Hey friends! I’m so excited to share the fourth CRAVE story with you.
Thanks for your patience. These past few weeks have been very busy, especially since I’m working on a big project alongside this one — my next novel! I can’t wait to give you all the details soon.
I hope you enjoy “Disturbing the Peace.” This story’s a little more emotional than its predecessors, because that’s how I’ve been feeling lately. But in the end, there’s a measure of peace. 🙂
Quick recap: CRAVE is a free short story series that I launched in March in light of the fact that we could all use a distraction as we navigate lockdown.
CRAVE is meant to be a pick-me-up, with erotic stories that are fluffy, light, and smutty. Tune in for updates every few weeks.
Hope you’re hanging in there, and that these stories give you a fun escape.
Disturbing the Peace
by Miranda Silver
Copyright May 2020
MF, strangers, light bondage
This silent retreat is killing me.
I’m sitting in a room with forty other people, all kneeling and meditating on the wooden floor. We’re two days in, and during the first meditation session, there were plenty of noises as people got settled. But everyone else seems to have found their stride.
I’m no good at sitting still, and I’m definitely not the silent type. I came here because I needed a break from life, but life keeps chasing me.
And every time I fidget or yawn, this one jerk gives me a disapproving look. Which just makes me fidget more. We’re supposed to keep our gazes cast down, but whenever I see him, I’m increasingly on edge.
My long curly red hair falls into my face, tickling my cheeks. I quickly twist it into a bun and catch him watching me with narrowed eyes, as if he can’t meditate with all that distraction.
I cough. He glares. I’m not sure which one of us is less peaceful right now.
And to make it worse, he’s hot. Disturbingly so.
Dark hair, dark brows, olive skin, startling blue eyes… I don’t trust hot guys.
When he turns away, I check him out. We’re supposed to dress modestly here. But even with his loose white T-shirt and pants, there’s enough bronzed skin on display to give me an idea of his body — a dirty idea. He’s thirty-something, like me. No wedding ring. His hands are beautiful. Of course they are.
I try to stay calm and ignore him. But during the walking meditation, I trip and lose my balance. During mealtime, I drop a dish. Each time, he shoots me a look, as if I’m messing up his whole day.
After lunch, I exit through the wrong door, because of course. He’s rounding a clump of pine trees, probably coming back from the restroom, and I accidentally brush past him.
My bare arm presses against his with a sudden shock. My pale freckled skin makes a startling contrast to his bronzed forearm. His blue eyes open wide, and for a second, neither of us moves. Our eyes lock. Naturally, we say nothing. But the touch, the eye contact — these are all against the rules.
I’m suddenly, completely aware that my breast is nudging his arm. My nipple’s so hard that it aches. My gaze drops to his loose pants, and I stare at the tent of his erection before dragging my eyes back to his flushed face.
On cue, we both jump back. He rakes a hand through his hair and gives me that look of pure annoyance. All my nerves are wide awake. On edge, I let out a giggle and get another glare. I stick my tongue out at his sexy back, and dammit, he turns and sees. Hurrying away from his disapproval, I bite down more laughter.
But underneath, I’m ruffled. Pissed off. His attitude is ruining my retreat.
Not to mention his warm body, which I imagine pressing into mine for the rest of the day. Brushing my nipples, teasing my breasts. But I want more than a tease from him. I want weight and force. I want him to make me be still. Pin me down, order me with those blue eyes to focus. And when I do, he rewards me by spreading my legs to discover how wet I am…
That night, I touch myself in bed. It’s against the rules; we’re supposed to be celibate throughout the retreat. But it’s the only way I know how to calm down right now.
I feel him on top of me, massaging my soaked pussy. He dips his head to suck my nipple into his hot mouth. Kissing me hard, invading me with his tongue, he grips my curls in his fist and sinks his cock into my tightness, fucking me deeper and deeper into the mattress until I don’t break focus for an instant. It’s just him, everywhere, on me and inside me. I shudder and squeeze my thighs around my hand, rubbing my sensitive clit until I come in a rush.
The next day, I’m calmer. I fidget less when we’re sitting, and I don’t lift my gaze to scan the room for him.
