I have watched you for hours. I have watched as you slept, watched while you bathed, watched as you raged against the hated space I keep between us. I have watched you and grinned to myself, knowing that you are completely unaware of the study I have made of you: your habits, your mood swings, your needs. You believe there is no interest there, no need, no want. Your belief is wrong. One day maybe, I will show you.
A thought:
You are bound and blindfolded, your blue eyes covered by a red bandana, your soft wrists joined together by a length of black silk rope. I study you, watching as blushes come and go across your pale, pale skin. I am not touching you, only allowing my eyes to traverse the softness laid out before me. I am not touching you with my fingers but I can tell that you are sensitive to my eyes upon your skin.
You begin to talk. Stupid, meaningless words that have nothing to do with what I am doing. You are mad at me, mouthing off. Trying to goad me into an action that will leave you feeling like I am responding to you. How are you to know that I already am? Your eyes are covered so you do not see the moisture that graces my skin, the love and lust in my copper brown eyes.
"Shut up, Lissa." I don't yell, only murmur, my voice in your ear. Dark chocolate sin in the shell of your ear. I watch the way goose bumps pebble your skin, the way you shiver slightly, as if cold air is blowing against your heat. "Stop trying to piss me off. Just, shut up."
You are silent. I know you though, the silence will not last for long. You can not allow me to be in control, not even for a second. It's like a joke to you, a way to poke the sleeping wolf I keep tucked far away from you. Of course, you don't realize just how safe I keep you. From myself, the part of me that I don't allow you to see very often.
I abandon you for a minute, knowing that as soon as I move you are going to begin your rambling monologue once more. And you do not disappoint, filling the empty space with babble. I ignore you, instead focusing on the next step of our little soiree. I gather the instruments I want to play with: a feather, a washable marker, a small vibrating egg. Little gifts you don't know I have tucked away in your room; hidden for the express purpose of teasing you mercilessly.
"Hush." I leave your room and head to the freezer. I think you may need an ice cube to cool you off. Hell, I may need an ice cube myself before this is all over. Finally, I am done. I can not postpone this any longer. I re-enter your room and grin at you. Of course you can't see me but I know you feel it just the same. Your movements and words stop all at once. You appear to be frozen: a deer trapped by the bright lights of an oncoming car.
I approach the bed once more and kneel by your side. You jerk slightly. "Don't worry." This is a whisper against your mouth, said to ease your movements before I capture your bottom lip between my teeth, tugging it gently. At the same time, I trace a line over your skin with the ice cube, starting from the base of your throat and moving slowly downward. I stop kissing you so that I can watch the journey my hand makes. Over that pale plush skin, dipping into your belly button, over your hip bones.
"Open for me." Your legs clench tight, tighter. I think you are afraid of my hand dipping down further but I know you. You won't fight it for long, you can't. Finally, you let go. Your legs spread slowly, and my hand glides down to tease the pale pink of you. Coldness, dripping down over juicy, pouting cunt lips. You shiver and I laugh softly, you know that sound, that deep down happy I-wanna-eat-you-all-up giggle.