Inspired by and written for a certain early-rising angel on these here boards, praise to her, criticism to me please 
*******
The snow lay heavy on the ground, lending the streets of Quebec a soft edge and a picturesque air that added to the allure of the city. It was in truth only early evening, barely nine o’clock, yet the snow and biting cold winds had driven most of the population indoors. A few hardy souls walked carefully through the snow and ice, moving as quickly as they dared on whatever errand demanded they be outside on such a night. Through this nearly deserted scene he walked, dressed all in black and moving with a confidence and purpose that belied the fact this was his first time in the country, let alone the city.
Moving seemingly without thought for the dangers of the treacherous surface beneath his booted feet he stalked on, pace measured and sure as he took turns seemingly at random, never consulting a map or reading a street sign. In truth he had the directions memorised and was following his own mental map but there was no external sign that this was anything other than a routine journey for him. Turning right onto Sherbrooke Street the wind caught his coat, the black leather whipping up behind him as he moved, fluttering like wings of darkness in the cold air. Despite the chill now wrapping around his body he made no move to pull the coat down or wrap it closer, indeed he didn’t even seem to notice the cold, as if whatever his goal was it drove him beyond any mere physical discomfort or inconvenience.
His measured stride quickly ate up the distance and less than a mile later he turned again, passing through the gates and the snow covered sign for McGill University. His pace quickened, as if driven by a hidden need until, finally, he stood in front of the wood and glass doors of Gardner hall. Slipping inside he made his way silently through the corridors, and stairwells, ducking out of sight occasionally as footfalls alerted him to another wandering soul. It was the work of minutes to find first the right wing, then the right room.
She sat at her desk, cursing under her breath. The computer screen stared back at her, an inescapable accusing gaze as her half finished essay stared back at her. She still had almost a week to work out the last few details for it, but for whatever reason it just wasn’t happening. Frustrated she stabbed at the keyboard, killing the word processor secure in the knowledge she hadn’t actually made any changes since opening the damn thing an hour ago. She glanced at the clock and sighed, too late to go out, nothing worth watching on the little television in the corner of the double room, her roommate was out of town for a few days on a field exercise with his department and it was still far too early to go to bed. Standing she stretched, her body grateful for the movement as she rolled her head, trying to work the knots out of her shoulders and back.
Suddenly, the lights flickered once and went out, plunging the room into near total darkness. She groaned, thinking how this was just the perfect end to the perfect day. Pausing for a second to get her bearings she turned and marched to the window, knowing full well there was nothing lying in the way on the floor to trip her or stub a wayward toe. Throwing open the curtains she looked first at the street below, the lights there giving hope this wasn’t a major power failure, then off to the side at the bright glow of McConnel hall. There was a tap at the door; a quick businesslike rap and she made her way over, hands reaching for the knob as she wondered how the building maintenance crew could have gotten here so quickly.
She pulled the door open and stared for a moment; her mind telling her there was something wrong with the scene before her but not being able to pinpoint quite what it was. Then, with a heart stopping suddenness, a shadow seemed to detach itself from the blackness and move forward, what felt like hands pushing her back into the room, the door swinging shut behind the apparition. Through the window light bounced off the pristine snow in the streets, casting a slightly eerie glow into the room, an unseen whisper of air picking up the shadow and flicking part of it back, gently bouncing off the door.
She felt panic rise up, unable to comprehend what stood before her. Then, at the very instant of that panic overwhelming her the shape stepped forward into the slightly brighter light in the middle of the room. Human features resolved themselves, the black leather coat that had given the impression of living shadow, muscled arms crossed over a wide chest, powerful legs encased in black denim from the bottom of which black boots emerged. And a face that she recognised in an instant, a face she knew, though she’d never seen it live and breathe before, a face that simply could not be here, now, yet it was, and the possibilities associated with that fact filled her mind to bursting point. A ghost of a shadow passed across his face, and in that moment she felt her fear melt away, knowing somehow that she had nothing to fear and that she was safer now than she had been while alone minutes earlier.
Without warning he pounced forward, arms wrapping around her body and scooping her off her feet. For a moment she was flying, unsupported as he threw her into the air, then somehow he was beneath her once more, catching her and easing her descent to the bed so he landed with little more than a gasp. Instantly he was on top of her, fingers tracing her upper body as he straddled her hips. Anticipation shot through her, heart and soul pounding as one, seeing the future in one blinding flash as she raised her hands in surrender. She half closed her eyes as she saw him bend down, his lips heading for hers as she waited, trembling with barely suppressed excitement as she waited for something that she’d imagined, off and on, for the better part of a year now.
