An almost physical jolt passed through me, leaving a hot trail of desire in its wake. 'Jesus, Emma, don't do that to me if you don't plan to put your mouth where your words are!'You leered at me again.'Shit, you know what I mean, put out or shut up, Emma.' Crap. 'I mean, don't string me along, okay? You owe me that much.'
'Who's stringing you along, Jeff? The wine is good, and the glass, it feels good, but, I don't know, I think you might just be tastier and I know you'd feel way better. A girl gets tired of... of glass, don't you think?'
Suddenly, it wasn't a game anymore, not that it had ever been one, not between us. I took the wine out of your hand, put it on a nearby table, and pulled you, roughly, up the stairs and into Jess' guest room, locking the door behind us.
I pushed you, hard, then again, then a third time, forcing you backwards to the far wall. Your face lost its playful predator look as you worried about what I might do, what I wanted to do to you.
'No fears, Emma, I won't leave any marks, at least none anyone else but us will see.' I said. I don't think this comforted you at all, but you didn't move away, you just waited. Still, alert, your breathing a little accelerated, your face flushed. I flung my jacket on the bed, and the tee quickly followed it. The flip flops were abandoned, but I left the jeans on. I could tell in your eyes that you still like my flesh, that you wanted me naked, but not yet, kitten, not yet.
I stalked you, crossing the last two steps between us, and, taking your arm, turned you around so your back was to me. I kissed the back of your neck, ran my fingers over your lips, teasing your tongue, then slid my hands down your shoulders, down your arms, to your hands, which I gently interlocked, each hand of mine with each hand of yours, and then placed our hands on your hips and pulled you tight against me. Your hair was in my face, and the smell of your sweet scent made me weak in the knees - but not weak everywhere, no, not at all. My erection, which had started downstairs, was like a thick pulsing rod in my pants, and you could feel it against your buttocks, the small of your back, and you arched that beautiful back, pushing back against me, seeking contact.
I let go of your hands and raised mine slowly along the front of your shirt, brushing over your breasts, just barely feeling your hard nipples. My lips were on your neck, your ears, your cheek. I unbuttoned the top button on your shirt, and slowly moved to the next button, and the rise of your breasts was there to see, the lush skin, the lacy bra. My breath caught, so did yours, as I ran my fingers along the top of the cups, lightly stroking your skin.
My hands slipped lower, cupping your breasts, lifting them slightly. You looked down, seeing my hands, there, and the flames of desire, lit, as it was for me, well before we came upstairs, flared up, starting that burn low, low down in your core.
A finger slipped under the lace, and traced there an aureole, a nipple, engorged with blood, with lust. You started, pushed upright, almost to your toes, and leaned back into me, that I might touch more, take more, but I didn't. I returned to the buttons, slowly undoing the remaining ones and untucking the shirt tails from your skirt, leaving the sensitive skin of your belly open to every breath of air, to my hands as they smoothed along the skin, running along the top of the skirt, then up to the bottom of the bra cups.
I turned you around and kissed you, hungrily, almost biting your lips, your tongue, tasting you, absorbing all of your essence into mine. I caressed the hollow of your neck with my lips, and you quaked, wanting more, fearing more.
I leaned back just a little, our hips still in contact, my erect cock hard against your belly, and you moved your hips in a circle, sliding your pussy across my thigh, the hard muscles there giving your clit purchase. You felt your innermost muscles clench. Your shirt slid off and down to the floor, your bra the only barrier between your hard nipples and the skin of my chest. The swell of your breasts became the focus of my attentions, kisses rained down upon them, and they shone with saliva from all that attention.
The straps were next, and as I slid them off your shoulders, you reached to undo the back, but I stopped your hands with mine, and gave you a look, a 'This task, this joy, is mine, I will do it.' look, and I undid the clasp; the bra fell over your arms and to the floor. I bent you backwards with a fierce, almost predatory kiss, that slowly worked its way down to your breast, and then I took a nipple in my mouth, and more than the nipple, the whole aureole, and I suckled there like a small child.
I could feel your thighs clench around me leg as you began to lose your sense of separation from me, as we became one flame, one desire. I could see inside you as if there were no skin, no separate person, and you saw me, too. Your head fell back, and you moaned and pulled my lips, my tongue, to your other breast. I nipped at it, and you started, and your breathing quickened yet more. The little pain was like a wire that pulled on your clit, and you could feel your cunt juices start to flow down your legs.
I stood upright and pressed against you with my hips, my cock at your belly, forcing you to lean against the wall behind you. Stepping back I drank you in through my eyes, the long curves of your arms, the line where flesh ends and skirt begins, the bend of your knee, the arch of your foot, the slow but insistent gyration of your hips.
I took both your wrists in my left and lifted your arms straight above your head, your bare shoulders against the wall, your back arched, one of my legs behind you now. I leaned into you and inhaled the scent of your hair, but you turned your face to me, hungry for a kiss, for tongue and the feel of my lips against yours. But I kissed the hollow of your neck instead, and your head rolled back, your eyes closing, as my right hand slowly eased down over your right breast, pausing at the nipple to tweak, to pull, and then down, down to the skirt.
I slid my hand under the waistband of the skirt, and ran it slowly around that triangle of space formed by your hips and pubes, not yet under the silk of your panties, just slow circles above your pubes. You moaned, and tossed your head, and you said, 'Please, please stop teasing me, fuck me now!' I whispered in your ear, 'Not yet, kitten, not yet. Soon. I promise. Now shhhhh, just be, knowing that I am taking all that you are as mine, and you want that. You want me to take everything, leaving nothing behind, all that remains is a white heat, sex, desire, fucking.'
You moaned steadily after that, unconsciously, sinking into being, no longer thinking. There was very little you left, just skin and lips and pussy and breasts and feeling - shit, the feeling, it was all one thing, and you no long just wanted to be fucked, you were the apotheosis of fucking, you were the taking and the giving and the coming and shaking and even though I hadn't even touched your cunt, your legs were wet with your desire, you already had little orgasms, little pulses of pleasure that stripped the thinking you away, leaving only the white heat of desire.
The hem of your skirt... I love skirts, I love that they are different from what men wear, that what skirts are about is access. To your pussy, to your core, to the self you shared with me that night. And you don't really share it with me, you give it to me and I take it. And I love that taking.
I took the hem of that skirt and lifted it until the your silken panties, wet and transparent, were there to feel, to see, to slip aside as I slid under the lace edge and along your cunt lips, wet, hot, beautiful. I could barely stand and the only thing holding you up is me, and your hips ground against my hand, your moans became words, a prayer, 'Fuck me, fuck me now, god I am so fucking wet, fuck me, fuck me, I can't stand any more, fuck me, oh god that feels good, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me...' I don't think you knew what you were saying, it was desire's prayer, using your mouth.
