Chapter 15 Sensations
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
sensations
MARK
It’s pitch black. Just as Aiden described.
It puts me on edge standing here waiting for Alice without being able to see.
My other senses are working hard. There’s a hint of vanilla and cinnamon in the air, mixed with the muskiness of the old building.
The air is warm, and I’m glad I chose a t-shirt for the occasion.
I need tonight to go a certain way to regain my control.
It’ll be fun but underwhelming. She’s nothing special.
It was only a physical thing last time, and I’ll get her out of my head after tonight.
Easy.
The door creaks behind me, and a subtle waft of some kind of flower hits my nose. It’s her.
How do I know her perfume so well already?
“In here, love,” the hostess says gently. “Follow the velvet rope along the wall here, can you feel it?” the hostess asks Alice just as she did me ten excruciating minutes ago.
“Yes,” a small voice answers.
“Alice,” I whisper, reaching out.
“Robin,” she answers from my right, and my hand finds her arm. I cup her warm elbow in my hand. “This is pretty intense,” she adds, and I’m not sure if she means my touch or this place.
The feel of her skin on mine is just as I imagined.
Just as I feared.
It’s everything.
I pull her to me and inhale.
“Are you trying to smell my hair?”
“It’s all about the senses tonight,” I murmur as I glide my nose down the side of her head to her neck and breathe in deeply. “And you smell so fucking good.”
Her pulse beats against my lips on her delicate neck, and she huffs. Sounding nervous.
I need to reel it in.
“Sorry, Alice, got a bit carried away there.”
“It’s okay,” she whispers, and I hope she means it.
“Let’s follow this rope as they instructed and see where it leads us,” I say, feeling my way up the wall to locate the rope in question. “Here it is.” It’s velvety and heavy, hung on the wall around waist height. “Are you there?” I ask.
Alice’s hand finds mine, and I hold it tight as I guide us through this midnight maze.
“This is wild,” she whispers. We don’t have to be quiet, but I can understand why she feels like it. I can’t see anything at all. I’ve never experienced this kind of darkness.
“What can you smell?” I ask, close to a whisper as well.
Aiden was right about the heightened senses. My nerves are standing on end, my ears are prickling, and all I can hear, all I sense is Alice, and the need to surround myself in her completely is overwhelming. I stop our slow walk and pull her close to me. My hands find her arms. Her skin is soft.
She puts her face into my chest. “Mmm, you have this manly scent. Just the right amount of cologne. You smell like clean cotton, and maybe cedarwood? Whatever it is, it’s intoxicating.” She hums. “And strangely familiar?”
“I know what you mean. You smell like home,” I say, sniffing her hair with exaggeration, and she giggles.
What the hell am I saying?
I’m not here to feel at home.
I’m here to get her out of my system. To stop her from being a distraction.
I pull back and adjust my growing cock into a more comfortable position with one hand (pleased she can’t see), holding her hand in the other, finding it hard to let go.
“Are you okay?” she whispers.
“Yep,” I say. “Let’s keep going. There’s supposed to be different sensory experiences up to the table at the end,” I say, surprising myself with the level of excitement I’m displaying.
“Do you have any dietary requirements we should tell them about?” I ask partly because Aiden told me to make sure I tell the server and partly because she makes me bloody nervous and it seems my brain is malfunctioning. Basic conversation skills elude me.
This date is altogether having the opposite effect of what I intended.
Maybe it’s best we go home now. Separately.
“Hmm, I’m not a fan of raw onion,” she answers.
“Really? That’s a shame. There’s raw onion in a lot of excellent dishes.”
She squeezes my hand, and it sends a jolt to my gut. Since when did holding hands become intense?
“Do you like to cook?” she asks.
I can’t remember the last time I cooked a meal for myself. But if I tell her that, it draws attention to the fact I’m well off, and I’m not ready for the conversation to emphasise that gap between us. What I assume is a gap, anyway.
“Sorry, was that question too hard for you?” she teases.
“Hah, no. I love good food,” I say.
“Me too! How do you keep the balance? You’re obviously super healthy.” A hand fumbles around my torso, finding my abs. “All muscle.”
I chuckle at the hand trying to find something to pinch around my waistline and wish I could see her dimpled smile, imagining her vibrant eyes looking at me the way she did when we laughed together last time.
There’s the sound of running water, and as we take a few more steps, there’s a low bell sound above us.
