*Before I met you, I considered myself best in class. Now I feel like a rookie.*
*I’ll getcha learned up…*
I unwound my damp hair from the bun and waited for the knock at the door. Around me, the room was mostly quiet. SportsCenter on the TV did nothing to distract me from my thoughts.
*What’s ‘Chapter 2’?*
*Patience, my young Troublemaker*
*Patience is one of the virtues I lack, in case you haven’t noticed….*
The knock at the door startled me out of my reverie. A tremor shook through my frame, my heart sitting in my throat. I pulled the door open and he looked over his shoulder before quickly entering, the door snapping shut behind him.
His blue-grey eyes were tinged red today. He hadn’t slept. *When does he ever?* I pondered this thought as I pushed the jacket from his shoulders, wrapping my arms around him as I did.
His hands roamed up and down my body, the white fabric of my top rippling with his ministrations. Wordlessly, I kissed him, chaste; a soft kiss upon his lips. I stepped away, but that was the only catalyst needed. He slipped his fingers in between threads of my hair and pulled me close again, this time for a deeper kiss. I threw my arms around him, rubbing my fingers through his hair. As his tongue slipped into my mouth, my fingers knotted in the hair at the back of his neck, my other hand cupping his cheek. He pivoted us so now my back was to the wall and he had me pinned against it with his warmth. I leaned up on tiptoes to lick along the curve of his ear; my hand dropped to his thigh, dragging my fingers up… so close.
He groaned against my neck, tightening his grip in my hair to pull me away. Face to face, I pouted at him, “but Daddy, I was so close to having fun.”
He smirked, “Were you? You’ve been so bad lately, I should spank you.”
I knew what he was referring to and my lips curled into a smirk. “You mean you don’t like when I tease you mercilessly while we’re on conference with everyone else? Trying to watch you keep your composure is my most favorite thing.” I winked at him and laid a kiss on his cheek.
“You’re going to pay dearly for that Little One.” He gave me a chiding look and forced me to my knees in front of him. I looked up at him from under mascara’d lashes, our gazes holding steady while I forced his pants down off his hips. I licked my lips in anticipation and freed his cock from the confines of his boxers. No matter how many pictures he sent me, no matter how often I saw it, the sheer length and girth made me breathless. I licked along his cockhead, treating it like I would a big cherry lollipop. My fingers curled around the base, making him moan. He splayed his fingers in my hair, rubbing down and along my shoulders, but I paid him no mind.
I enveloped his cock with my warm, sweet tongue, making him moan again, this time louder. It was music to my ears, urging me on. I found a rhythm, bobbing my head up and down along his length, thoughts of how he would fuck me arousing me to the point of insatiability. My free hand dropped between my thighs, disappearing under my leggings. I attacked my clit with need and then pushed two fingers into my aching cunt, wishing they were his. My moans were lost on his cock, it muffling them before they could escape my throat. His moans were a cross between a low groan and a grunt, coming more urgently. He was close; I wanted to taste him so I dared not stop. And instead of picking up, I maintained my place near breathless. My saliva dripped from my bottom lip and down my shirt. I paid it no mind; the shirt would get taken off eventually and I packed a spare.
Right when I thought he would deny me his cum, he stilled, a long groan and my name sighing from his lips. His pleasure enveloped mine and encouraged my orgasm. Have you ever cum with a man while his cock is buried in your throat? It’s ethereal.
He panted, taking his cock from between my lips, his eyes looking me over. I was leaning against the wall, everything was stiff, but I didn’t mind. “Give me a second,” I grinned, sucking on my fingers. The way our sexes mingled in my mouth was an instant aphrodisiac, not just for me, but him as well. He watched me suck my fingers clean of myself, his hand going to his cock.
“I want you.” It was music to my ears.
I stood, slowly, on unsure legs and removed my fingers from my mouth to brace the wall as I did. He walked over to the table, leaning against it as he watched me. I strode over to him, each step sending a shiver through my thighs. My fingers, sticky with my saliva, danced down his torso and to his cock, stroking it. I leaned in, my lips warm against his cheek, “we taste so good together.”
Perhaps it was my hand on his cock, maybe it was the drawn out sensuality of it, but he couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled my shirt over my head and pushed my leggings off my hips. He didn’t stop to fuss with getting them completely off; he moved with ease and grace, a certain*sprezzatura*, spinning me towards the bed. With the flick of a wrist, he pushed me back and I fell.
“Tell me,” he growled, pushing his way between my thighs, “what is to stop me from holding you down by that pretty throat of yours and fucking you senseless?” He tore the leggings from my calves, tossing them in a puddle with my shirt across the room. Our eyes met and I could see the fire he had talked about.
*I’m all fire and rage*
Unfortunately for him, I revel in the warmth of fire. “Nothing, of course.” I smirked up at him defiantly and stretched my arms back over my head. “Except for the fact you won’t.” My words hung in the air between us, a silent challenge. He paused as if to chew on them, letting them sink in and then pushed two fingers into me, a litmus test of sorts. I cried out, my back arching, my fingers snaring in the sheets, “F-Fuck!”
He withdrew his fingers, smirked at the decadent gush that coated them and then added a third, pushing them into me. “You don’t think so?” He used his other hand to tweak my nipple, my moans low but unceasing.
I blinked through the pleasure, forcing myself to look at him despite my want to throw my head back and cum. “No, I really don’t.” I hissed, the last word getting caught as my breath hitched in a moan.
“I should make you cum on my fingers before I have my way with you.” He seemed to genuinely be musing over the idea, his eyes alight with mischievous intent.
“I’d rather your cock,” I spat, egging him on.
