‘Mine’…?

Am I his…?

I think I am….

He waits, saying nothing.

Waiting for my reaction?

Yes, I think so.

Biting my lower lip, I cup my breasts in my hands, lifting them, thumbing my nipples, pressing them together to exhibit my cleavage.

His eyes follow my movements. He’s keeping his cool, but I think I see the press of his erection showing. As I circle the darker halos of the areolae, the skin crinkles tighter and his pupils, widening, turn his already shadowed eyes all but black.

“Enough,” he says. My hands freeze in mid-movement.

His eyes lock with mine, then indicate down.

“You want me to….?”

“Show me.”

fingers into the top of my panties, his eyes tracking the movement. “Take

uncomfortable. I strip them away to reveal my dark curls, glistening wet. Uncertainly, I

of course,

glass from the side table,

your legs. Show me all of yourself.

My breath catches again.

laid out so flat, I’m

head and shoulders,” he says. “I want you to be able to

used to the coarse words. They should

pillows, I can look him in the eye again. Perspiration runs down my face and I’m sure that my mascara must be running, but

a deep, gravelly edge. “Show me what you want me to do to you; where you want me to

me, the wine glass still in his hand. He sips at it, watching me with his

being shy? I want to know you. I want

slightly parted, but he nudges at first one, then the other with the glass, easing them wider. “Show me,”

sit in the chair again, to watch me, but instead, he sits beside me on the bed, close enough that I scent him. He smells of musk and lust

wide as I am able. His lips don’t move, but his eyes smile as they travel from my face to my

he says. “Show me, and I’ll give you everything you ask

excitement, wantonness and desire, I trace the line of my swollen, almost melting folds with fingers that glide, wet and slippery from my

your sweet spot. Show me what you want

away the

I can see that you’re embarrassed, but please don’t be timid with me. Give yourself

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