not huge, but not tiny either.  My dark nipples
were hard.  I had big thighs and wide hips, and his hand had already been
between my legs.  I met my reflection and saw the naked fear, the nerves.
No wonder he called me a rabbit.  I was all but shaking.
   I feared being alone with this stranger, with someone who could hurt me,
who certainly had hurt others tonight.  Yet, here I was, trembling and half
naked.  How did I get here?  Why didn't I just stay in my bedroom.  A man
like him would be trouble, sooner or later.
   What was I afraid of?
   I rejoined him on the couch.  He's not that much trouble if he was
waiting for me to make the first move.  I reached out and traced his lips
with my finger, followed his jaw line.  I expected him to snap me down,
capture me, but he remained still, a sleeping dragon.  My palms circled his
shoulders and I straddled him.  Skin to skin, warm.  The damp gusset of my
panties pressed along my engorged clitoris.
   My pulse thundered through my body.  Nothing to fear, and yet, I was
terrified.  I didn't know what I was supposed to do next.
   Vodka loosened me just enough to wing it.  I leaned close and rubbed my
cheek to his.  He had a tattoo on his back, but I could only see the edges
behind his shoulders.  This time I kissed his jaw line, took a deep breath
of his cologne, eased my hips closer to his.
   "Last chance to run, rabbit." He issued the low threat between returned
kisses.
   Was his growl for theatrical effect?  It worked.  My whole body
shuddered and my skin prickled.  "My, what a big ego you have, wolf."
   He cracked.  His laugh sounded genuine, surprised.  He rolled me onto my
back on the couch and two of his fingers slid inside me.  Oh, I was wet and
ready, sloppy - if the sounds filling the room were any clue.  I rolled and
arched my back, losing myself to sensation and intoxication.  Nothing
restrained my whimpers that time.
   "Mika," he sang my name in a dawn out whisper as I moaned.
   Was I about to have an orgasm?  Oh, I was so near and yet, so far.
   "Pretty Mika, the better to fuck you with."
   I giggled and gasped as his thumb worked my clitoris.
   "That's what you want, rabbit.  You want to be fucked by my big ego, all
night, until I exhaust you."
   "I'll exhaust you," I countered.  My head swam and it wasn't just the
vodka.  It really wasn't.
   "Mmm, we'll see," he purred.
   He pulled his fingers away and pull me up to my feet.
   I swayed a little, but managed to keep upright.  Yeah, that last shot
was the kicker.  I put my arm around him and focused on staying up.  "I was
close."
   "That was the point."
   "To tease me?"
   He lifted his bag, the one I hadn't seen him open, and led me to the
bedroom.  He lifted me by the waist and set me on the bed.  "To entice
you."
   "As if."
   His brow rose in question.
   "I mean, you're hot.  I'm not the one that needs enticing."
   "Ah." He pulled a sheet of condoms from the elusive bag and set them on
the night table.  "To warm you up then." He put his hand behind my neck and
kissed me.  "My big ego wants you nice and wet."
   I blushed and tried to shy away, but he held me too firmly.  His body
settled over mine.  Now that the liquor had settled, and I was all 'warmed
up,' I thought only with my body.  My body wanted this handsome stranger,
Cameron.
   When he kissed me, I understood its plodding nature.  He was teaching me
to kiss him, guiding me just the way he wanted, slow, deep, checking one
another's tonsils.  Extremely personal.  It made my belly flutter just
thinking about it.  I wanted to be a good student.
   "Am I safe with you?" I mumbled around our kiss.
   "Safer than you ever were without me." He pinned my arms down over my
head and positioned himself between my legs.  "Are you going to give me
trouble, rabbit?"
   I stared up into his storm gray eyes, framed by dark lashes.  His red
lips appeared as full and swollen as my own felt.  Dark stubble marked his
jaw.
   "Yes, Cameron, I do believe I will." The statement barely escaped my
lips before I turned my head and blushed.  What was wrong with me?  I
wouldn't say something like that out loud.
   Think it?  Sure.
   Say it?  No!
   He pressed into me, slow strokes, steady.  If he fucked anything like he
kissed I was about to be in deep trouble.  For the moment words and
questions and banter were forgotten.  In that moment there was just our
breathing, soft music, and his body entering mine, spreading me open,
invading me as fully as he did with his fingers, his tongue, and his words.
   He made me feel so profoundly feminine, both the sex and the way I felt
under him.  The few times I've had sex it always felt so overwhelming, so
much going on, so confusing, too quickly started and too soon finished.  I
couldn't let go and enjoy anything, and none of my previous boyfriends
cared much as long as they were having fun.
   That's all to say that his warming up had the desired effect.  I was
enjoying myself immensely.  Here was a man who desired me, wanted me.  I
aroused him.  The pride I felt was near silly.
   No, completely silly.
   Perhaps if I'd gotten with the times and thought of sex as nothing more
than a basic act then I wouldn't be so gullible.  Maybe I wouldn't have
ended up so dissatisfied in the past.
   I widened my legs and angled my hips to better meet each of his languid
thrusts.  I expected him to be brutish, quick, but his pace was near
frustrating.  I wanted more.  He still had my wrists pinned, so I kept
squeezing him, rocking, trying to 'entice' him.
   A sensation, a warm itch, grew within me, and I needed to give it
satisfaction.  I wanted to reach that plateau, to know what that even
meant. I made these little whining moans that sounded so pitiful, but I
didn't care.  I begged with my body, my voice.
   When he had me panting, I realized his pace had changed, and by degrees,
he'd given me exactly what I wanted.  He was fucking me hard, fast, and at
an intensity I would have feared if not for my desperation to see the light
at the end of this tunnel.
   I screamed, cried out.  The only music I heard was the smack of skin to
skin, his low moans, rapid breathing, and me, crying out like a wanton
slut. I had never been so vocal in my life.
   My body had ceased all voluntary movement.  I was fully as the mercy of
my needs, his needs.  When it finally happened, I couldn't catch my breath.
