Saffron Threads

[SecretEpiphany]

He wasn’t joking. The realization filled her with a heady mix of fear, trepidation, anticipation, and need. She needed him. Needed sex. Now. But she wasn’t sure she wanted sex the way he seemed to want it.

He held her by the hair, not hurting her, but with enough grip to remind her that he had power, and he kept the spatula out of her reach, practically taunting her with it. And grinning at her the whole time.

"Always in control, aren't you?" he whispered in her ear. "Always ready to pass judgment, but not so willing to accept that words have consequences."

Jesus, could he read her mind. “Consequences?” she muttered. What was this? Maybe he hadn’t really moved on from that first review after all… But then he slid her top down over her shoulders and cinched it up behind her, effectively trapping her arms. She gasped, and god help her, felt an erotic rush from the domineering behavior.

Her breasts thrust forward from the angle of her arms. And she might have arched her back a little to help with that. Especially when he started palming her through her bra. Her body was so hypersensitive, so aware of him, that the direct contact of his fingers on the creamy skin swelling above the cup of her bra instantly had her squirming and breathing hard. More. She needed more.

He leaned in, letting his lips graze hers. But it was a tease. He wouldn’t let her deepen the kiss. He wouldn’t give her what she wanted, even when she wet her lips with her tongue and tried to lick her way into his mouth. He pulled back just a hair, just enough to keep her wanting.

And she couldn’t take it. Desire was pulsing through her—everywhere. Roaring in her ears. Thumping in her heart. Aching in her breasts. Throbbing in her pussy.

He ground his cock into her hip, and she whimpered, trying to press closer to him, to rub against him.

"You know I want you. I know you want me so much you're willing to take a pass on doing your job right." He wadded up the paper with her questions and tossed it in the trash.

She didn’t care. Not right now. All she cared about was getting closer to him, touching him, being touched.

"You ground my pride into the dirt under your heel once, and you're going to try to do it again in the weekend edition,” he said.

She shook her head. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t damage his dream again.

“I'm not afraid of what you'll say this time. You'll write whatever you write on your terms, and we both know what those are. I can't do anything to stop you, but don't expect me to help you."

Suddenly, he let go of her blouse, and she wobbled on her own feet. She’d been leaning into him before, letting him support her weight, and the sudden loss of that support left her unbalanced. Her shirt fell to her wrists and she caught it with her hands, gripping it like a lifeline as he cradled her head in his hands. His touch was so tender, so sweet. But there was unresolved anger in his eyes and his voice.

She recognized it, but she still couldn’t resist him.

"I'll help with the loneliness, but on my terms. Give me what I want, Evie. Let go of your pride with me. Let your control slip a little. Be soft for me. Be a woman for me." He lifted a breast out of her bra and thumbed her nipple.

A hot wave of desire rolled through her at his words, “be a woman for me.” Something about those words and the stroke of his fingers on her nipple literally melted her. She felt wet heat pool between her legs and she moaned, closing her eyes and arching her back. Her panties had to be soaked.

"You're a beautiful woman, Evie," he murmured. "You deserve to be held, and caressed, and loved.”

She smiled at his words and let go of her blouse, letting it drop to the floor.

“But you're a heartless bitch of a reporter, and for that, you deserve this. You can go, if you like. If you stay, you'll find a ... spatula-full of medicine helps the sugar go down. Now lift your skirt up, and bend over the counter."

Her head snapped up and her eyes popped open at that. His tone was still low and sexy, but there was that anger again. “Heartless bitch.” “You deserve this.” Deserve what? Sex? Hard fucking? Spanking with a spatula? Or was there more to this? Something she couldn’t see?

It didn’t matter. She couldn’t think clearly enough to figure out if there was a double meaning or not. Her body was practically twitching with desire. Even if she wanted to, she didn’t think she could physically walk away from this man. The attraction was just too strong.

And maybe he was right. Maybe she did deserve this. Maybe she needed a spanking for refusing to see what her writing did to people. Maybe she needed one for pretending to be something she wasn’t—and for eventually losing herself in her own false persona. Maybe she needed one because she might like it. The little thrill of fear and excitement that flipped in her belly at the idea was enough incentive.