For a moment she was lost in a world of her own fantasies, this single kiss flashing through her mind in a thousand different ways, all overlaid on the others as she felt the air shift above her as he drew close. A thousand different ways, yet she was caught by surprise as his lips met hers roughly, a kiss designed purely as a brand of ownership, no real pleasure, more of a branding. Her eyes snapped open, as he pulled back from her in one steady, arrogant motion, a smug smile on his face, eyes finding hers. She felt her anger rise, and with it her pride, wondering who the hell he thought he was to simply walk in and claim her like this, no matter what he was capable of, no matter what he offered he had no right to do such a thing.
Her hands came down, batting away his questing fingers as they closed on her luscious body. He stared down at her as she shifted slightly, looking for any possible leverage she may be able to bring to bear. In one motion she planted her feet flat on the bed and shoved upwards, her hips bucking and throwing him off to the right. As he sailed clear she felt a rush of satisfaction at what she had done, a rush that was fleeting in the extreme as she noticed too late he still had his legs locked around her waist and thighs.
She found herself pulled quickly after him, a dull thud from the floor evidence enough of his landing as she found herself held by his legs, her knees still resting on the sheets, her hands supporting her weight, palms flat on the floor as she stared down at the slightly winded man beneath her only to find him grinning back at her. His hands flicked out and tucked up into her helpless underarms, slipping effortlessly inside the sleeves of her t-shirt, fingertips sitting square on the smooth, shaved skin of those warm, tempting hollows.
It was, a small, rational part of her mind observed, the oddest situation. Technically, she had the upper hand, as he lay on his back beneath her, legs hooked up around her but trapped between her thighs and the bed. Yet somehow he was still in control, for is she moved her hands to fight back she’d simply drop down on top of him. The half-second it took for that to pass through her mind though was all the time she had, as his fingers started to move. Gently at first but gaining speed with every moment that passed, rolling as they went to constantly switch between the soft pad of each finger and the hard, tapered point of his nails.
Instantly she felt herself giggle as the first shockwaves passed through her. Always vulnerable to such a unique torment she thought herself used to it by now, that she’d experienced all there was to feel. She realised at that first touch that she was wrong, horribly, utterly, totally, wonderfully wrong. Every tantalising sensation if each touch seemed to travel from her arms down her body, twisting around her as they shot down past her hips, her legs and all the way to her feet and the tips of her toes before, as if the tension grew too much to allow them escape, they rebounded, racing back up to settle deep inside her, each accompanied by a slight tingle, unnoticeable on its own but even now growing to something far, far greater. Unable to strike back, she instead focused her will, her pride and her own desires on hiding his immediate success, forcing herself to hold back the laughter that rose inside her.
As he lay there a smile passed across his face, the signs and portents of what was to come clearly visible on the angelic face above him. He’d heard that first brief giggle, and now he could see the effort she was putting forth to resist his attentions, her lips pulled tight, body shaking slightly with the effort as she tried to breathe normally. But it was the eyes that gave her away, there she couldn’t hide her feelings, her reactions and he saw them jump and dance with pleasure and delight as his movements grew more intricate, fingers crossing and twisting in ever more complex dances across her skin. With her arms the only thing supporting her she was particularly vulnerable to his attentions, though the sight of this heavenly creature in such a revealing position above him was stretching his own self-control to its limits.
As his right hand started to pittar-patter a drum beat onto the tight skin of her pit, his left pulled out of its resting place inside her shirt, tripping gently up the soft fabric and round slightly until it was spread around the nape of her neck. She tensed as she felt the fine points of fingernails touch her skin, bracing herself for a new front to be opened in their own private little war.
And was caught totally off guard as, with a speed that she wouldn’t have believed possible, he flicked his hands round her throat, tossing his nails against her neck as he went, bringing his fingers up under her chin. For a moment she was caught between anticipation and reality, the ghostly touches against the back of her neck still recent enough to feel real, then the true reality burst over her as those devilishly talented fingers whipped over the sensitive skin. Before she could adapt, before she could prepare, the laughter burst from her, and once it was freed there was no way back. Her body shook as her head came down, trapping his hand between her chin and chest as they continued to rain ticklish devastation down in this most unexpected of spots. To her credit she managed to hold on in this compromised position for almost a minute as the trembling in her arms intensified and the force of her laughter threatened to rip her from her precarious perch.
