Fatal Attraction

All I could do was to nod silently not able to come back fully to my senses. He got back on the top of me and fixed his eyes on mine leaning on his elbows. Once again I was enchanted and I knew I was intoxicated by the combination of passion, domination and power he had over me. This time he was much more confident and in control. He slowly pushed himself into me again, strong but not forceful, being careful of every little moan or movement I made. I was gasping for air, knowing he still had some way to go before he was fully in me again. My excitement rose again as he moved deeper into me. But just before that exquisite moment of complete fullness I was longing for arrived he withdrew his full length from me.

The groan of ecstasy that was building in me in anticipation of fulfillment turned into a quiet groan of disappointment. I saw in his eyes that he was enjoying administering this exquisite torture, reveling in his new found domination and power over me. He slid down beside me, cupping my head in his hands. He kissed me and then teased my lips with the tip of his tongue. "How much do you want me?" he whispered, stroking my face. I was lost on a rolling sea of desire. I wanted him inside me, I needed to feel myself stretched and full again. Instinctively I took his fingers into my mouth, biting him gently and sucking them a little.

He withdrew his hand and said:

"Well?"

I wasn't sure if I would be able to speak but I tried. Breathlessly words fell from my mouth in gasping desire.

"Please, make love to me, I need you to, before my heart explodes."

He gave me a satisfied grin and reposition himself again on top of me. Soon, the tip of his manhood pressed against my wetness, but he held back entering me again looking down at me, taking obvious pleasure from my squirming desires. Something had changed, in both of us. No longer were we star crossed lovers, innocently exploring, frightened that we may go too far and offend. Now he was in control and he knew it. I was under his thrall, I was his plaything.

"Please, I whimpered, I can't take it any longer, make love to me."

I almost choked on the words. Had I really said them? He pushed slowly forward a look of victory mixed with pleasure on his face. I writhed under him finally revelling in the sensations I had been craving. He suddenly pushed into me hard and strong and my whole body went numb with pleasure. He started moving, his pace quickening. He was a skilled lover, able to push into me with such passionate force and power but expertly judging each thrust so as not to pain. He kissed me as he thrusted inside me, feeling me tremble on his lips.

My mind scrambled, my body tightened and we came together in a gasping tangle of arms and legs. I felt like my mind had gone, addled by some powerful drug. But this was a natural high, like no other I had ever experienced. I was addicted. I was his, and by the look on his face as he stared down on me in my post coital bliss he knew it too.

I was woken by the sun breaking through the window shutters. I immediately reached to my side, seeking him but I was alone and my heart sank. I lay quietly for a few minutes seeking out any sounds that might be him in the bathroom or moving about the house but only the distant church bells broke the silence as I watched dust dance in the shafts of light created by the shutters. I turned to get out of bed and that's when I noticed the note sitting on the bedside table to the side of the bed.

"Good morning Darl," the note started, "I had to check on a few things at work. Make yourself comfortable. Don't worry I won't be gone long. If I'm lucky you'll still be in bed by the time I get back."

I smiled like a teenager in her first blooming of love. "Darl", I rolled the word around my mouth. It was short for darling, he had explained but it sounded so much better when he said it to me, his forging accent changing its character completely I touched the paper lightly, tracing the pen strokes with my fingers, imagining I was slowly tracing them over his skin. I was besotted with him, I was besotted with pieces of paper he had touched and written on. It seemed I would have been besotted with anything related to him. I was in love.

The mirror in the bathroom reflected the face of a stranger back at me. My hair a mess from our love making, my lipstick smeared across my cheeks, yet my eyes were on fire. As I examined my reflection I felt like a character from a Roman Polanski film.

I got under the shower and as the water ran down my body and I massaged the soap into my skin images from last night flashed into my mind. I felt a wetness between my legs. Each time I washed it away within seconds I was wet again. Giving up and turning my attention to the rest of me I quickly finished and stepped out. I towelled myself dry then put my nighty back on, my hair, and another place, still wet.