Chapter 45

Isabella's POV

His touch upon my heart was tender amidst our shared ecstasy as more and more tears gathered in my eyes in the darkness of the room. Though his touch showed his love, his desire, his pleasure I wanted to hear him say it.

“…Master, do you... enjoy kissing me? Do you like having me?"

My breath was ragged, my chest rising and falling in irregular patterns, yet his palm remained steady on my chest so did his thrust and his cock on my G-spot driving me to unimaginable lengths of pleasure till it felt too good to scream. I just was enjoying it. Silently.

"I enjoy kissing you," I murmured, my voice low and silky. "I enjoy it very much."

"I like when you hold my neck," I continued, my words eager and urgent, "when you press against my body, when you're inside me. I like how you make love to me, how you control my every breath—"

Before I could utter another word, his hand moved swiftly from my breast to my neck, silencing me with a firm grasp, his fingers entwining in the hair at the nape of my neck.

I struggled to voice my thoughts, but his touch held me in a vice-like grip, rendering me mute once more.

I was forced to lie deeper on my back, straighten my chest, and welcome the master's kiss again that delved into my whole being. The powerful, slightly rough tip of the tongue filled my mouth again.

I gave up resistance and let the happy, erotic saliva slide down the corners of my mouth. In the darkness, I lost judgment of time and space. I lost shame. I lost my mind.

I'm uncertain if dawn still lingers outside, if the sun has set, or if we remain confined to this bedroom till evening.

What I do know is that I'm ensconced in the master's arms. In this fleeting moment, the trivialities of returning to the hotel tonight, changing out of my dirty clothes, working, or even the fading marks from the master's earlier touch, all fade into insignificance.

I've surrendered completely, for I've come to trust the master wholeheartedly now. This much is certain.

The master claims me repeatedly, in a torrent of shared orgasms too numerous to count.

After we finished making love over and over again, the air in the room retained a warmth that mirrored the lingering taste of our desires.

It smelt so sweet. So errotic. I loved and enjoyed it.

The darkness settled around us, softening the edges of our silhouettes on the wall. My voice was still scratchy from screaming so loudly, but I turned towards my Master and asked, "Master, can I listen to music?"

Though my voice wasn't audible he could hear me because his ears were so close to my lips. I wanted to reach out and bite his ear lobe but I was too exhausted now.

His arms, which had embraced me moments ago, relaxed gently as he nodded.

I smiled in response and shifted my gaze toward the bedside table where my phone lay. I tapped on it so it went on then with a sense of quiet anticipation, I reached for it and selected a song that had become my favorite song to play at night: Richard Sanderson's "Reality."

I loved this song so much.

The song's prelude filled the room, creating an intimate space where time seemed to stand still:

"Met you by surprise
I didn't realize
That my life would change forever
Saw you standing there
I didn't know I'd care
There was something special in the air
Dreams are my reality
The only kind of real fantasy"

Each word resonated with a deeper meaning now, as I listened intently resting in my master's arms and sharing this song with him. It felt like I was sharing a piece of myself with him and he hugged me tighter as though he appreciated it.

I loved that he did, and sank more into his arms.

This song, once my solace in the quiet of night in my room, now symbolized the deep bond I shared with my Master.

As the lyrics unfolded, they painted a picture of emerging feelings and unspoken truths:

"Tell me that's true
Feelings that are new
I feel something special about you"

I dared to lift my eyes and meet my Master's gaze, though his features remained unseen in the shadows. My Master turned his gaze towards me at the same moment.

In that shared moment, we both realized the depth of our feelings for each other.

The song continued to play as we eventually drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other's embrace.

Mr. L left for work in the evening, his departure signaling the end of another day in Melbourne's bustling heart. As soon as he was out the door, I parted the heavy curtains and gazed out at the cityscape adorned with countless twinkling lights— I stood there, mesmerized by the beauty of the evening sky.

Life felt momentarily perfect in that peaceful solitude.

After taking in the view for a while, I finally moved to flick on the bedroom light, momentarily disoriented by the sudden change from darkness. From there, I made my way into the living room where a fresh delivery of clothes awaited. I slipped into a comfortable set, settling onto the sofa to check Mr. L's recent message on my phone.

Mr. L: Dinner will be delivered shortly. Afterward, if you want to leave, the driver will be available until 22:00.

I bit my lip, contemplating his offer, then typed out my reply.

Me: What if I don't want to leave?

Mr. L: You can stay in the apartment, baby girl. The driver will be available all day tomorrow, whether you want to return to the hotel or explore the city. I have work, so I won't be able to join you again this week.

A pang of sadness tugged at me. Already, I missed him terribly. I think I'm addicted.