My photo
Diagnosed with epilepsy at the age of eleven T L Spencer turned to writing as a way to cope with her condition. Her vivid imagination and love of all things paranormal influenced her writing. T L Spencer enjoys all forms of literature and is currently studying at university, hoping to become a teacher.

Monday, 3 September 2012

A Whisper In His Ear

Rain pelted against the windows as a heavy storm raged on outdoors but inside, in the darkness of his normal home, a different kind of storm was brewing. He was wide awake and burning. Every cell in his body was screaming at him. What should he do? Should he listen? Should he ignore? He had to decide soon, his body was on fire. 
He knew instinctively that there was only one way to quench it. Her: she could extinguish the flames, sooth his racing heart, cool his burning body. But she was the reason he was hot in the first place, plaguing him, his thoughts, continually… Especially at night; she was lethal at night.
Something stirred in the air. She had returned.
The infernal siren that kept him awake night after merciless night: praying for rest, praying for mercy, praying for release. It was always the same. The same time, the same place, the same voice… the same husky, impossible requests. It was driving him mad.
She returned in the usual manner, a soft sigh, a whisper, breathed light into his ear followed by a deep and breathy moan. The sounds of promised pleasure; pleasure he was doomed never to receive. Not until he granted her wishes. He wanted to hold out, deny her further, build up the longing, break her down… but he couldn’t. He was running out of patience. He wanted it.
When she came to him fully, emerging from the shadows, he could almost taste her, the sweetness of her skin, and the salty tang of her tears.  He could smell her scent through his nostrils. He took a deep breath, savouring the deep scent of perfume and musk, the heat of feminine arousal. His mouth watered at her use of feminine wiles – pretending to be guarded with her affections. He knew she wanted it. Just as much as he did.
He could see her clearly now, her outline no longer blurred by the darkened corners of the room. She was a wild mermaid, a heavenly siren in reckless abandon. She beckoned him closer with her eyes, they were almost pleading. Her hands were high above her head, her back arched by the position. She wanted him to worship her.
As always, she was unclothed, her perfect satin skin visible and available. He could touch her now. No one could come between them. He stepped closer to her, holding out his hand. Her eyes closed in rapturous sensation as his hand drifted to her breast. He touched and she gasped.
The whispering started again.
In biting moans of need, his siren panted. “Release me, and I will give you whatever you want. Anything at all, I swear. Just release me.” His ears rang with the needy plea.
“Leave me alone, siren. I can’t think when you’re whispering at me!”
“Release… Release me… I beg you…” Another whisper… he ignored it. Would he ever get any peace?
Something rattled and it drew his attention… That’s right, he thought, the chains. No wonder she can’t move. A grin split across his face and he remembered why his siren was here with him. She had said ‘no’ to him. After months together, she had said ‘no’.
“Release… Release me… I beg you… Please, I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever you want. Just let me go… Please!” She begged and she cried and he watched. But he had made up his mind.
What he wanted, what she wanted, could wait.
“No.” He looked down at the siren, her eyes wide in shock. “You put me through hell for months. The least I can do is put you through the same.”
He turned from her and strode away. The whispering had stopped. For one night at least.

No comments:

Post a Comment