Her vision obscured by the darkening gray of the room, the glint from his blue-gray eyes gives away his position. As her eyes come into focus, she can see him sitting casually in the chair, legs crossed, and the hint of a smirk across his handsome face. Conflicting thoughts jumbled together in her mind like a traffic jam on 696 during rush hour. His eyes never waver, and she shivers as if standing out in a snowstorm, the nubs on her chest threatening to tear through the thin fabric of her dress. “Turn around”, only two words, but spoken with a gentle forcefulness. Immediately, she turns around, limbs trembling with terrified excitement.
The feel of his fingers gripping her elbows startle her, “How did he get over here and not make a sound?” she wondered, not realizing the fog of lust and fear she was consumed with had all but dulled her awareness of her surroundings. His fingertips, pressing into the small of her back, sliding upwards ever so softly. The shaking ... her eyelids fluttering from his touch, the dampness between her legs, the trickle of fluid running down the inside of her thighs. “I have no control!” her mind screams, and that thought sends a small orgasm pulsing through her core. His fingertips reach the back of her neck, his hand slowly closes around the soft flesh. She feels the light pressure from his callous hand, The warm breath across her skin raises goosebumps and the shivers intensify. Knees weaken when she feels his teeth scrape across her earlobe, the soft waves of his hair tickle her cheek.
“My girl”, the whisper reaches through the fog, those words a buoy to desperately cling to in the maelstrom raging through the sea of her mind. She hears him draw in his breath, inhaling the scent of her shampoo mixed with the sweat dripping down her flushed torso. “My favorite”, he murmurs as she’s suddenly spun around and pulled forcefully to his chest. The smell of him is overpowering, his natural musk, mixed with the scent of industrial oil and heavy machinery and the whiskey on his breath, flood her nose and push the walls of her consciousness perilously close to black. She can feel his fingers slipping into her brown curls, then a short gasp escapes her lips as her head snaps back and the air breezes across her exposed throat. No pain of course, he would never cause her unneeded pain, she realizes. The sensation of his lips touching the soft skin below her chin brings vibrations to her clit and a raggedness to her breathing. She’s on the edge, has been for what seems like hours, but has been only minutes.
The agony of his slow, sensual kisses across her neck and down her bare shoulders is sending continuous ripples of pleasure through her. The waiting to be taken, that’s his torture for her, They both understand no words need be spoken, for she belongs to him completely. Feeling his arms snake around her waist, her body being swept up into his arms, her refuge in a savage world. Her arms clasp around his neck, she burrows into his thick chest. He lowers her gently onto the bed and straightens up. She sits on the edge and lowers her head, lip trembling with anticipation for the word she knows is coming. “Begin”, spoken in a low growl, spurs her to begin to unbuckle his belt. The thick leather strap hangs slack as her fingers frantically start to unbutton his jeans and tug them down. A hand on her cheek, caressing...”Slow down, darlin’, we’ve got all the time in the world”, he breathes. She nods, but her body is burning up, her core hotter than an active volcano and her desperation for him is bordering on frantic. She manages to pull his jeans below his knees and paws at his boxers, nearly tearing them apart. The sudden slap of his erect cock on her cheek sends a flu