She looked at him, staring into his eyes, trying to discern his unreadable expression, and she slid her skirt up over her thighs, over her ass, until it was bunched around her waist. Then she turned her back to him and bent over the counter, pressing her body against it.

“Ohhhh…” she cried as the cold countertop made contact with the bare skin of her belly and the one breast that was still outside its bra cup. The shock of the cold on her erect nipple was almost painful, but she forced herself to stay there, sprawled on the counter. Waiting.

 

[AndyGoat]

Her face flicked from expression to expression, too quickly for him to read them individually. For a moment, he wondered if he were pushing too hard. Was he being exactly the thing he was supposed to avoid being? Was he being trapped by what had happened ten years ago? He shook his head. He knew better than that. He had read her columns ever since he had begun to think about coming back to the US. When she wrote, she was almost gleeful in her malice. He was just thrown by her presence. He hadn't expected her to be beautiful. He definitely hadn't expected her to be vulnerable, but neither of those things changed what she wrote, and if she didn't realize that her words had consequences, she had no business writing.

His train of thought was interrupted by the appearance of one of the most beautiful rear ends he had ever seen. He groaned softly as she leaned over the counter, her panties stretching tight between the full round globes of her cheeks. She let out a moan as well, and waited there for long seconds as he stared. The spatula almost slipped out of his fingers before he snapped out of his contemplation of her ass and remembered what he was doing.

He reached down, squeezing the tight, fleshy swell of her cheeks, massaging them almost reverently. The hand that held the spatula reached down too, trying awkwardly to fondle her while holding the tool for a moment, then using the handle instead, pressing it between the roundness of her cheeks, rocking it's length down, pressing it against the silk-covered mound of her sex as it pressed between her thighs.

"Ten years," he whispered. "Ten years of hunting every flaw and ignoring every good thing in every restaurant you reviewed. Ten years of monthly columns dedicated to hurting people." He was talking to himself as much as her, reminding himself that as much as he wanted her, he also had a point he wanted to make. "God you have a beautiful ass."

He shook his head. That was not the point. He leaned down, draping himself over her, kissing her cheek and whispering, "Forgive me."

Then he stood, and smacked her ass with the flat surface of the spatula, seeing it turn an angry pink almost immediately. He smacked the other cheek. Then he pressed his hands over the pink spots, massaging the flesh, letting his fingers stray between her thighs to tease her pussy. He knelt down behind her and pressed his face to her backside, kissing the lips of her pussy through her panties, smelling her rich female scent and feeling the slippery, swollen labia under the flimsy silk.

Then he spanked her again, harder, the pink spots turning red, his teeth bared as each blow fell. Twice more on each cheek. Then he pressed against her ass, the hard length of his cock trying to burst through his jeans as he pushed in against her pussy. The spatula clattered as he dropped it to the counter. His hands slid under her, gripping her breasts and pulling her upright.

His voice was a low growl in her ear. "That's enough of that, for tonight, I think. I've never wanted a woman as much as I want you right now. If you can't forgive me, then get out of here right now. If you want to stay, turn around and kiss me."

 

[SecretEpiphany]

The waiting was horrible. She felt so exposed and vulnerable, bent over with her skirt shoved up. She had on panties, but they were skimpy and thin. Not much coverage there. Unable to see what he was doing or looking at, wondering if he was about to touch her gently or slap her with the spatula. It was the not knowing that was such agony—not knowing what he was thinking, what his reaction was to her body, what his intentions were. It left her hyperaware of every whisper of sound behind her, the slightest shift of his feet or low groan.

The low groan sounded appreciative and she relaxed a little. She relaxed even more when he began to knead her butt cheeks. His strong hands worked her flesh like it was firm dough and she let out a long, needy moan. His movements weren’t just affecting her ass. The pulling and pushing and lifting of her cheeks caused her sensitive pussy lips to rub against each other and against her shifting panties. It was exquisite and torturous all at once. She needed more.

Her body was out of control, reacting to things that wouldn’t normally turn her on and reacting more strongly than it ever had. She cried out when he pressed the hard handle of the spatula between her legs, gently probing through her panties, rubbing and rocking it against her sex. Of their own volition, her legs spread wider and her hips squirmed. She was aroused to the point of senselessness and it terrified her. She hated not being in control, not being able to think rationally, yet at the same time, what he was doing felt so incredibly good that it was impossible not to give in.

