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"Delicious. " Cicadas were singing their rasping song as the day's heat soaked into her skin, joining the heat spiraling up from her insides. She wanted to reach up, thread her fingers through his hair, draw his lips down to hers where she lay on the blanket.
Her eyes lingered on his mouth. When recognition of what she was doing darkened his gaze, she tore hers away.
"Exactly my thought. " This time he took the deviled egg, turned it upside down and spread the filling over her clit and pussy lips. She squirmed at the cold but then he distracted her by moving down to the end of the blanket. Lifting her legs onto his shoulders to pull her hips up to him, he sat on his heels and began to eat the filling.
Rather than trying to stroke her the way that would arouse her using the egg as the excuse, he used her pussy very functionally as his plate, methodically sucking and eating each portion of the filling, licking where needed to get all of it. Her hands and arms lay loosely above her head, the only place for them. She closed her eyes, immersed in the feel of his mouth on her, his utilitarian use of her body. His to do with as he wished. For some reason the thought of that alone could shoot her up a spiral of hard, unrelenting arousal.
He ate his salad on her stomach, drizzling the dressing over the spinach leaves. He gave her bites of it, getting the greenery on his fork with modest pricks that made tiny imprints in her skin. Then he split a sandwich with her, making her eat it from his hand as he watched every movement of her body, the liquid arousal on her thighs, the heightened pulse, the parted lips.
Objectively as a Mistress, she realized he was training her quite effectively to reach full arousal quickly and then stay there, so that she could think of nothing but the demand of her own body, the desire to have him fulfill it. To fulfill him. So it seemed the most natural thing in the world when a crust of bread fell to lift it toward his mouth, wanting to feed him. Serve him.
His eyes were molten gold on hers as he took it, sucking on her fingers while her body trembled, caught in the charged silence.
"Would you take off your shirt?"
She barely recognized her own voice. He nodded, stripped it off, then leaned forward over her, one hand on the opposite side of her shoulder, then the other, bracketing her. Slowly, slowly he moved on top of her, settling his thighs in between her spread ones with a nudge to accommodate himself. His hips were against hers, his bare stomach touching her quivering one, his chest on her bare breasts. He bore his weight on his arms so as not to crush her, going to one elbow to stroke her face with one hand, touch her lips.
"Ask me to kiss you. Marguerite. " Her lips parted involuntarily but her lashes fluttered closed. "Look at me. "
"Just. . . " Why wouldn't he just overwhelm her and do it? Do what it was so obvious she was aching to have him do?
"There are limits, angel. " His voice had gotten low, a dangerous rumble.
"Yes. " She opened her eyes. "There are. And you keep pushing them. This isn't about you and me. I'm not stupid, or gullible. I know you don't push this hard and personally with another Domme under training. "
"No, you're not stupid," he agreed. "You knew it would be about more than that between you and me. Yet you chose me. So just say it. I know you want me to kiss you. " She shook her head, not meaning no, meaning something else that was welling up in her, that his constant barrage on her body was drawing forth from her.
"Damn it - "
"Just stop asking," she burst out. "Just take. Please. . . just take over. I can't. . . give.
You just have to take what you want. "
Tyler stared down at her a full ten seconds, felt her heart pounding beneath his, the taut urgency of her hips pushing against him. He lowered his lips to a fraction above her mouth and she didn't move, her eyes staring into his, pleading in a way her voice could not. She couldn't ask but it was obvious how much she wanted. And he could deny her nothing, whether she realized it or not.
"You never answered me, about pregnancy. "
"I'm safe. And I can't have children. "
He saw a wealth of memory and pain behind the simple statement but he could tell she didn't want this moment to be about that. He capitulated, plunged, covering her mouth with his, swallowing the near sob of relief she made as he fisted his hands in her hair roughly. Taking over, he scraped at her with his teeth, stroking her tongue with his, cognizant of her body rubbing against him, her pussy so wet he could feel it through his jeans, making him lose his mind and restraint.
Her hands were on his head, his neck, digging into his shoulders, his back. He didn't want to pull back but he did, catching up one of her hands and putting a kiss on her palm before he stood up to remove the jeans. He stripped while standing between her open legs, tall above her. He looked down at her clear pale eyes fastened on his every movement, her hair spread out on the ground around her, the moonlight color gleaming silver in its marriage with the sunlight.
"Put your arms back above your head," he said roughly. "Leave them there. " He wanted her lying beneath him, completely his for the taking. But she didn't move, just trembled and looked at him with those hungry eyes. In them, he saw a combination of desire and fragility so powerful he wondered if he could ever get enough of her or let her leave the house. He was overwhelmed with a desire to fuck her senseless and protect her both.
She couldn't say the words but she was able to form them with her lips.
Make me.
It wasn't in her to surrender to a Master, as much as he knew she wanted to surrender to him. But her desire was making them both insane.
He wanted to be gentle with her. He wanted to take her hard. Even knowing that he was going down a path he shouldn't go down, he acted.
She anticipated him, lifting her hand to block him. But as capable as she'd proven herself to be, she was no match for a person with his training. Not combined with his superior strength which, if she'd had any doubts on the difference in their ratios, he ended it in a split second by catching one wrist in either hand, bringing himself down on her. His knee inserted itself between her thighs and, using the bucking of her body, he slid himself into her.
She was so tight that even with her slickness he felt the resistance, the infinitesimal stiffening and then her attempt to compensate and relax after pain had already been inflicted. He stopped, holding her down while her shuddering reaction gripped him, stroked him, made him want to spill himself into her. Instead he eased forward, millimeter by millimeter.
