Stephanie West Literature

Masters Wishes

Selena:

He had been screwing me for exactly five minutes and thirty seconds, when I came to the realisation that my husband didn’t love me anymore. I stare up at his rosed, exhausted features, veins pulsating from his forehead as sweat bead down his face. He pounds into me relentlessly, holding my pale ankles against his shoulders with angst as he worked himself to another disappointing climax. I play and pinch at my taut n*****s, giving him something to look at whilst his shaft slid in and out of my delicate s*x in fumbles; ridged and unfocused, entirely for his own gain. I should have been squirming beneath him - screaming his name for more - like it used to be. Now, there were no fireworks burning through me. No toe-curling thrusts, racing hearts or overwhelming passion. Now, he was merely a pair of dull, green eyes, gazing down at me with a painfully cold expression and forcing himself to come inside me. Yet, it hadn’t mattered how hard we tried to convince ourselves that it wasn’t over. Deep down, we had both known for longer than we would care to admit.

The notion tugged at my heart with a deep ache as I stare at rugged features that once meant the world to me, wondering each time he bucked his hips if it would be the last. I clamp my eyes shut, hiding the overbearing need to cry as he grunted and huffed into the air, pretending that he didn’t hate every second of this. Pretending that he wouldn’t rather be anywhere else but here, just as I wanted to do anything to fix whatever had gone so wrong. Although, as I gaze upon his tensed expressions, watching him picture something that would feed his drive; more than anything, I wanted this to be over.

He could go back to watching football in the lifeless living room downstairs and I could lock myself in the bathroom with a glass of wine, a warm bathtub, my trusty vibrator and a website filled with enough sins to last me all night. It was with this notion that I became wet enough to give my husband enough lubrication to climax. His pace fastened and he let out a low, drawn out groan. He clamps his eyes shut tightly, scrunching his face into a contortion of uncomfortable expressions and he came inside me with a roaring huff- the sound more of a relief of tensed muscles than electrifying orgasm.

And just like that, it was all over.

I wallow as he fills me, drowning in my own silence as I wonder when the sensation had become so disappointing. The room falls silent, nothing apart from his hefty breaths filling the musky air. I let my hands fall from my chest and he pushes my legs to the side, wiping the thick sweat from his forehead and rolling onto the side of the bed to retrieve his forgotten trousers. I stare up at the ceiling, holding back tears of frustration and longing for something more.

I wasn’t sure when s*x had started to become nothing other than a Sunday night routine for my husband, but it broke me a little more every time he would look away, or close his eyes in order to come for me.

Our marriage had been over long before I started seeing the dark colours of loneliness. Yet, I stay with the hopes that someday soon he will gaze down at me with the same adoring eyes he held on the day we met, or the first night we screwed like savages, tearing apart a cheap hotel room and drowning in oceans of orgasms that shook photo frames off the walls. Remembering the sound of glass shattering on cheap carpet is an ironic reminder that even in such a passionate memory, a once cherished work of art can still be nothing more than a mess to clean once the love is gone.

I lay, staring up at the ceiling and feeling the icy breeze from our old fan brushing against my jittery, naked body, until I hear the bedroom door close and thudding footsteps sound down the staircase. Only then do I sit up, wiping away a betraying tear from my left cheek and stalk my way to the bathroom. As I recollect that last year, I come to the realisation that each time he had stared into my eyes, I was gazing upon sights that felt nothing; and with that numbness came a hurricane of heartache as I accept and mourn the loss of a man that chose to give up.

As I retrieve my silent vibrator from beneath the basin, the thought of not having to chore a love-less s*x scene with my husband for another week shook me with a relief I had never anticipated. A pang in my chest, unable to comprehend why we force ourselves to live amongst such intense detachment- or why he would act as if everything was fine, knowing that we hadn’t held hands in months. With one, last sigh, I fill the bathtub and sink against the porcelain, sliding the toy beneath my legs as I become enveloped with hot, steamy water.

At first I imagined my husband ravishing me like I was his oxygen. I imagined the sensation of his tongue sliding up and down my aching c**t and I tried more than I should have to stay in this dream. Before long, it was as though my body was telling me what I had already known. I opt for the fantasies of a tall, dark stranger, taking me as his own until he was done with me- entwining his body with mine whilst I whimper and moan and come for him over and over, until eventually I actually could.

