The Unlocked Door

The Unlocked Door

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part without express written permission.

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S.K. Gray

The Unlocked Door © 2005 S.K. Gray He walked through the doorway as though it owed him the entrance. No matter. The woman cocked her head his way, and with an ease of purpose resembling a lazy panther reluctantly distracted from her afternoon siesta, turned her body on the sofa and pushed herself up on her arms. Their eyes met solidly. Though his rosebud lips (incongruous in a face and figure so ready to create instant rugged hell) twitched as if to speak, he remained silent. He spoke volumes, anyway. After a moment of fearless communication, her eyes answered his unspoken questions. Walking over to the edge of the sofa, he loomed above her for a brief, dominant moment, both of them knowing this was posing bullshit. Maybe. This time, anyway. “I don’t want to make love to you.” His gravelly, authoritative voice changed timbre three times. It was more than an incessant plea, but less than a commanding statement of convincing fact. “You may just want fucked, Babe, but it will end up love.” Her chin rose in absolute certainty. The man’s mouth tightened, and the veins of his jaw and neck spasmed slightly beneath the thin necktie knotted at the collar of his ordinary, white, short-sleeved, department-approved shirt. But his eyes narrowed, intently (some would say dangerously, and so would she, if she didn’t already know his vulnerabilities so well). The masked dance had begun. “And you won’t turn it down either way, will you?” he raised one eyebrow. A heavy pause hung between them. He closed the distance between their faces, resting one brawny-muscled arm on the back of the sofa behind her head, slightly brushing loose tendrils of her sleep-mussed, chestnut hair. That alone was enough to make her flinch, out of something far more potent than fear. “I’m not your whore; I am your demon.” A half-smile played at her lips. “And you aren’t able to deny it, no matter how many times you walk out my door to a simpler, safer, less-threatening pair of baby doll arms you think need your protection. I am the one who is never quite yours. The one you don’t have the courage to take. The one who haunts your soul.” He moved his paw-like palm to the side of her neck, then not-so-gently turned her 2

The Unlocked Door head away from his, leaving her throat open to a slow, hungry bite. “Damn you.” His husky curse trembled in her ear. “I’ve been damned already, every time you’ve looked at me.” Her defiant whisper was cut short as his mouth opened and, without a shred of hesitancy, took possession. Not a kiss of desire… a kiss of obsession. The ultimate incendiarist - rough, bruising, emotionally bereft. Yet, his aggression was met by an infuriating, quite controlled submission. Nevertheless, after repeated tastes and hungry sucks, her involuntary whimper brought a humorless grin to the lips assaulting hers. He broke away suddenly, leaving her gasping for any air that wasn’t filled with the musky aura of his mouth. His dark eyes told her that in spite of her bold words her responsive body easily betrayed her. “You left the door unlocked. Not an oversight I take it?” He pushed his knee between her thighs, and knelt above her menacingly on the couch, his arm slipping under her effortlessly as she naturally curved into his embrace. Then he yanked her like a puppet into a position better serving his purpose. He lifted her torso up toward his face, and nestled between the soft folds of her silken negligee. His lips swept across the fragile fabric over her mounded breast, and closed to nibble sharply at her hardened nipple. She offered herself up to him with a moan. “You’re too easy.” She momentarily regained her composure and a mean mocking laugh rumbled in her throat. “Or too honest. Which offends you more, I wonder?” “You want it,” he insisted, shifting her roughly to better suit his comfort. “Harsh … needy … amused … an afterthought ...no matter how you give it, I always take it, don’t I? I always bear the risks.” She arched up into the luxurious dampness of his mouth on her breast. “But you bear the need... and that is where my power lies.” He literally growled and half threw, half dropped her back onto the couch while he made quick work of yanking off his tie, then unfastening his trousers. She leaned back on her elbows, one knee bent in apparent waiting servitude. His hands pushed the silky skirt of her negligee just high enough to unveil his intended target. She raised an eyebrow in half-hearted ridicule while he possessively pushed her thighs open. But even through her mockery, he could sense the quivering of a distinctly different emotion in her soul Leaning over her and pinning her with his torso, he grinned arrogantly. His palm rested all too familiarly between her legs as he fingered the flimsy crotch of her panties. Damp. Very. 3