She panted hard and struggled to listen to his words as he spoke. "Ten years," he whispered. "Ten years of hunting every flaw and ignoring every good thing in every restaurant you reviewed. Ten years of monthly columns dedicated to hurting people."

Somewhere, in the very back of her mind, it registered that this did not sound like a man who had forgiven her. But he was still touching her, and her body was still reacting. She couldn’t think. Not right now.

"God you have a beautiful ass,” he said. Then he leaned over her, covering her body with his, enveloping her with his heat and hardness and strength.

She moaned and whimpered, wishing she could touch him, wanting to wrap her arms around him, but she couldn’t. She was at his mercy, sandwiched between the cold hard counter and his warm pliant body.

He kissed her cheek and whispered, “Forgive me.”

She would forgive him anything, she thought, as long as he didn’t stop touching her. But wasn’t he supposed to be forgiving her. The thoughts flitted through her mind, but they were overpowered by the desperate feeling of loss that consumed her when he stood and left her with only the countertop for contact. She needed him, needed his body, needed his touch.

Then he hit her, eliciting two sharp cries coinciding with the slap to each cheek. The shock was sobering. He’d been so sensual and warm, that she’d forgotten what he’d had her lay over the counter for in the first place. She’d been lulled into a false sense of security and had been turned on to the point of craziness and then he’d smacked her with that damn spatula.

It stung, but it mostly hurt her pride. She tensed, her body suddenly as tight as a guitar string. Back to the waiting. Bracing herself for another blow.

But he assaulted her with gentleness again, massaging the stinging spots with his fingers. Then reaching lower, to her drenched pussy, rubbing her through her panties and bringing her back to a fever pitch within seconds.

Then his breath, his mouth. Her body betrayed her and surrendered completely to him. She relaxed against the counter again, trembling as his tongue traced the hem of her panties on each side, growing wetter as she imagined him pulling them off.

But when he pulled away and shifted behind her, it wasn’t to remove her panties like she expected.

She let out a tiny scream when he spanked her again, much harder this time. Tears sprang up and forced their way out of the corners of her tightly shut eyes. It was over quickly, just two hard smacks on each side, but they burned and so did her pride.

What was that saying, ‘fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me’? The sensuality and false sense of security had tricked her into a blindside twice. Shame on her. And she did feel shame. For still being turned on. For having found a spanking erotic. For still needing him so badly. But also for past actions. For ten years of harsh writing. For ten years of shattered dreams that she’d never lost sleep over. For a writer, she sure hadn’t spent much time considering point of view. Maybe she deserved to be ashamed.

That realization brought a fresh surge of tears and she choked on a sob.

He covered her with his body again and she heard the clatter when he tossed the spatula away. She wished she could shrink into herself, hide from the harsh truths that were confronting her and hide from the man who was making her see them, but there was nowhere to hide. And her body still hummed with arousal.

He shifted his hips, fitting his crotch to hers, so that his hard erection, still covered by his jeans, rubbed against her wet and open pussy, barely shielded by her thin panties. The contact made her whole body tremble and she was making sounds—half sobs, half moans—as she pushed up onto tiptoes, trying to raise her hips and feel more of him.

His hands slid beneath her, going under at the waist, then moving upwards, until he cupped a breast in each hand. Then he lifted her up, standing, so that she leaned against him, her back to his front, his hands squeezing her breasts.

He spoke into her ear. "That's enough of that, for tonight, I think. I've never wanted a woman as much as I want you right now. If you can't forgive me, then get out of here right now. If you want to stay, turn around and kiss me."

It didn’t matter if she could forgive him or not. She couldn’t walk away from him. Her body wouldn’t let her. Besides, the tiny part of her brain that could still think reminded her, she had more transgressions to forgive than he did.

She eased around in his arms, until she was staring at his jaw and throat. She couldn’t look him in the eye. She tried to raise her gaze, but just couldn’t. Not after… She still felt… Ashamed. She sagged against him though, tucking her head into the crook of his neck and pressing a wet kiss to the side of his throat. Then licking her way up to his ear. She sucked the lobe and lightly traced the outer shell with the tip of her tongue before whispering, “I can’t leave you.”