In the afternoon meditation session, I close my eyes, breathe deeply, and finally find a measure of peace. The swirling thoughts slow down. Time hangs suspended until the ping of the brass meditation bell. But when I resurface, heat washes over my left side. My eyes pop open, and as if pulled by a magnet, I turn. To look at him.
He’s staring at me, caught out in the moment, and for once he isn’t glaring. There’s a look of such raw longing on his face that I feel it through my whole body.
Right now, he’s not some hot disapproving guy. He’s naked, vulnerable. Carrying a heavy load. Something drove him here, and he doesn’t know whether to escape it or deal with it.
I look away quickly, trying to return to the peace, but all I can think about is him.
That night after lights-out, I tiptoe from room to room until I see a door that’s open a crack. Somehow, I know.
I push it open just far enough to see him sitting on his bed. The window’s open, and moonlight illuminates his beautiful face and body. He’s shirtless.
His face changes when he sees me.
“You,” he whispers.
The shock of hearing someone speak for the first time in three days — of hearing his deep voice for the first time — tightens my body. I go to him, more boldly than I would approach a stranger out in the regular world, and put my finger to his lips.
“You’re driving me crazy.” He catches my hand in both of his.
“Sshhh.” I cup his cheek and gasp when he licks my palm.
Pulled in by mindless attraction, I straddle this stranger and perch on his thighs. I stroke his broad back and shoulders, daring to suck on his neck. His skin is so warm. Salty. He sinks his fingers into my curls, his touch unbelievably pleasurable, then twists my hair harder and harder, encouraged by my quickening breath, until I let out a little cry.
When he kisses my lips, it’s sudden and taking. Quick, rough, short kisses, hard and abrupt. I’ve never been kissed like that. I shiver, sinking down on his lap until I’m sitting on the large bulge in his shorts.
“You’re so hot,” he pants between kisses. “You’re so irritating. I can’t think—”
“Ssh, ssh, shh,” I soothe, sliding my hands over his the heat of his bare chest. I won’t let him goad me into talking. He groans when I stroke his nipples. I crouch to taste one, swirling my tongue over the tiny hard nub, and his fist tightens in my hair.
“I want to see you,” he whispers. “I want to see your body.”
I straighten, lift the hem of my nightgown to my waist, and nod at him in the moonlight. He gets the hint, pulling the sheer fabric quickly over my head.
“Beautiful,” he hisses, staring at my freckled shoulders, my breasts, the smooth expanse of my stomach.
In a second, my breasts are in his hands. I stifle my whimpers in his hard shoulder as he squeezes and caresses the soft curves, pinching my puffy nipples until tears spring to my eyes.
“Tell me what you want.” He lifts my chin in his hand. His dark hair falls over his forehead, his face half-shadowed in the moonlight. “Talk to me.”
I pull his palm back to my breast and clasp it tightly, thrusting my yielding flesh into his grasp, letting him know that I want more force. He responds, and I hug him tight, biting my lip to keep quiet.
“I’m going to make you scream.” His whisper jerks my head up from his shoulder. “I know you’ve been dying to. You can’t help but make noise.”
I shake my head firmly and kiss his hot mouth before he can tempt me with more words. All I’m wearing are my panties, and they’re soaked with excitement. I grind against the thick stem of his erection, shaking with arousal, hoping that I’m getting his shorts wet too.
He breaks the kiss forcefully, which just gets me more excited.
“Lie down.” It’s meant as an order, but it comes out a plea. His deep voice cracks.
Instead, I trail kisses over his jaw and stroke the firm planes of his back. As much as I want his force, I also want to take care of him. He shudders under my touch and groans when my hand slides down the front of his shorts to cup his hard, hard cock.
I barely have the chance to give him a squeeze before my wrists are caught in his grip. When I make a noise of excitement, he groans again.
“Lie down, baby,” he repeats softly.
He needs me to. I see that longing on his face, and it twines around my body, binding me close. I’m aroused and nervous because I’m suddenly very aware that I know nothing about this man. There’s some demon he’s fighting, and it’s brought us together in this room. Naked, or nearly so.