My mind, my body flatlined and exploded at once.
   No one was ever going to treat me like this.  I was never going to feel
this good again.  I buried my face in his chest.  I was not going to cry.
Forget about later; focus on now.
   I turned my attention back to him, his erratic pace, straining groan,
just listening to him made my belly flutter all over again.  Cameron had
released my wrists so I held him.  I felt his back muscles ripple as he
pistoned inside me.  With a great physical shudder, he came.  I could feel
him swell inside, one moment larger, thicker, and then we were a puddle of
mush.
   I have never known such mind-numbing euphoria.  In fact, I doubt I'd
ever truly felt an orgasm until this night.  The emotional waves kept
crashing.  I only hoped the sweat would hide my emotionally overwrought
tears.
   He collapsed beside me.  We were still panting, sweating, his hands
found mine; our fingers interlaced.
   Was I supposed to say something?  Thanks?  Was it good for you?
   He pulled my hand up and kissed my fingers.  "That wasn't your first
orgasm, was it?"
   "That obvious?  Fuck.  I mean, well," I sighed heavily.  "I don't think
it was, but it was the most memorable." I mumbled my answer into my
shoulder.  Ugh, so childish.
   "I know what you mean."
   I was confused all over again.
   He smiled, thumbed my wet cheek dry.  "We should get some food.  Stay
here; stay undressed.  I'll get you something."
   He left me lying there on the bed, and I wasn't in much of a mood to
move.  The vodka, the orgasm, the affection.  Everything felt good: life,
this moment, the memory of him inside me.  He smelled so manly, sounded so
honest.  I just loved the sound of his voice.  I loved...
   Oh no.  Come on now, don't let the dopamine win.  It was just sex.
   It was just really great sex.
   The best in my life.
   Fuck.  I needed to get out of these feelings and quick.  I could not
become attached to him.
   I pushed myself upright in time to see him enter the room with a service
tray.  He set the food and drink on the bed.
   "You don't have anywhere you need to be tomorrow, do you?"
   Other than work?  Why was he asking?  "I have a job I'd willingly skip
if it meant staying in bed with you." I talked while looking down at my
plate.  I stuffed my mouth to keep my sex drunk brain from offering anymore
unfiltered information.
   In my mind he laughed at me, said he was just asking so he knew what
time he needed to drop me off.  Somehow, the asshole version of him entered
my head and ruined everything.  I reached for another slice of tasty bread
with tomatoes and herbs lathered on it, but he grabbed my wrist.  I dropped
the food and stared at him.
   Wordlessly, he guided me to pick it up again and place it to his mouth.
   "Look at me." He smiled when I did.  "You have gorgeous bright brown
eyes, rabbit.  I enjoy seeing them on me.  Stop looking away when you talk
to me."
   My breath turned shallow, but I nodded.  I fed him and myself everything
on the tray.  The food and sport water helped.  I relaxed again.
   He never laughed, never made fun of my desire to be near him.  For that,
he deserved a reward.  When he set the tray aside I straddled him, lowered
my breasts to his face.
   Cameron took each one in hand and began to play with them, licking,
sucking, massaging.  I squirmed, but I tried to keep from moaning so much
again.
   He nipped the side of my breasts, as if testing my reaction.  He bit
again, a little harder, and I stilled.  'Rabbit' was stunned.  Not because
it hurt, because it didn't.  I liked it.  I'd never been bitten before, and
if I had, I would have cried out in confused outrage.
   "Because you liked it or you didn't?" He murmured as he licked the spot
he'd just bitten.
   "Liked."
   He hummed and latched onto my nipple.  He reached for the night stand
and grabbed another condom, rolled it on, all without abandoning the nipple
in his mouth.  Then he pulled away and positioned me on all fours.
   "You should get a tattoo." He caressed my back, rounded my ass.  "Such
beautiful skin."
   That reminded me.  I hadn't taken a good look at his.  No time for that
now.  He started slow again, tempting me to make up for the slack, to beg
him for more.
   I fucked him back, pushed back, circled my hips.
   "Damn, Mika," he moaned gripping my hips.  "That's it, baby.  Fuck me
with that velvet pussy.  Fuck, you feel like a dream.  Show me what you
want."
   Emboldened, I let myself get swept away in the sensation.  What did it
matter?  My shit job and cheap room and dull life would be there waiting
for me when this dream ended.  For now, I was his.  He was mine.  I was his
dream.  Wow, that feeling again, a body high.
   I gasped, lost my pace, but he took over where I left off with a force
and domineering command.  He rammed me, slammed into my pussy with a drum
beat that made my whole body rattle.  I would do anything, anything for
this man.  That's how he made me feel.
   My poor heart was ruined, being fucked as deeply as my pussy.  He was so
deep inside me that I felt him in my soul, and it felt so good.  My toes
curled and skin tingled and tears quietly dripped from my eyes onto the
mattress.
   I screamed as the electrical storm of my orgasm ricocheted through me.
His teeth in my shoulder, nails deep in my thighs, firm, painful intensity
to my pleasure.  A unique bliss.
   He swelled inside me and growled with his own release.
   I thought we would rest again, but he pushed me down onto the bed and
flipped me onto my back.
   "Do not move." He ordered as he removed the spent condom.
   I froze in place, my respiration labored, tremors raced through my body,
little aftershocks from the big one.  And the tears, I hoped he wouldn't
see them this time.
   He did.  He crawled on top of me and kissed the sides of my face, wiped
my cheeks.  He invaded my mouth with no reservation or restraint.  He was
all passion, impatient and filled with lust.  We kissed until my lips felt
the strain.  We parted, panting and steaming with bodily heat.
   What was he doing to me?
   I rolled out the bed and stumbled to the bathroom.  It probably looked
like I was trying to escape him.
   In a way, I was.  I only wished I had further to go.
   I splashed water on my face, washed my thoroughly used vagina, and took
a much needed breath of air that wasn't shared with him.  He was trying to
drive me insane.  That's what this was.
