12. Aftercare and Butterflies
AFTERCARE AND BUTTERFLIES
He wasn’t lying when he said he was going to take me hard and fast. His cock pushes so deep inside of me I think I might burst, along with every slap of his hips hitting my sore ass.
I relish in it.
My brain is completely shut out to the outside world.
The only thing that matters right now is how good this feels.
The way my thighs are quaking and I can barely hold my ass in the air.
The stinging of the bruise that’s going to be left on my cheeks, and the way I can hear how wet I am with each thrust.
This is what I needed.
Ben made it all go away.
Somehow, him taking control, using my body, making the decisions, is letting me just live in the moment and forget everything else.
Despite the odds, he makes the world quiet and I owe him for that. I feel like I’m floating and falling apart at the same time, and tears are nearly falling from my eyes at how I feel right now.
He pulls against the silicone band holding my wrists together, making my arms ache and strain.
It feels cathartic in a way, being used like this, being dominated. I get even more pleasure knowing how much he’s getting off on being in control. It’s a sexual quid pro quo and I’m not sure there’s been a hotter transaction ever explored.
I need him to fall apart; I need him shaking with his orgasm just like he did me. My knee slips, and suddenly, my whole body is pressed against the bed, giving my legs a much needed break.
His cock slides back into me. In this position, he feels so much tighter as he pushes my ass cheeks together and fucks me from behind.
His muscular thighs are bracketing mine as he presses into me, my body shifting against the wrinkled sheets with every thrust. Large fingers squeeze my tender flesh as I moan into the sheets.
When he pulls out all the way, the head of his cock pressing in and out, I can’t take it as he hits just the right spot. As badly as I want to spread my legs, I can’t. His weight pins me down and it sends a rocketing sensation being at his mercy. I shock myself as I come again.
It isn’t as hard and toe curling as the first, but it’s there. My hands are going numb as I clench them into fists and I drool against the bed. I’m a complete fucking mess and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Ben presses deep inside me, making me nearly shout as his thrusts stall and a sexy moan rips out of his throat as he finishes. He doesn’t pull out right away. His cock still inside me as he removes the handcuffs, rubbing my wrists softly, before his fingertips graze against the flesh of my ass.
The juxtaposition from hard to soft is jarring and sweet as he slowly pulls out of me. I tug the blindfold off my eyes, blinking against the warm seductive lights in the room, feeling completely satisfied.
“Be right back,” he says and I blink at him, glancing down to see his length sheathed in a condom. He stands and I watch his firm ass muscles move as he heads to the bathroom, the soft sound of sink water running snaps me somewhat back to reality.
I feel boneless, and satiated.
When he comes back, I don’t know what to expect, but him laying against the headboard and placing my head on his lap wasn’t it.
I knew he wouldn’t tell me thanks for the fuck and have a safe drive home, but he’s tender as he pets my hair as I stretch out my arms and legs, knowing I’ll be feeling him tomorrow.
“Does anything hurt?” he asks.
“Only in a good way.”
“Was anything too much?”
“No. But I might change my mind tomorrow when I can’t sit down comfortably.”
He laughs, his fingers still petting down my fly away hairs and I wonder how much I should share with him, if we should talk about anything personal.
Logically, I know what he’s doing right now is the standard for anyone who was in our position, making sure that I’m okay.
That’s the whole point of Avalon, having sex with no strings attached, or coming here with your partner.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Hmm?” he says, his eyes closed as he rests his head on the headboard, giving me a glimpse of his strong jaw and Adam’s apple. His dark hair is messy. He truly looks like a painting.
It’s been nearly two years since I stepped foot into my own studio, but as I look at him now, I see it. I envision the composition, the colors I’d use and what I have in mind. The idea of painting him has butterflies flapping in my stomach and I’m not sure how to feel about it.
“What was your question?” Ben asks, glancing down at me. His eyes that look more green pinning me, making me feel raw.
“How are you able to switch it on and off?” I ask him, and his throat bobs when he licks his lips.
“I don’t know, how do you turn it on and off?” he asks with a smirk.
I smile back at him, knowing he has a point.
Though, I don’t feel like there are two sides of myself like I feel like there is with Ben.
Every time we’re together, it’s almost like I’m with a different person.
Maybe he’s just special, because I don’t know many men who can switch from top to bottom so effortlessly.
“I’m not sure. Last time we were together was the first time I did something like that. I really enjoyed it, but I also loved this too.”
Honesty is good. Exploring your sexuality is all about the harsh truths and not being ashamed.
He doesn’t say anything for a long time, and I almost consider getting up and getting re-dressed when he finally speaks.
“You looked upset when you came here tonight. Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, surprising me.
Instead of looking into his too-handsome-for-this-world face, I stare at the dark hair on his massive thigh. Wasn’t I just thinking about what the line of sex club etiquette and getting too personal is?
“You remember how I told you I just got divorced when we met at your bar?”
“Yeah,” he says, because he knows I won’t look at him to see if he’s nodding.
“I ran into him today, him and his new wife. He got her pregnant while we were still married. I mean, we had problems well before then, but it was a knife in the back. That’s not the point, but back when he was starting the business, I was his biggest investor, and still am.
He’s been hounding at me every turn to sell my portion of the company back.
I keep refusing, mostly to get under his skin, I think, but tonight was different. ”
“Why?” he asks, no longer petting my hair, but resting his hand on my waist.
“It felt like he was threatening me if I didn’t comply.
Part of me thinks I should just sell him the shares so that there’s no link between us.
But the other part of me is just so angry.
I gave him everything. Without me, he wouldn’t have that company, so why shouldn’t I keep them?
I paid for them not only with money but my entire youth.
Hell, he’s been the only man I’d ever been with until that night at your bar. ”
His body stiffens, and I wince.