∞∞∞

Walking into Bashwood and Co. the next morning, it felt as though heavy shackles encased my ankles with every step into the office. The image of last night plays over in my head, haunting me with every step as I fall into an unmoving state of torture. Monday’s were never my favourite day, but at least I had the chance to distract myself from my own mind. The firm was alive with the sounds of workers scurrying to and from desks, retrieving documents and tangling phone chords around each other. I halt in my steps, suddenly overwhelmed by the energetic embrace of my co-workers. I breathe in deeply, trying to collect my thoughts as I leave my personal life at the door. The thought of meeting my new Boss today was almost as painful as the thought of going home to a lifeless partner, settling into another night of silent company. Yet, it was the only thing I had time to think about, wondering if I’d be up to the challenge. I was still annoyed at Harry for leaving Bashwood through early retirement. Flashbacks of late nights at the office, eating overpriced takeout that I had insisted on buying as Harry had forgotten to eat all day. Working on endless piles of cases that, at the time, seemed so important to my position as his assistant. I picture Harry’s distraction as he stops to show me an endless gallery of his gorgeous children, making it feel as though I was more than just another co-worker. Harry’s management felt like home; a wonderful distraction from the life I dreaded outside of Bashwood and Co.

As I make my way to the heavy, steel elevator doors, I heave out an exhausted sigh, adamant that nobody could possibly live up to the expectations I had developed after losing Harry’s ethics. I step inside the elevator, pressing a manicured fingertip to the button for floor Twenty-seven and my whirlwind thoughts come to an abrupt halt at the sound of a low, masculine voice calling toward me.

“Hold the door.” His voice commanded me, more than asked.

Taken back by his blunt tone, I open my mouth to sneer back “a please would be nice,” before being stopped completely as he entered through the steel doors.

Leaping into the elevator with a calm pace, his presence filled the small space like a hurricane in a barnyard. He steps inside, a little too close and a little too easily. He towered over me in a dark grey, Armani suit that had clearly been tailored just for him. His cologne was subtle, just enough to tantalise me to lean in and get a better smell. I peer up passed his broad shoulders and was met with a head that forced my breath to falter at the sight. The chiselled jaw, encased with a slight stubble. Hard set, soft, plump lips. Dark, lingering eyes that glimmered with alarm bells that disrupted any logical thought process. He stared back at me with a fierce, focused gaze that I couldn’t understand.

The moment went too slow and too fast all at once. How long had I been staring? Finally forcing myself to look away, the man merely took a side-step and redirected his eyes to the elevator wall behind me.

“Floor Twenty-Seven.” His strong voice hummed through my ears, sending a shiver down my spine. It was intimidating as hell, yet a small part of me was fighting the urge to bite back.

“Already done.” I retort.

He replies with a mere tilt of his head, gliding his eyes from the wall- landing onto me. I hiccup beneath his stare, watching as his dark gaze trails down my neck. He lingers over my chest, unmoved from his intense stance as his eyes flicker down to my legs and back up again. He meets my eyes with a hunger that corrupted my ability to speak and I stare blankly back at him, unaware of how timid I must have appeared. It was the most intimate look i had seen in years.

My palms begin to perspire, little needles of hot flushes itching at my neck and chest as he holds my sights. I quickly become an intoxicated mixture of frightened and aroused, overwhelmed with an uncertain dare that lead me to spending the entire elevator ride staring down at my toes. It wasn’t until the heavy, steel doors opened onto floor Twenty-seven, that I worked up the courage to take just one more look at him before facing the day ahead.

I look up to be met with his stare, fixated onto me. Both hands in his pockets and the same hard set mouth. His eyebrows furrowed slightly when our eyes met and something deep inside of me howled ferociously. His undivided attention was a force that I wasn’t ready for. I inhale deeply, conjuring every ounce of strength I had to put one foot in front of the other, leaving the sight of him behind me.

My senses were so clouded, that I practically jumped into the only other Lawyer on this floor, Nico’s, arms when he chimed out my name.

“I see you’ve met our new front man!” He chimes, as bright as the day was new. I throw him a blank, confused expression, stopping in my tracks with a puzzlement to my expression.

That’s when my shoulder was brushed lightly with a passing Armani wrapped arm, leaning passed me to shake Nico’s hand firmly. The unexpected closeness made me jump, before the realisation could even settle in. I look up at the two men shaking hands and smiling at each other as though they had been friends for years.

Of course, Nico had that effect on people. With his million dollar smile, framed with styled, short curls that sit neatly upon his head- I had never met a person that didn’t completely adore Nico. Myself, included. He was the kind of man that would comfortably style an off-brand suit to his most important meetings, if it meant that he could spare change for the homeless man living outside of our complex. He was the first to ask if anybody else wanted a cup of coffee, or offer a hand if you were struggling on an assignment he knew nothing about. The short side of it all; Nico was just a great guy. And he was the only light that had kept me from leaving after Harry’s departure.

