Page 61 of A Foster Fling

“What is this power you have over me, Zelinda?” he asks.

That’s when I know everything Pearl said was true. There’s something inside of me that many will hunt and try to find. But not everyone has bad blood, and now, if I look up into Abbe’s eyes, I can see he’s worthy of the power inside of me.

And this time when his cock enters me, there’s pain, but there’s also pleasure. The way he moves in and out, thrusting harder and harder, has my back arching off the bed. His lips seal around my nipple, and his thumb finds my clit. He stretches me as he moves inside of me, and I can feel myself tightening like a coil. Then, when his thumb does one more swipe at my clit, I detonate. Everything explodes, and I watch as the aura around the both of us glows a bright golden.

I’m no longer a prisoner inside the tower. I’m now free, and Abbe’s heart beats with the same rhythm as mine.

Part Two

Abbe comes and goes. Sometimes he stays for days, sometimes mere hours. But I’ve been lucky so far, because when he leaves, Pearl comes. Sometimes a day later, sometimes two, but she does show up. She still touches me, shows me she loves me in ways a mother never should, but I no longer feel jealous when she leaves.

I’m excited when she finally leaves, because then I know Abbe will be back, and his love is the only love I crave.

He’s told me a lot about his life. He has a wife, and they’ve been trying to have children for years. He no longer loves her, but he also can’t leave her yet. He fears she’s too delicate, and without him, she surely will perish. I can see sadness when he speaks of her, when he talks about his duty of trying to create a daughter or a son, and then every month, it fails. He says they succeeded once, only to have the child taken away.

He truly believes they were cursed, that he was cursed to have this waning lust for his wife, and she was cursed to never carry another child. So now, when he’s intimate with her, he says he pictures me. He knows it’s wrong. He feels terrible, but I understand he thinks if he gives her a child, he can leave. Then he can be with me, and he can save me from the tower. Abbe is fearful to leave his wife alone because of the curse that eats away at both of their bodies. He doesn’t want it to spread to me.

Today we lie on my bed, and he feeds me the fresh strawberries he brought from the market. We speak of the future, of what it would be like when he finally lifts me up onto Hans’ back, and we ride off into the sunset. He tells me he’s going to build me a home, he’s going to fill my belly with babies, and we’re going to live happily ever after. I long for that. I can’t wait to leave this tower, but deep inside, I know Pearl will never let me leave.

“I love the way your lips wrap around that strawberry,” he says, his eyes darkening. “The way the juices land on your lips, and your tongue gathers it with slow, deliberate strokes.”

I can feel my stomach tighten, and the space between my legs grows moist, as it always does for him. He loves to put his face between my legs, and he could stay down there for hours. I want to do the same for him.

I push him onto his back and straddle his waist. I let my fingernails glide down his bare chest, and I can feel his cock harden beneath my ass. Whenever he’s here, we don’t wear clothing, there’s no need, he’s inside of me more than he isn’t.

I grind against his length, the wetness between my legs coating him, and I bend down to take one of his nipples into my mouth, flicking it with my tongue. The wiry hair on his chest is more gray than black, but I like it. He’s older, much older, and I like that too. I slowly kiss my way down his chest, along his abs, and then I’m there in front of his cock. The wide purple head, looking angry and hard. The veins along his length protrude and pulse. My mouth gathers with saliva, and I crave the taste of him.

My tongue flattens along his head, gathering up the salty taste of him and the musky taste of me. He’s already been inside of me twice today, so my essence is coded along his cock. His hands grip into the sheets, his knuckles whitening as I slowly take him down into my throat. My tongue swipes along the velvet steel, collecting every bit of flavor I can, and then I bob along his length in the same motion as when he’s inside of me.

His fingers slip into my hair, the long tresses hanging around me, and gathering around his body. He begins to thrust upward into my mouth, down my throat, gagging me, bringing tears to my eyes, but I love it. I love every inch of him inside of me whenever he’s inside of me… Wherever he’s inside of me.

“Zel!” he cries. “I’m going to come.”

I know what that means. It drips out of me constantly. This time I want to swallow it... Every drop. I want his essence inside of me. I want him to stay with me long after he’s left. So I continue to slurp his cock, picking up speed, meeting his thrusts, gagging around his length, and then he’s shooting his cum down my throat. I swallow it all, every bit of the salty, bitter taste of him, and I love it.

“Zelinda!”

We both freeze at the sound of her voice. I look up into his eyes as they widen with fear, and I imagine mine look similar.

“You have to hide,” I tell him as I jump up off the bed and grab my robe. “You have to hide now.”

He looks around frantically. There aren’t many places to hide in here, so he scoops up the strawberries, his clothing, his boots, and he dives under the bed.

“Zelinda!” she calls out again. “Open the door.”

I gather my hair up on top of my head, pull my robe tight around me, and give the room one last look. It smells of sex, and the bed is rumpled, but there’s nothing I can do. I can only hope she doesn’t realize, and if she does? I can say it’s been a long time since she’s visited me, and I’ve had to resort to pleasuring myself.

I hurry down the steps, my feet nearly tripping over the stones when her fist bangs on the door

“Zelinda!” This time she’s sounding a little more angry.

“Coming!” I call.

I turn the many locks on the door, then swing the iron slab open. She’s standing there with a basket in her hand, filled with apples, with a tray in the other, apple pie, no doubt.

“What took you so long, child?” she asks, irritation coating her words.

“I was sleeping,” I tell her.