‘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.”

the movement. “Take them off,” he

happy to take them off. My pussy is running hot, streaming and my panties are hideously uncomfortable. I strip them away to reveal my dark curls, glistening wet. Uncertainly, I run my

course, so can

from the side table, tasting the wine, a deep

Open your legs. Show me all of

My breath catches again.

the covers but laid out so flat, I’m not comfortable,

bed. “Raise your head and shoulders,” he says. “I want you to be able to move. And I

should offend me, but instead, I well hot

him in the eye again. Perspiration runs down my face and I’m sure that my mascara must

you want me to do to you; where you want me to touch you, how you

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

being shy? I want to know you.

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

sits beside me on the bed, close enough that I scent him. He smells of musk and lust and sex and masculinity and…. I want this man…. I

I spread my thighs wide, as wide as I am able. His lips don’t move, but his eyes smile

me, and I’ll give you everything you ask for. Everything

I trace the line of my swollen,

Show me what you want me to do, where

the hood of my

I can see that you’re embarrassed,

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