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“Yes. I can. When I’m ready. Because I’m setting the pace, aren’t I?”
She could feel the weight of his gaze on her. “Yes, Sir.” Her stomach tingled, her thighs. She had one hand resting nervously on the back of the couch, worrying the seam.
“Stay there. I’ll be right back.”
He went up the stairs, taking two at a time. She listened to him moving above. Her hand closed and unclosed. Obeying his commands constricted things in her, but also made everything spiral, become more intense. Made her want him to give her more commands. Take her over.
Maybe that was problematic, but she was giving herself permission to go with it. She wanted to stay immersed in all she’d seen tonight, stay in the space in her head that said it was okay.
He was back, carrying a blue metal chest with silver reinforced corners. He left it by the fireplace before joining her at the couch. She was still wearing his long-sleeved shirt. After peeling it off her, he guided both her hands to the top cushion, over that thick seam. He stroked her upper arms, the short sleeves of the dress.
When he cupped her breasts through her clothes, thumbs passing over the nipples in the mesh bra, the friction had her arching into his touch, pushing her hips into his groin. When she tried to straighten, thinking he wanted her to stay in place, he flicked one peaking nipple, eliciting a gasp, another jerk of her body against him.
“Animal instincts aren’t against the rules. Unless I tell you to contain them. Then you’ll do it, until I want you to let them go.”
He continued to fondle her breasts, taking his time, exploring the hardening nipples, the swelling flesh. “I’m turning on the light now.” He kept his hand at her waist, reaching toward the wall to bring the lights back up. Not full strength. Just enough he could see her, because of what he wanted next. He turned her so she was still facing away from him, but looking toward the kitchen. In the roughness of his voice, she could hear what touching her and taking command was doing for him.
“Bend over and hold onto your ankles, just like I told you I wanted you to do. Let’s see how high up that skirt goes.”
When she obeyed, the skirt rode up, the gauze overlay ticking the backs of her thighs. He put his hand between her legs, sealing heat and pressure against her sensitive flesh.
“The hem barely covers the crotch.” He slid his arm around her waist, holding her steady as his stroking made her sway, arousal pushing her like those waves in the poem. “Your cunt is getting nice and wet. Good girl. Straighten up.”
After she did, he moved to the fireplace. He folded the area rug back to the couch, moving the coffee table in that direction to clear the space. Opening the chest, he removed a cotton blanket and rolled up mat resting on top. He unrolled the mat and folded the blanket over it.
He returned to her. As she quivered, he lowered the dress’s zipper and removed the garment, draping it on the couch. She’d taken her shoes off again in the truck and left them behind when he carried her from it, so her toes curled against the area rug.
“I like it when you tremble for this. It does things to me, knowing you’re a little nervous about putting yourself in my hands, but you have the trust to do it. Lie down on your back on the blanket. Feet planted and knees spread. Arms over your head. I want your back arched, showing me how your nipples are pushing against the bra cups. Do it.”
She complied, moving around the couch in panties and bra. She was hyperaware of the air touching her skin, the heat of his presence. The lust and arousal were like one of those weighted blankets, a reassuring cocoon threaded with exhilarating anxiety. She moved in a way she never moved, a sultry swing to her hips.
As she lowered herself to the blanket, he came to stand at her feet. He was a long way up, intimidating and large. He had his hands on his hips, feet braced. His erection was a thick bar against his jeans. Under his demanding gaze, her shaking increased, but she put her hands over her head, pressed her heels to the carpet and parted her knees.
“Wider. Don’t forget to arch your back.”
She complied, a noise catching in her throat. His eyes were storm fire, passing over every part of her, lingering between her legs, on the points of her nipples, her working throat, and moist, parted lips.
Dropping to a knee beside her, he held his palm over her belly, inches above her flesh. He moved it down, between her thighs. Not making contact, just hovering. She could feel compressed energy in the space between his touch and her skin.
“Feel that heat?” he murmured. “The fuel barrier can keep you from getting burned, but through it you can feel how hot that flame is. I’ve imagined every inch of this skin, taking possession of it.”
He passed his hand over her neck, her face. Her eyes fluttered closed as he finally made contact, laying his palm over them. Her lashes brushed his skin. “I'm in control of your sight, your breath. You'll hear what I want you to hear, you'll listen to what I say. Even when I take my hand away, keep your eyes closed until I tell you otherwise.”
She licked her lips, and he passed a fingertip over that moisture, stroking the fullness of her bottom lip. He shifted his damp finger to her nipple, the sheer barrier intensifying sensation.
“It's all here, in every cell of your body. Everything here for me to call. Your fear, your joy, your triumphs, your knowledge. Every inch of you is beautiful to me, Les. That rush of feeling as I touch you, I control that rush. I control how you feel. No matter how high those feelings rise, no matter how they take you over, it’s all safe with me.”
In darkness, the words came easily. “Yes, Sir.”
“I love to hear you call me that. It pleases me a lot, Les. Do you know what an ignition sequence is?”
She shook her head.
“Three things are needed for fire to happen. What’s between us, that’s the source. Our bodies are the fuel. Then there’s the oxidizing agent, like your breath, or my breath on you.”
He leaned in, and she imagined him pursing his fine lips as a tickle of air passed over her nipple and throat. She whimpered as the next ripple of heated air was over her mound, telling her how close his mouth was to her sex. He gripped her thigh with one strong hand. “I want to consume you, Les. I want to drive my cock into that fire, let it burn in your heat. I also want to breathe fire over both of us, like a dragon. Don’t you move.”
She went rigid with the effort to obey as his mouth closed over her cunt, his tongue sliding over the thin cloth of the panties, teasing clit and labia, pressing against the silken barrier to entry. Small cries came from her as the spiraling pressure of arousal became a tornado of fire, just as he’d promised.
