(NOTE: originally posted Sept 2nd as Story 1 but has been edited and altered to follow the post on Sept 17th, How It Began… I do hope you re-read and enjoy it!)
The elevator doors slide closed.
No one speaks.
We stand side by side, untouching, but I can see his chest rise and fall from the corner of my eye. I sense I am being watched and glance up sideways at him. His dark eyes are on me, his face expressionless. I have to look away, unable to take the scrutiny any longer. My breathing rate increases and I start to feel a slight flush creeping up my throat and cheeks.
The ride seems to take forever.
One by one, people dismount on different floors, until it is just the two of us left.
I expect him to turn towards me, but nothing changes. He continues to look at me, to inspect me as I stare forward, trying to control my breath and my pounding heart. I can smell his cologne, smoky and musky.
At last the doors open.
He leads me to Room 1220 that he has reserved and uses the card key to open the door for us.
Without warning I am thrust and pinned against the wall, his large hand easily encircles my throat and his mouth is on mine. Soft generous lips press against mine, in contrast to his stubbled beard, which is just the bearable side of painful against my skin. Our mouths open and his warm moist tongue meets mine and it is all I can do not to melt to the floor.
His hand is still clasped firmly around my jaw, keeping me upright on my feet.
He breaks the kiss and very slowly, very deliberately turns me around to face the wall. With one hand he pins my arms high above my head and moves his fingers down my throat to the neckline of my blouse, which he begins to unbutton unhurriedly. I can’t help it, I arch my back and expose my throat back to him, wishing he would kiss it, suck and bite it. He opens my blouse completely and releases my arms just long enough to pull it off me.
I feel his nose brush against the tiny hairs on the back of my neck, as his mouth makes it’s way over my shoulder bones, biting into the muscle at the base of my neck as he unclasps my bra at the back and allows it to fall off me.
His hand comes around to my front and he begins to pinch at my hardened nipple, his other hand still grasping my wrists against the wall above my head.
I arch my back and push my behind into his lap, feeling the hardness of his erection and he reaches down to hitch up my tight skirt over my thighs and hips.
The palm of his hand is between my legs, outside my underwear, pressing up against me. I grind myself against his hand and his fingers pull aside my damp underwear and slip inside me.
I am writhing with my face and breasts flat against the wall, thrusting my hips down onto his hand, feeling myself getting hotter and wetter.
Then he releases me completely.
I feel dazed, annoyed and let down.
Frustrated, I sigh out a low, irritated, “Fuuuuuck”.
I am spun around and slammed against the wall once more. The hint of a tiny smile plays around the corners of his mouth. His cold, dark eyes are locked onto mine.
Bending to accommodate my short height, he reaches down to encircle me and, with one arm, lifts me into a straddle position.
Unlike the last time, he allows me to wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck as he carries me to the bed.
I am placed lying onto the bed as if I were made of glass.
He stands upright and allows his hard gaze to travel from my eyes, over my breasts, over my hips and thighs, down to my feet and back again.
He unzips my skirt, pulls it roughly down over my hips, which I arch to help him, and discards it on the floor. I lie there as he towers over me, again his eyes taking in every inch of me.
I have never felt as exposed as this before. I am aware of the growing wetness between my legs and that it must be visible through my thin underwear.
He stands between my legs and, never taking his eyes from mine, strips off his crisp white shirt, undoes his leather belt, unzips his trousers and they fall to the floor.
This is the first time I have really seen his body.
I just about stop the breath from being caught in my throat. The size of him excites me. I cannot take my eyes from him. I feel my breath quickening as I look over his broad defined chest, to his toned torso and down to the biggest, most delicious looking erection I have ever seen.
“Look. At. Me”, the first words, familiar to me, he has spoken since we met downstairs breaks me out of my trance.
I shift my gaze back up to his face and I watch as he lowers himself down, his eyes staying connected with mine, and he pulls off my last piece of underwear.
