The sound of the opening door getting lost in the crash of lead crystal against the Italian marble floor. A hissed "fuck" as I watch the glittering shards spread in a wide circle, skittering and tumbling in wild abandon.
Shaking my head and reaching for the small whiskbroom and dustpan kept beneath the modern sink in a well appointed kitchen. Crouching down carefully, His white dress-shirt gaping open at the hem as strong thighs bend and strain the fasten of a single button.
Mind only half on the task as carefully, I sweep up the prisms of crystal light, and scoop them away. I never even heard Your footsteps.
"Don't move, pet. I'd hate for you to get… cut." Your voice comes right behind my ear and nearly sends me jerking into the remnants of sharp crystal fragments.
"Oh… yes Sir." the words nearly breathed as a long fingered hand reaches around my back to slip beneath the crisp cotton and seek the rapidly stiffening nipple. The reality of my posture swims through my mind as You lean slowly against my back. The pressure building and tilting as I try to remain on balance.
Every sound intensified now. I can hear Your breath behind me, can even hear the rub of denim covered thighs against the softness of my flesh while You lean further into me, and slowly push me forward. Every instinct screaming at me to move - to push back against the pressure as I struggle for breath and realize that You want me on hands and knees in the field of dangerously sharp slivers.
But I don't dare. I can't do anything but snap out my hands to the floor and suck at the air as tiny pieces of expensive crystal slice into my palms. I can feel the rush of heat into my cheeks as You nearly purr from above and behind.