The Intruder

"Is your husband working graveyards again Carly?" Serina asked tipping her head towards the front door of the corner pub. Carly nodded her confirmation and straightened the umbrella in front of her to by-pass the flexing wind. It had been a long day. Thanks to her assistant, Serina, she was only half-mad with exhaustion. As it stood, she still had six more clients who needed their drawings readied by Friday. Her work as an interior design architect was fulfilling; but the stress of success was getting to her. It wouldn't be long and she would need to take on a partner.

"Yes, but I'm in no mood for happy hour," she replied, "even if it is Friday." She hadn't seen her husband Cory in six days. As a surgical intern, he was rarely around and when he was, he slept the sleep of the dead. She couldn't remember the last time they had just had dinner. Good thing he only had five months left, she wasn't sure she remembered what he looked like. Let alone tasted like.

After the cab finally let Serina off at her condo; Carly breathed a sigh of relief. Cory would be home just after midnight and she had a little time to bathe and relax before then.

"That'll be $38.56 mam," said the driver.

"Here you go Max, keep the change," she replied and handed him a fifty dollar bill.

"I haven't seen one of these in years," he replied smiling. "When did you say your car will be fixed?"

"On Tuesday, they said," she replied as she grabbed her computer bag, purse and three drawing tubes all while trying to balance her umbrella with her right hand.

"Want me to get out and help you?" he half asked her eyeing the worsening storm.

"Na -- I've got it," she replied, "no need for you to get drenched too. Thank god for the porch. They had just finished construction of the ranch style home not a month before and the large covered porch had been god send. She let loose of the drawing tubes on the bench outside the front door and fumbled in her handbag for the keys. The porch light flickered on and the off again. There must be a short. I'll have to have Jared take a look at that.

At nearly half passed eight o'clock; it was growing dark outside, but there was still barely enough light pouring off of the street lamp that she could make out the shimmer of her house keys in the side pocket of her bag. I should have gone with the keypad entry. She knew her husband was right about that. Digging for keys was her new hobby and it was growing tiresome.

"Fuck me running!" she shouted out loud, over the angry growl of thunder and flash of lightening. She threw her purse down on the concrete porch and dug her nails into her hips in rage. A thunder clap startled her and she began to shake. "I can't fucking believe this!" she mumbled under her breath.

The thunder had disguised the footsteps inching up behind her. She instantly felt the breath on the back of her neck and felt the arms encompass her. Panic rose in her stomach and she tensed. She searched her mind for a remedy, but found none. There was no weapon to be had, nothing to defend herself with, save the house keys still stuck in the door lock. The alarm system had been installed but not armed yet. Her husband would be so mad at her.

"Don't scream and I won't hurt you," he said, obviously disguising his voice. She sized him up as best she could from what she felt at her back. He inched his arm around her neck and over her collar bone and breast area and pulled her tighter. He was tall, probably six feet three or so; he was muscular and was wearing work boots, jeans, a black jacket and a black ski mask.

"Open the door," he commanded sending chills of terror down her spine. She fumbled with the keys as if to stall.

"My key isn't working, that's why I couldn't get in" she replied.

"Try it again," he said sending the aroma of peppermint into the air. Hot breath whispered into her ear, "Let me have those keys."

She attempted to turn around, to run, to do anything, to struggle against what she knew was happening but found herself paralyzed instead. Her hands were shaking now, violently and she could barely stand up.

"I said I wouldn't hurt you," he grunted and grabbed the keys from her hand. Somehow he managed to find the right one and pushed the door open, keys still intact in the lock. He motioned for her to walk through the threshold. When she attempted to turn on a light, he squeezed her arm and said, "Don't."

"Take me to your room", he commanded calmly.

"My husband will be home soon and my dog will make a lot of noise," she ventured sheepishly as he walked her down the hallway towards her room.

"Your husband won't be home for hours and your chihuahua is in the backyard hiding in his house. I doubt he will cause me any problems or be heard over this thunder." Terror constricted her lungs. He's been watching me.

"What do you intend to do with me?"

"What would you like me to do with you?" he asked running his hand down the length of her arm and lavishing her neck with bites and licks. Warmth pooled between her legs as her body betrayed her and she instinctively clenched them together. A thunder clap raced her back to reality and the lights flickered. No doubt they would go out and she conspired in her head any chance she may have to break away and run.

He kicked her bedroom door open and flung them both inside. Immediately her eyes caught sight of her bed and she cringed and began shaking again. "Please, please," she begged, "my family has money. I can get you whatever you want."