   Where was my mind?
   I didn't get around to finding it.
   He entered the bathroom and literally dragged me back to the bed.  I
didn't resist him, but my legs were too confused and sluggish to walk
straight.
   I was a rag doll in his arms.  He tossed me onto the bed, and my legs
spread without a care.  I felt his lips and tongue on my vagina, but I
didn't expect them to have any real effect.  I was tired.  I'd already
climaxed twice, and no one seemed to have much luck with me in the
cunnilingus department.
   It felt good though, soothing.  I closed my eyes and let myself drift on
that soft euphoria.
   My eyes opened wide as I felt him using a dildo, its cool, smooth
surface parted me as his tongue circled my clitoris.  I'd never felt
anything like that.  Suddenly his mouth and that dildo were a flame and I
was burning.  I whimpered like a tortured victim.
   I needed to beg with more than my body.  "Please." I craved him, more. I
pulled my knees back toward my shoulders, angled my hips forward.  He
didn't cave.  "Please, Cameron, please." I'd grovel if that's what he
wanted.  "Please, I need more.  I'm so close.  I need you."
   Whoa there!  Too much.
   He stopped with a mischievous look in his eye.
   He knew I didn't mean it that way, right?  I mean, he knows I didn't
mean to mean it that way.
   I whimpered, but didn't complain.  I let my eyes do the begging, as my
mouth could not be trusted.  He nibbled his way up my thigh back to my
clitoris.  He took his sweet fucking time taking me to the edge and then
lay on my thigh, watching me while I suffered on the razor's edge.
   The fourth time, I had no pride left.  I whined, groveled.  I turned the
reigns over to my runaway brain.  "Please, Cameron.  Please make me come
again.  I need to so much.  I'll do anything, anything you want.  Please,
just tell me." I was ready to start crying if it would help.
   "Anything, Mika?" His tongue traced a circle on my thigh.
   I held my breath and my tongue.  Damn it.  This was not a normal man.  I
didn't know why I was so sure, but nothing about this evening could be
normal, usual.  How could the man who made it happen?
   "I think so," I hedged.
   He made a low, tired chuckle.  He sounded pleased with my answer. 
Pleased enough to finish me off?
   Fuck.  Yes.
   A few seconds of his masterful attention and I blasted off, soaked the
sheets in the process.
   Did not care.
   If I was a rag doll before, now I was an overcooked noodle, limp and
fragile and oblivious to the world.  I lay there, high and dazed.  I stared
out, but couldn't focus on anything.  You could knock me over with a
feather if I wasn't already flat on my back.
   I didn't realize I was cold until I felt his warmth wrap around me.
   I woke, a blanket over us, darkness in the room, his body beside mine.
   It was still night time?  This was the wrong time to be sleeping.
   I could sleep when I was cold and alone.  I turned until I was facing
him.  He was awake and playing on his phone.  The screen shielded by the
sheet.
   "Sorry." He turned the phone off.
   "I don't think you woke me." My hand found his thigh then rose to wrap
around him.  Half mast.  How encouraging.
   "Yeah, I doubt you felt my cock rubbing your ass."
   I kissed his chest.  If it had been, I didn't remember that either.  "I
apologize too."
   "For?"
   "For my new addiction." I swung my leg over his hip and put him inside
me.  Naked.  I moved slow.  I just wanted to feel him for a moment, skin to
skin.  It truly was different, closer, far more intimate.  I moaned into
his neck.  I'd never had a man inside me without a condom before.  That was
a thing reserved for exclusive lovers, and I'd never had that either.  I
heard his phone clatter on the night stand, but I didn't hear him come back
with a condom.
   I wasn't going to get pregnant, but I wasn't thinking clearly about
anything else.
   "Mika," he took a deep breath as I sank down on him, "are you on birth
control?"
   "Yes, and I don't have an STD."
   "I don't either, but do you trust me?"
   "No." I muttered.  Not really.  He was as stranger, named Cameron, who
claimed to poison the house party where I lived.  Why was I doing this?
   He was reached for the night stand and, in the grip of madness, I
grabbed his wrist to stop him.  I took hold of his shoulders and rode him
in earnest.  Could I have another orgasm?  Not sure, but that wasn't my
point.  I just enjoyed the feeling him inside me.  I wanted to memorize
everything, the sound, the sensation, the heat.  I enjoyed riding that
magnificent cock.  I was wanton, lustful, greedy.  I wanted him inside me,
really inside me.  I wanted to leave the condom off because I wanted to
imagine we were exclusive, married.  Madness had a death grip.
   "You are such a bad girl, Mika.  Fucking me without protection."
   "You're a bad influence." I changed my pace, slowed all the way down,
stretched my body over him.  I wanted this to last.  I lifted my hips until
just the tip was inside then eased down to the root, over and over, my hips
shuddering each time.
   "Do you want to come, Mika?"
   "No." Why did he keep saying my name like that?  Each time my heart
fluttered as he rolled my name off his tongue.
   "Why not?"
   "I like this."
   He rolled us.  Now he was on top, my legs locked around him, and he kept
to the pace I set, easing in and out of me.  I was so wet, it was
astonishing how much my arousal coated him.
   "This?  What's this, baby?"
   Oh wow, my whole body fluttered.  Fucking you.  That was the phrase I
was supposed to say.  I like fucking you.  Just fucking.  One night only.
"I like feeling you inside me."
   "Oh, Mika," he moaned.  He kissed me and pulled back with a smile.  "The
pleasure is all mine.  You feel so perfect: hot," he pulled out, eased back
in, "wet," and again, moaning as he pressed his pelvis to mine, "tight. 
You're like a firecracker when you come.  I love your energy, basking in
it. I love," he thrust deep inside me, "diving into you."
   He chuckled at my scowl.  I know he was laughing at me.
   "What's wrong?  You don't want me to love you, Mika?"
   I huffed.  It was some kind of sound between a whimper and a sigh. 