 

[AndyGoat]

It was the strangest thing, he thought, as she turned, half naked in the kind of way that was far more arousing than simple nudity would have been. He had never thought of himself as a sadist or a dominant type before, having always preferred lovers who were his equals in assertion and satisfaction. Yet here he was, spanking this woman with a spatula and forcing her to submit to his judgment, and he was thrilled. He truly did want her more than he had ever wanted anyone, and it made him understand her a bit.

There was a delicious pleasure in authority. A pleasure in the power to make one's opinions known and accepted, in the power to control and to punish. It was a pleasure that he suspected she had indulged in all the years that she had been writing. Tasting a little of it tonight, he could not say that he didn't understand her actions. He knew he would have to stop punishing her if he was to avoid sinking completely into hypocrisy. He could only hope that she had been persuaded. And he could hope that she would, when this was over and the spice had worn off, want to pursue this relationship further.

He lifted her chin, forcing her to face him, and he chuckled softly as she closed her eyes. He let his nose brush against hers, lips touching, but only just, not quite kissing.

"Look at me, please," he whispered. "Let me look in your eyes." As he spoke to her, he cupped her head, holding her chin up, and punctuated each thought with a kiss, light at first, but growing harder, until he was kissing her with dizzy lust, tongues twirling around each other as seconds ticked by. "I want you, Evie." The hand that wasn't holding her head stayed on her bared breast, squeezing the firm globe, feeling her nipple pressing into the center of his palm, as his fingers slid under, feeling the weight of it, squeezing it and feeling his desire growing more intense. He knew he couldn't possibly want her more if he had spiked his own meal as well as hers. "I want to see your eyes when I tell you that. I want to see your eyes when I take you. Can't you look at me?"

His mouth took hers then, he pressed over her, leaning her back over the counter, as his hand reached down to find the buttons of her skirt. He wished he hadn't put the knife up so quickly as he wrestled them open, and finally slid the thing down, over the swell of her hips. He pressed his hand over her mound, feeling her pussy burning through her panties, and pulled them aside, feeling the delicate skin of her lips slippery already. Her body, at least, was more than ready for him.

The only thing that kept him from taking her immediately was the nagging doubt that he might never have the chance again. In the morning, she might regret this terribly. She might hate him for the things he confronted her with, and even for the vulnerability she showed him. He was not worried that she would harm the business. A scathing review from her was all a part of the business plan Tommy had conceived of. There were plenty of other critics who would be writing much fairer reviews, and they were confident in what they had built here.

Because this might be the only chance he had, he wanted everything. He forced himself to slow down, as much as he wanted to rip her panties off and start fucking her immediately, he would wait. He began to kiss his way down her neck, letting a fingertip slowly circle her clit as his mouth tasted the soft skin of her throat, reaching for her breast.

 

[SecretEpiphany]

Alex said he wanted her, but Evie couldn’t imagine that he felt the desperation that she did. She couldn’t stop touching him. Her hands roved of their own free will, tracing his arms, his back, his shoulders. She worked her way under his shirt to touch the heat of his skin.

“Can't you look at me?" he asked.

Truly, she didn’t know if she could. Overwhelming shame had prompted her to close her eyes in the first place. Sexual need so strong it terrified her kept them closed now. Along with the remainders of shame.

He pushed her back over the counter and dropped her skirt to the floor. The erotic whisper of the satin lining as it whooshed down her legs made her moan.

Then his hand was where she wanted it most. Shoving her panties to the side, his fingers tested her readiness. An audible squish confirmed her suspicions about how wet she was. Her breath came in pants and she rocked her hips against his hand, desperate for something, some kind of relief. It wouldn’t take much to unravel… Just a little more friction.

But then he slowed down, easing his hand back, denying her the release that was so close, pressing his mouth to her neck. She groaned in frustration even as she tilted her head to give him better access.

His finger moved in slow, light circles around her clit. His lips closed around a nipple. And she let out a sob-like cry. Her body was trembling, even if he couldn’t see it on the outside, inside she was shaking, quavering with lust.

She opened her eyes, dug her nails into his back and gasped his name. “Alex.”

When he didn’t stop or look at her, she dug in harder. “Alex, Oh, god… Please, please, please…”

His eyes met hers.