"I don't want your money," he said sarcastically and threw her atop her bed. She rolled to face him and sat up on the edge of the bed as the lights flickered out. Darkness enveloped her and she struggled to adjust her eyes. All she could hear was the pounding of her heart and breathing; and -- a zipper being undone.

"I have a gun," she stated to the silent room, her voice shaking. Tears began to well up in her eyes and were soon replaced with a rage she had never known.

"As do I," he chuckled pressing his erection into her chest and grabbing her about the shoulders.

She began to cry audibly and her shoulders shook.

"Stop it. I told you I wouldn't hurt you," he whispered into the dark and disappeared momentarily.

Calm yourself. You have to make it out of this alive. Remember everything about him. He is tall, he is muscular, he is white it sounds like. He is circumcised from the feel of his cock and he has large hands.

Candlelight interrupted the darkness and illuminated the room. He is certainly prepared. He walked towards her and sat down beside her on the bed grabbing her left hand and kissing its palm. Thank the heavens, he smelled good, and wasn't some wretched half-drunk ape intent on slobbering all over her. If it had to happen, this had to be better than the alternative.

"Please don't do this," she begged out loud.

"Why not?" he asked her matter-of-factly.

Why not, what kind of question is that?

"I am a married woman. My husband and I are trying to have a baby. I need to be -- uh -- uh -- healthy. I am taking fertility medicines -- please don't do this to me," she cried through broken words and collapsed into her hands sobbing.

"I promise I won't do anything you don't want me to," he answered.

"I don't want you to be here," she said.

"I think you do," he responded.

Conceited much?

He continued trailing kisses on her hand and his lips began to travel up her arm and over her shoulder to the nape of her neck. She melted under his touch and relaxed, then guilt ate at her pride and she tensed and sat straight up.

"I am married. You can't do this -- please," she begged.

"Your husband is never here," he continued running his large hands gently through her hair and down her spine. "Tell me you want me to stop, and I will."

Her stomach clenched, flipped and refused to settle. Her chest rose with every strained breath and his mouth met hers, unexpectedly. The sweet taste of peppermint and male caressed her tongue and she bathed in it. What am I doing?

It had been too long. That was it. It had been so long since she had had anyone lavish attention on her that she was incapable of refusing. Oh my lord, he is such a good kisser. Gentle. Slow. Passionate. And so very - large!

Large?!?

She was almost incoherent of the fact that she stroked his cock with her right hand. Almost. Almost - until she felt the timpani like pulsing in her palm. Sweet velvety skin on skin. When she had lazily grazed the top of his imposing erection she felt a pearl of pre-cum dripping down the head. A pool of moisture settled between her thighs and she sighed contentedly.

"Don't stop," he begged when she hesitated. "That feels -- so -- incredible," he whispered into her mouth between kisses. He suckled her tongue and bit her bottom lip when she squeezed his member tight; lowering his hand from her shoulder to pinch the tip of her pert nipple.

"You like this," he moaned and continued stroking her breast lowering his hand underneath the opening in her blouse and under her bra. She nodded. I don't' want to. This is wrong. I am not that kind of woman.

He signaled to remove her blouse and asked, "May I?" She moaned and sighed again.

In an instant his mouth was pressed tightly against the pink flesh of her nipple. Sucking, licking, caressing and swirling circles around it with his tongue. She arched her back and loosened her grip on his erect member. He pushed her forward on the bed and lay her down as he straddled her waist. Her hair fell against the pillow and she blushed, a guilty-pleasure kind of blush that she was glad he couldn't see. Although -- she could feel it rise in her face and then it traveled down her chest to her navel and further below even until it stopped at her wet pussy.

So wet - I'm dripping.

A familiar ache burned between her legs as sweat and moisture dripped down her backside. He had made his way from her breasts to her belly now; and playfully impaled the tip of his tongue in her navel sending shockwaves of pleasure through her like the lightening that continued to flash outside her window. His hands traveled up her bare legs and underneath her skirt until they found her inner thighs. She groaned and clenched them together as if in protest.

"Tell me to stop," he said out loud. "Tell me you don't want this."

Oh God! I can't. This feels so good.

She whimpered and twisted under his attention, writhing in agony on the bed, begging for more. He tugged lightly on the strap of her thong and pulled it gently down inch by inch until it laid spread across and between her knees. His hand found her flesh and tenderly stroked her wetness creating a friction that demanded release. She arched her back again, half in protest, half in command and she moaned a long audible sigh which left no question as to her need.

