Yours 13

I thought--when I did it--that you'd be mad. Maybe that's why I did it. Things had been too quiet in the house all day. Too routine. I needed some excitement. I don't know exactly what I thought you'd do, all I know is that I expected a lot more of a reaction than I got.

But you didn't move--or even bat an eye--when the ice cube slid down the back of your shirt, against your skin. It made me a little uncomfortable, how silent and motionless you were. I didn't know what to do, other than continue sitting there, next to you on the couch, pretending to watch TV while eyeing you out of the corner of my eye.

Finally, unable to stand the silence, I turned to you, tried to giggle to lighten the mood. To show you it was just a joke. You turned to look at me, but you weren't smiling.

Your eyes were dark, unreadable, filled with some hidden emotion that sent a thrill of fear--and lust--up my spine. I could see a damp spot forming on the back of your shirt, near your jeans, where the ice was melting. So much for jokes. I think I blushed a little, but it was dark, with only the light from the television as illumination, and I hoped you didn't notice.

I started to speak, but your hand flashed out so quickly that I was stunned into silence. Your fingers locked around my wrist started to hurt. I tried to pull away.

You narrowed your eyes. "Why do you insist upon acting so childish?" you admonished, before releasing me with a sound of disgust.

"And why are you such a stick-in-the-mud?" I thought angrily, but kept the thought to myself. I crossed my arms in front of my chest and faced forward sullenly, refusing to meet your gaze. I'm not sure exactly why I was angry, except that I felt... ignored. Maybe I just wanted attention.

Out of spite, I grabbed the remote control from the coffee table and flipped the station from your football game to an episode of The View. I couldn't stop myself from making a little "hmph" sound of triumph as I did it.

You cleared your throat and glared. "Don't start with me right now," you warned. "I'm not in the mood."

Indignant, I threw the remote across the room, and shot to my feet, hands on my hips. I think the battery fell out and rolled across the floor, but I couldn't be sure, because now you were on your feet, fists clenched, that tick in your jaw working overtime.

"That's what you want, then?" you asked me, an evil grin lighting your face.

You took a step toward me and I took a step backward, holding one of the sofa pillows in front of me protectively. I knew you wouldn't hurt me, not really, but I had never seen that look in your eyes before. It made my knees a little weak. "You don't scare me," I said, with more bravado than I felt. Then I made the mistake of turning my back on you, starting to walk away.

The next thing I knew, your fingers were at the nape of my neck, twining in my hair, pulling me back. Surprised, my head jerked a little and I stopped walking. "Ouch, stop."

I tried to twist around to face you, but you held your thumb against my neck, rubbing strangely erotic circles against one of my sensitive spots. There was a long silence. I didn't hear anything but the sound of your breathing. Then I felt one of your hands brush lightly against the side of my breast and I gasped as my nipple hardened in reaction to your touch. I felt myself involuntarily leaning back into your body.

When you finally spoke again, your voice was low, rumbling, almost a growl. "If you want to play, we'll play. Get on your knees."

Trying to get a grip on my racing pulse, I reminded myself I was supposed to be angry with you. "No. I'm not doing anything with you, you jerk." I tried one of those foot sweep moves that I had been learning in self-defense class, hoping to catch you off-guard.

It didn't work out exactly the way I had planned.

My back slammed down on the carpet hard, and I dropped the pillow. "Damn," I muttered under my breath. So much for those classes.

Your eyes flashed from brown to black as you pinned my wrists to the ground near my head. I kicked my feet and tried to wiggle out from under you, but only succeeded in grinding my hips against yours. And simultaneously feeling the growing erection in your jeans.

It was probably not the best position for me to be in while wearing a mid-thigh-length cotton sundress, as the dress was riding higher on my hips with every wiggle. And I felt my cheeks get hot at the thought that you might be able to see the growing damp spot on my panties.

Changing tactics, I tried to free my hands from your grip. And as I struggled, unsuccessfully, to push you off and flip you over, I tried to hide my involuntary smile. My heart was racing, and my body was incredibly aroused. I realized, suddenly, that I'd never had so much fun fighting with anyone in my life.

I was caught between the desire to draw out the enflaming passion of the struggle and the equally strong desire to give in to whatever it was you wanted.

In my moment of indecision, you caught my wrists together with one hand and bent your head toward mine. I bit my lip as your warm breath tickled my earlobe. Then you moved slightly, lightly nipped my neck your teeth. My breathing, already coming in short, heaving bursts, caught in my throat. I tried to swallow the moan that rose in my chest, but I couldn't stop my hips from moving against you kissed my neck, licked it.

I could feel the beginnings of an orgasm gathering in my body, wanted to feel you inside of me first.

Drawing on some reserves of strength and willpower, I twisted the bottom half of my body and tried to pull out from under you. You laughed softly against my ear, keeping my arms pinned and moving with me. I ended up flat on my stomach this time, even more immobile than before, the hard length of your body covering mine.

You bit my earlobe, just hard enough to make me cry out your name. I couldn't help myself. I didn't want you to stop.