Finally she could stand no more and collapsed on top of him, her hands coming up to try and bat his ever-moving fingers away. A mistake in retrospect as the instant her hands were moving so were his, sweeping round to take her wrists, holding them tight though not to the point of pain. With one heave of those powerful legs he flicked them over, his legs still wrapped around her hips and thighs but moving down slightly to pin her properly this time. In the same motion he slipped her hands behind her back and she suddenly found her own body pinning them down. Before she could react he had taken hold of the bottom of her t-shirt and rolled it up her body. As the fabric moved up, so he guided her arms clear and above her head, letting the shirt wrap around her wrists in an impromptu bind that held her arms firmly together and, with the cotton wrapped around her fingers, reduced her ability to retaliate down to almost nothing.
Taking her wrists in his hands once more he guided the declawed kitten’s paws down until they were resting on top of her head, Then, with both his hands holding hers in place, he began a slow, torturous decent that went beyond anything she’d ever thought could exist or dared to dream about. Always she’d imagined that the ticklish nirvana she wished for, longed for, needed and prayed for, would be delivered through the fingers or feathers of a ‘ler, but now she realised the depth of her mistake as his tongue started to lap across her skin.
The short, soft yet still scratchy stubble of his beard acted as a herald, announcing the oncoming onslaught most effectively. She flashed back to everything she’d ever read about being tortured by a brush against helpless bare flesh and realised that whoever had written those works had never experienced this. It was as if a thousand bristles were dragging against her skin, but with a grace and delicacy unmatched by any inanimate object.
Yet, despite the pulses of ticklish joy it caused, and the waves of laughter that pulsed through her at every touch, it was still only the vanguard, the trailer for the main feature, as his tongue followed behind, every single touch bringing a new world of delightful devastation along with it. Every thought, every fantasy she had ever dreamt about being a ‘lee, all of it paled in comparison to this moment, this feeling. It existed in a realm beyond words, beyond reason or thought, but in the language of the heart, in emotion and sensation and feeling.
First there were the sheer torturous tickling sensations brought to her by an eager tongue, willing mouth and hot breath upon her skin. Every inch of her body was explored from neck to waist, nothing left untouched or unmapped as he worked his way over her delightful landscape. That tongue would dive and wrap over and around anything that might even suggest a ticklish weakness, and in her current condition there was virtually nowhere that didn’t satisfy that condition. Every moment brought some new experience, and every experience brought new laughter to her lips, creating a rising symphony of delight around the two of them as he worked.
Second there was the occasional outright sexual moment as his lips would find her breasts, her nipples or one of a dozen places she’d never before realised could cause such erotic sensations to flood through her body. At every spot it seemed he would pause and invent some new erotic torture for her, seemingly never repeating any particular touch or motion no matter how often he bestowed such a gift upon her. Gradually, beneath her laughter, she became aware of a rising need, a passion that burned within her, and one that escaped in a low counterpoint to her far louder hysteria.
And third was the overwhelming sense of exotic sexuality that by now permeated the room itself, wrapping around them both and speaking to something deep within their souls as both fought to contain their desires. The warmth of their bodies mingled, two becoming one as she felt the occasional swish of soft, supple leather against her bare skin, the need burning bright in her eyes now as she felt herself loose the fight with her own pride, passion pushing it back as she surrendered to her needs. And now, now he accepted that surrender, knowing that she was ready for such an experience was before she may have fought it. Rational thought was banished by pure, animalistic desire and as she writhed in the midst of erotic desperation and over stimulated nerves he pulled his hands away from hers, running them rapidly down her sides to the single button of her jeans. Snapping it open he pulled the denim down far enough to leave only a single layer of silk between his hands and her flesh. Lost for a moment he reached for it, intent obvious, only to hesitate less than an inch from the final barrier and after a second or two reflection, throw her a smile that turned any remaining fight to dust inside her.
His left hand slid up her belly, fingers writhing over her skin as one digit dropped into the untouched territory of her navel. He lent over her and delivered a passionate kiss, the sort of kiss she’d dreamt about and expected what seemed like a lifetime ago. And his right hand stole up her thighs, fingers resting gently on the damp material as they started to wiggle and writhe. Her eyes rolled back as she felt the first tickles on her mound, and then a wave of pleasure so high and fast she was sure she’d drown washed over her, sweeping her away. She screamed, but the lips that still held her captive, a link back to him, muffled her voice as he leant her strength to withstand the pleasure and accept it. Her soul joined her voice as it screamed into the night, on and on until at last she was spent and collapsed back to the floor, exhausted to the point of unconsciousness.