Tears stung my eyes.  This wasn't his fault.  I should have known he could
turn his cruelty on me.  That sadistic attitude was always there, under the
surface, waiting to torment me.  Whatever, let's be cruel then.
   "I do.  I love," my voice wavered as I said it, the steady in and out of
his cock made the words even more dangerous.  "Having you inside me." My
stomach fluttered.  Let's twist the serrated knife a little more.
   "I love," he moaned right in my ear, "being inside you too, Mika."
   My fucking heart.  It lurched and fluttered with every stroke, every
word.  Damn him.
   "Tell me," I gasped.  Even if it was a lie.  I needed to hear it, wanted
to know what it sounded like.  I dug my nails into his back.  I'd lost my
whole mind.  Just so I could know later what it was like, that's all.  I
wanted to know what the words sounded like from some place other than my
imagination.
   "Mika, look at me."
   I un-squeezed my eyes and looked up into his.  No laughter, no cruelty.
Fuck, he was so good looking.
   "Mika, I love you.  I love you so much it hurts.  I have never loved
anyone like I love you."
   Damn him.  Damn those honeyed words.  I came, and I cried.  My body
didn't give a damn.  My heart didn't give a damn.  My brain was riding shot
gun and pissing in the wind.
   "I love you, Cameron."
   "Javier," he thumbed the tears from my cheeks.  "Cameron Javier."
   "Cameron Javier." Such a fitting name for him.  I threw all my caution
to the wind like handfuls of confetti.  "I love you, Cameron.  I want to
feel you come inside me.  Please, I need you."
   He grabbed my throat and with a few short thrusts he did just that.  I
heard him grunt even as I felt my heart beat in my neck, where he held me
tight.
   Too far.  I'd gone too fucking far.
   Yeah, now my sanity wanted to chime in.
   He let me go in time to breathe.  I gasped in silence.
   We lay there in the dark, sweating on each other.  Neither one of us
really moving at all.
   "That was reckless," I whispered.
   "Mmm hmm," he put his arm around me.  "You're the one who wanted to fuck
without protection."
   Yes, this emotional shrapnel was my doing.  Without protection.  That's
all it was.  "Go hard or go home."
   He laughed, and like that, the malevolent darkness cleared.
   Because that's all it was right?  He was just being mean?  Just our
sadistic game?  A little unprotected sex.
   Ugh.  I loved his laugh.
   "Do you have somewhere to be today?" I asked as the sky took on a light
blue-violet.
   "In the afternoon."
   First cracks in the heart.  Pain.  Reality.
   I tried to roll over, but he must have seen that coming.  He grabbed
both my hands and restrained me against him.
   "You really are quite the brilliant flame.  That's what I saw when you
joined me on the porch, a little pilot light, waiting to roar to life, but
so fragile, close to being snuffed.  I gave you my affection freely, but
not indiscriminately.  Why do you assume I never want to see you again?"
   "Oh, only because I'm to forget I ever met you."
   "If anyone were to ask."
   If he was sloppy, left witnesses, survivors.  Because he'd committed
murder tonight.
   "Now, what were you about to do before I stopped you?"
   I was about to run away.  I stared at his chest, that wiry expanse of
pectoral.  "Cameron, I want you to remember me."
   He let go of my wrists and sat up.  "Okay, now I'm curious."
   I was mad, mad in the way that women go mad.  Mad in the way that a
successive volley of orgasms piled on with fake(?) declarations of love can
drive one mad.  I never believed something like that would be possible, but
I was in eye of this storm.
   I slashed him with my nails.  One quick, true strike.
   Blood welled to the surface and I drug my tongue over my work.  I hoped
it stung like hell.
   Can't be sure, because he didn't flinch, move, or even yell when I
scratched him.
   "Oh, Mika," he sang.  Then his low chuckle filled the room.  For a
moment he voice sounded richer, huskier, dark.  "Such a bad, bad girl." He
made a fist in my hair and pulled me away from his chest.  He slammed my
head down on the bed and straddled my chest and put the head of his
erection at my lips.
   I opened my mouth.  That was all I had to do.  He held my face and
fucked my mouth.  Really fucked my face - no easy going, tender acclimation
period.  Not for this bad little rabbit.
   One of my nails must have taken some flesh, because he was still
bleeding enough to spread the blood on my face while he rammed me.  All I
could do now focus on breathing when I could manage and not gagging.  In
less than a minute he cried out and spilled his semen down my throat.
   I choked then, but enjoyed the perversity of it.  I was going to
remember him forever.
   "As if I could fucking forget you," he growled as he tumbled on the bed
beside me.
   He was so charming.
   If he'd been my first I would have bought all this hook, line, and
sinker.
   Though I remained shy, hopeful, I just knew better.  This was just more
'unprotected' sex.
   "Shower," he explained and he pulled me to my feet.
   Sure.  I had a few more hours of this fantasy left.  I could be sullen,
sour, and weepy once I got back to reality.
   ***
   Do you scare easily?
   I remembered the question in the shower.  It didn't make sense then, but
it sure as hell did now.  I stood in the spray with his back to me and I
got a face full of his tattoo.
   I didn't scare easily, but it took considerable effort not to freak out.
I wasn't scared; I was ...  scared.  Gates were not a thing you just had
permanently etched into your skin.
   I didn't know what tomorrow would bring, what to believe, and I couldn't
tell a soul about it.  No one would believe me.
   No one was going to believe me, even on the surface.
   I met a handsome man who took me back to his place and we had great sex
all night.
   Yeah right.
   He told me he loved me and treated me like I was precious to him though
we had just met.
   Yeah right.
   Oh, and he appeared to be some kind of high ranking occultist if the
demonic gate tattooed on his back wasn't just for show.
   Okay, stop embellishing already.  We get it, your imagination is beyond
compare.
   We showered in silence.  He didn't mention his tattoo.  I didn't dare
say a word.  Once we got out, I found some ointment and applied it to the
cuts I put on his chest.  I'd been a suicidal ass scratching him like that.
