Building a Connection

One minute Traci Williams was walking, and the next she was stretched out on the sidewalk on her left side. Trying to jump up as if nothing happened, she cried out. Hopping over to her laptop handbag, she thanked God that no one was around at this time of the afternoon. “Are you okay?” Groaning in embarrassment, Traci lifted her head to see her hunky African American landlord, Raun Hartman. She just knew he had to be lurking somewhere to witness another of her klutzy accidents. Since moving into the apartment above his, he has had to rescue her twice. Traci wished that he would see her as a strong and confident young woman. All this rescuing was beginning to chafe her pride. No, it was chafing her pride to be seen as a helpless damsel.

“I’m fine.” Looking around for what had caused her down fall. “Something tripped me.” Raun looked down at her long skirt, and feet encased in stilettos. “Maybe, your shoes?” Although Traci’s calf muscles agreed with him, she gave him a disgusted sneer and insisted, “You need to fix the sidewalk, before someone breaks their neck.”

Smiling Raun shook his head, “you need help?”

“No. I’m fine,” and she decided to prove it by taking a small step. “Shit!”

“You’re not fine. Let me help you.” Traci thought help would be in aiding, or guiding her to hop to her apartment. She was not looking forward to the journey. Suddenly her world went topsy-turvy again. She felt weightless, and then she was in Raun’s arms, and his long strides ate up the driveway heading towards his apartment, on the ground floor.

“Wait, where you taking me?”

“I’m willing to carry you, but not all the way up the steps to your apartment.

“Did I ask you to carry me?” Her Barbadian accent became more pronounced. “I just need a little help to the bottom of the steps.”

“Don’t be an idiot—“

“Excuse you? Look put me down before you mek me sin my soul.”

“Sin your soul? Did you just say, sin your soul?” Raun burst out laughing, and almost dropped her in the process.

“Look wuh you doing.” She grabbed him tighter around his neck. “I don’t need no more bruises.” Although Traci was trying to act brave, his laughter was doing something to her insides. It began pulsing and quivering. She could barely catch her breath around the intoxicating scent permeating his body. She wanted to wrap her long legs around his waist and ride his cock. She could feel the pressure of it against her thigh. What was wrong with her? She became a sex phene anytime she was in close proximity. She tried to relax, but just the thought of assuaging the ache between her thighs, made her stiffen up.

Raun took her into his apartment. He had left the door open when he ran outside. He had seen her take a serious tumble, and his heart had lurched. He may have shouted. I can’t lose you. He only met her two days ago, but he felt like he had known her forever. He wondered what she was thinking, as she breathed harshly against his neck. He tightened his hold around her knees. His fingers around her waist ached to move up higher and squeeze her right breast. Groaning Raun rushed to get her out of his arms. He eased her down on the sofa, and stood back sweating. His breathing also increased. She wasn’t heavy, but her apple and spice scent tickled his nose, and stiffen his cock further. Taking a deep breath he smiled at her and began to explain that he would get the medical supplies to bandage her ankle. He froze when he saw her stricken expression as she looked around his living room. He didn’t know what had spooked her.

Traci looked around his beige and brown toned apartment. It was ultra modern. A huge television screen dominated the far wall facing the sofa on which she sat, with entertainment apparel below on a simple glass table. What held her attention though was the nude red head wrapped in chains from her hands to her torso, and she was a natural red head. There was a succession of photos of nude women holding on to chains. Some had chains wrapped around their lower bodies, some around their upper bodies, or some just showed women parts (an arm, a leg, a foot, etc.). Some women were biting the chains, as if they were trying to escape. Traci whimpered, and forced her horrified gaze away from the photos. Raun was standing in front of her. Her eyes refused to go below his waist, as she contemplated her position in the home of another pervert.

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