*******
The snow lay heavy on the ground, lending the streets of Quebec a soft edge and a picturesque air that added to the allure of the city. It was in truth only early evening, barely nine o’clock, yet the snow and biting cold winds had driven most of the population indoors. A few hardy souls walked carefully through the snow and ice, moving as quickly as they dared on whatever errand demanded they be outside on such a night. Through this nearly deserted scene he walked, dressed all in black and moving with a confidence and purpose that belied the fact this was his first time in the country, let alone the city.
Moving seemingly without thought for the dangers of the treacherous surface beneath his booted feet he stalked on, pace measured and sure as he took turns seemingly at random, never consulting a map or reading a street sign. In truth he had the directions memorised and was following his own mental map but there was no external sign that this was anything other than a routine journey for him. Turning right onto Sherbrooke Street the wind caught his coat, the black leather whipping up behind him as he moved, fluttering like wings of darkness in the cold air. Despite the chill now wrapping around his body he made no move to pull the coat down or wrap it closer, indeed he didn’t even seem to notice the cold, as if whatever his goal was it drove him beyond any mere physical discomfort or inconvenience.
His measured stride quickly ate up the distance and less than a mile later he turned again, passing through the gates and the snow covered sign for McGill University. His pace quickened, as if driven by a hidden need until, finally, he stood in front of the wood and glass doors of Gardner hall. Slipping inside he made his way silently through the corridors, and stairwells, ducking out of sight occasionally as footfalls alerted him to another wandering soul. It was the work of minutes to find first the right wing, then the right room.
She sat at her desk, cursing under her breath. The computer screen stared back at her, an inescapable accusing gaze as her half finished essay stared back at her. She still had almost a week to work out the last few details for it, but for whatever reason it just wasn’t happening. Frustrated she stabbed at the keyboard, killing the word processor secure in the knowledge she hadn’t actually made any changes since opening the damn thing an hour ago. She glanced at the clock and sighed, too late to go out, nothing worth watching on the little television in the corner of the double room, her roommate was out of town for a few days on a field exercise with his department and it was still far too early to go to bed. Standing she stretched, her body grateful for the movement as she rolled her head, trying to work the knots out of her shoulders and back.
Suddenly, the lights flickered once and went out, plunging the room into near total darkness. She groaned, thinking how this was just the perfect end to the perfect day. Pausing for a second to get her bearings she turned and marched to the window, knowing full well there was nothing lying in the way on the floor to trip her or stub a wayward toe. Throwing open the curtains she looked first at the street below, the lights there giving hope this wasn’t a major power failure, then off to the side at the bright glow of McConnel hall. There was a tap at the door; a quick businesslike rap and she made her way over, hands reaching for the knob as she wondered how the building maintenance crew could have gotten here so quickly.
She pulled the door open and stared for a moment; her mind telling her there was something wrong with the scene before her but not being able to pinpoint quite what it was. Then, with a heart stopping suddenness, a shadow seemed to detach itself from the blackness and move forward, what felt like hands pushing her back into the room, the door swinging shut behind the apparition. Through the window light bounced off the pristine snow in the streets, casting a slightly eerie glow into the room, an unseen whisper of air picking up the shadow and flicking part of it back, gently bouncing off the door.
She felt panic rise up, unable to comprehend what stood before her. Then, at the very instant of that panic overwhelming her the shape stepped forward into the slightly brighter light in the middle of the room. Human features resolved themselves, the black leather coat that had given the impression of living shadow, muscled arms crossed over a wide chest, powerful legs encased in black denim from the bottom of which black boots emerged. And a face that she recognised in an instant, a face she knew, though she’d never seen it live and breathe before, a face that simply could not be here, now, yet it was, and the possibilities associated with that fact filled her mind to bursting point. A ghost of a shadow passed across his face, and in that moment she felt her fear melt away, knowing somehow that she had nothing to fear and that she was safer now than she had been while alone minutes earlier.
Without warning he pounced forward, arms wrapping around her body and scooping her off her feet. For a moment she was flying, unsupported as he threw her into the air, then somehow he was beneath her once more, catching her and easing her descent to the bed so he landed with little more than a gasp. Instantly he was on top of her, fingers tracing her upper body as he straddled her hips. Anticipation shot through her, heart and soul pounding as one, seeing the future in one blinding flash as she raised her hands in surrender. She half closed her eyes as she saw him bend down, his lips heading for hers as she waited, trembling with barely suppressed excitement as she waited for something that she’d imagined, off and on, for the better part of a year now.