He could have killed me.
   He still might.
   I put a bandage on the worse one.  All of this I did in silence.  No
words exchanged about anything.  Oddly enough, it was a comfortable quiet,
if grave.
   He had something to do, and I needed to get home.
   I heard him place a call to a taxi as I got dressed.  I had a bruise on
my hip, just above my hip bone where he'd bitten me.  I had another bite on
my shoulder, hickeys all over my breasts, two small red marks on my neck,
scratches along my belly.  Going home was the right thing to do.
   Going home was the right thing to do.
   I had to keep telling myself that.
   I'd need to call into work.
   Where have I been?
   I needed to get my lie together.
   I pulled on my clothes and after a glance I realized what was missing. I
didn't have my purse, wallet, or my phone.
   I needed to go home.
   I was shifting from one foot to the next in the living room.  Unsure and
confused and right on the edge of sadness.
   Cameron unfolded my arms and kissed me, slow, coaxing, tender.  I was
willing to follow, to melt under the heat of his embrace.  Damn, he felt so
good.  I thawed under his attention, just in time for the taxi to arrive.
"Mika...?"
   "Barrington."
   "You met a guy and left with him.  You never learned his name and he
looked nothing like me."
   He handed me a stack of neatly folded bills, cab fare, and walked me to
the door.  "Find a better place to live, rabbit."
   I didn't look at the money until I was in the taxi, eight hundred and
fifty dollars.
   Should I be offended?
   No.  I was not feeling offended just then.  I watched him stack several
times that amount away.  This was for my silence, not the sex.  I put $800
in my shoe and paid with the rest.
   I wasn't that far from home after all.  I'd missed the terrible
conclusion to the party.
   The windows and doors were flung wide, a few police cars were driving
away.  I talked with the detective on the porch.
   Three dead, several others hospitalized for dehydration.
   He wasn't sloppy.  No one asked.
   I packed my things - only using the balcony door to my room.  My
landlord was among the dead.  Nice.  I hadn't paid this month's rent yet.
   However, I had no where to go.
   I packed my car and spent the day at the library.  I brushed up on my
limited knowledge of the occult - symbols and charts to start.  Cameron
lived and breathed and fucked with a hulking inscription on his back.
   "Who do you serve?" I mused as I assembled what information I could.
   Several key parts of the tattoo could not be found in any of the books I
looked at, but I sketched out what I could remember.
   From that sketch I built something personal, something to remember him
by.  I'd thought about getting a tattoo before, but I never saw work I
wanted.  Though the inscription had scared me, it was part of him, and I
hadn't learned my lesson.  I wanted the fantasy.
   When I worked on the sketch I could taste him, smell him, feel him.  I
lost whole chunks of time replaying, reliving, reminiscing.
   "The library will close in half an hour."
   I lived at the library from open to close until they had nothing to
offer.  Then I'd either crash in the backseat of my car or end up crashing
on the couch of my co-worker.  I didn't like staying with him.  He liked
me, and the way he looked at me made my skin crawl.
   I refused to share a bed with him.
   Two days later I lost my job.
   This is all to say - forgetting about the man I could never admit to
knowing was made easier by the stressors of life.
   I found a new job, a nice apartment, but by then the bruises had faded.
The sketch lay in a drawer.  Some nights I'd go to sleep and he'd be the
very last thing on my mind.  My name on his lips, the deep purr in his
voice, the grip of his hand on my body.  Just after waking in the morning,
I'd rub my thighs together and feel the wetness there.  I remembered the
echo of my own voice: I love you.  His dark words in answer.
   I experienced fresh heart break on days like those.
   Every time a guy hit on me, I recoiled.  They could not hope to be him.
My body was cold and dead until I brought him to mind.  Nothing, no one
could take his place.
   My new hobby was studying the occult because that was my only connection
to him.  It was a sick way to be with him long after he'd left my life.
   Weekdays in the library, nights in the club.  I could not stand the
silence of my apartment, the emptiness, the hollow loneliness that existed
in his wake.  When I could, I'd drive around the area I thought he lived
in, but he didn't live there.  We'd only shared a night of bliss in a place
he was only in for a few days.
   I hit the book stores.  The more I learned, the closer I got to him. 
Curiosity and boredom picked up the slack from there.
   Goodness I missed him.  Cameron was probably several very terrible
things, but he was a superb lover.  He glorified the word itself: lover.
   Maybe he found another woman, Plan A, possibly inferior.
   Did he say that to all the girls?
   Mika, I love you.
   I palmed the hot tear from my face as I worked on the newly unearthed
sketch.  I could no longer distinguish the parts I'd taken from him and the
parts I added.  I used the same frame as his and rearranged everything I
could remember.
   I was a girl infatuated, a woman in love with a fantasy more crazy and
wild than that insipid crap I was thinking of when I saw him.  This
inscription was my keepsake.
   I would not get the tattoo inked until I had it checked by a
professional.  I needed to make sure that I wasn't doing any harm to myself
or that it made sense to someone else.  Maybe I could learn what these
mysterious elements meant.
   What I thought it said was that I am in love with the dark, a predator,
a wolf.  All very gothic, but underneath that, it said that I loved
Cameron. Cameron Javier was my fantasy soul mate.  The rabbit loved the
wolf.  He was full, so he wouldn't eat her.
   All these things wandered through my sad little mind as I embellished my
memory of the design.  I just wasn't so starry eyed that I wasn't going to
have it checked first.
   This required meeting other occultists and finding somebody I trusted
not to just take a look at it and say, 'yeah, looks good to me.'
   That's how I got the meeting with Henry.
   I assumed he was taking the time to look up certain parts, and I
appreciated that.
   "Can you hang out here for a little bit?" Henry said as he looked my
work over.  I'd already been in his office for half an hour, so the
question was redundant.  "I mean, I've got some food and stuff in the next
room.  Nothing formal going on, just chilling."
