The first powerful stroke makes her cry out. The second splits her cervix. She cums on the third. A deep, thrumming that begins in her toes and runs in a rope through her head before shooting off into space.
She begs and pleads. She babbles. She closes her eyes and she cums over and over. Harder and harder.
Sometimes they walk. Hand in hand, strolling like young couples in love will. They talk. He is interested in her. He listens.
Usually, though, he kisses her. He steps in the door, takes her in his arms and kisses her until she melts. Face, shoulders, neck, top of her breasts, his kisses rain down upon her. Tonight was one of those nights.
He shoves his body up against her, pressing her back until she hits the wall. Her breath oomphs from her and he sucks it in with her soul. Hours they stand there kissing until her knees are weak and any resistance she might have had disappears in a puff cloud of smoke.
His hands roam her curves. Intimate with every detail. The heavy underside of her breast, the rounding of her hip. He fingers the outer portion of her thigh and palms the small of her back. His hands knead her shoulders and grasp her neck. Fingers press into her scalp.
She can't breathe for the kisses and can't stand for the way his hands strip her muscle from her bones. If his body wasn't sandwiching her against the wall so right, she thinks she would collapse.
He holds her up. Just holds her until it passes. She wonders how he stays so calm while her heart races. It bangs on her chest and fills her ears with the pounding need she associates with him.
Longing invades her every sense. She feels her fluids leaking down her legs, her scent ravages her nostrils. Her nipples are stiff where he touched them, tugged at them, pinched them. Her mouth is awash with his taste.
"Mmmmmm." He murmurs in her ear. "You're going to get it. I hope you have everything I sent you."
He lingers, his body close upon hers. Finally, he wraps an arm around her waist, pulls her tightly to his side and walks her down the hall.
Some days are light between them. Some days they have coffee or lunch in open patios throughout the city. Some nights they have earnest suppers, sharing dreams and food with equal aplomb.
Some days they walk in the sun and envision the other in a whirl of sweat and strain. Some nights they prowl in the moonlight like wolves and she wonders what would happen if he let her loose.
Other days his mood turns and he takes her. Long into those nights she runs, looking over her shoulder. The dark surrounds her and the air itself closes on her. Her heart bursts with the tirade unleashed upon her and she struggles for every breath.
When dawn comes, it is like a rainbow spread upon the grass of her soul. The light filters through blue and gold and the scent of spring pushes flowers into bloom. She wonders, sometimes, how he keeps her so afraid even as she knows him so well.
Maybe it's the way his excitement rises as her fears do. He turns completely wild with her need. Her anguish makes him fierce. Maybe it's that uncertainty is her companion and hope is barely acknowledged.
Sometimes she lives in a fantasy of silk and sweetness. Sometimes a heart pounding thriller. Some nights have full moons lighting lush open lawns sloping toward babbling brooks and cradled dreams. Sometimes the nights are dark forests of oppressive branches and lurking creatures behind every shadow.
When he takes her by the waist and leads her gently down the hall, she wonders only briefly what she will find at the end of their walk. It doesn't matter to her. She will go whatever awaits her.
When the phone rings. His ring. Text or call, her heart races. She leaps into his fast away arms. She feels him touch her as though he were next to her. Over her shoulder, looking on, his hand resting on the delicate curve where her neck glides into her collar bone, his thumbs claiming her.
The ring makes her sit up and go limp at the same time. Her breath puffs out until she is unable to catch it and bring it back in. If she has to answer, she finds herself panting as though she had run to the phone.
"What time do you get off?" The message asks.
Her fingers fumble a reply. "I can be home by 530. Showered by six. Is that okay?"
Normally she would take an hour or more to get ready. She won't keep him waiting. Never again. She learned that lesson a long time ago and she learned it well.
She has tested his limits. There was a summer night she lingered in the shower. Piddled in front the bathroom mirror. Fiddled with her hair. Tarried over her clothes. She couldn't seem to find the right outfit. She wanted everything perfect for him.
He was so patient. She would throw on a bathrobe to go check on him. He sat at the kitchen table, quietly working. He had his email up on the tablet. She would offer him wine or water, snacks or anything else. He quietly turned everything down.