S.K. Gray “Ready, already?” His turn to mock. Her brown eyes darkened, on the edge of stubborn anger. But then a ripple, as fragile as a soft breeze over the surface of a still pond, shimmered in her gaze, and her demeanor changed. With the slightest of movements, she parted her lips and tilted her head in equally familiar wonder, instantly changing the balance of authority. Her fingertips lightly brushed against the side of his face and gently traced the contour of rough, day-old shadow, down to his clenched jaw. Her thumb traced the bow of his kissswollen upper lip. “No!” Had he shouted the word out loud or only in his brain? No matter. Roughly, he spread her thighs further apart, and with an all too effective tug, ripped the dampened lace, rendering it all too ineffective. The muscles she had tensed defiantly relaxed, almost molding against his predatory body. No. No. He screamed again, this time for sure in silent agony. “Oh, Babe,” she murmured with a practiced tease and leaned up just far enough to brush a quivering caress across his brow. “Pleeeease.” He ignored the manipulating sensory assault and pressed home a detached, fierce advantage. He entered her swiftly and hard, shoving himself into her for his own pleasure, knowing well the fit, but still insultingly intrusive. Infinitely sharing yet still emotionally removed, he thrust inside her … the most intimate of communications made cruelly impersonal. She flung her head back and closed her eyes tightly at the intrusion. But she had been “ready, already” from the moment the door had opened, so the assault was more mind-battering than physical. Fuck her? Not while she had an intelligent breath left in her body! She humped forward to meet his thrusts and clutched her fingers into his back, letting the pure physical essence drive him home again and again. His breath came hard and cold and the rasping of his day-old stubble against her chest and neck and cheek rubbed her soft skin raw. Not cold indifference, this was aching anger. Not calculatingly removed, this was reluctant need. And only one of them would admit it. But which one? Her hands moved instinctively; one to caress the back of his neck, to run fingers through soft shorn hair. The other tugged at his shirt, reaching underneath to splay caressing fingers over his broad, muscular and sweaty lower back. The muted grunts from his mouth trembled warmly against her throat. He shrugged off the caresses, and pushing back up from her, propping himself on his palms, continued the ruthless thrusts. Looking anywhere but into her eyes, he gritted his teeth. Control. Essential. Hide the need. He fairly growled at her in desperation as she fluidly relaxed her muscles where she could and tightened them where they most effectively responded to his ramming. Their groans mingled with the slapping of their 4

The Unlocked Door torsos meeting time and again. Her mind screamed at her to fight against the potent puppet strings of his bodily intent, but her body told her brain to go straight to hell. In mirrored motion they stripped off their clothes between sensuous strokes and greedy caresses; sensuous caresses and greedy strokes. And at some point between thrust and parry, puppet master and puppet, the importance of just enfolding him became more important to her than executing any manipulated string dance. She had to hold him; she had to bring him closer. Somewhere in the primal assault, she had to make it about love. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. She only hoped it wouldn’t destroy her. “Ohh, yes…love me.” The husky sigh just barely escaped her lips as his mouth closed down over hers … this time with undisguised yearning. His arm slid underneath her, his fingers weaving through her mass of messy hair to cradle her head. He molded down into her, his sculpted bulk nestling into her nurturing curves, the rhythm of their lovemaking falling into a shared, unbroken beat. Groaning deeply with each intensely focused thrust, she shut her eyes now, her head arching back, her thighs opening eagerly to allow just that much more of him inside. She did not hold back. He did not disappoint. He brushed the hair back from her face and placing soft damp kisses from brow to chin gently encouraged her, running his fingers up and down the side of her throat. “Come... on... baby. Come... on.” Beneath his lingering kisses, steady thrusts and massaging fingers, she shuddered convulsively and came to orgasm with an intense, submissive cry against his shoulder. Giving her a moment to regain her sanity, he shifted again between her legs, softly leaning down to nuzzle her breasts and moving a hand down her back to cup her ass. Her eyes fluttered open and she refocused on his intent face. “Part of me wants to hate you so bad.” She sighed and ran her hands down the cool heat of his sweaty chest to rest on his hips now grinding again, less gently, against her inner thighs. She relished the illusion of helping him thrust, though the power all came from his own torso. “Then fuck me,” he suggested dryly as his thrusts deepened. Her reply was muffled in her own little cries as she lifted her hips to guide him to the magical place she had just been. She knew they had only a few moments left until the boundaries were redefined, the strings reattached, the lines redrawn. The sensual pleasures of lovemaking would return brutally and helplessly to the battleground of mind fucks. The exquisite agony of his ultimate pleasure raced across his face. He shuddered and emptied into her with a long, vulnerable moan. 5

S.K. Gray Even as he lay down heavily on her chest, depleted and weary and even as she held him tightly, her legs lazily wrapped around him while their recovering heart beats thumped in tandem ... even then, they were already reaching for the masks. And even then, they both knew the door would always remain... unlocked.

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The Unlocked Door

S.K. Gray has been an Internet Goddess of Nothing Important since she plugged in her first barely-there hard drive and teased her ticklish keyboard over twelve years ago. For most of those years, S.K. has been publishing online erotica and encouraging women to passionately embrace their creative talents. A Devoted Mom to two mostly grown children who are the Masterpieces of her Life, Ms. Gray resides in Ohio, where she runs a household and a website, plans adventures with her crazy friends and is slave to two felines with serious attitude!

Please visit Aphrodite Unlaced on the web for more sultry sensual adventures by S.K. Gray and our talented authors!

www.AphroditeUnlaced.com

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