   "I'm fine.  Thanks." I no longer ate from buffets.  I don't eat at
parties.  I folded my arms and tapped my foot.
   He was typing something on a laptop while looking down at the
inscription.  "This is pretty intricate."
   That was the third time he'd said that.
   But I said, "thank you," for the third time anyway.
   "What was your inspiration?"
   "Research.  Dreams." Was he typing what I said?
   "Where do you plan to put it?"
   "My back.  Does that matter?"
   "No.  Sorry.  Just curious.  Give me a moment.  I need to look something
up.  Can I get you some tea?"
   "No thank you."
   His attitude was not very encouraging.  He seemed nervous, a little
cagey.  Hell, I forgot to ask, 'do you scare easily?' I thought that was a
default 'no' among occultists.
   As long as he helped me, I didn't care.  "At least tell me what I need
to remove if it's wrong." I called after him.
   "Yeah, no problem.  I'll be right back."
   Five minutes.  Ten minutes.  Twenty.
   He walked in and I held my hand out for the sketch.  "Listen.  I just
wanted to check it.  I can ask for another opinion."
   "Miss Barrington." Henry had that kind of greasy smile you get from some
shady salesman.  "I just need a few minutes."
   "Really?  A few?  You've had a whole hour.  What are you waiting for?"
   "For me."
   I didn't turn around.  I didn't want to see the face that had that
voice. I didn't want to be wrong.  I couldn't move, my hole body froze.  My
heart jack hammered in my chest.  If he was really here; really behind me
then that meant whatever I'd put in there that couldn't be found in a book
because it was unique to him.
   Bad girl.
   He walked up behind me, his hips flush to my ass and caged me with his
hands on Henry's desk.  He reached for the drawing and turned it around. 
His finger touched each of the unique symbols I'd taken from his back.  He
even made lines between the connections.  I trembled as he quietly pointed
out that he could read what I'd been trying to say.
   "How have you been, rabbit?" Cameron whispered in my ear.
   I looked at Henry.  The poor man was sweating bullets.  Large wet
patches marked the pits of his gray shirt.
   "Better.  New job.  New place."
   "Good." He breathed the next words in my ear.  All other sounds, even
the thump of my heart, were muted in comparison.  "I missed you." In the
next breath his voice was normal volume again.  He pointed to my drawing.
"This, this, and this - though you didn't draw it correctly, are three of
five symbols that cannot be inked without approval."
   "Whose?"
   "Mine, if you value your life." He picked up the drawing and slipped it
back into envelop I carried it in.  "Boyfriend?"
   "Only in my dreams."
   Henry cleared his throat and appeared to find his voice.  "She said she
saw those markings in her dreams."
   A glance from Cameron and Henry withered in his chair.
   "Thank you, Henry.  I'll handle this." He peeled off five $20 bills and
pointed to the door.  "Give us a moment."
   Henry scooped up the money and scurried from the room.
   Cameron followed him and locked the door.
   Him again.
   In the very pit of heart I had hoped, a pilot light of hope, fragile. 
Now I was filled with nerves just like that first, that only night.  My
heart beat a frantic rhythm.  He wasn't angry, right?  My hands trembled,
so I clasped them behind me.
   He walked up to me and his eyes were soft as he looked me over.  He took
my hands and put them around his waist then he hugged me to him.  We just
held each other.  There was so much I wanted to say, to ask, but goodness,
I just wanted to feel him, to hold the moment.
   "I'm going to ask you again, just so you understand how important the
truth is to me.  Mika, do you have a boyfriend?"
   "No."
   "Have you fucked anyone else?"
   "No."
   "Is there anyone around who--"
   I pulled back and shook my head.  "I'm alone.  I've been alone. 
Completely."
   "That was a very intricate design to claim you didn't know better,
Mika."
   "I didn't.  I've been studying.  I know what it says, what I wanted it
to say.  It's the only thing I had left of you.  I just wanted to make sure
it wouldn't hurt me if I used the symbols."
   "You actually want the ink?"
   "Yes."
   His eyes narrowed.  "You know what it says?"
   "I think it says I love you." I muttered like a scolded child.  "The
darkness and stuff, I think those things about you."
   He huffed and his cheek twitched.  "I'll fix it.  Let's go."
   He marched me through Henry's place and I led the way back to my
apartment.
   I didn't feel much better having him in my house.  I was anxious,
worried.  I wanted to see him again, but he set to 'fixing it' as soon as
he got in the door.  He dropped his bag (I wonder what was in there) and
spread the drawing out on my table.  He pulled out a blank sheet and not
even his buzzing phone diverted his attention.
   I was so nervous I could puke.  Fix?  How did it need to be fixed. 
Should I not love him?  Is that not what it said?
   I poured myself a drink and one for him.  My nerves settled a little
when I caught his smirk.  I'd bought the same frosted bottle of vodka.
   He grabbed the other chair and pulled it beside him.  "Sit.  Talk to
me."
   I sat, but I couldn't talk.  He took my amateur efforts and turned it
into a masterpiece.  I had wondered who the artist of his inscription was,
now I knew.  "How are you fixing it?"
   "Alignment, placement, accuracy.  Your memory was good, but not perfect.
It should be perfect if it's going to be on your body.  Love is abstract.
So, it says you belong to me, that you are property, that your actions
reflect my will, that your soul is forfeit to my desire." He turned those
storm gray eyes on me.  "You didn't mean that."
   I did.
   I shouldn't have?  He didn't want me to?  Was it a suggestion?  Fuck.  I
teared up, but I couldn't turn away from him.  Stop looking away.
   "I'm sorry, Cameron.  I didn't know better.  I tried to use the symbols
that matched the way I felt.  I thought that was the right thing to do, but
like you said," I hitched my breath, counted to three.  Don't cry.  I
dropped my eyes and set my drink aside.  Dumb little rabbit.  He doesn't
care.  "It's just abstract.  I just wanted those things to be true.  That's
stupid of me.  I know.  My fantasies get away from me.  I was just, I
wanted to..."