She was beyond shame now. Nothing mattered but this desperate need for release. She stared at him and repeated over and over, “Please, please, please…”

 

[AndyGoat]

"please please please...." Staring down into his eyes, she was begging for him.

It was perfect. Not only was she begging, desperate and vulnerable, but she was looking into his eyes. Between them, he knew, was the understanding that she had surrendered, accepted his spankings and whatever else he might think to inflict on her. That knowledge made him grin, and then he flicked his tongue over her bare nipple and bit down, not hard.

His finger slid inside her. She gripped it tight with the muscles of her puss, the slippery smooth walls caressing it and pulling on it. Then he pulled his finger out slow, and slid it in again hard, his thumb continued to tease her clit and he licked and sucked at her nipple, never taking his eyes off of hers.

When the need in her eyes and her voice came close to a peak, he eased off. He stood over her, smiling down at her, his hand now massaging her breast, that was glistening with his spit. He tweaked her nipple with his thumb as he leaned down to kiss her belly. He slid her panties downlifting her feet free of them one by one and then hunching down, sitting on his heels. He pressed his face between her thighs, smelling her need, the scent making his blood surge with lust. Not yet, he thought.

Soon he would take her, but first this. He kissed her mound, lips pressing aganst the top of her slit, and his tongue snaked out, tracing her lips gently. He dug deep, tasting her deep, and then followed the folds of her pussy back to her clit.

 

[SecretEpiphany]

She cried out when he bit down on her nipple. He didn’t hurt her. It was just enough pressure to barely sting, but the jolt of sensation that washed through her was enough to make her want to sink to the floor.

She stayed upright though, because his hand was between her legs. His finger inside her. Moaning and squirming and clamping down around his fingers, she kept her gaze glued on his. He hadn’t told her to do so, but she knew he expected it—that somehow, she was supposed to watch his face while he did this to her. But she couldn’t take much more. Watching his tongue roll over her nipple, feeling his finger pump in and out of her, jerking every time his thumb grazed her clit.

Her knees were weak. Her everything was weak, especially her willpower. She’d completely abandoned that. Alex Garrett could do anything he wanted with her at this point, and she’d let him. The idea was unsettling, but incredibly erotic at the same time.

She was melting. The noises coming from her throat and from her pussy as his finger fucked her bordered on obscene. Her body was reeling from the onslaught of sensations and feelings and desires. It was wound up so tight she kept thinking she’d snap. That she couldn’t possibly take any more, but then he’d back off, still touching her but letting her cool off just enough so that he could wind her up again. It was awful and incredible at the same time.

When he stood over her, she was ready to fall at his feet. Seriously, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand, even leaning against the counter. She tried to tell him so, but coherent words wouldn’t come out, not when he was kissing her belly and sliding down her panties. She clutched at the edge of the counter when he dropped to his knees, or at least crouched down in front of her.

She knew what he was going to do. But didn’t know how she was going to stand it. His tongue slid over her and she tried to brace herself. Tried to hang on. To hold herself up. But when his tongue licked its way to her clit, her knees buckled and she slumped to the floor in front of him, clutching at his t-shirt. “I’m sorry… I can’t… I couldn’t… Oh, god, Alex… I don’t know what’s wrong with me… I'm going crazy. Please just… Just let me come. Please.”

 

[AndyGoat]

When she slumped down beside him, his first thought was that he had done something wrong. He hadn't ever thought he was one of the world's five greatest pussy-lickers, but he'd always thought he was pretty good at it. His arms slipped around her and she grabbed him, desperately begging him to let her cum. He kissed her hard, holding her and standing, lifting her back onto her feet. The floor had been cleaned til it probably was clean enough to eat off of, but it was still the floor.

"Evie," he whispered. He lifted her and sat her on the counter, letting his hand slip between her legs, finger fluttering back and forth over her clit. "You don't have to ask. You don't need my permission. I want you to cum."

The look of the lush, round body trembling with pleasure was almost more than he could stand. Taking her by the hair, he pulled til she was laying back on the counter, his fingers working over her pussy the whole time. He let go of her hair and let that hand slide to her breast, slipping the second out of her bra and squeezing, kneading it.

She looked so delicious laid out like that, he pressed between her thighs, letting her feel how hard he was for her through her jeans. He wanted her more than he could have imagined possible, but there was still something holding him back. His anger with her had been fuel to his lust, making it burn hotter, but now the anger was gone and there was nothing there but desire. Desire and a beautiful woman spread out for him, begging him to let her cum.

