Unspoken Pleasures {A Collection Of Short Steamy Stories}

What was the word?

The word that vividly captures how heavenly and striking Raphael was. It was outrageous that I was his stalker.

I mean, I'm a plain-looking girl becoming an adult who was still struck down with low self-esteem and a drawing book to betide myself.

But when he did picked up my younger sister who had fallen while playing before me at the park, I knew at that point that I wanted him.

Raina, my sister raced towards me after he had strutted off raving about how this handsome man was everything like a dad.

We never had a dad, and Raina possibly saw him as one, but I wasn't seeing him as one. I was having dirty thoughts, and those thoughts turned me into a stalker.

Next, I'd stepped up my game walking up to him in the grocery store while pretending it was a coincidence. But what I saw of him should have propelled me into hating him. Funnily, fluids dropped from the folds of my organ.

He had thought that I had wanted to rob him only to have the cops rain on me. My mother came to my rescue, and I finally had to agree never to steal again and then sealed it with a document.

But I guessed my stalking on Raphael never faltered. He was never married, and he never smiled after I had learned his girlfriend had jilted him for his best friend.

Yet something about him was striking which I couldn't perceive yet. The mere sight of him turned me on, it struck my nipples to pebbles and made my breath hitch while making my sex organ react provocatively.

Reality dawned on me when Mum was shackled by loan sharks. Mum had taken a loan to start up a restaurant. But one funny night, fire burnt up our little stall, and Mum was left to start all over again.

But how would Mum pay back the already-taken loan?

I would catch Mum crying in the corner of the room which we shared. She tried to push through, I knew she tried. Trying to make ends meet and encouraging me not to give up college.

But I saw her pains and it became worse when Raina was diagnosed with appendicitis and she needed surgery. I had to do something; I couldn't just sit back and watch while Mum suffered but where would I get the funds for all of that?

Raphael Turner.

His name whooshed into me like still-wind. After class, I strung my handbag over my shoulder and then started at Turner's Company. He was a CEO, basked often behind glassy doors and windows.

Suddenly, my self-esteem seemed to have soared high, as I pushed through the doors acting classy in my tattled-torn shoes and worn-out clothes.

I pushed open the door after my little display in the lobby. Raphael Turner looked up from the desk, studying me.

"You," his eyes caught recognition.

He remembered me, that was a start, I reassured myself shutting the door behind me.

"Mr. Raphael Turner, " I called out, meeting his gaze while taking the swivel chair before him.

He must have thought me mad as I sat before him. I tried to quell the rumbling in my stomach; they were like waves crashing at the hull of a ship. But realizing what I needed from him, I had to stand right up again.

"I thought you already signed an agreement, what are you doing here?" He asked with a cold-stoned face while placing his pen on the desk.

"God did blessed us with feet, didn't he?" I asked.

Stunned by my sentence, he stared wide-eyed. "What?"

"And he did bless us with light, darkness, and life yet it doesn't seem to go round."

He scoffed, "Is this but a joke? Save that for the lord's day. Young girl, I could have the cops put you in jail this instant....,"

He stopped as I went down on my knees. "I need your help, Mr. Turner. I had to push off your assistant hoping to gain an audience alone with you."

He sat back, giving up yet not pleased with the sight before him.

"My sis is critically ill. She's in a lot of pain, she badly needs surgery.....,"

"Get out." He fixed a dead stare on me.

My heart jumped, was he even listening to me? My hands were beginning to shake.

"Didn't you hear what I said? I said get out. This is not some charity hall that you run in here and pour out your heart. Neither am I the son of God." He said to me.

"I would do anything...," I rasped ignoring the still voice telling me to give up.

"I would have the security guards throw you out if you don't leave my office." He warned.

I stood up, shoving a hand through my dark hair as drops of tears ran down my cheeks. But I wouldn't give up, I came here for a reason and I must have it, I reminded myself.

My fingers began to unbutton my cream shirt. "You can fuck me right here like you do to those girls in Virginia's inn. I don't mind, as long as you help me out." My voice quivered.

I don't know what shook him most; the fact that I knew about his secret escapades at Virginia's inn or my audacity in having him fuck me. I took off my shirt allowing his eyes to wander my almost naked body.

I was in a pale-colored brassiere which had cupped up my full breasts proudly, I was breathing hard aware of the sweet sensations shooting through my body while he stared at me.

"Tell me, how old are you, girl?" He asked, pushing back his chair while coming towards me.

"I'm twenty," I replied to him.

He seemed composed, not even slightly turned on by my breasts. I started to reach for the clasp.

"I think you should reconsider that." His dark eyes spook more darkness than the sight of him. He picked up my shirt and threw it on my body.

"If you ever do this again, I won't take it easy on you," he said, then jerked the door open.

Wasn't he slightly aroused by my little display? At least, he would want to unclasp my brassieres, cup my breasts, and push his groin to caress my crotch.

Or wouldn't he even take more pleasurable delight in having me in his arms fucking me to insanity? But I guess I was wrong.

He waited till I was done wearing my shirt, then motioned me out with a disgusted frown.

"Now, get out."