   He went back to drawing.
   I sniffled, wiped my eyes.  Either he wasn't paying me any attention or
I was right.  I got my mind off my stupidity and talked.  I told him about
my short stint as a vagabond and amateur occultist.  I shared all the
things I'd been reading, what I thought about them, some of the inspiration
for the more personal parts of my drawing.
   I sounded like a love sick teenager, but I couldn't stop talking about
how much I missed him.  Each time I tried to make my time away from him
sound normal, it circled back to him: how I found the vodka, why I don't
eat at parties, my disdain for other men, sleeping to electronica music
playing.
   He did more than fix my mistakes.  He took my blueprint and created a
true work of art.  Feminine, shimmering, arabesque.  And yet, the
framework, the symbolism, other than looking cleaner, better aligned,
didn't look all that different from what I had created in the first place.
In fact, all five of the unknown symbols were there and a couple others.
   "Do you see the difference?"
   "It looks beautiful, almost alive.  You are such a great artist."
   "It's going to look better on you."
   "But you added the other markings, and I'm not sure the meaning changed
that much."
   He set the drawing instruments aside and stood and washed his hands. 
"Where's your bed?  I need to lie down."
   I led him to my bedroom.  Clean.  Thank goodness.
   He stretched out on his back and patted his chest.
   I listened to him breathe.  His fingers idly caressed my face and hair.
"Are you ready to be more than a scholar?"
   "Yes." Especially if that meant being his student.
   "That morning in the shower you went all quiet on me.  I figured you
were trying to find an easy way to push me away, but you could have done
that when you kissed me good bye.  You didn't, so I figured it was just
your nerves again.  Then you moved before I could come by and check on you.
I thought it was a message.  I thought you wanted to get away from me."
   "I never thought I'd see you again.  I mean, I know you said you wanted
to, but seriously, you said plenty to me you didn't really mean.  With
Garrett dead, I just wanted to get out of there.  I was--"
   He put his finger under my chin and his expression was the most
disgusted I'd ever seen.  "Just so that we no longer misunderstand one
another, I have not said anything to you that I did not mean."
   "You love me?" I challenged.
   "It would be pretty fucking hard to accept you as mine, to take your
soul and your offerings if I did not.  I love you.  You meant everything
you put in that drawing right?  Silly rabbit?"
   "Yes." Crying again.  Damn me.
   We barely undressed.  We removed just enough clothing to join bodies.  I
rode him, quick, greedy, but oh so satisfying.
   "Need you again." He groaned as he began to take off his clothes.  We
were fully naked and he seemed to swallow me with his body.
   Need you again.
   It was kind of hard to tell myself it was just sex.  He didn't even lose
his erection, and this time it was faster, more desperate.  Needy.
   Somehow, I knew where he was trying to get to.  The same place I'd felt
him before, deep in my soul, wearing me like a coat.
   "Cameron," I pressed my hands into his back, pressing him tight against
me so that I got through to him that I didn't want him to stop.  "Go slow."
   Just that one stroke and my eyes rolled back in my head.
   "You know what I want?"
   Just my immortal soul.  "Yes." I moaned again as he filled me and then
eased out.  He could have it.
   "Wish I could do this all day." He whispered the words and my heart did
another summersault.
   "This?" I teased.
   "Love you." He grabbed my ass and plunged even deeper.
   "You can stay all day."
   He nipped me on the shoulder and it inspired a giggled that softened to
a moan.
   "Oh, Mika.  You're nothing but trouble."
   She chuckled again.  "Told you."
   "Yeah," he moaned and his hips jerked.  "You did.  Be careful."
   "I just want you, inside me.  That's all." I closed my eyes because
that's where I felt him, fucking my heart, rolling in the shredded remains
he'd left behind.
   "You feel so good.  Don't want it to stop.  Fuck.  Like a glove on my
cock.  Tell me.  I missed you so much.  Tell me you want me."
   "I belong to you.  I have been yours since the moment you kissed me."
   His whole body seized and damn did he ever swell inside me.  Over and
over he jerked inside me until he went limp.  The extra flow of moisture
was not me, that's for sure.  I liked having his weight that, hot and
presence, and in the light of day, reality, in my room.
   "That job of yours..."
   I moaned to let him know I was awake and listening.
   "Do you like it?"
   "It pays the rent."
   "What if I paid your rent?"
   "Then I wouldn't need that shitty job, and you'd need to move in."
   "Exactly." He lay beside me and tapped me between the eyes until I
looked at him.  "Is that what you want?"
   "I stop working, get to wake up beside you?  Yes."
   "Sounds like a dream, doesn't it?"
   "I mean, right up until we actually get to know each other."
   He flashed a tired smiled and thumbed the sweat from my forehead.  "And
long after, as far as I'm concerned."
   "So yeah, grab your duffle bags and bring them along."
   "I will, later." He tapped his chest.  "Put your back to me."
   I rolled into his arms and he put my leg back over his, opening myself
to his fingers.  "Are you going to tease me?" I whined.
   "No.  You've been a very good girl, and I'm going to make you feel
good."
   "You already do that."
   "Fuck," he moaned as he dipped lower between my legs.  I was back to
wetting my thighs.  "Love how wet you get for me."
   I moaned in response.  I was already on my way, grinding myself down on
his fingers, ready to come.  So very close.
   And then I felt his hand around my throat.  Blood and oxygen stopped but
the fireworks started.
   "My god." Those were my first words when it ended.  That was not an
orgasm.  If that had been a drug, the world would be hooked.  In fact, that
was probably an overdose on the chemicals released during orgasm, so
intense and scary that it was probably lethal.
   He kissed me on the temple and whispered.  "At your service."
   No jokes about his ego.  I was ready and willing to worship at his feet.
