All of Me for You

The glow of the streetlights invaded the darkness. Appreciative of the intrusion, he crept in to find her asleep, a bottle of sleeping pills on the bedside table by the open window.

Wednesday night. She didn't have to work tomorrow.

It would be difficult to wake her.

On the other hand, he'd spent the drive home imagining, remembering. Her mouth, her lips- moist and parted; the caresses of her breath as she whispered in his ear, "I want you in my mouth... Let me...," pleasure in her pauses, before sweetly stretching her "Please."

Standing over her, he licked his lips. "Mmm."

She lay on her side, one hand tucked under her face, the other above her head. She wore a black singlet, tight across the chest. The blanket was pulled up to her waist.

She must have been cold, he thought, as his eyes came to rest on her swollen nipple, just beneath the edge of her singlet. He brushed his palm over it, firm to his touch, gratified by the goose bumps that spread over her chest.

It might be difficult to wake her.

As if of their own accord, his fingers reached under the singlet. He watched as they slid across, stopping to hold the weight of her breast momentarily, before rolling her nipple between his thumb and middle finger. He pulled the singlet down, exposing her chest. He drew circles around one nipple and leant in to lick the other, until finally taking it between his lips, barely touching it with the tip of his tongue.

Gradually, he began to suck, and in doing so, became suddenly aware of his throbbing. "Fuck." He touched himself, surprised and impressed by his hardness.

It might be easy not to wake her.

Nothing like this had ever occurred to him before. He wondered about the morality off it, interfering with her as she slept, unaware, vulnerable, helpless.

What would happen if she woke? He should wake her. He should stop.

But he didn't stop. Instead he rolled her onto her back, adjusted the singlet, and undressed without taking his eyes off of her.

Looking her over, he squeezed himself in one hand, tenderly brushing the hair from her face with the other.

It would be easy not to wake her.

"Mine." Whenever and however he wanted, she had said. Relishing every second, every breath, he pulled the blanket from her. "You must have known that I needed you, Princess?" She wore nothing but the singlet.

Tightening and releasing his grip on himself, he bent to lick her nipples again, one after the other. Whenever and however he wanted? He raised her arms above her head and holding both wrists in one hand, as he traced knuckles of the other down her centre, over her naval, tickling the inside of her thighs as slipped between them.

Whenever and however? Did that extend to this?

She stirred. He froze. He wasn't sure why he feared waking her, his hand between her thighs, her hands locked above her head, the tip of his throbbing manhood level with her face.

While she slept?

He didn't move again until her breathing had fallen back into its peaceful rhythm.

He didn't want to wake her.

Listening to her breathe and watching her face, he held her in his hand for some time before gradually increasing the pressure of his middle finger until she'd opened for him.

"Always ready, bad girl."

Taking her little hand in his, he wrapped her fingers around his girth, helping to keep her grip, squeezing the pressure on then off.

"You know what happens to bad girls, baby?" he asked, dragging his middle finger through her glistening, pleased at her body reacting to his touch.

If there were a line, he was standing on it. One step further and there was no turning back. Telling himself to stop gave birth to a groan that stemmed from somewhere deep inside him, somewhere buried by generations of denial, somewhere primal, animalistic.

He couldn't stop. He didn't want to.

He took his finger from her wetness and brushed it over her lips, inhaling deeply as he pushed it between her lips then drew it over her tongue. "Fuck." Bending his head to her hips as he unwrapped her fingers from his throbbing, leading them to glide through her glistening folds. He moved his face closer with each stroke until he was close enough to lick her fingers. He took his time, gently guiding her fingers as he drew his mouth over her, the gaps between her fingers widened with each motion, increasing his tongues access to her softness. He was hungry for her. He wanted to drench himself in her, to swim inside her. He took her fingers into his mouth as he pushed her thighs apart.

"Mmm." He kissed her swollen heat as he would have her lips. "Baby," breathing her in, he opened his mouth over her. Softly and slowly he lapped at her, up and down, alternating between the tip and the flat of his tongue.

