Voices in the Dark Read Online Free PDF Page A

Savage
    “Oh, baby…” He groans, and his voice takes on a husky edge. “Your other ass cheek. Five this time.”
    I wince, knowing what’s coming this time. A burst of heat creeps up my right buttock. Wetness has made my folds slick, and a few beads of cream drip down to pool on the wooden surface of the chair.
    I widen my stance, grit my teeth and let it fly. The first smack isn’t as bad as I remembered, but the wave of pleasure crashing into me catches me completely off guard. I never realized I enjoyed the mix of pleasure and pain. Never had reason to consider it before.
    I’m eager to keep going, so I do. Every slap of the spatula against my flesh brings me closer to release. My limbs quiver, and I can hardly recognize the small whimpers escaping my throat as my own.
    “That’s it, baby, two more.” He’s breathing hard too. I can hear the rawness in his voice, the hoarseness in his groans. He’s nearly at the brink of release.
    I shut my eyes, wanting to concentrate on nothing but the sound of him in my ear and the feel of the spatula on my ass. I can picture him, muscles taut, firm belly rippling as his orgasm nears. Though I’ve never seen it, I imagine his cock, thick and slightly curved toward his stomach, flushed just as he described, balls drawn tight against the base. In my fantasy, the narrow line of hair leading from his bellybutton to his cock arrows nicely toward trimmed pubic curls.
    He’s gripping his cock so tightly I can see the veins stand out in his arms. His knuckles turn white, and his back arches as he nears his peak.
    The fifth blow lands against my tender skin and I yelp, both relieved and disappointed to be done. My inner walls clench, desperate for the dildo I left behind in the living room, but I can’t bear to walk all the way back there to get it.
    My fingers would work or—
    “Is it a rounded handle?” he asks with considerable effort.
    28

    Voices in the Dark
    “Yes.” My acknowledgement is nothing more than a breathy squeak, but it seems to be enough.
    “Shove it in you, baby. Ride it for me. Pretend it’s my cock.”
    I do, but I know even as the handle slips easily inside my soaked channel that this is nothing like his dick. His beautiful shaft would be thick and long, satin over steel. This is a poor substitute, but it’s all I have.
    I ram it into me anyway, over and over, and I know we’ve matched our strokes to each other’s rhythm. Our breaths are loud but evenly spaced, steady and perfectly in sync.
    My orgasm starts low in my belly. It coils there and my clit throbs for a moment before I allow my thumb to flick over the small, needy nub. The wave of pure liquid pleasure rushing over me is overwhelming. It nearly drags me down into a sea of blackness and threatens to topple me off the chair.
    The sound of Adrian’s guttural cry steadies me. He comes, and I can picture the jets of white cream splashing his taut belly and matting that lovely pubic hair.
    We descend from our ecstatic high together, not talking but listening to each other’s breathing. It’s enough, just being with him like this. My calls always come to an abrupt close the moment after the man unloads, but Adrian lingers, and the sound of his steady breathing in my ear is soothing and alarming at once.
    I don’t know how to end this call. I’m not sure what to say. Thank you ? Call again?
    “See you tomorrow,” he says at last, taking the pressure off me.
    Before I can reply, he’s gone.
    I spend the rest of the evening curled up in my recliner with a hardcover mystery novel spread open on my lap. The black-on-white words blur in the background. Only the yellow sticky note I’ve affixed to the page stands out, as does Adrian’s neat scribbling. I’ve memorized his phone number long ago, and now I’m working on making a permanent imprint of the way he crosses his Ts and curves his Rs.
    29

    Lacey Savage
    I trace the loops of his name with the tip of my index finger. I know there’s a