Of course, if he took her there and then, she would be grateful for it. She would be so thrilled to have cock in her, she would probably explode. But it would be the saffron, not him. He groaned with frustration. If he hadn't found himself actually liking the girl, he'd have no problem with it, but now it was too late for him to fuck her and throw her away. He clenched his teeth and slid his finger into her again.

 

[SecretEpiphany]

How was it possible to feel embarrassed at this point? After everything she’d let him do to her so far? After she was stripped bare except for an askew bra?

But she was. She’d actually lost her ability to hold herself up. And the begging. She wasn’t a beggar. She didn’t like to ask for help with anything, and she’d never pleaded with a lover for gratification in the bedroom. Or the kitchen.

The spinning, consuming lust tearing through her was making her crazy. That was the only explanation.

Her breath left her in a whoosh when he sat her down on the counter. The surface hadn’t warmed any since she’d been sprawled face down on it earlier. This time it was her slightly sore rear that caught the chill, but she forgot about any discomfort as soon as his fingers delved into her wetness again.
He whispered that he wanted her to cum. Which was hot in itself, but then he tugged a fistful of her hair until she laid her back on the smooth workspace. Nothing but her legs dangled over the edge.

When he rubbed his jean clad erection against her thigh, she wrapped her legs around his butt, trying to draw him even closer. He had on way too many clothes. She wanted to see his cock. To feel it. To hold it. To taste it.

She moaned when he thrust his finger inside her again. She’d relax if she could just cum. Then she’d focus on him. She’d never been multi-orgasmic. It was rare for her to come more than once in a whole night’s worth of love making, so once she could relax and let go, it’d be over. Then she’d be able to think again and take some control of the situation.

Oddly, taking back control didn’t sound nearly as appealing as it should have.

Alex’s thumb nudged her clit while his finger pounded in and out of her. A steady rhythm, fast and just hard enough.

She gasped for air and thrashed her head on the counter. The release was always so hard. The complete loss of control. The surrender. The surge of emotions. All the things she tried to keep a tight grasp on in every other aspect of her life made her sex life extremely difficult. She had no problem getting aroused. It was just the letting go.

But tonight’s circumstances were different. She was beyond aroused. Her body was going to short circuit if it didn’t get some relief, yet even amid the waves of desire and the gushes of wet heat that spilled into his hand, she was hitting a barrier.

No, no, no… She didn’t want this. She wanted release. She wanted Alex. And she wanted to know that he wanted her too—in the most base way.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered. “Don’t stop doing what you’re doing. But talk to me. Tell me what you want to do to me.”

 

[AndyGoat]

He kept his finger rocking in and out of her pussy, slow, keeping her hips rolling. For just a moment, he stood over her, watching her, this beautiful, curvaceous woman squirming with her need. Except she was stuck. Something was holding her back. He shouldn't have been surprised, he knew. The saffron was powerful, but it wasn't magic. It turned her on, but it didn't erase her hang-ups.

He leaned down over her, letting his long thick body rest against her, his weight pressing down. He kissed her, not as fiercely as before, letting his lips pull gently at hers. Then he turned to whisper in her ear, his voice low, thick with his desire. "I want you."

"I wanted to make you beg." His finger slid in and out, a little faster, dragging over her clit. His plan had been to seduce her, to crack her shell, and to fuck her. It had been a plan for revenge, but he hadn't counted on liking her. Still, he thought, it was a good plan. "I want to make you forget to be in control. I want to make you forget that you don't need anyone. I want to make you need me. I want to make you let go of your fear and cum."

He looked in her eyes, letting his stare bore into her, just as his finger was. "I want you to let yourself need me. Then I want to take you and fuck you so that you never stop needing me."

He stood up, looking down at her, so curvaceous, so beautiful. He felt like tearing through his jeans and bury himself in her, but not yet. Not tonight when she was all jacked around by the saffron. He looked around the kitchen, and a smile spread across his face. There were plenty of things he could do with her.

 

[SecretEpiphany]

"I want you to let yourself need me. Then I want to take you and fuck you so that you never stop needing me."