Fuck, I was really going to take that to the grave.
“What?”
I pop off from his lap and blink at him. I worry that he’ll be turned off, but it mostly seems like surprise, and maybe some guilt?
“Please don’t make it weird,” I say, and he shakes his head.
“I’m not making it weird.”
“You look like you’re making it weird,” I say, pointing at his confused face.
He raises his hands in surrender before grabbing my face and bringing me in for a soft kiss. I realize then that it’s the first time he’s kissed me tonight.
“I was just thinking that you’re extraordinarily lucky to have me fuck you first post-divorce. So many women don’t find good dick till the fifth or tenth guy,” he says and I shove his chest.
“Oh, great, so you’re also full of yourself.”
“You were also full of me, too, not even twenty minutes ago,” he says.
I can’t help it as I laugh. Even after sex, I still feel lighter. He made it happen; he got me out of my head and let me enjoy myself.
“I should probably head home,” I say. He swallows, but nods in agreement.
“Yeah, you probably have to get back home and check some things off your list.”
“If you think I’m telling you your grades, you have another thing coming.”
“Oh, sweet Kate, I don’t need to see your list to know what grades I’ve received,” he says, so much more assured of himself tonight than he was the last time.
“Just like I said, full of yourself.”
“Let me walk you to your car?” he asks, petting down my hair one last time as I collect my panties and my clothes.
Ben takes my hand and squeezes it as we walk through the club, but people are far too involved in their own sexual conquests to notice us.
It’s a throng of people in the act of seduction or currently preoccupied in some sexual act.
A few years ago, maybe I would have been scandalized to be at a place like this, or maybe I would have longed to see what it was like.
But as we walk through the darkened hallway, I realize that in its own way what happens at Avalon is an art itself and everyone's tastes and desires are different.
“You okay?” he checks in and I nod as the door creaks open to the garage. He walks me over to my vehicle and he stalls. “Kate…we should probably talk some more about what's happened at Avalon these past two nights,” he says.
My brows furrow. “Was it too much, did you not want to be in control tonight?” I ask, feeling insecure.
“Fuck no. Tonight was perfect. You were perfect,” he says, his eyes searching mine. He parts his lips and then closes them, giving me a soft smile as he rubs his hands over my arms. “You were perfect. We can talk more next time?” he suggests.
I take that to mean he wants more of this, and maybe I’m a hopeful idiot but I want more too. “I’d like that. I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah”—he smiles, leaning down to kiss my hair—“I’ll see you around.”
I get into my car, and he watches me go. I don’t know how but I feel exhausted and amped up the whole drive home. It’s almost like my body is on autopilot to get me home safe. I definitely need to stop driving myself to Avalon.
When I get home I feed the cats and step foot in my studio for the first time in forever and I paint.
I stay up till four in the morning, mixing acrylics and getting it out of my system.
Art has been a passion of mine in so many ways.
Early in my education, I wondered if I could do it professionally, but realized the monetization part of it all was too crippling.
Instead, I pursued education, and being able to teach about fine art, creating was a hobby, an outlet.
One that I’d long forgotten, and I almost wanted to berate myself for letting this slip away from me.
But as I look at the base layer of the painting, there’s a deep satisfaction that fills me.
It has a long ways to go. But I look at the man, one side of him with eyes closed, face to the sky in pleasure. The other half looking down with hooded eyes seeking approval.
I’m not sure what I’ll call it just yet, but I go to bed feeling sore and satisfied.
Maybe I’m going to be okay.
I sleep till nearly two in the afternoon, with short bursts of disruption as different cats curl up on my side and others bat me, seeking attention. I’m not sure why I do this today, just that I know it’s been far too long since I’ve had a chat with my aunt.
I drive to Rest Haven Memorial Park and walk to her headstone, standing there with a massive sun hat as the sun beats down on my back.
“Hey Aunt Helene,” I say, and thankfully no one answers or I’d really need to go back to therapy immediately. “It’s hot as fuck today. You’d hate it,” I tell her, looking around and wondering why she ever set roots in Florida when she hated the sun, a firm hatred she instilled in me.
According to Aunt Helene, SPF was a religion and the sun was the antichrist of that said religion.
“So, I joined a sex club and started painting again. I know you’re very proud of me,” I joke, smiling down at her headstone. “Will wants me to sell back his shares, and I don’t know what to do. What would you do?” I ask.
But I know the answer. My Aunt Helene was the embodiment of a feminist icon.
She never married, but had many lovers. Education was her life, another trait she passed down to me.
When I came to live with her at fifteen, I was no longer a kid; I was an adult.
Aunt Helene treated me as such, and I’m grateful for it.
She took me to museums; we traveled together; she taught me about life and art, and all the richest things the world had to offer.
She died when I was finishing my doctorate program, and I feel like that was the exact time I latched on to Will and his family for dear life.
My Aunt was my last living relative, the person who guided me through life, and even though it’s been so long, sometimes her death feels super fresh.
It makes me feel guilty that I miss her more than my own parents, but she was pivotal in turning my life around and being who I am today. I owe her everything, including my exorbitant lifestyle.
“You’re right, fuck ‘em,” I say, hearing it in her rich voice. She hated Will, and she wasn’t quiet about it, but she knew I loved him.
Part of me wonders if I should’ve listened to her, and never married him. What would my life look like then? Then another part of me feels like my life was supposed to end up this way, that I’m exactly where I need to be.
“I miss you, and don’t worry, your crape myrtles are thriving,” I tell her.
When I renovated her home, I made sure the exterior all stayed the same; it was her pride and joy. I smile down at the ground, knowing that I’m talking to the ether, but maybe…just maybe she knows I’m thinking of her.