Her hips lifted towards his mouth and he closed it over her, looking at her face, not moving for fear that he'd woken her. She'd never react badly to waking to this. That wasn't his fear. It seemed that he'd developed a mental checklist and he was intent on marking it off before she roused.

"Keep sleeping baby," he whispered into her as he pressed two fingers inside her, alternating between watching her face and his fingers as they delved into her depths, reaching for her core. He watched her face as he stroked her essence, and then, in spite of himself, without blinking, he pressed harder.

She moaned and stirred.

Reminding himself of his checklist, he reduced the pressure. "Even when you're sleeping," her shook his head. "Bad girl," at that he felt a familiar flutter around his fingers. He almost had to force himself to retreat.

He mustn't wake her.

He had more boxes to check, the line he'd not long crossed faded into a distant memory. Kneeling next to her face, he let his tip brush her cheek, lightly. "Mine," he told her, or himself, as he stroked her face with it while she slept. Inching closer to her mouth, he imagined letting himself go, right here, right above her face. He held his breath once he'd reached her lips, running himself over their softness, pressing slightly harder just to watch them yield. He almost couldn't stop himself, picturing it covering her mouth, running down her cheeks, imagining running his fingers through it all over her face.

Close. So close that a bead of moisture had escaped and was just out of reach of her mouth. He changed his angle to rectify this, and exactly as he brought it to her lips, her tongue darted out from between them taking the drop back with it into her mouth.

"Oh fuck." Never had an expulsion of breath sounded so loud.

He wondered again about waking her. Would she be upset? Would she struggle? His thoughts danced around that momentarily. Her struggling; Him letting her struggle, at first; Him not, restraining her.

Rolling her onto her side, he lay down behind her. She was so relaxed, her body obeying his command. He'd never moved her with such ease. Bending her at the waist, his hand firm on the back of her neck, he guided his stiffness to her entrance. He pushed so slowly that he had to wonder if he were even moving. Once he'd reached he centre, he curled himself around her, pushing her legs up with his own until together they resembled a wheel. One wheel.

"Mmm, keep sleeping, sweetness."

Again he took her wrists in his hand, this time bringing them behind her back, the other hand on her hip, steadying her as he moved within her.

This wouldn't take long. It had been easy not to wake her.

He rested his face in her hair, his mouth next to her ear, holding her wrists firmly, moving only his hips.

"Don't move until I'm finished with you. I'm going to make you a good girl again," he whispered, articulating every syllable and pausing after each word.

His grip tightening around her wrists as he thrust harder and faster, he shifted his weight, pushing her forward just enough that he no longer needed to steady her. Moving his hand to her chest, he flicked her nipples with his thumb and index finger, his other fingers pushing her breasts together.

He was right. With her at his mercy like this, it didn't take long.

He cried out at his final thrust, filling her with all of him, forgetting his devotion to not waking her.

He held her close, his face still in her hair, and remained inside her. Absolutely spent, completely still as he regained his composure, absentmindedly flicking her nipples. He let go of her wrists, in favour of wrapping her up in his arms.

He listened to the sound of her sleeping.

Should he tell her? Would she know? Suddenly questions began swirling around in his head. Had he just ruined everything? Would she be angry? Would she ever forgive him?

What would he say? That he fucked her while she slept? That he fantasised about blowing on her face? Chose not to wake her, decided he'd molest her instead? Oh, fuck.

Regret and panic washed over him. He was angry at himself. How could he have done this to her? To them? What the fuck was he thinking?

He held her tighter, silent apologies amidst requests for forgiveness.

So busy inside his head he'd failed to notice the turn of her face towards him.

He could not miss her tensing around his flaccidity. It made the fear rise in his throat. He was caught off guard by her fingers running through his hair. He wondered if she knew that she was cajoling him back to calm as she uttered the sweetest thing he'd ever heard, "Am I a good girl now, baby?"