He discards it and presses my legs wide open onto the bed and simply looks at me. I squirm under his persistent gaze and he tightens his grip on my thighs to stop me.
He dips his head down and I feel his nose trace my outline and nuzzle into me. His tongue runs along the crease between my leg and pubic area, down my thigh and back up. I feel a gentle breeze on me and I realise he is softly blowing on me there, cooling down my pulsing blood.
I cannot bear this exquisite torture much longer and try rubbing myself against his face. I hear a low chuckle as he finally sinks his face deep between my legs. I close my eyes and try to remember to breathe.
His tongue begins to make lazy, slow circles, altering pressure, then pace and direction until I do not know what he will do next. He slips his tongue deep inside me, his hand resting on my abdomen. My head spins as I feel his thumb begin to firmly rub in circular motions against my clitoris. His other hand is underneath me, lifting my hips up so he can go further and further inside me.
Just as I feel that I am about to come uncontrollably, he stops, once again leaving me exasperated and frustrated.
He lifts his head and moves himself up the bed until he is over me, his rock hard hips spreading my thighs wide open. His eyes look hard and his lips glisten with my wetness. He leans down to kiss me and I feel a sudden shock of pain and the metallic taste of my own blood and I realise he has bitten down into my lip. He sucks my lip.
He kisses me roughly and then he is deep inside. I gasp as the burning sensation of the size of him catches my breath in my throat. He looks down at me, becomes still, then moving in a very slow, gentle rocking motion he allows my body time to adjust to him.
“Look at me”, he commands me again. Our eyes lock and something very powerful seems to pass between us.
I recall the last time where we reached an unspoken agreement that he can do anything he choses to me and I will allow it.
As we fuck, as he rides me, he raises his body up from my chest, the muscles in his shoulders and forearms flexing under his own weight and looks down between our legs.
He orders me to do the same and we both look down to where our bodies meet, hips grinding against hips, my stomach glistening with sweat against his dark torso hair. I watch him thrusting in and out of me and feel that I am going to come again.
His hand slips down, resting his palm on my pelvis, as his fingers once again dip between my legs to work on me as he continues to thrust hard into me.
This is exquisitely unbearable. I watch his body move and flex over me, sweat dripping down his torso.
I feel the uncontrollable orgasm coming over me.
Once again, “LOOK. AT. ME”.
Feeling powerless and vulnerable, I look up into his eyes, so dark it is hard to make out the pupil from the surrounding deep blue and I simply allow the pleasure to take over me.
I know no shame or self-consciousness as I cry out and spasm from the strongest orgasm I have ever experienced, even better than the last time in my kitchen.
His body tenses and his eyes close involuntarily as he comes to his own climax. I feel his hot release inside of me and his sweat makes his body slippery between my thighs. His face is beautiful, his wavy hair damp with sweat at his neckline.
Just as he finishes I hear him breathe out.
Very low, very softly, he says my name.
We lie together for a while, catching our breath, then he lifts himself up and looks down at me, smiling that roguish smile he has.
“Let’s eat,” and he is gone from the bed and is calling room service, ordering two steaks, rare and a bottle of Shiraz.
“What if I don’t like steak?” I ask as I roll over onto my front.
“Well… yes,” (Fuck it, I should’ve seen that coming.)
“So, we don’t have a problem then,” and he slaps me across my behind. It hurts less than I would have expected and I actually giggle, which makes him laugh and I feel as if I have struck gold. Making him laugh lights me up.
“So, is this how it works? You are always in charge?” I decide I have to ask.
“Is that a problem for you?” he tilts his head at an angle, watching me, “When we are together, yes I am in charge, as you put it. I might decide sometimes to let you take over, but only when I decide.”
“Wow! That’s me told then,” I think.
“Ok,” I say.
The steaks arrive and we eat.
Copyright 2014 by MsT secretgarden. All rights reserved.