‘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.”

into the top of my panties, his eyes tracking the movement. “Take them off,” he says. “I want to see you; all of

are hideously uncomfortable. I strip them away

course, so

my body, he picks up his glass from the side

more than that. Lie back. Open your legs. Show me all of yourself. Show

My breath catches again.

laid out so flat, I’m not

from the bed. “Raise your head and shoulders,” he says. “I

should offend me, but

eye again. Perspiration runs down my face and I’m sure that my mascara must be running, but he doesn’t

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

hand. He sips at it, watching me

know you. I want to see you.”

knees are slightly parted, but he nudges at first one, then the other with the glass, easing

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 and

I am able. His lips don’t move, but his eyes

give

my swollen, almost melting folds with fingers that glide, wet and slippery

me what you

away the hood

look beautiful, you know,” he says. “You have no idea how beautiful you are, aroused like that. I can see that you’re embarrassed,

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