But I picture him on top, giving me all his weight and force, and shiver with need. Scrambling off his lap, I stretch out on the narrow bed.
In one quick tug, my panties are off. His blue eyes widen in the darkness, staring between my legs. He pulls my thighs apart, stroking my puffy lips, and spreads them to expose my throbbing pussy.
A giggle of pure excitement escapes me. Instead of glaring, his face darkens with lust.
“You’re soaked.” Each word that breaks the mandate of silence is a tiny arrow lodging in my body. “I’ve been wanting to taste you since the first day. Let’s see how quiet you can be.”
He buries his face in my pussy.
I bite his pillow as he licks my tender flesh. His shoulders shake. The emotion coming at me is as overwhelming as his lips on my clit and his tongue in my cunt. I bury my fingers in his dark hair and close my thighs around his head, holding him while he undoes me.
As he takes me to the edge, I can’t help but moan. Soft, panting moans while he sucks on my clit and teases my entrance with those beautiful fingers. He seems to understand how good it feels to have my opening massaged without being penetrated. How, even though I’m holding him close, I’m self-conscious about being eaten, and I tremble under the intensity of his mouth.
Just before I spill over into orgasm, he stops.
I reach up to him, my eyes pleading, barely catching myself before I beg out loud. He smiles.
“There’s something I want to do first.” He brushes his mouth over mine, sharing my juices. “Since it’s so hard for you to keep still.”
Standing abruptly, he goes to his closet. The rooms here are bare, and he has only a few clothes hung up. Taking out a robe, he pulls the sash free of its loops and stares at it for a minute in silence.
He comes to the bed and kneels above me, trailing the tip of the sash over my sensitized skin. I gasp when he pushes the fabric against my pussy, rubbing my lips and clit.
“Can I tie you up, baby?” His voice is low and throaty. “Shake your head if you don’t want me to.”
That sash in his hand is more than simple fun and games. It means something to him. An ex-girlfriend? Ex-wife? The demon he’s exorcising? God, I don’t know this man at all, not even his name, and yet I’m here trusting him, naked and close to coming.
I look up into his blue eyes, gleaming in the moonlight, and thread my fingers through his hair. He crouches over me, stroking my curves.
“We don’t have to,” he reassures me. “It’s enough to touch you…to taste you.”
God, I want him. I want to see what it means to him when he uses that sash. Taking comfort in the fact that there are people in the rooms on either side, I lift my arms above my head, cross my wrists, and give him a nod.
He exhales and swiftly lashes my wrists to the bed. I feel so vulnerable as he runs his hands over my body, feeling me at his leisure. All my nerves are heightened, making it harder to keep quiet. Harder to stay still. When he rolls my puckered nipples between his fingers, I cry out and bury my face in the pillow.
I hear his soft sounds of satisfaction at being in control now. His hot hands open my thighs with more force; his firm licks on my pussy are more dominating. More invasive. Less raw and emotional. But I know that control is fragile. An illusion.
I shudder under his relentless attention and all the stimulation. It’s clear that he finds my vulnerability deeply arousing, comforting even, because he can imagine he’s in charge. When he lifts his head, his face soaked with lust and my juices, I want to strip bare for him, peel back every layer of us both. I’m so close to babbling, begging for his name, telling him mine, asking for all the words.
So I bite my lip hard as he strips off his black boxers and his gorgeous cock springs free, thick and flushed. He strokes it, pointing it at my aching pussy.
“Don’t you want to come?” he asks harshly. “You’re shaking, you can’t even hold still for me. Beg for it.”
I arch my hips, thrusting my pussy shamelessly toward him, pleading with every muscle in my body.
He smiles grimly, then bends closer, cradling my face in his warm hands, playing nice now. His cock nudges my clit, and I gasp.
“Come on, baby.” His tone softens. “Come on, beautiful girl. You can have the biggest orgasm.” I whimper, and satisfaction flashes in his eyes. “I know how much your little pussy needs it. All you need to do is ask.”
On the surface, it’s cruel. He’s trying to break down my boundaries, to win. But something deeper is going on, and I’m compelled to dig in my heels and not give in. To change the course of whatever he’s playing out.