“Welcome,” a robotic female voice says. “You are now at the soundscapes. Lie down, get comfortable on the velvet blanket, and allow yourselves to be transported into another world. All blankets are placed fresh for each visitor group.”
Alice snorts from my side. “That’s reassuring,” she says, laughing. “What are people doing at the soundscapes, I wonder.”
The thought of what I’d like to do to her makes me forget to answer, and she nudges me to do as the voice said. We lie down together, and Alice shuffles around until she finds her way into my nook.
I reach up to brush her hair off my mouth and run a hand over her head, following the silky locks of hair down her arm. It’s longer, much longer, than that bob wig she wore last weekend. What colour is it? Her eyes are brown. Maybe it’s dark like them.
“I love this sound,” she says, and only now do I hear the crickets chirping around us. There’s trickling water. A frog in the distance. The whistling of a light breeze in tall grass. I can almost see it.
“This is magical,” she whispers, and I hum in agreement. She tentatively brushes a hand across my chest, as if she’s testing what she’s allowed to do.
“What colour is your hair?” I ask.
“It’s dark brown. What’s yours?”
Her hand moves up my torso, more confident now, to the side of my face and into my hair. I turn and kiss her wrist. Her skin is warm and smooth against my lips.
“It’s dark blond. Almost brown,” I say.
“It’s soft,” she says, dragging her fingers through my hair and burrowing further into my nook.
We’re quiet for a beat. This is a calming place to be.
“Have you heard crickets like these in real life?” she asks.
“I’ve never stopped to notice.”
“I try to appreciate most things. The world is magical.”
Her hand on me is a magical feeling. It’s small, but the heat radiating from it makes it hard to feel anything else. I want it all over me.
“I’m starting to see that,” I murmur into her hair.
This sensory experience is more than I imagined. How have I never noticed smells, sounds, and how intense the tickle of someone’s breath on my neck can feel?
I find her face with my other hand and tilt her chin up.
“Can I kiss you?” I whisper, and her breath hitches.
“Yes.”
The word is barely out of her mouth before I press my lips to hers, and it’s entirely, utterly magnificent.
Fireworks.
My synapses and neurotransmitters light up behind my eyelids like it’s New Year’s Eve.
My skin tingles and aches for more. A moan escapes her as I roll her onto her back and press myself flush against her.
Our tongues glide over each other and the sensation is mind-bending.
Her sweet mouth on my sensitive lips. Her breath, the tiny mewls she makes, the scent of her skin under my nose.
I feel high.
And there’s no denying my erection that digs into her hip, but she shifts, pushing herself closer, and I’m about to lose it.
“How private is this section?” she whispers against my lips, her hand in my hair.
I can hardly think. But all I know is, as much as I’d want to, I’m not fucking her in the dark. I need to see her face. With a serious amount of self-control, I stop kissing her.
“Not private enough for what I want to do to you,” I whisper and nuzzle my face into her soft neck to inhale her again.
The voice sounds above us again, kindly recommending us to continue through the sensory maze.
“Do we have to move?” she asks.
“There’s more to explore together,” I say.
She whines, and wraps her arms around me, sticking her face into my neck, just like I did to her. “Mmm.”
“Let’s go before I lose control,” I rasp.
We slowly get up and get our bearings with the help of the rope. It’s meant to stay on my right side or we’re going in the wrong direction.
“It’s so dark I feel like if only I could open my eyes I’d see something, but I can’t.”
“I know,” I answer, forcing my eyes open even further, but it doesn’t make a difference. It’s pitch black. But my foot hits something. “Oh, there’s something here.”
We stop, and I put my hands out to find out what it is.
“Feels like … a wall?” she says. “With something on it?”
The wall is covered in different textures, and we feel our way up and down. There are cold pebbles, warm fluffy things, something squiggly, and something soft and round like a breast. Or maybe I’m just feeling what I want to feel.
“Is it weird that this is turning me on?” she whispers from my side.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” I say, leaving out the details.
“Robin,” she says, her voice thick. “Can you touch me instead?”
Her request catches me by surprise, and my body flushes with heat. My hands find her narrow waist.
“I want to touch you everywhere,” I say. “But tell me if you want me to stop.”
“Touch me everywhere.” Her voice is barely audible, but the want in it is unmistakable, and I love how direct she is with me. It takes all my restraint not to ravage her right here. There’s no way I’m doing that until I can see her face. But if the lady wants to be touched…