I was slightly drunk, my sparkly black heels clacking on the pavement as I searched for a cab. It was that time of night when the bars are closing, just before two a.m.. I should have gone home with my roommate when she left earlier, but I was feeling a little reckless. My ex had called earlier, saying he wanted me back. He said he loved me, and that he was sorry. I hung up on him and flirted away my woes on a cute, well-dressed guy at the bar. At least he bought me drinks. I told my roommate I would take a cab home as I had plans to get smashing drunk. I now realized that was a mistake. It was very late, the night was dark, and there wasn't a cab in sight.
I pulled down my mini skirt, adjusting it as I walked down the empty street. I couldn't believe how slutty I had dressed tonight. My ex's phone call had made me act a little rashly. My laced purple corset pushed my breasts up so they almost tipped over. My skimpy sweater fought the chill, but nothing protected my long legs, toned thighs, and bubble butt from the eyes of every man at the bar. I wore my long brown curls down my back. I felt a flush of embarrassment as I remembered the display I gave, leaning over and flirting, my nipples almost freeing themselves. I felt a little ridiculous after a while, trying to forget another man by craving the attention of everyone else. I left the bar with an apology to the guy I had been talking to.
There had been one man standing in a corner, near the pool table. He had been dressed in all black and had gazed at me heatedly, almost angrily, as I left. I looked away. I had enough of flirting that night and he had seemed a little dangerous.
I continued walking on the dark boulevard looking for a cab. I might as well walk back to the bar and call one. Or I could just walk home. There weren't any cabs and my flat was only four blocks away. I had promised my friend I'd take one, but she wouldn't know the difference.
Just as I made the decision to walk home, I heard footsteps coming from behind me. I turned, and warning bells sounded in my mind. Anyone wandering at night would probably not be up to anything good. It was the same man from the pool table at the bar. He wore a dark shirt with a band logo, and dark pants. He was about 5'10'', stocky and good-looking with a strong jaw and dark brown hair. I couldn't tell his age. He might have been anywhere from thirty to forty-five. Regardless, he was much older than my own twenty-four. He stopped when he saw me, and his eyes narrowed.
"What," he said, a sneer in his voice. "No dupe to lead on and pay for your drinks anymore?" he began to move around me, car keys in hand. The alcohol made me bold.
"Hey," I said angrily, affronted by his nasty tone. I yanked on his arm forcing him to turn back to me. "You don't know me at all. I didn't do anything to you."
"That's the point." He eyed my hand on his arm and something dark glinted in his eyes as they met mine. They were a deep navy blue, almost black. He came a little closer, that same heated look on his face. "You won't do anything to me, and I don't get to do anything to you. But that's the point of all this, isn't it?" He gestured to my outfit and I flushed. "You just stand there at the bar looking like you do, and I have to watch you and then go home and think about you. Maybe I'll take my dick out and pretend I'm feeling your skin with my hands." He gripped my arm, reversing our touches. I saw a tattoo of a dragon on his forearm. I felt a tingle of danger and something else, something like excitement. "Your fucking amazing skin." My breath caught at the strength in his hands. His fingers rubbed along the inside of my arm, pushing up my sweater.
He stood there, an inch away from me, and I felt arousal and the absurd urge to kiss him. Beneath his anger, I sensed something a little deeper: hurt. I didn't move. His eyes changed from anger to surprise as he looked into mine. Then they became speculative. He gripped my other arm and pulled me closer, slowly, testing something. His hold was hard, but not painful. His anger made me hot, and the vulnerability I sensed underneath tamped down any fear.
This was a stranger! I thought. I should be running away! Instead, I moved a fraction of an inch closer to his odd embrace. He breathed in, smelling my perfume and my arousal. I closed my eyes and made a small purr in my throat. He touched his hand to my jaw a little roughly and turned my face towards his.
"Look at me," His voice was deep and gravelly. I was lured, as if I was under some spell. I opened my eyes.
