I'M NOT YOUR WOMAN. (✓)

24. at her service.

|◁ II ▷|

her — as i am.

WHITE SILK SHEETS were woven tightly to Maya's chestnut brown nubile body, akin to the stone statue of a Roman Empress. All night long, her core had suffered at the hands of Ebén's fingers and his stick tippy-toeing into her hole; and acting as her alarm.

They had been at it like rabbits, finding different spots in Ebén's mansion to commit the deed — on the stairs, on the kitchen floor and counters, in his pool, in his shower and in his office.

Her body expanded mid-stretch as she yawned.

Her wild, loose curls were long and messy yet still glossed, her soft lips still pouting in her sleep with her eyes still shut. Love bites in the shade of swollen burgundy red were varnished on her lissom neck and inside her thighs; he had painted her town wet with his tongue and teeth, softly eating away at her flesh.

"Morning," She hadn't heard his rise to wake, still trying to sleep off this spent energy.

Her unclad pussy had tremored eight, nine times; a timeline between late last night and early this morning. She was still in stupor, writhing in his sheets with agony dominating her makeup-free face.

She had balled, effed and screamed — as Ebén had made her core, his new home and made sure that he had emptied her arousal and fed himself.

Her sweepingly long eyelashes curled over her speckled face with slight drool hanging out of her mouth. Ebén wasn't repulsed like he thought he would be, but fondly, continued to watch her sleep as his trigger had been torturous on her body. 

She needed the rest, as did he too.

Her nude body was garlanded with red ink that ran down to the tail of her spine and on the inside of her wrist — some sort of dedication to her Daddy.

She never did speak about her own personal history or what her life looked like before him, maybe she would... with time, or maybe she had no intention of ever being vulnerable enough to trust him.

Or maybe, this was just pure casual sex not intended to leave lasting prints on the other.

Ebén didn't want to dwell, but hoped with everything in him that the damage that he had done to her body would interest her in something longterm.

Those hours of incessant lovemaking prompted him to think and to dream about what life would look like with her. He was receptive to the idea, evidenced by the spring in his step, wondering if she felt the same.

He sunk his nose into the glorious scent of brown curls that had spread and were draped languidly on his forearm, her legs interlaced with his feet. He quietly kissed her forehead, her face ablush, and crept out of her sleeping arms, softly closing the door to allow her the bed space to quietly reset.

Beatriz carolled, her pendulous arms flapping as she scrubbed the counter, harshly. Her face, bulldog-like.

"Morning?" He carped, his voice still smoky low from this morning exploits, "¿Estas bien?"

Beatriz sported him with an elvish grin, her furry brow slanted with curiosity but equal disgust.

"What?" He slumped onto the kitchen stool, shoulders forward and his back arched.