She's wearing her new dress tonight. A short skirt. She's not used to the feel of a short skirt, so she has worn tights beneath them. Thin tights. It's Spring. Too warm for thick ones.
They have had dinner, and are strolling in the approaching dusk in the park, talking about idle things, yet important things. Holding hands. There is certainly an electricity in the air. She can barely keep her mind in the conversation. She wants him to grab her and take her, right there. Damn the consequences. A ticket for lewd behavior or what-have-you, it would be worth it, she thinks to herself.
They've reached a partially secluded part of the park. There is a large tree nearby, and she realizes he's subtly guiding her toward it. She has barely registered that when she finds herself pinned against it, the bark rough against her bare arms, his hands circling her wrists, above her head. He kisses her, passionately, fiercely. He pushes her hard against the tree, knowing she likes the feel of being crushed between him and a wall. But the tree has added new sensations. The bark is rough, and there is a slight breeze running across her heated skin. She can hear the traffic on the road, not far from where they are. His lips move from hers and bite at the sensitive skin of her throat. He has learned so much about what she likes...she moans gently. He stops, and puts his lips to her ear, murmuring her name in her ear, private words just for her ears. The endearments meant for her ears, the ones that make her melt, even with her hands still pinned over her head. In her mind, she can see the intense look in his eyes, the lust darkening them, the grin of knowing he is making her stomach tighten, and making her moist with anticipation. He lets go of her wrists, and she wraps them around him, pulling him close. One of his hands immediately clasps around her neck, pushing her head hard against the tree, cutting off her breathing just enough that she gasps. She becomes aware that he is watching her. He knows this is what she likes. She is so focused on the incredible sensations of his toying with the control of letting her breathe, then tightening again, that she barely registers his other hand, until suddenly, it is between her legs, rubbing the tights and underwear.
"Now, you see, I can't get to what I want. I don't LIKE when I can't get what I want," he murmurs, pushing his body hard against the tree with the words, the back of his hand against her moist folds. There is a pause, and she feels a new sensation. It isn't his hand. He murmurs her name, in a gentle, warning tone. "You need to hold very still."
With a sudden thrill and slight horror, she realizes that the new sensation is the feel of his pocket knife, opened, poised at the very entrance to her insides. She holds very still as the sharp blade breaks through the fabric of her tights and the underwear beneath. She gasps in horror - or lust? - as she feels the cold metal of the blade as he cuts a hole in the fabric layers. Then, the cool metal disappears as quickly as it appeared. He kisses her lips then, and after a moment, she feels his hand back at the hole he has just created.
"Much better..." he murmurs as his hand finds just the right spot, and she is struggling to moan, but every time she tries, he cuts her off with the hand that is at her throat. He is toying with her, pushing her to the edge. He toys with her, and puts just some of one finger inside her, but then taking it away. "You want it, don't you? You want me like this, don't you?"