   ***
   He moved in that evening.  I made room for him in my life and as opposed
to making me change over everything in his name or something, he just paid
me.  Cameron preferred to live like a ghost.  He operated completely on
cash, his job had everything to do with the occult, and when he was busy -
he was really busy.  I didn't get every morning with him.  Some times he'd
be gone for days, but he always returned to me.
   I used his time away to study.  My tests were on the job.  He'd ask me
to set up a circle then question me to death about my placement, methods.
At first it was frustrating.
   No, it was always frustrating.  He made me feel stupid.  I just wanted
him to tell me what to do, but that wasn't the way magic worked - not with
him.
   After six months of crying, arguing, and chastising, I began to figure
it out.  You did a thing because of the way you felt inside.  It had
nothing to do with memorization or being told.  You knew how something
worked and applied it on a case by case basis.
   Like my tattoo.
   "Why the red candle?" I could hear the hesitation in his voice.  He
didn't want to argue tonight.  I don't know why he didn't just give up on
me.
   "Red for anger."
   "In the north?"
   "Cooling, to counteract the energy."
   He stopped whatever he was up to on his phone and looked at me. 
"Explain."
   "That's where it needs to be if I'm going to conduct the rite.  If my
anger were neutral, I'd leave it in the south."
   A single nod.  "Good." He waved at me to continue.
   Good.  A single, simple word, but I hadn't heard it in so long.  I
finished setting up the rite.  I thought there would be more questions, but
suddenly there were none.
   "You don't want to ask me anything else?" I said before starting.
   "You know what you're doing now.  Don't perform the rite, just walk me
through it as if you would."
   I shook my head.
   This time he smirked.
   "It's not the same.  I mean, I didn't memorize anything.  I was just
going to go with the moment.  I need to reconfigure first."
   "You know.  I've had other students." He set his phone aside and walked
over to me.  "Taught Henry the basics for a year, started giving him
practical lessons like I'm doing with you for two weeks before he told me
to fuck off.  He does everything by the book.  I rarely have a student that
can stand me for more than three weeks.  You," he brushed his palm to my
nipple, "finally understand how to perform by the heart.  You'll be the
better practitioner because of that.  All you had to do was realize it."
   I looked around at said rite.  No wonder it had to be done in a chamber.
I felt completely different.  "I'll reconfigure it."
   "No.  The rite isn't necessary.  It was just a lesson."
   I gave him a single nod and set to breaking everything down, putting it
away.  I had my own bag, my own set of tools that I was to always have near
me.  Even when I went grocery shopping, I made sure to have my bag in the
car.  I zipped the bag up and was about to ask if he wanted dinner, but he
beat me to it.
   "Mika." He sung my name in just such a way, in a way I had not heard in
a month.
   My belly flipped and I felt a moment of dizziness.
   "I don't have any where to be." He turned me around and put his arms
over my shoulders.  "I don't have anything to do for two whole days.  I'm
not worried about you performing a working without my supervision.  I'm not
worried at all.  In fact," he dropped his arms and hugged me tight.  He was
100% erect.  "I'm very proud of my girl." He kissed me softly on the lips.
"Do you want me, Mika?"
   I took his hand and guided him into my underwear.  He found the pool
gathering and slipped two of his fingers inside me and hooked them forward.
I gasped and grabbed his shoulders.
   "I've been so hard on you," he crooned as he thrust against my g-spot.
"I've done nothing but pile more and more on you.  Do you know why?"
   There isn't a question he asks me now that I am not driven to fully
answer, and definitely not ever with another question.  "The inscription on
my back.  What I do is an," I had to catch my breath.  Fuck, I was about to
come and soon, "extension of you."
   "You are an extension of me." He put his arm around my shoulders and
held me up as I came on his finger.  I cried into his shoulder, clung to
him as my body fell apart.
   Hard on me was putting it lightly.  He'd been the strictest task master
ever, and the mood it had created between us was not exactly loving.  That
first orgasm opened the flood gates.
   I was hungry, starving for him, but I could hold that in check.  I
reached for his shirt, pulled it over his head.  I kissed the scar on his
chest and looked him in the eyes.  "Grab the water jug and meet me in the
bedroom."
   I was naked when he arrived.  He crawled on top of me and rubbed his
erection just outside my slit.
   He threaded his fingers into mine and kissed me.  It took me a while to
realize he had no intention of pushing inside me, not yet.  No matter how I
angled my hips or opened myself, he only stayed just far apart.
   So that was the game.  A deep kiss and a profound tease.  When I stopped
wriggling my hips he let my hands go.  I could have climbed up his body
like a monkey and impaled myself, but I put my fingers into his hair, held
his face.
   Restraint.  Know how to show restraint in all things.  Even with him, no
matter how long it had been, no matter what.  Damn him.
   Just when I thought the only way to resist would be to turn myself off
he began to slide inside me, really slide, cool and thick and long.  He got
all the way in and then I felt it, like the muted tremor of an orgasm that
wanted to be let out.
   "Ride it out," he whispered.  "There's plenty more where that came
from." He groaned as if he felt the same thing in his own body.
   "Feels weird."
   I clenched around him and his whole body jerked.  When I did it again he
moaned and held tight to my shoulders.  I kept milking him like that and he
stayed right on the razor's edge of his own orgasm.  It sounded almost
painful, but the power trip was priceless.  I began to understand why he
did it to me all the time.
   "Please, Mika, don't stop.  Yes.  My beautiful Mika.  Yes.  Take my
cock. Take it.  Please, so close.  Please, baby." He shuddered and growled
and his hips jacked in tiny little spasms as he spilled inside me.  I think
I nearly killed him.  Cameron had never ever begged like that before.
   I was so shocked I couldn't move.  I dared not gloat.  I was not about
to check whether the liquid between his face and my shoulder was really
sweat.
   I never would have imagined ending up with him like this, but looking
back, I can't imagine how anything less than this would suffice.
   <->
Written: October 2011
"My sexual interests are like my eating habits.  I'll try anything once,
twice, if you prepare it differently." -Bianca Lee
   Contact: nysidra at hot mail dot com
  
Rabbit