A tear rolls down my cheek, squeezed out by the sheer intensity of the situation. He growls and laps it up like he’s in the desert, thirsting for that single drop.
Tugging at the sash on my wrists, I give him an inch of concession. I shape a word silently with my lips.
It’s enough. He groans and dives between my legs. I can’t keep back my moans as he licks every sensitive crevice. When his mouth surrounds my clit, sucking the little nub, my orgasm takes me over suddenly, by surprise. I spasm and shake, climaxing hard, closing my thighs around his head.
He doesn’t stop. He keeps tonguing my clit, gripping my ass to hold me to his face. I’m so wet, dripping juices onto his bed, and I can’t stop coming. He growls into my crotch, reveling in my helplessness, as my hips rise off the bed and I buck uncontrollably.
I’m about to fly apart, but he’s holding me together.
My noises turn pleading.
Finally, he lifts his head, and a shock passes between us.
“Do you want me inside you?” He’s deliberate, controlled, but his arms are shaking.
Yes, I want to shout.
I hold his gaze for a full minute. He stops moving. Everything stops moving. Then I give him a single nod.
He exhales in a rush, and warm, hard flesh presses against my cunt. I lift my hips, and in an instant, his cock sinks into my tightness. He’s big and heavy, and I gasp at being filled so completely. But my pussy’s so slick and hot that it welcomes him in. I want to clutch him to me, but my hands are bound. So I lock my legs around his strong back as he fucks me deeper and deeper.
He’s babbling, like he’ll die if he doesn’t talk. You’re so incredible. So wet, so hot. I want to fuck you forever.
I shudder as he unleashes an onslaught of fierce thrusts, pushing my knees to my chest, fucking out whatever ghosts are inside him. Piercing me again and again with his thick cock and the arrows of his words.
As I grip him with my eager cunt, straining at my bonds, I manage to capture his lips. I kiss him long and hard, our tongues tangling. Finally, he jerks away and stares at me.
“It’s you,” he whispers, looking stunned. Seeing the woman in front of him and not a ghost.
I nod and tug at the sash on my wrists, pleading with my eyes for him to release me. Swiftly, he undoes the knot. When I slide my hands up his back, over his muscled ass, into his hair, he groans. He’s so close, and God, so deep, hitting the back of my pussy with savage plunges. My breasts press against his hard chest, and my world narrows down to the ferocious pleasure of being fucked by this man.
His blue eyes open wide as he shudders, thrusts, and comes deep inside me. With each spurt, he groans and grips my hair, drinking in my moans. He never looks away from my face.
Finally, he rolls off me, panting, and I curl up in his arms. As our pounding hearts slow, he kisses the top of my head, and I press my lips against his shoulder. I know what he’s found. For the time being, I’ve found it too.
Shortly before dawn, I stir awake. We’re folded together on his narrow bed. Wake-up time is coming soon for everyone, and I need to slip back to my room before the others rise.
I inhale his warm skin, brushing his dark hair off his forehead, and his eyes blink open. He smiles sleepily and gives me a good-morning kiss. I point to the bedside clock and he nods.
This is the moment for me to make a graceful exit. To observe the rules of the retreat for the next week, because we’ve both gotten what we need. But his arms are still wrapped around me, and I don’t want to let go.
Pulling back, I run my finger along his forearm. Then I trace letters to form a word. He raises his eyebrows, but he follows along in silence.
I add the question mark with my eyes. He thinks it over and nods, a smile tugging at his lips.
Leaning over me, he traces an answering word on my stomach. It tickles and I shiver, trying to focus on the shapes.
His name. I realize that by giving me that, he’s making this real. It’s between us. He’s dropped his baggage. It might still be in the room, but he’s not carrying it.
I hesitate before replying. There’s something about anonymity that’s appealing. But there’s no going back, only forward.
On his arm, I write JOCELYN. His eyebrows lift, and I can hear his deep voice saying beautiful.
Before I rise, he twines one of my red curls around his finger.
I put on my simple clothes and look back at him once more. He’s sprawled on the bed, relaxed, at ease — a different man. There’s peace in this silence.
We both smile. I tiptoe out and walk into the moment before dawn.
Thank you for reading!
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