I am bigger than her. Stronger than her. Faster than her. I’m more stubborn. More impulsive. Willing to take things further.
She knows this.
She makes her choices anyways.
The subtle, side eye glances. The devious smiles playing at the corner of her lips. The wink. The lip bite. The subtle wiggle of her hips when she leans over the bar.
I don’t miss a thing.
She’s the butterfly, fluttering around all night, from one conversation to another. Talking. Laughing. Mingling.
And I only have eyes for her. I make small talk with a few people that approach, but I hardly know what they are saying. I respond to the girl at the bar, but I don’t even remember her name. I’m focused on the woman across the room.
She sits at a table with some people we know. Her dress slides up – just an inch – when she crosses her legs. She catches me staring. Another cruel little smile.
Someone said something funny, I guess. She laughs, her head thrown back. Her hand lightly touches his arm.
I take a sip of my drink.
This is her element. It brings her joy. And I love seeing her happy and free.
But I hate it too. I want her to myself.
She stands, my eyes follow her as she walks across the room. She turns down a hallway and I’m up, following.
I’m faster than her. I make it to the door before it’s fully closed behind her. I push it open, step inside, lock it behind me.
We’re in a bathroom but I hardly notice. My eyes are on her.
I step in close. I wrap a hand around the back of her neck, pull her against me by the small of her back. Her hands are in my chest, but I’m stronger than her and our bodies press together.
“God, I want you,” I growl. I clamp my mouth on hers.
I take a step, and another, my body pushing hers until she’s pressed against the counter.
She breaks off the kiss. “Can’t you wait until we get home?” Her eyes are serious, but there’s more tease in her voice than annoyance.
“No,” I growl.
She tries to hide it but I see the twitch of a smile on her lips.
My pants are off, her dress pulled up, and her panties are on the floor. I’m holding her leg up, holding her head close, and I’m inside her.
I’m where I belong. It’s where she belongs too.
I am bigger than her, stronger than her, but she knows how to get what she wants.
Who is it that has the control?