She wasn’t sure his meaning was the same as what she thought she’d heard. Was he implying that this was more than a one night stand? Or did he intend to make her ‘never stop needing him’ and then leave her high and dry?

She needed him all right. It wasn’t about letting herself need him. It was about letting herself trust him enough to give him control of her body.

Taking deep breaths she tried to make herself relax. She replayed the night’s erotic events in her head. The whispers. The touches. The kisses. The knife against the buttons of her blouse. Her arms pulled tight behind her. The spatula. Oh god… the spatula. His hands on her ass. Her skirt coming down. Her panties coming off. His hand in her hair. His voice… He’d said, “I've never wanted a woman as much as I want you right now.”

And right now, she’d never wanted a man as much as she wanted him. She’d never wanted to be fucked so badly. She’d never been so desperate for an orgasm.

She could trust him. Surely she could trust him. She would trust him.

Once the decision was made, whatever neural block that was keeping the sensations between her legs from tripping the pleasure center in her brain lifted. She let out a surprised cry at the intense surge in her body. Building. Building. Until it peaked in an explosion of heat and light and color, all contained inside her. She opened her mouth in a silent scream as her body tensed and nearly came off the counter. Then she relaxed, eyes closed, as a warm, tingly ripple of bliss washed through her.

Her clit was instantly too sensitive to be touched, so she grabbed his hand from between her legs and held it against her belly as the wave subsided.

She expected to feel relaxed and sated—the experience being mostly over for her. That was the way this usually worked. And she did feel more relaxed. The orgasm had definitely taken the edge off her crazy lust. But she was far from sated. She still craved sex. She craved him—his body, his cock, his pleasure.

She opened her eyes and stared up at Alex through heavy lids.

 

[AndyGoat]

She scared him a little when she finally let go. There was a sudden sound and then she was silent, hardly breathing, but her body thrashed and flailed on the counter like she was having a siezure. From watching, he knew she had not cum for a long time, and he smiled to himself. Of course she hadn't, she spent so much of herself trying to keep her passion bottled up and in control.

Then she looked up at him, and he almost lost it. The look on her face was so perfectly wanton, he knew he wouldn't be able to resist her. Nothing mattered, anymore, he thought. Tomorrow morning, she would wake up and she would try to make this night fit into her world. She would want more, or she wouldn't. She would be scared, or excited to see him again. He couldn't do anything about that, but he could make sure that tonight, they both got what they wanted.

He kicked off his shoes as he undid his belt, legs thrashing as his pants fell while he peeled the t shirt over his head. His cock stood up, long and thick, like he was, and he finally shook his feet free of his pants and rubbed it along her slit. He drew his hips back, letting the tip of his cock press against the entrance, her pussy open, soaked and ready for him, and his fingers teased her thighs as he held her legs up over his shoulders.

"Now it's your turn," he whispered, voice thick with his fierce lust. "I want to hear you tell me what you want."

 

[SecretEpiphany]

Mentally, she still reeled from the power of her orgasm. She’d never had one so strong. And she’d certainly never still felt desperately aroused after having one. She laid on the table, motionless except for the rise and fall of her chest with her rapid breathing, and watched him shuck his clothes with frantic movements.

His cock was huge. She’d known that, had felt it through his jeans. But seeing it, bare and proudly erect, made her realize just how big it was. She’d feel so full, so tight, so stretched with him inside her. She wanted it. Now.

He rubbed her pussy with his tip and her breathing grew ragged. She shifted her hips, spreading herself even wider for him, and he grabbed and lifted her legs. Her eyes widened in surprise and he propped them on his shoulders. This was a new position for her. And like almost everything about him, it left no doubt about who was in charge of what was to come. She had very little leverage with her legs in the air.

His fingertips rubbed her thighs, teasing, and he said, "Now it's your turn. I want to hear you tell me what you want."

“I want you to fuck me.” She didn’t hesitate, even for a second. The words spilled out. “I want to feel full of you, all of you. Slow at first. Because you’ll stretch me. But then hard. And deep. I want to feel you everywhere.”

She was practically panting just saying the words. This was so uncharacteristic of her, but at the same time it felt natural to talk to him like this. She didn’t know what to make of that, but she was determined not to think about it too hard. Thinking could wait. Feeling was her first priority right now.

“Fuck me, Alex. Now.”