I let him kiss me. He slips his tongue in to my mouth and I open up to him. I want to put my arms around his neck and feel his shoulders under my hands. But instead I touch his back lightly and feel the tension as he waits, holding back a little, trying not to push me too fast. This seduction has lasted months, it's been delicious and tantalising and we are both determined that this step into the real world won't be rushed or wasted. He finally has me, alone, down to my bra and knickers, in his arms. He wants to own every second of this experience as much as he wants to own me.
His warm hands skim over my body. Down my arms, over my hips, across my thighs. I shiver. He cannot stop kissing me. His hands are moving up my neck, sliding into my hair, feeling its softness.
"There" he tells me, "You look so good in this lingerie, you shouldn't ever wear clothes." I laugh a little and make a comment about feeling awkward on public transport.
An image of me in my underwear, on a train flashes through my mind and his too, no doubt. His hand at the nape of my neck grasps my hair in his fist, tugging my head back roughly. It's the first hint of the things we've discussed, the day dreams we've shared in secret that have led us here. With my head tilted back, my neck is exposed to him. His mouth moves along my jaw line. He runs his tongue down my neck, closes his mouth over my collar bone in a soft bite that is just firm enough to let me know that I will be his. I'll belong to him from now on.
He releases my hair so that he can bring both his hands to my breasts. Running his hands over my bra, he slips away the shoulder straps, down the tops of my arms, holding them firmly. Using his mouth, he pulls away the fabric to reveal my bare skin beneath. Lips over my nipple and I moan softly under my breath as my body lifts up towards his mouth and my fingers reach for him. With his mouth over one breast he moves his hand inside the other cup to explore me with a firm touch. He is kissing and licking and sucking and stroking me. My moans are becoming louder and more confident. I tip my head towards the side of his face as he devours my breasts and I whisper "I need you. I need to feel you inside me. I need you to fuck me, just like we talked about."
He laughs a little and tells me quietly to be patient, "if you manage it, I might reward you."
Now his mouth seals over mine to silence me. He finally removes my bra. Thumbs hovering over my nipples, palms pushing and massaging me. I ease back onto the bed behind me. I stretch out and enjoy the sensation of his body moving over mine. The physical demonstration of him taking control of me. The weight of him, the strength of him. The unmistakable feeling of a man being close enough to overpower me, if he wanted, whether I wanted it or not. We kiss and I'm feeling drunk on him. Head woozy. Senses shifting. He softly brings my wrists together in his hand, then lifts my hands above my head. Guiding my hands to the bed head and speaking quietly but clearly to me "these stay here." I touch my fingers to the top of the bed and look into his eyes. He holds my gaze. "Don't let go. Keep your hands where I have put them. Whatever I decide to do with you, these hands don't move." Fingers trail softly back down my stretched arms. It already feels impossible not to move them. I want to wrap them around him, pull him down to me. "If you move them, I'll have to punish you."
His words linger.
My mind can't focus for a moment. I'm confused. On the one hand, I'm instantly nervous. What does he mean by punish? He wouldn't hurt me, would he? We talked before about discipline, danced around the topic, but never decided specifics on what or how or even if we would. But on the other hand, I can feel my insides start to melt, a direct result of him telling me what to do.
I nod slowly, he smiles at me and then kisses me once more, deeply and passionately. That kiss continues down the length of my body as he begins to move lower, tasting my skin as lips and hands glide over my ribs, then my stomach and then down to my hips.
Hooking his fingers into the top of my knickers, he slowly pulls them down. As the creamy lace slips away from me, revealing my most private places, I look down to watch his face. His eyes are already filled with heat and now focus on my soft mound, shaved smooth and bare for him. Completely naked under his eyes, he takes in my body, a sweeping look, from my face all the way down to my toes. My skin is pale in the low, early evening light of the room. I tremble when he traces one fingertip down my leg.
His attention is caught by the fine silver chain around my ankle. Tracing the finger along the chain, he is aware of the effect that even the lightest touch has on my whole body. Stroking the chain and running that fingertip over the ankle bone beneath it, he watches me as I close my eyes and sigh a little. His whole hand now wanders slowly back up my leg, feeling the curve of my calf, finding the soft spot behind my knee that makes my entire body twist towards him when he strokes it, then taking the long sweet line up my inner thigh. I can feel in his touch that he wants to explore every inch of me like this, to know my body as well as he knows my mind; to make me frantic for him.
His hand slowly reaches the top of my inner thigh and waits.
"Please don't stop, I need you to touch me there" I beg. I begin to trail my own hand down towards my breast, subconsciously wanting to touch myself, while he is watching me.
Immediately he grabs my wrist and firmly drags my hand back to the top of the bed.
"I told you not to move this." The statement is blunt. It's a fact. "You need to learn some boundaries here."
My eyes flash open to see him sit up and climb off the bed. Pulling his shirt off over his head then undoing his slacks and kicking them off, he steps away to retrieve a bottle from the small refrigerator in the far corner of the room.
He opens it and drinks.
I watch him swallow and my mouth turns dry.
I've never wanted to kiss him more than I do at this moment.
He returns to my side, taking his time and very softly tells me "This time you really are going to keep your hands still and you'll stay very, very quiet."
He's holding the bottle a few inches above my body when it starts to tip. A thin trickle of freezing cold liquid hits my skin just above the dip of curves at my waist. I gasp at the splash of cold. Every nerve in my body wants me to move, to wiggle, to brush away the chill. But as badly as I want to move, I want to please him more. I keep as still as I can manage. In sudden contrast to the cold, his warm mouth kisses the same spot, lapping his drink from my skin. My senses are lost. I feel completely alive and awake and aroused. My whole body is clenched tight, I don't move an inch. He drags the base of the freezing glass bottle over me, skimming over my abdomen, leaving a trail of goose bumps and wet condensation. He drifts the bottle over my breasts and around my nipples slowly. I'm concentrating desperately on absolutely not moving. Or crying out. It's agony and it's perfect. Leaning close to my ear, he whispers "Breathe".
I breathe in deeply, glad of the oxygen. Glad of the excuse to arch myself up towards the bottle. He observes my movements with a slow smile, completely aware of the effect he is having on me and of his ability to play my body.
Setting down his drink, he takes hold of my hands again, this time pulling them down as he lowers his body back over mine, sliding his knee between my legs to part my thighs.
"You did as you were told, eventually." His smile is my reward. I grin and bask in the warmth of his words. I feel like I just won tonight's Star Prize. Or maybe I am the prize?
I slide my hands across his chest, under his arms and around his back, fingers trailing down his spine, under the band at the top of his pants, edging them down to the tops of his legs, releasing his hot, hard dick so that I can feel him against me. My body's reaction is instant. I wrap my legs around him, tipping my hips up to meet his, opening myself up to him. I'm a little embarrassed by how easy this is for him. Apparently, I'm a strong independent woman. Well that's a joke, a quivering wreck attached to a frantic pussy would be nearer the mark.
My feet scrape the last of his clothing down his legs and away. The urge in him to fuck me, right now, hard and fast and rough is irresistible. I can feel it between us. It's palpable. He wants me. He wants me and he doesn't want to wait. But he does. He holds back just a little while longer.
Because he wants me to be desperate.
He wants me wet and needy and completely weak for him.
He wants to control this, to lead me.
He wants to make me come before he's barely even touched me.
With that thought clearly in his mind, he lightly trails his hand down the centre of my body reaching the tops of my thighs from the opposite direction. He lingers there for a moment, stroking me softly, watching me as my arousal becomes almost unbearable for both of us. Then he slips a finger down, nudging in and around my clit.