You brushed my hair away from my neck with one hand. "Having fun now?" you asked, your voice thick with your own desire.

I made a strangled sound, which was quickly muffled by the carpet at my cheek. Ignoring my struggles, you ran a hand up my outer thigh, dragging the hem of my dress up until it was bunched at my waist. I could feel the cool air on my skin, the texture of your jeans pressing against me. I was glad it was dark, because I felt incredibly exposed. And I could feel your eyes drinking in the sight of my obvious arousal.

Then, before I knew what you were doing, there was a sharp tugging at my hips, a tearing sound, and the flimsy bikini straps of my underwear gave way to your insistence, ripping at the seams. "Hey," I cried in protest, but again the sound was muffled by the carpet.

I tried to push myself up, bracing myself against the floor with my knees and outstretched elbows. But I only succeeded in pushing my ass into the air, making my naked wetness more available to you. Realizing this, I tried to flatten myself against the floor again, but you were too quick--sliding the sofa pillow from where it had fallen next to me up and under my lower abdomen.

I began to struggle in earnest now, using my whole body. This wasn't a position I was comfortable in, wasn't something we'd ever done before. You allowed me to struggle for a moment, seemingly preoccupied with something else as you held me down with one arm. There was a rustling and a sliding behind me. I imagined you might be taking your jeans off. I wanted to roll over and take you in my hand, my mouth. Inside of me.

You had other plans. I heard the sharp crack before I felt it, a warm, stinging sensation spreading across my ass. I was so surprised that I stopped struggling. Then lower half of your body covered mine again, skin against skin, and I realized that you had removed your pants. I writhed beneath you like a snake, wanting you to slide inside of me, now.

You whispered in my ear. "Don't move." My hair was falling halfway across my face and I couldn't see you. Not sure what you were doing, I tried to obey. But I found that once you released my wrists, moved most of your weight off of my body, it was hard not to move. I felt even more out of control with you releasing me, leaving me responsible for my own actions. I halfway wished I were still restrained.

But then, your hands were at my inner thighs, sliding higher and higher, until your thumbs were skimming the center of my hot, slick wetness. I bit my lip and tried not to move, not to scream, when one thumb came to rest directly on my clit.

You began moving in slow circles, first at an even pace, then faster, then slower again. Pressing on my clit just hard enough to make me throb, want more, then easing up just when I felt an orgasm starting to build.

My fingernails dug into the carpet at my head. My back arched and I pressed my body up against your fingers. Harder, I wanted it harder, but you teased me, keeping the pressure just the way you wanted it, maddening me, driving me crazy with desire.

More. I wanted more. I didn't realize I was screaming the words aloud until I heard you laughing again behind me.

Keeping your thumb on my clit, you slid two fingers of the same hand inside of me, and I sighed with temporary relief at the sensation of being filled. But it wasn't enough. You stayed motionless inside of me, against me, for a few seconds. Holding me in your hand, still talking to me in that low, rumbling voice. "How much more?" you asked.

I wasn't sure how much, but my body took over and answered for me. "Whatever you want," I whispered, gasping.

"Beg me."

"Please..." I could barely breathe, I was felt so close to coming.

"That's not very convincing."

I groaned in frustration, feeling my pussy throb, contract and spasm involuntarily around your fingers, wishing you would just MOVE. "Oh God," I pleaded. "I need... I need... something."

"This." It was a statement, not a question. Your body was covering mine again, your erection pressing insistently at my back.

"Yes!" I was close to screaming again. "Yes, yes, yes, please, God, yes."

I couldn't wait to see what you would do next, and so I starting rocking my hips against your hand, fucking your fingers obscenely. I didn't care anymore what I looked like, what you thought.

I just wanted.

Needed.

"Fuck me," I moaned, thrashing my head around on the floor.

No sooner had the words left my mouth than you removed your hand and thrust your cock inside of me in one long, decisive stroke. "Mine," you grunted, you fists tangling in my hair as you waited for me to adjust to your size.

I mumbled something incoherent in agreement, and you began moving, thrusting, fucking me deep and hard. So deep that it was almost painful, but not a sharp pain, a sweet mixture of raw hunger and painful passion that nearly sent me over the edge. Time lost meaning. I had no idea how long we spent like that, moving together. I had one mind-numbing orgasm, then two, but still you didn't stop. Your fingers were on my breasts, teasing my nipples. My whole body felt like one, pulsing nerve. I had never been so thoroughly filled, so aroused, so completely owned by a man's cock before in my life.

And then, suddenly, finally, I could tell you were close to coming. You started moving faster, a more insistent rhythm. "Mine," you groaned again, fingers still in my hair, pulling my head back up off the floor as you started to spasm inside of me. Your orgasm triggered my own--number three--and I came in a flood of juices, my legs trembling beneath you. And as we came together, I could feel your teeth clamping down on my neck, your lips sucking hard, too hard, it was going to leave a mark for sure, but I didn't care. I certainly didn't feel any pain, and as for the mark...

Well, it didn't matter. I was yours.

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