He kissed me, tasting of beer and sweet oblivion. I opened my mouth wide for his tongue. I wanted this. My nipples puckered and he pulled me closer, roughly, moving his arms around me. He moved them down to my ass and gripped me hard. He plundered me, still tasting of anger. His tongue mated with mine, and his body was hard against my sensitive breasts. He crushed me a little and I kissed him with all the pent up turmoil I felt from the phone call earlier that day. I used his arousal and he took mine. We both lost ourselves, pressing our bodies against each other. His cock was rigid against my stomach and I moved so I cradled it, his thigh between mine. I panted.
His hands moved up and down my body, worshiping my ass, the curves of my waste, wrapping around to my tits. He squeezed hard, and then plucked my nipple through my corset. I moaned, thrusting my tongue into his mouth, gripping his neck. Shit. I pulled back, panting, dazed at this man's power. What had come over me?
"I'm sorry." I said, stepping back. I put my hand to my mouth. I tried to catch my breath. I put my hands over my sensitive breasts. He stood there, breathing heavily. His eyes darkened, watching my hands.
"No." he said, stepping closer. "You don't get to be sorry." He suddenly seemed like a villain sans cape and mask. Double shit. My desire for him was still strong.
I knew. When I had kissed him, wrapped myself around him: Some primal part of me knew that I was acquiescing. I knew I wouldn't be given a choice. My breath became short as I realized this man wasn't going to let me go. My heels seemed so flimsy for flight. Although he wasn't very big, he was much bigger than I was.
I felt fear and that same damn arousal from knowing I was overpowered and wanted. He came close to me, his eyes still heated and passion filled. He smiled a little at my calculating expression.
"My car is this way," he took my hand gently. He wasn't being forceful anymore, but that same undercurrent of strength and anger remained. I had a feeling that I was going to get punished for some blunder. It was a dark lure, like a drug.
I whimpered a little, fear taking over, and I began to back away. He pulled me forward, bent down and lifted me, caveman style. I squealed, suddenly deciding to fight. He clamped his arm around my legs. I knew my ass was open to the air, and I cursed myself for being naughty and deciding to forgo underwear. His other hand came up and spanked me hard. I squealed again and he chuckled. My heart was racing. I laughed, half in fear, half at the utter ridiculousness of this situation. He was taking me captive!
He walked, lugging me over his shoulder for another half block. I heard a car door click, a door open, and I was dumped onto plush leather seats. He leaned in and kissed me again, sliding his hand up my leg and in between my skirt. I crossed my legs tightly and he pushed passed them, opening them wide. His rough hand felt my pussy. One finger of his hand found the wetness there. He flicked my clit. I moaned. His other hand traced my collarbone, and then fastened my seatbelt.
"Submit," he whispered in my ear. "It will be so much better for you." He kissed my cleavage, right where the seatbelt nestled between my breasts. He shut the door, and the alcohol and desire made everything a little fuzzy for a few minutes. Before I got my wits back enough to try to get out, he was in the driver's seat, and the car started with a loud roar.
Great. A racecar, I thought sardonically. It had a Mustang symbol on the steering wheel. He zoomed off. He glanced over at me. Our eyes met and he winked. I was angry, but began accustoming myself to this strange experience. I shivered as I remembered his kiss, his touch on my clit, and how he felt me so expertly.
He was using his hand on the stick shift, but I felt like paying him back for what he did to me. I touched his hand, then stroked up his arm, which hardened as I touched. I then moved to his thigh. He groaned and glared at me, promising retribution for teasing him while his hands were tied.
I saw his massive erection. Damn. I didn't expect his cock to tent that high. I grew bold and leaned over. I nibbled his neck, then his ear. I bit down a little. He turned his head briefly and kissed me hard. He was breathing heavily again. "I want you so badly," he said roughly, his eyes on the road. "God, I've never wanted anyone this badly." He gritted his teeth, "But if you don't, say it now. Say it now, or never say it. Ever." I breathed in, shuddering a little. He sounded so intense. I didn't know him at all. I wanted him, but that fear was still there. It was part of my desire. I decided to be honest.