She could feel him moving atop her. He trailed a line with his erection up over her leg, passed her knees, between her thighs towards her center. He was hot. So hot. His skin nearly ignited her as he grew closer to her. His mouth found her neck and gently bit at her swirling his tongue in a tortuous frenzy, as he grasped the back of her neck with his left hand.

"Look at me," he demanded. She squinched her eyes and shook her head in rebellion and turned to the side. I cannot - what am I doing?

"Look at me," he whispered again in her ear, bathing it with his tongue. She turned and faced him, peppermint still on his breath. Dark brown eyes the color of rich chocolate gazed into hers and his lips met her mouth once again. She responded, uninhibitedly and plundered his mouth as well. She was so aroused she was sure she had soaked the bed.

"You are so beautiful," he moaned into her mouth grinding his erection against her mound. She could feel his balls strain, tighten and lift against her and his cock pulsed as if it would burst against her clit. She gasped as reality broke fantasy and grew rigid beneath him.

"No," he demanded. "Stay with me," he begged, continuing to grind his arousal against her sending sparks of electricity through her center. "Tell me you want this" he pleaded.

"I cannot," she whimpered, tears of longing welling in her eyes. "I love my husband."

"The man who is never here?" he replied.

"He is here when I really need him," she sobbed.

He bit her nipple and buried his face between her breasts before inching his erection between her legs; nudging the opening of her womanhood gently. He shook now, his whole body - his knees bent on either side of her, balancing on the soft mattress. He surrounded her completely. A hand on either side of her head buried in her hair; knees on either side of her hips and his mouth bathed her neck.

"Please," she ventured her voice cracking.

"Please what?" he asked a smile now stretching his mask.

"Don't -- please -- stop -- don't," she groaned as he continued his assault on her clit before bringing his cock back down to her opening.

"Tell me what you want," he instructed stoically.

"I can't, please don't make me do this," she begged.

He ran his right hand between her wet thighs and trailed her moisture back up over her stomach, then her breasts until he reached her mouth. "Your body says yes," he said in between kisses plunging his fingers into her mouth. Her tongue met his again and gently stroked it until reason overtook her and she bit him hard. He flinched, tightening his grip on her hands.

"Please -- don't hurt me," she cried and he loosened his hold on her as she turned her face to the side in humiliation.

"What do you want?" he asked. "Tell me. You cannot tell me your body isn't ready for this."

"I don't want -- this. Not like this."

"What do you mean you don't want this?" he whispered into her ear.

"With you -- I don't want this with you."

"Your body says otherwise."

"Who do you want this with?"

"My husband; I only want this with my husband."

"I don't believe you," he replied as he inched the tip of his cock inside her. She gasped and clenched her legs together as tightly as she could. Her refusal was not as strong as her arousal. A trickle of moisture ran from her center down his erection and rested on his engorged balls. Her clenched legs only managed to heighten the sensation in her clit and she moaned in defeat.

"Tell me no, now," he grinned. Her rigidity lessened and she grasped the hands that held her down intertwining her fingers with his. There was something terribly familiar about what was happening; that smile, those perfect white teeth and captivating brown eyes, and that voice that he no longer attempted to disguise. I'll get to the bottom of this.

He lowered his right hand from hers to grasp her nipple between his fingers. She saw her chance and took it just as he thrust his thick member deep into her core. He groaned and bit her neck and she pawed at the mask he wore, ripping it from his face. He turned his head in shock and lowered it against her breast.

"Look at me," she demanded slyly with interrupted breath as he continued to thrust gently inside her, moving his hips back and forth. She could feel him smile against her neck, increasing his pace inside her. Her nails met the flesh on his shoulder and dug roughly into him. Nothing. He refused to respond.

"Look at me," she demanded again, clenching her legs together making it harder for him to move. "Now," she commanded, refusing to let him move inside her.

His lips plundered hers so swiftly she forgot what she was doing. An urgent, demanding kiss that he assumed would quiet her for now. He was wrong. She managed to free her other hand from beside her head and forced her intruder to face her. With one hand on each side of his brawny face, Carly stared straight into the eyes of her husband Cory. A grin erupted and his eyes twinkled, flashing a knowing satisfaction about her.

"Is this what you wanted love?" he asked with a thick Scottish accent.

"Aye -- it is," she replied overpowering him and taking the top position. "But..."

"But what?" he asked still smiling.

"But -- it's the last time I'll ever share my fantasies with you."

"Oh -- somehow I doubt that," he replied as she fastened his hands to the leather straps positioned on either side of the bed post.

END