Author: djaevle

Hate me for understanding your need; under me, there are no excuses to hide behind, no doubts to hold you back, no fears to blind you. My belief will sustain you. My faith will guide you. My acceptance will free you.

Hate me for using your own body against you. My hands will learn the language of your cries. My lips and teeth will coerce secrets from your tender skin. I will be relentless, plying you open until your entire body betrays you, allowing you to enjoy the sweet indignities found in complete capitulation.

Hate me for having no mercy; my desire to watch you slip over the edge is matched only by my sense of cruelty; the delicate balance that keeps you helplessly teetering at the cusp is just the beginning, for I will see you fall again and again until I am satisfied you have suffered enough.

Hate me for making you remember; hate me for reminding you of all those feelings you had worked so hard to bury; hate me for awakening a need you thought was no longer there. Read more »

"Take off your panties." There was only the slightest pause before she stood up, slid them down her thighs, and let them fall to the floor. I turned back to the computer, selecting a few more songs for the playlist. A moment later, I turned to her again.

"Stand up."

"Now draw your skirt up over your hips."

No pause this time. I watched skin appear from under the blue of her skirt and then ran my fingertips over her hips, tracing the curve of her ass down to the back of her thighs. "Bend over." I followed the curve back up again, fingers spreading to caress the small of her back. Leaning over, I brushed my lips across her lower back, tasting the softness of her skin. Lips parted and traveled lower, following the heat of her skin along the edge of her ass, teeth grazing.

I turned her over and pressed her back on the leather ottoman. My knee nudged her thighs open and I rested my knee against her pelvis with just enough pressure to keep her pinned. She looked up at me and said, "That…was for you." Read more »

It rains, and I think of you.

Water, racing across the window, sculpts the shadows that fall across my desk; my fingers trace the changing landscape, following the dark lines, and I remember.

I remember the way the rain tasted on your skin. I remember how it trickled down your stomach, your breasts providing a cool alcove while I knelt, cheek pressed to your bare skin. I turned my head upwards to catch the drops of rain as they slid over your curves and onto my waiting lips.

I drank you in.

In my study, I can hear the rain, tapping at the glass of the window, and when I open it, just a crack, I can hear the soft roar of the creek outside as it comes to life. Normally a quiet, lazy, memory of a stream, the torrential downpour has awoken it.

I listen, and I remember.

I remember hearing your heartbeat as I stood, my head resting on your chest, and it sounded like the roaring creek outside, as if we were rushing towards concupiscence and that if we didn't let go, the moment would crash through us, leaving us tangled, the space between us lost. Read more »

Fingers hooked on the front of your jeans and I dragged you close.

I read the uncertainty in your eyes, but there was no hesitation in my own. It didn’t take much to loosen your jeans, just a quick unsnapping of buttons and my hand was drawing them over your hips. I could feel your indecision like a low current along your skin, but while I was moving slowly, letting the jeans settle around your feet, I gave you no chance to escape. My hands moved to your wrists, drawing them over your head, and your shirt joined your jeans on the floor.

You were bared to me, clothed now only in the sheer fabric of your panties. I leaned forward, forcing you back a step, until you were trapped between me and the desk. My hands encircled your waist and I lifted you, settling your ass near the edge.

Knee nudging your thighs apart, I stepped between your legs and buried my right hand in the back of your hair. Drawing your head back to expose your throat, my words were spoken against the long curve of your neck.

"Mine." Read more »

I want abandonment.

You know this place. It starts with a single kind touch. Soaking in the slow deliberation of hands that know your body well, your limbs are suffused with languid warmth. You become heavy with desire, the kind of weight that is light itself. You become a slave to sensation. You become potential.

It's just the beginning. I've fed you on soft kisses and forgiving touches. I've left love bites on your breasts, tasted the curve of your neck, nuzzled the apex of your thighs like a familiar pet. You have become deliciously plump and vulnerable.

You are a feast and I've become hungry.

I awaken you in the cold lines of fire cut into your skin. The heat of my mouth is no longer gentle; it burns a path along your stomach, searing flesh and branding my name into the curves of your body. Unforgiving teeth now mark your breasts. Fingernails bite into your thighs. You will not be left unmarked. Read more »