For a moment she was lost in a world of her own fantasies, this single kiss flashing through her mind in a thousand different ways, all overlaid on the others as she felt the air shift above her as he drew close. A thousand different ways, yet she was caught by surprise as his lips met hers roughly, a kiss designed purely as a brand of ownership, no real pleasure, more of a branding. Her eyes snapped open, as he pulled back from her in one steady, arrogant motion, a smug smile on his face, eyes finding hers. She felt her anger rise, and with it her pride, wondering who the hell he thought he was to simply walk in and claim her like this, no matter what he was capable of, no matter what he offered he had no right to do such a thing.
Her hands came down, batting away his questing fingers as they closed on her luscious body. He stared down at her as she shifted slightly, looking for any possible leverage she may be able to bring to bear. In one motion she planted her feet flat on the bed and shoved upwards, her hips bucking and throwing him off to the right. As he sailed clear she felt a rush of satisfaction at what she had done, a rush that was fleeting in the extreme as she noticed too late he still had his legs locked around her waist and thighs.
She found herself pulled quickly after him, a dull thud from the floor evidence enough of his landing as she found herself held by his legs, her knees still resting on the sheets, her hands supporting her weight, palms flat on the floor as she stared down at the slightly winded man beneath her only to find him grinning back at her. His hands flicked out and tucked up into her helpless underarms, slipping effortlessly inside the sleeves of her t-shirt, fingertips sitting square on the smooth, shaved skin of those warm, tempting hollows.
It was, a small, rational part of her mind observed, the oddest situation. Technically, she had the upper hand, as he lay on his back beneath her, legs hooked up around her but trapped between her thighs and the bed. Yet somehow he was still in control, for is she moved her hands to fight back she’d simply drop down on top of him. The half-second it took for that to pass through her mind though was all the time she had, as his fingers started to move. Gently at first but gaining speed with every moment that passed, rolling as they went to constantly switch between the soft pad of each finger and the hard, tapered point of his nails.
Instantly she felt herself giggle as the first shockwaves passed through her. Always vulnerable to such a unique torment she thought herself used to it by now, that she’d experienced all there was to feel. She realised at that first touch that she was wrong, horribly, utterly, totally, wonderfully wrong. Every tantalising sensation if each touch seemed to travel from her arms down her body, twisting around her as they shot down past her hips, her legs and all the way to her feet and the tips of her toes before, as if the tension grew too much to allow them escape, they rebounded, racing back up to settle deep inside her, each accompanied by a slight tingle, unnoticeable on its own but even now growing to something far, far greater. Unable to strike back, she instead focused her will, her pride and her own desires on hiding his immediate success, forcing herself to hold back the laughter that rose inside her.
As he lay there a smile passed across his face, the signs and portents of what was to come clearly visible on the angelic face above him. He’d heard that first brief giggle, and now he could see the effort she was putting forth to resist his attentions, her lips pulled tight, body shaking slightly with the effort as she tried to breathe normally. But it was the eyes that gave her away, there she couldn’t hide her feelings, her reactions and he saw them jump and dance with pleasure and delight as his movements grew more intricate, fingers crossing and twisting in ever more complex dances across her skin. With her arms the only thing supporting her she was particularly vulnerable to his attentions, though the sight of this heavenly creature in such a revealing position above him was stretching his own self-control to its limits.
As his right hand started to pittar-patter a drum beat onto the tight skin of her pit, his left pulled out of its resting place inside her shirt, tripping gently up the soft fabric and round slightly until it was spread around the nape of her neck. She tensed as she felt the fine points of fingernails touch her skin, bracing herself for a new front to be opened in their own private little war.
And was caught totally off guard as, with a speed that she wouldn’t have believed possible, he flicked his hands round her throat, tossing his nails against her neck as he went, bringing his fingers up under her chin. For a moment she was caught between anticipation and reality, the ghostly touches against the back of her neck still recent enough to feel real, then the true reality burst over her as those devilishly talented fingers whipped over the sensitive skin. Before she could adapt, before she could prepare, the laughter burst from her, and once it was freed there was no way back. Her body shook as her head came down, trapping his hand between her chin and chest as they continued to rain ticklish devastation down in this most unexpected of spots. To her credit she managed to hold on in this compromised position for almost a minute as the trembling in her arms intensified and the force of her laughter threatened to rip her from her precarious perch.