The tall man swivelled on his step to face me once again, looking down at me with intense, dark eyes as he and Nico await my response. He lingers for a moment with a calculated expression before his plump lips part slightly. I swallow hard, suddenly overcome with too much saliva in my mouth. Unable to conjure up a coherent sentence to greet him.

“Pleasure..” he says before I could reply, that deep voice encased with something more tantalising my senses in a way that I had never expected. Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. The single word follows my thoughts for the rest of the morning, unable to do a task without his husky voice echoing in my thoughts.

Carter:

When I had obtained information about an opening at Bashwood and Co., there was no hesitation for my application. Bashwood may not have been the elite office in this city, however that was exactly why I wanted it. I had always prided myself on my drive, unwavering in my mission to become the best of the best; and if that meant turning a mediocre firm into the success of the century, it would be a challenge I couldn’t wait to get my hands on.

My first day at Bashwood and Co. gave me somber expectations for my transfer. After spending years hustling to get to the position I was, I would die before letting this company ruin my reputation. I arrive at the building forty-five minutes before they had opened, wondering if I had bitten off more than I could chew. Mondays were always my favourite day of the week- a new opportunity to become relentless- and yet, not a single soul bared any form of life in their eyes as they shuffle up the cement staircases leading to my building. I imagine how these ethics would have been handled with the encouragement of the pervious dirtbag I would be replacing. Harry f*****g Golding. The golden boy. I had heard a great deal about the silver haired, smiley prick. I had even met him amongst a few meetings with clients I wouldn’t waste my time on. I roll my eyes, knowing how much work it was going to take to pull his co-workers up to my standards. He had nothing on what I could do; and it would only be a matter of time before Mondays at Bashwood and Co. became alive with the faces of successful business people.

Forty-three minutes and precisely forty-eight people later, I was beginning to have quite the dull first impression of my new workplace.

And then, I saw her.

Heart racing at the sudden light that pulled my attention to long, mousy, brunette locks, she stalks up the stairs in polished, black heels that seemed to bare more life than any faces that scurried through the doors before her. A flutter in my chest erupts with the same intentions that rippled through me when I heard of the opportunity for my transfer. I step behind a tall, cement pillar that framed the firms staircase, utterly fixated on the unfamiliar woman that intrigued me for the first time this morning. With dull, blue eyes that begged to be adventured, she walked with a sensuality that I was certain she didn’t even notice. A huff to her step, I watch her in secrecy as she passes me in a blinding white blouse, her neat, navy pencil skirt hugging onto her frame with a sophistication that I hadn’t expected. From the moment I watched her curved hips sway atop toned legs that stretched for miles, entering through the wide doors to the firm, I wanted to know more.

Suddenly, the struggle between arriving on time for my first day and getting closer to a woman that I could never obtain became an internal war I hated myself for partaking. I let out an audible sigh, shaking my head at my own battles. As she begins walking away from a clear line of sight, all argument flew away from my hurricane thoughts. She was a masterpiece. I chose her.

I walk through the doors just steps after the sweet siren. She hadn’t yet noticed that there was someone behind her and I revel in the opportunity to stare at her curved backside in secret. She looks ahead of her steps, faltering only slightly as she gazes upon the mess of workers that seemed to blur around her presence. What I would give to know what was going through this pretty, little head.

She recovered almost instantaneously and headed for the elevator.

Close proximity was my first thought. Privacy was my second. I’d go to hell if I admitted my third thought. She stepped through the large, steel doors and swivelled on her step. I was captivated in her presence- something so innocent and naive. I wanted nothing more than to be steering the wheel straight toward her, watching those gorgeous, doe eyes widen in my headlights- watching her crimson lips part in anticipation of the hit. I spiralled a million times before I could even comprehend what was going on inside my head. Within seconds, my entire world had been flipped upside down. I was hardly the kind of man to jeopardise my professional stance; particularly for the sake of staring at an unattainable woman. Yet somehow, I find myself struggling to peel my eyes away from her form. Ignoring the layout of a building I had spent months looking into. Laying my integrity on the line for one, last look. The doors begin closing and a slight panic pricked at my neck hairs. I wasn’t done devouring her in my mind. I swallowed hard.

“Hold the door.” I choke, before sliding into the elevator.

