His hands are gentle, but strong. They mean business as they slide across my neck, thumbs pressing against my windpipe, pressing against my jaw to tilt my head back. His mouth dips down for a kiss, as his tongue plunges into my mouth, just as controlling as anything else about him.
As it dips and strokes against mine, one of those strong, gentle hands drops to the top of my dress and jerks it down off my breasts. The touch itself is considerate, but the action is not.
His hand moves from my neck and tangles in the hair at the nape of my neck, pulling my head further back. I gasp as my scalp tingles. The other hand has cupped my breast, lifting, squeezing, thumb and forefinger coming together to pinch my nipple. I again gasp into his mouth, something I think will end up happening a lot.
Moisture pools between my legs, and my hips shift forward, trying to connect with his body. He keeps his distance, and the hand that's pinching my nipple on the edge of pain again finds my dress and rips it down off my hips.
I've been instructed not to wear panties, so all I'm left to wear is wetness, and the redness his hand has left on my neck.
He releases my hair and I stagger a step. He removes his shirt and pants quickly as I watch, my breath caught in my throat with anticipation. My chest rises and falls, and my nipples tingle. I want to press my legs together but I'm frozen. As he stands, his cock poking out in front of him proudly, my mouth all but waters, wishing to suck him. But that's not on the agenda.
His hands are again on me, all over me. He pushes me and I fall back onto the bed, and just as quickly he's on top of me, his neck and shoulders filling my vision. His lips claim mine once more, and he reaches between us, his fingers sliding the length of my slit quickly, ensuring I'm wet. It shouldn't have been a question.