She was more than forty minutes late. She thought she looked worth it when she was finally ready.
"Poor baby," she said when she finally came out. A bounce in her step. She wanted his approval. "I didn't mean to be so long." She wasn't really sorry.
He barely glances at her. A disappointing reaction. Doubt creeps into her ideal for the night. He finishes what he is working on, shuts down the tablet and rises.
"You look nice." He says.
She fumes inside as they walk to the car. She thinks she deserves a lot more than a "you look nice".
At the car, he straps her in and lingers a kiss on her lips. The effects leave her tingling for long minutes. Well after he starts the car and puts it into gear.
Before she knows where they are headed, he pulls into a parking lot and stops. It's the park near the house. He calmly walks around the car, opens her door and leans in. He holds her hand from opening the seat belt.
He reaches his hand down and brushes his thumb against her clit. Runs his fingers along her delicate lips. His mouth moves upon hers and nibbles. He strokes her. Kisses her firmly so she has nowhere to go.
His fingers slip up onto her clit and are insistent. The pressure of his mouth increases and she feels herself being forced upward. Gasping for air, burning for touch. She flares and melts when he presses against her.
She tries to moan or cry out, but his mouth overpowers her. Waves begin lapping at the junction of her thighs, in the rhythm of his fingers. His mouth moves corner to corner over hers and his fingers toy with the hood of her stiff nub. Her breath lolls in the heightening tensions. She squirms and with a nudge from his fingers, her wriggling bursts suddenly into struggles.
She loves to cum with his hard cock deep inside. When he forces her to orgasm without fucking her, though, she knows she is going to suffer. She wants to beg. She wants to try to change his mind. But the waves are becoming jolts of electricity searing her wire nerves and her thoughts are sparks in a night sky.
Her frantic squeals are sucked into his mouth. His kisses growing in intensity as she climbs the silver thread of her orgasm. When it snaps, flares of color, bolts of sound, waves of electricity spasm through her mind and body. The tremors fuse get nerves together into a ball of fire that explodes from deep in the pit of her.
His fingers burn where they touch her now. The sensation too strong for words. Her hips buck. Her legs won't stop shaking. Her lungs sear. She wants to run and cannot move. She becomes desperate with the effort.
His arms turn into solid bars holding her in place. Her struggles turn violent. For all that, easily turned aside by his power. She arches into the seat belt, pushes at his tongue as it invades her mouth. She writhes and tries to scream. Panic flames within her stomach and quickly spreads in a wild conflagration of her senses.
She is crying. Tears flowing in a rendering of relief. The moment he released her is impossible for her to pinpoint. She was out of control and out of her mind. She has no idea if she came again. She doesn't think so, but her body is weary with a deep ache that throbs through her sex. She moans with every thump of her heartbeat.
Her tears continue. He's never hurt her, really, but she has times when she is so afraid that she wonders if the terror isn't leaving a deeper cut than the whip he sometimes wields on her flesh.
When her shaking calms, he is in her ear. "That's one."
Her breath is a snubbing pant. "Wha?" She manages.
"You kept me waiting 48 minutes." His tone is interested. Not stern, but hard with a touch of amusement and raw unabashed excitement covering everything. Underlining all his words. She shivers at the pure animal lust bared to the bone of his voice.
"Poor baby. You're in for a very difficult night." His voice is husky. It slices through her mind and peels back the bleached skull of her world.
He kisses her again. Lingering and sweet before he leaves her limp form strapped in the seat, climbs in the other side and starts the engine.
She feels the spasms wracking her bones as the full impact of his words tear into her. She can't cum forty- eight times. Not keeping her sanity. She opens her mouth to tell him this, but realizes that he will not accept such a refusal from her. She considers telling him no. Would he take her anyway? Against her will?
She wonders. He is at the edge of his control. Her panic does that to him. She might push him too far. She can sense the heat coming off his body like a coiled jungle animal about to pounce. She feels her fluids running down her thighs.
The drive ends quickly. Too quickly for her to pull herself together. Her groin is humid and she feels the light hairs between her legs plastered to her mound. A throbbing courses through her sex.
She is subdued as he parks the car, turns off the engine and moves briskly around to her door. When he leans in, liquid gushes from her.
