Control Ch 01 2

He lay there, idly stroking himself, as she walked into the room. She looked down at him nervously, blushing slightly at the sight of his cock, swaying slightly with each breath, the head red and smooth with the slightest gleam of moisture at the tip. He was looking at her, as well -- his eyes devouring her, tracing her curves beneath the slight, silken garment, already measuring her body against his own, how she would fit alongside him, how he would cover her below, how deep he could get into her. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her throat suddenly seeming dry -- but at the same time, she could feel her nipples tighten, and the barely-audible whisper of the cloth shifting over her breasts in response.

"Take it off," he said, sitting up on the edge of the bed to watch her more closely. She closed her eyes, trying to escape his gaze for a moment. Slowly, she lifted a trembling hand to the opposite shoulder, and slid the strap down until it fell of its own accord. Somehow, even that tiny exposure, the barest sagging of the neckline exposing the beginning of her cleavage, was a complete acquiescence, and they both knew it. There was nothing she would deny him from there. The scent of her own arousal rose to her nostrils, and she pressed her thighs together, knowing that the thong she was wearing could never hold back the wetness that was beginning to build.

"Keep going," he snapped. She opened her eyes and looked at him. She was unable to read his gaze. He sat there, feet on the floor, his thighs spread and his hand on his cock again, moving just enough to keep it fully erect. Unconsciously, she licked her lips, already feeling it inside her, and she slid the other strap down. With a sound like a snake's hiss, the teddy slid down, catching at her waist. She had lifted her arms free, and instinctively she covered her breasts with her palms.

For the first time, he made a move toward her, and she took a deep breath. But all he did was take the hemline between his thumb and index finger, and tug just enough that the gown fell, pooling around her feet, exposing the soft curve of her belly, the seductive shadow of her navel, and the diagonal creases of her thighs, sloping in to the last hidden part of her, and that only covered by the sheerest fabric imaginable. There was no way to hide her wetness now; it was thick enough in the air that they could both practically taste it, and she couldn't be entirely sure that a droplet or two weren't trickling down her inner thigh. Her hands on her breasts suddenly felt more like a caress than any protection.

For a long, silent moment, he looked at her, and she avoided meeting his eyes. It didn't matter – she could feel him as surely as if his hands were running over her body, and she responded – her nipples stiffened even further, poking between her fingers; her thighs rolled forward slightly, parting; the string of the thong seemed to ride up against the cleft of her ass, prying herself open to him in even that way.

He stood, his cock bouncing, and took a step toward her. Finally, she could see into his eyes to truly read him – and the hunger there, the raw, unfettered desire, left her speechless. She couldn't breathe; she could feel her heart hammering against her chest – and yet, she felt so wet that her thong must be saturated, ready to slide down of its own accord. She lowered her hands and stood there, unready, but more than willing for whatever he might do.

Before she knew what to think or feel or do, he had her in his arms, crushing her body to his, his hands sliding down her back, pushing her tighter against him. He growled, somewhere deep in his throat, and kissed her savagely. His tongue forced its way into her mouth, seeking her own out and twisting around it. Her breasts pressed flat against his chest, raking the nipples against his own and then down as he lifted her into his arms, supporting her completely.

She could feel the length of his cock against her thigh, hot, a trail of slickness down the shaft, and she reached for it – but then, before her fingers could close about it, he had turned her around and crashed down with her to the bed. He was above her, the weight of his body holding her down, his tongue was still in her mouth, kissing her so hard and so close that the stubble on his chin ground against her cheek. It felt like her lips would bruise, he pressed his mouth to hers so fully; it felt like he was stealing the air from her lungs, the room seemed to be spinning.

He pulled back just enough on the kiss that she could draw a quick, gasping breath, then his mouth was plastered to hers again. She looked at him, but he was too close, his eyes were shadowed – she felt no fear, she knew she was safe, but she also felt completely subjugated to his will. Whatever he wanted, she did not need to even offer him – he took it, and it was perfectly right to her that he did.

His cock was grinding against her, between her thighs, pressed tight against the cloth triangle of her thong, and she was sure by this time that the fabric had to be soaked – if not from her own wetness, then from the slick, sticky flow of his own arousal. She had never felt a man that hard, but there was no denying that it was his cock rubbing up and down over her, the thick head bumping over her barely-covered clit and back down, the shaft sliding between the folds of her pussy as the cloth rode up, the string riding painfully against her sensitive skin. She reached down, trying to pull it off, writhing beneath him, needing him inside her right then.

But before her hands could reach her waist, he took them in his own, speaking evenly: "No." He didn't sound angry, but his voice brooked no argument. His fingers entwined with her own, and she found her hands pressed back to the mattress, above her head. He kissed her again, quickly, sucking and biting at her bottom lip then tearing his mouth away, leaving her gasping, even her tongue extended, trying to reach him. He let her hands go, but she didn't move them.

Slowly, he rolled his hips, drawing the length of his cock up and over her pussy, until the head dug into her belly, then back down, and she arched her back, moaning his name. He was teasing her now, a grin on his face, but she could feel his need growing as well. The muscles of his stomach were taut, and his thigh forced hers further apart. He balanced above her on one forearm so he could reach down with the other and pull the fabric to one side, and she felt the air against her, and then –

With a groan, he was inside her, like a lightning strike so far in her belly that she seemed to feel it in the small of her back. She closed her eyes, lifting her hips, trying to find some way to take more of him, some way to hold him deeper – but their lower bodies were not even a molecule apart, pressed tight. She could feel him pulsing slightly with his heartbeat, slower than her own but building.

His hand came back up, and his hands moved to her wrists, pinning her arms above her. He bent his face to hers, looking deep into her eyes and kissing her slowly, deeply, his tongue wrapped around her own, his breath hot on her cheek. And he began to move.

He took her, he claimed her, and this was slowly at first as well – pulling back bit by bit, until only the head was still inside her, and then riding smoothly back into her body, with the strong, even pull of waves reaching the shore. She could feel his cock swell inside her, could feel him lengthen and thicken as he pushed in and slid back out, and she felt her own joy, her own excitement quicken that she could accept him. She could feel it rising, like a pot coming to boil, heat bubbling through her body with each thrust.

Faster, harder now he took her, kissing down her neck, marking her skin, finding her breast, taking a nipple between his teeth and tugging at it until she cried out, pushing back up at him, another burst of pleasure exploding inside her, like a star being born. He pushed up then, lifting his body from hers but causing his cock to crash deeper, harder into her depths, and bent his head back until his cries mixed with the echo of hers. He was deep in her again – and again –

And then he let go of her wrists, moving his hands down to her waist, beneath her ass, lifting her up to him so they could go faster, deeper. She wrapped her arms around his back, clinging to him, as it overtook them both and before she was ready for it the heat was expanding, suffusing her, and she lost her grip, falling back to the bed as her whole body shook with waves of ecstasy, and at the same time he moaned, loud and long, and she could feel him burst within her, every muscle in his body drawn taut and then released, and then he was cradling her, kissing her softly through the aftershocks, murmuring, "Good, good," and all she could think was how completely she was his.