Tempest - Book 1

- 19 -

A soft breeze fluttered across my cheeks. 

I rolled over, hands stretching across the vast expanse of the rolling white bedding, only to be left searching endlessly. 

Sitting up, a blinked heavily, sleep still preying over my mind. It was bright, the sun shining softly against the taupe muslin shades. The bloom of delicious ache between my thighs brought a casual heat to my face. The feeling of his hands still felt like fire, burning wonderfully. 

With a small yawn, I swiveled my head, craning around the room to find that it was neatly made up. 

And him nowhere to be found. 

I frowned, pulling the fluffy duvet from my body. My legs sang with a stiffness, hips rebutting the movement. I had been so preoccupied with the ultimate power of him, I had neglected how incredibly rough he had handled me. 

I stepped to the bathroom, startled by the person looking back at me. 

She had dark streaks of mascara caked under her eyes, softly bruised lips that were full and tender to the touch. A rash of purple bites trailed over my breath, my stomach. Thighs. 

I smiled to her, reveling. 

I took a cloth under the tap, gently wiping my face. I corralled my hair into a somewhat sleek bun and returned back to the room in a search for my clothes. 

My shorts were at the foot of the bed, shirt discarded on the armchair adjacent to the bed. 

Panties. Subsequently missing. 

I slid the garments on, gazing longingly at the bed. 

Last night played in the back of my mind, the sensation of him. Inside. 

I still felt ravenous. Hungry for his touch, his taste. He was intoxicating. Addictive. Yet there was still a voice that lingered, a soft whisper that I strained to hear. 

I silenced it the best I could, not wanting to face the reality that was set before me. He had me, directly where he intended. So, now what?

I shook the thought from my mind, instead I fell back into the tantalizing embrace of his ecstasy. That's where I had wanted to stay, caught in the constant tumble of moans, soft touches. Orgasms. 

I peered out, the hallway quiet and empty. Gracing across the carpet, I let my fingers wrap around the handle of my door, giving it a soft push open. 

The aura of the room was...anxious at best. It hit me like a tidal wave, my hands steadying me in the doorway. The anticipation I had felt was trapped within these four walls, the longing and the frustration. 

"Jesus" 

I muttered, sweeping through the room. 

The light of the bath flickered on, gentle trickling of water in the shower. I laid a towel across the counter, going to my bag to retrieve my toiletries. 

I dropped my shorts next to the closet, kneeling down to rifle through my things, brow knit in silent confusion. 

Shampoo? Check.

Toothbrush? Check. 

Makeup, deodorant, skin cremes, lotion and cleanser? Check, check and check. 

Perfume? Gone. 

I turned over the bag, shaking the contents onto the floor. I scrabbled through it all, but no luck. A bite of tears threatened, but I quickly blinked them away. 

I knew I had packed it, and in fact used it. A soft spritz against my neck last night for an added bode of confidence. 

I stood, biting my sore lip. I discarded the tank top with my shorts, scooting them to the side for the laundress. 

Gathering my necessities, I graced into the steamy bathroom, it settling nicely against my skin. 

I stepped under the sizzling water, chills erupting over me. I let the water wash over my head, my face. My eyes fluttered close, the drumming of the water vaguely drawing me back in time.

Good Girl. 

A smile twitched over my mouth. 

He was in my space, tight white t-shirt soaked through, water dripping from his dark hair. 

A deep breath. 

The heat of his breath on my neck was intoxicating, and that deep fire began to pool inside of me again.

A sharp knock snapped my eyes open. I quickly scrubbed shampoo through my hair with one hand, hastily washing my body with the other. 

I cut the water, whipping the towel around my dripping body. 

Another knock. 

"Just a second." 

I yelled, patting my face dry. I bound to the door, yanking it open. 

Domingo stood in the hall, cheeks blazing a deep crimson as he took me in, turning away. 

"Oh, I'm...I apologize." 

He said, stammering. 

I puled the cotton over my chest tighter, crossing my arms defensively. 

"Good Morning." 

I breathed, waiting patiently for him to turn back. After a moment he did, gaze stuck to the ornate carpet, a linger of blush still clinging in his face. 

"I was just checking in, we have a breakfast reservation in 30 minuets." 

My eyes lit with an optimistic dazzle. 

"We?" 

I plied, a brow arching. 

He shook his head, and my optimism turned bitterly pessimistic. 

"Sir is preoccupied today, I hope my company will satisfy you instead?" 

He offered me a demure grin, and I realized that my face bore a less than acceptable expression. I sucked in a short breath and I granted him a soft turn of my lips. 

"Absolutely. Um, let me -" 

I insisted and again he blushed, a toothy grin playing his mouth. 

"Yes, of course. Of course! I will be waiting here." 

With a slight nod of my head, I closed the door. I felt swallowed by an overbearing maw of disappointment. I drug myself to the closet, numbly swishing through my dresses. 

I pulled a cotton t-shirt cut dress over my head, a pair of miu miu sandals on my feet. I tied my hair up into a passable bun and clasped dainty gold chains around my neck. 

I looked better than I felt, that went without saying. I pulled a strained smile to my face, bag slung on my shoulder. 

I took a deep breath in, exhaling shakily as I opened the door, brushing away my sadness. 

Domingo straightened his jacket, extending his arm for me. 

"Ready?" 

He asked, giving me a courteous once over. 

With a nod of my head, and dread in my heart I replied. 

"Ready."