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As we kiss, the flutter of a high-pitched exhalation from her throat makes my fingers twitch as I consider what I want to do to her, how I wish to find her neck with my hands, how I wish to squeeze the air from her as I fuck her, only to release my grip long enough for her to gasp before starting over again.
I picture bending her over the armchair and whipping her ass with my belt until it’s red and raw, and every thrust into her makes her yelp in the most pleasurable type of pain.
And yet, as she grips me tightly, her body still quivering almost imperceptibly from the trauma we both just experienced, I realize I can’t do it.
I pull back and her eyes open as she peers up at me, waiting for me to speak.
“I’m concerned that… I’m taking advantage of you… while you’re shaken up.”
She shakes her head. “You’re not. You’re helping me.” She tilts her hips into mine, rubbing her clit on the stiff ridge of my erection. “Please…”
“Indie…”
“Please.”
“I meant what I said. I can’t give you anything other than tonight.”
She swallows hard for a moment, her eyes glistening, before she finally whispers, “I know. I don’t care. Please.”
As our mouths collide again, I begin to slowly carry her across the room and up the stairs, taking care to balance my weight properly to ensure I don’t fall. We make it into her bedroom and I carry her in, her legs and arms wrapped around me, clinging to me as if I were a life raft as I close the door behind us in case her friends come back earlier than planned.
I place her feet down onto the floor next to her bed. The light is off and in the silvery glow of the moon, her large eyes glisten like pools of green water offset by the tips of pink hair that I want to wrap around my fist and pull her onto me by…
But I can’t… not while I still see sign upon quivering sign of trauma in her tiny body.
“Take off your clothes,” I say, an attempt to delay, to restrain myself from what I really wish to do to her.
She swallows before reaching for the bottom of her dress and lifting it all the way up and over her head. She reaches for the clasp of her white bra before undoing it, letting her ample breasts spill out and making my cock stand to attention beneath my cotton pants. She looks down at her half-naked body before looking back up, her cheeks blushing the most delectable shade of pink in the low light.
Her fingers quiver as she reaches for the waistband of her beige panties, tentatively sliding them down her toned legs and off her perfect slim feet before throwing them onto a chair nearby.
The timid way she looks up at me, so devoid of the attitude she normally enjoys subjecting me to, makes me hard as steel, makes me want to discipline her, to obtain the submission that I need from her to be able to breathe.
Instead, I choose a milder option. “Turn around. Let me look at you.”
She drops her gaze, turning around slowly, showing me the perfect round ass I want to flog until raw, the curve of her hip, the lines of her slim waist, the gentle bounce of her breasts as the tips of her hair caress her erect nipples.
As she turns back to look at me, I remain unspeaking, unmoving, wondering what the hell is holding me back when she clearly wants me, when I told her I wasn’t relationship material, that I can only give her one night. I’m not tricking her into anything… so what the fuck am I doing?
At this point, I’d have normally had her hands bound behind her back and her eyes blindfolded as I ordered her to her knees. I would have spent so long fucking her throat that she’d be gasping for air by the end of it, with saliva coating the front of her body from gagging on my cock.
What the fuck is happening to me?
But before I can speak, her hand reaches for my erection. I stop it quickly, winding my fingers around her wrist. I’m not used to being out of control and I certainly don’t let women take it in the bedroom. I decide when they have earned the right to suck my cock, or be fucked by it… not them.
But as she shivers, her wide eyes pleading with mine, I find myself doing something so unnatural to me that I barely recognize the sensation. I release my grip from around her wrist and allow her hand to delve forwards, exhaling a low groan as her small palm collides with my hard cock.
She begins to pant as she slides her hand down to cup my ample sack. She watches me carefully as she begins to gently squeeze, over and over, stimulating it until I’m ready to blow my load all over her dainty little face.
She reaches for the buckle of my belt, studying me tentatively as if I’m some wild animal that could pounce and sink my teeth into her neck at any time. She’d be right to think it, for all I want to do right now is to ravage her so brutally that she forgets everything that ever came before me.
The only time I allow women to remove my clothes is if I instruct them to when I’m in the mood, but I indulge her, breathing deeply through the discomfort as she pulls my belt out of its holder and drops it onto the chair, before reaching for the button of my pants.
My body goes rigid as I tolerate the unbidden intrusion, stiffening as she unbuttons my pants and pulls down the zip. I grab hold of my T-shirt and pull it off my body before allowing her to pull my pants down my legs, leaving me in just my briefs. I lift my feet and she removes them from me, placing them on a chair to the side as she stands back up.
She runs her gaze up my torso, taking in my tall, hard body, so abjectly different from her soft short one. She reaches for the bumps of my abdominals, her fingers exploring them as her eyes widen, inspecting my body as if it’s some jewel whose existence she’s just learned of. It’s another intrusion I don’t usually tolerate but I breathe through it, imagining the vicious ways I would like to discipline her for her audacity.
Her palms move tentatively up my stomach, slowing as she spots what I knew she would—the scars, over twenty years old now, snaking around the side of my ribs. The back is the main site of the injury, but there are scars on my ribs, my arms, even one hidden beneath my hair at the top of my forehead. Her fingers wander along one of them for a moment, not something I’ve ever allowed a woman to do before. The brush of her skin along the scars I never speak of causes my body to simmer in discomfort, but as I watch her panting face, her parted lips, her eyes as she takes in the webs of past pain I keep hidden, I find the strength to bear it.