“Oh, you.” He quickened the pace with his fingers, his other hand plucking and tweaking my nipple like I was an instrument made only for his hands. “Cum for me,” he purred dangerously low, “then we can have some real fun.”
My legs trembled as I neared closer to orgasm. When he began rubbing my clit as well, I cursed. My traitorous body betrayed me with his name dripping from my lips. My breasts rising and falling quickly as orgasm ravished me.
“Mu-uch better,” he withdrew his fingers from me, sucking them clean, “Christ you taste good.”
“I told you so,” I murmured. One day he would have to teach me how he could cum and still be as spry, carefree as if he had not.
Wasting no time, he pushed his cock into me, our moans mingling in the air between us. We fell into a legato rhythm, my hips raising to meet his, our hands snared, pinning me down as he promised. His lips dropped to my ear, murmuring obscenities.
During work hours, he knew how to build me up; I was his wing-woman, his second in command. I was *his* badass: reliable, in control of my discipline. Outside of work, be it texts through the day or here, I was *his* slut. While he spent work hours building me up, here he unraveled me and he reveled in exposing my duplicitous nature.
I writhed under him, twisting this way and that trying to fight the orgasm, the raging tempest, building. It started out as the dull ache, building as he withdrew his cock and slammed into me again and again. My blood was thrumming in my veins, my moans sounded worlds away. His hands had snared mine, but his gaze kept me from fighting it. Those eyes, tumultuous blue-grey chaos that I oft got lost in, paralyzed me like the sweetest poison.
“Just give in,” he crooned, “you’ll feel so much better when you do.”
I thought back to one of our rituals:
*”Kill me!” He always exclaimed on days when neither of us had patience for the workload.*
*”Only if you poison me first,” was always my response.”*
*”Deal.”*
He moved, carefully catching both of my hands in one of his; his free hand moved between us, his thumb circling my clit. I gasped, the moan lost in my throat. Pleasure racked through my body, unbearably sweet. I arched my back under him, moaning loudly as I came. Everything was sensitive, my neurons all firing at once. He did not let up though; he moved, his lips on my nipple and he caught it between his teeth, flicking his tongue across it.
I wanted nothing more than to touch him, to rake my nails up his back, leaving stripes in my wake, but I could not. I came again, crying out with my release. Please! Please!” I writhed under him, “make me yours. Cum in me!”
He looked up at me, a predatory smirk dancing on his lips. “As you wish.” In a motion, he was off of me, the sudden emptiness in my cunt dizzying. He did not give me time to complain, “On your knees, please.” I did as he asked, rolling onto my knees; my legs trembled and shook from my orgasm. He knotted his fingers in my hair, forcing my back to arch and me to yelp in pained pleasure. “Are you my slut?” He asked, smacking my ass lightly with his cock.
“Only yours!” My fingers scrabbled for purchase beneath me, tangling in the sheets as I tried to keep my balance.
“Good girl,” he murmured tracing his hand along my right ass cheek. “Good girls aren’t sassy though,” he went on, musing aloud, “they don’t talk back.”
I bit my lip, stifling a moan; we’d come full circle. “You’ll have to beat the sass out of me,” I barely whispered it. My eyes were closed, amplifying his touches, the way he held me by the hair. The pleasure almost outweighed the pain.
“Is that what you want?” His touches were more firm; he dragged his fingers along my ass, but then paused to swirl them in my sopping cunt.
“Do as you see fit.”
So he did. He withdrew his fingers from me and struck my ass. The first strike of his open palm sent radiant heat through me. My pussy contracted, wishing his fingers were still there. He struck my other cheek and paused momentarily to admire his handiwork. “You won’t be able to sit with a straight face for weeks when I’m done with you.” He punctuated the remark with another spank, this one landing on curve of my ass.
“Good.” I sighed a moan, wanting nothing more than to sprawl in front of him, head cradled on my arms, ankles crossed, ass in the air. Instead he held me by the hair, making my back arch and my ass stick out as such.
He repeated several more times, my moans turning into cries, my ass hot to the touch by the time he finished. He rubbed intrusive digits over several sets of raised fingerprints making me squirm under him.
Finally, “Will you be good?”
“Never,” I shivered, “but you wouldn’t be here if I was.”
Rather than raining down more blows to my blushing backside, he grunted an agreement. I felt his cock against my dripping hole and in the same breath he was in me. He bit along my shoulder, leaving bruises in his wake. He was condemning me to sweaters for weeks, lest my boyfriend saw the marks. He let go of my hair and his fingers bit at my hips.
I trailed my fingers down my front, circling my clit with greedy fingers. Well behaved? Ha. His breath was hot against the back of my neck, his moans mingling with mine. His movements came more quickly, his cock hitting my cervix.
The pain was borderline unbearable; my moans turning to cries as he repeatedly drove his cock home. Pain soon gave way to pleasure, this time a much more intense pleasure than I was used to. It threatened to wash me away like a tidal wave, making me move with a need I did not realize I had. Behind me, he moved with a fervor that I knew so well. We were both chasing orgasm. His fingers dug into my shoulder, pressing on the bruises he’d created, making me growl.
Unstoppable Force, meet Immovable Object. Our orgasms collided, with a gutteral cry from me and a snarl from him. The sudden crescendo in my pleasure sapping my energy and we stilled. He kissed along my spine, sweeping my damp curls from my back, over my shoulders.
“I never took you as a romantic,” I mused.
“I’m not.” He moved, the sudden cool against my back prickling it with gooseflesh. He did have a point; romance would never be in our cards. We were just here for mutual exploitation and stress relief. He shrugged on his shirt and threw me my clothing, “so, hungry?”
“I could eat.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/jwxtc5/dancing_in_the_dark_mf_long_hint_of_mdomfsub_oral