Readying myself to become enveloped in her presence, I step toward her. Mere inches from her beautiful, soft, porcelain features, I am immediately overwhelmed with a fiery need that sent each and every one of my senses into hyperdrive. She stares up at me with a flustered gaze, baring eyes that shone a brilliant, sky blue. Glossed, red lips parting ever so slightly, I could smell a subtle mint on her breath that forced a pulse to rile beneath my pants. Her hair curled into ringlets that fell over her chest as a waft of fresh apples filled my nose, sending shivers down my spine from the scent of her shampoo. Her long eyelashes blink up at me with a tease I don’t believe she had even realised.

No, surely she realised. Surely, she knew what a hurricane like her could do to any man in such close proximity. I step to the side of her with a notion to hide my hard-on that throbbed too easily from the mere sight of her. Placing both hands in my pockets, I stretch out the material of my slacks and attempt to recover the flustered pull she created within moments.

“Floor Twenty-Seven.” I demanded, pretending like she didn’t have some unexplored hold over me.

My sights land on her impeccable reflection in the mirrored walls of the elevator. Her curves were a stunning work of art, unparalleled to any of the views I had explored before now. I wanted nothing more than to give into a temptation that riled me more than I felt comfortable with. To ravish her with the kind of attention she deserved, unrelenting as I ignore the consequences that would follow.

I hadn’t realised how long I’d been devouring her reflection until I could hear the dull buzzing of the heavy elevator doors, ready to reveal our designated floor. Panic pricks at my skin once more, heat rising up my neck as I come to the conclusion that I wasn’t ready to give up this insatiable sight.

I decide to sneak one last hit of my new, favourite heroine. Slowly sliding my sights back onto her heavenly features, I am hit the observations of just how gorgeous she really was. Holding an effortless charm that I already knew would captivate my thoughts for the rest of the day, she stands with a hint of something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Something... delicate....fragile. Then, moved her wide, doe eyes to meet mine. Then, it clicked.

Our eyes lock and the more I stare into the light-blue oblivion, the more I could see her. My little dear was broken- and I wasn’t sure if it was the fragility to her gaze, but her pull wavered inside of me, catapulting a wave of saliva to pool in my mouth as my wrists perspire with anticipation. Once again I am met with a notion that I wanted more than anything to succumb to. I had to have her.

∞∞∞

Nico, my new partner at Bashwood and Co. made it his mission to begin sucking up my arse from the moment those steel framed doors led me onto floor Twenty-Seven. He greeted me with overly-kind eyes, a cheesy grin that created craters of wrinkles on the side of his blinkers and a cheap, navy blue, knock off suite from Target. I knew I wasn’t going to get along with this guy almost instantly. I roll my eyes, wondering how I would shake him off my tail as I think of more ways to become enveloped with fantasies of the woman beside me.

“Ah, Selena! I see you’ve met our new front man.” His voice boomed towards me and I was so blindsided by the awful rasp in his voice that I had almost missed what was coming out of his mouth.

He was talking to her...

Now I’m interested.

With a newfound pep in my step, I shake the tanned mans hand, making a conscious effort to to brush my arm over her ever so slightly. I would spend the next hour itching to do it again. It became apparent that bleached-teeth Nico must have known her well- and if this prick was my way in, then I was prepared to play ball. I took a step toward him, more so for an excuse to stare at ‘Selena’ once more. I swivel on my step to face her and was met with a gorgeous, flustered expression. Her name becomes a staple, repeating in my head over and over as I stare back at the timid creature.

Selena…

I had to control myself, thankful for the thick wall that barricaded my thoughts from my expressions. I had felt more out of character than ever, having to physically stop myself from stuttering over my own words as I gaze down at her and I was quickly becoming an agitated version of myself that screamed internally for a way out of her grasp. My mouth felt too salivated and too dry all at once and I swallow deeply, licking my lips as I conjure up any way to get myself out of the web I had already created in my own head.

“Pleasure..” I manage to say, adamant that I would keep myself from falling to my damn knees at her command.

Her expression remains untouched, causing an annoying sting to my neck and chest as I desperately seek for a sign that I was effecting her on any level paralleled to mine. She held no flustered cheeks or quivering lips and for a moment, I felt the stomach dropping sensation of defeat. But then, my sights falls back onto hers. It was those eyes- those bright, blue, unattained eyes that gave her away. Long eyelashes fluttering at my words and I could practically taste her curiosity. It was enough to alight a fire that burned to my core; a vast obsession that I had never experienced before.

We part ways with a silent hesitation as Nico insists he shows me to my new office.

It takes everything not glance one, last look at my little deer.