Finally she could stand no more and collapsed on top of him, her hands coming up to try and bat his ever-moving fingers away. A mistake in retrospect as the instant her hands were moving so were his, sweeping round to take her wrists, holding them tight though not to the point of pain. With one heave of those powerful legs he flicked them over, his legs still wrapped around her hips and thighs but moving down slightly to pin her properly this time. In the same motion he slipped her hands behind her back and she suddenly found her own body pinning them down. Before she could react he had taken hold of the bottom of her t-shirt and rolled it up her body. As the fabric moved up, so he guided her arms clear and above her head, letting the shirt wrap around her wrists in an impromptu bind that held her arms firmly together and, with the cotton wrapped around her fingers, reduced her ability to retaliate down to almost nothing.
Taking her wrists in his hands once more he guided the declawed kitten’s paws down until they were resting on top of her head, Then, with both his hands holding hers in place, he began a slow, torturous decent that went beyond anything she’d ever thought could exist or dared to dream about. Always she’d imagined that the ticklish nirvana she wished for, longed for, needed and prayed for, would be delivered through the fingers or feathers of a ‘ler, but now she realised the depth of her mistake as his tongue started to lap across her skin.
The short, soft yet still scratchy stubble of his beard acted as a herald, announcing the oncoming onslaught most effectively. She flashed back to everything she’d ever read about being tortured by a brush against helpless bare flesh and realised that whoever had written those works had never experienced this. It was as if a thousand bristles were dragging against her skin, but with a grace and delicacy unmatched by any inanimate object.
Yet, despite the pulses of ticklish joy it caused, and the waves of laughter that pulsed through her at every touch, it was still only the vanguard, the trailer for the main feature, as his tongue followed behind, every single touch bringing a new world of delightful devastation along with it. Every thought, every fantasy she had ever dreamt about being a ‘lee, all of it paled in comparison to this moment, this feeling. It existed in a realm beyond words, beyond reason or thought, but in the language of the heart, in emotion and sensation and feeling.
First there were the sheer torturous tickling sensations brought to her by an eager tongue, willing mouth and hot breath upon her skin. Every inch of her body was explored from neck to waist, nothing left untouched or unmapped as he worked his way over her delightful landscape. That tongue would dive and wrap over and around anything that might even suggest a ticklish weakness, and in her current condition there was virtually nowhere that didn’t satisfy that condition. Every moment brought some new experience, and every experience brought new laughter to her lips, creating a rising symphony of delight around the two of them as he worked.
Second there was the occasional outright sexual moment as his lips would find her breasts, her nipples or one of a dozen places she’d never before realised could cause such erotic sensations to flood through her body. At every spot it seemed he would pause and invent some new erotic torture for her, seemingly never repeating any particular touch or motion no matter how often he bestowed such a gift upon her. Gradually, beneath her laughter, she became aware of a rising need, a passion that burned within her, and one that escaped in a low counterpoint to her far louder hysteria.
And third was the overwhelming sense of exotic sexuality that by now permeated the room itself, wrapping around them both and speaking to something deep within their souls as both fought to contain their desires. The warmth of their bodies mingled, two becoming one as she felt the occasional swish of soft, supple leather against her bare skin, the need burning bright in her eyes now as she felt herself loose the fight with her own pride, passion pushing it back as she surrendered to her needs. And now, now he accepted that surrender, knowing that she was ready for such an experience was before she may have fought it. Rational thought was banished by pure, animalistic desire and as she writhed in the midst of erotic desperation and over stimulated nerves he pulled his hands away from hers, running them rapidly down her sides to the single button of her jeans. Snapping it open he pulled the denim down far enough to leave only a single layer of silk between his hands and her flesh. Lost for a moment he reached for it, intent obvious, only to hesitate less than an inch from the final barrier and after a second or two reflection, throw her a smile that turned any remaining fight to dust inside her.
His left hand slid up her belly, fingers writhing over her skin as one digit dropped into the untouched territory of her navel. He lent over her and delivered a passionate kiss, the sort of kiss she’d dreamt about and expected what seemed like a lifetime ago. And his right hand stole up her thighs, fingers resting gently on the damp material as they started to wiggle and writhe. Her eyes rolled back as she felt the first tickles on her mound, and then a wave of pleasure so high and fast she was sure she’d drown washed over her, sweeping her away. She screamed, but the lips that still held her captive, a link back to him, muffled her voice as he leant her strength to withstand the pleasure and accept it. Her soul joined her voice as it screamed into the night, on and on until at last she was spent and collapsed back to the floor, exhausted to the point of unconsciousness.
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