Alex's touch ignights my passion, always, no matter what he does. His careful handling of me frustrates me, leaves my passion unsated. I need him to want me, to need me! He can make me feel like there is nothing more desirable in existence than me, like he can't control himself, like he has no choice, he must have me! This gentleness, this concern, does not feel the same. It leaves me feeling unsated. I crave to be used by him, to be fucked until I'm drunk on his cock, and then, when he sees me like that, to be fucked again. I need to be roughly, passionately, taken, wherever, whenever he thinks of me.
This is not the same. My frustration peaks, erasing all the arousal, all the urgency, all the need I have. For the first time ever, I push his hands away from me, pulling away from his touch.
"Alex, stop, please. I can't do this!" I protest, "I can't...I can't handle this right now!" I move to the edge of the bed, my hands gripping into my hair. I close my eyes, but my frustration wins and tears fall down my cheeks. "I'm sorry, Alex. I can't handle this again, not right now, its just...it's too much!"
I stand quickly, walking out of the room so he won't see my tears. My phone starts ringing and I go to the kitchen. I find it on the counter and answer without looking at the caller ID.
"Hello?" I say, hoping I sound more calm than I feel.
"I told you it was the finest money can buy. Everything I gave you, and you walked away from it all!"
The phone slips from my numb fingers and shatters on the floor. I never thought I would hear that voice again! Shock, and horror, and fear hit me so hard I can't breathe.
"Alex!" I cry out weakly just before the blackness closes over my vision. I drop like a stone, crumpling to the floor in a heap.