We arrived at our hotel late in the evening, though it was still fabulously warm out. The day and night had been spent together, exploring the new surroundings, though there'd been some small frictions between us along with a little bit of teasing and flirting.
I knew I was pushing some buttons, and my slightly cranky state was exacerbating that need to rub it in to your also slightly raw ego.
I couldn't even say why I did it, though I know it was immature and insecure of me to do so; I could hardly help myself. I suppose it could be boiled down to a need for attention, also a slightly perverse habit of mine of teasing to show affection. Sometimes, I went a little too far.
Your expression was my first clue, and later, as you spoke to me, your tone drove it home.
Even after I knew my fate, I pushed a little more.
We had planned to go out to a few of the bars in the area and listen to the live music, but that changed. Instead, you took my hand and we began walking back to our hotel. You were quiet, slightly brooding though in no way angry in appearance. There was that tenseness to your brow that I knew as a warning signal. When you did look at me, your eyes were laser sharp. I swooned, and felt again as I had the first time you'd looked at me that way, before I knew the tenderness of those eyes... I felt my throat closing as we walked.
I regretted teasing you, taking things too far, and being cross with you.
You reached for me, touching the nape of my neck, reminding me...
I lowered my eyes, dipping my head slightly in response, not so much an answer but acknowledgment. Yours. There was a softening at my center that also awakened the moist need to yield to you, to make up for my transgressions.
I also wanted to stay out, to see all the people, to enjoy the warm night, the excitement. I wanted to avoid facing you alone, and admitting my wrong. Part of me, though, was eager, uncontrollable, and that part of me trembled, no, vibrated in anticipation.
You would give me my penance, and if at first I resisted, I would never know it later. You would make me want the sting of shame, I would thirst for your intensity, and it would renew me, give me confidence.
You knew your power over me all too well though you did not gloat. Instead, your subtle annoyance simmered in my nerves. There have been times when you have been truly angry with me, and your rage is a terrible thing though you does not use it for violence. It is a powerful, quiet force, and intimidating. Even these small glimpses of it left me in awe, and changed my mood from mischievously cranky to contrite, and deferent.
Still, I thought that I might allay my punishment, or soften its impact. I walked closer to you, snuggling against your side. You lifted your arm, and embraced me, pulling me close against your body. Your strength radiated around me. There was tension in your caress, and a sharp rhythm to your heartbeat. You walked quickly, your long legs taking steps that kept me hurrying to keep up.
Once we were inside the hotel, we found the stairs and began making our ascent. On the third landing, you stopped me. Your hands on each shoulder, you pushed me back against the wall. Your eyes met mine, and I looked back, blinking softly feigned innocence, gentle surprise. Attempted distraction.
"You were very bad, tonight." You said to me, your tone low, but not a whisper. Rather, a low rumble that made me squirm.
"I'm sorry.." I whispered, softly, lowering my lashes then slowly raising them to meet your eyes, difficult though it was.
Your mouth was near my ear, and I could feel the wiry, rough hair of your beard and mustache grazing my ear, my neck, my cheek. I gasped a little, but caught myself, trying to keep from giving my responses away. Make you work for it. Hah, who was I kidding?
The thin silk of my panties was already damp and cool against the shaven bare labia beneath the short skirt you'd asked me to wear.
A realization dawned on me and slow indignation made me squirm once more. You held me firmly, your body pressed me nearer the wall, and your switched so just one of your hands pinned my shoulder, the rest done by your torso, and hips. I could feel your readiness, and a satisfied thrill rolled through me, gliding on my pulse. I knew I had an advantage, no matter what you wanted me to think.
Still, I remembered the beginning of our relationship, and your endurance is legendary. No matter how far we'd gone, you managed to stop before it had gone too far, before we were certain, before we destroyed a relationship based in deep friendship and respect. Before we obeyed the cravings of our bodies. Long after I'd already decided to give in, you had waited. You were right.
I wavered in my determination to outlast you, to deny you the victory. You might say my orneriness was not quite quashed.
Your free hand slid down to my thigh, under my skirt and squeezed it. I love your hands. So large, always warm, strong and firm. Resolute. I expected your hand to tug at my panties, next, but that did not happen.
Instead, you slid your hand between my thighs and up, pressing the palm of your hand over my pussy, through the fabric, your fingers probed the damp lips, pushing inward, dragging the rough fabric over my clit. Knowingly. I thought I detected an exhalation of a chuckle as I responded, unable to do differently. My thighs squeezed around your hand. Sluttishly, I sought more pressure, more contact...more.
I futilely tried to compose myself, releasing a slow breath as you kissed my ear, your mouth never leaving its station there, knowing the feel, the sound, the vibratto of your voice, your breathing was stimulation enough to give you carte blanche with me. The hand at my shoulder had now slid down, beneath the breast on that side, and fingertips traced the underside curve, flicking upward over pointed nipple, circling there, whispering, "Ohhh there's my good girl. So good..."
I groaned, my eyes squeezing shut as the hand over my pussy tugged at the panties now trapped in the crease of my sodden sex. Even I could smell my need. Your satisfaction, your victory was evident in every low grunt of pleasure you were taking.
You tugged and teased the nipple of my right breast. My legs felt weak, as did my resolve.
The way you held me pinned to the cool wall behind us, the way you whispered and breathed in my ear so hotly, the way your fingers and hands played me to distraction; I whimpered involuntarily, realizing I was quickly running out of resistance.
You tugged my panties upward again, knowing just exactly the way it would squeeze and roughly tickle my engorged, throbbing clit. You remarked on how wet they were. I knew what you wanted to hear.
