She looks distracted. Fuck, who am I kidding - she looks scared. My arms are on both sides of her shoulders and as I look down at her she is looking everywhere but directly at me. I whisper her name as quietly as I can and she makes eye contact....
Tonight has been an experience already. We've been kicking this happening around for more than a year now and we're both expecting it. I wouldn't use the word "planned" but the doubt has faded away through hours of conversation and occasional frustration. One doesn't expect to watch TV in a poorly lit hotel room for long.
When she looks at me, I can feel the reservations; I can actually feel the anxiety coming off her in waves. All I can hear is the blood rushing through my ears. I want to tell her that it's okay or that we can stop - anything to get her to relax - but she already knows and she certainly isn’t the type that can be coerced.
I think we both knew what was going to happen when I stopped massaging her shoulders and slid her shirt over her head. She held it there, covering herself, for a long time while I continued to knead the muscles in her back and shoulders. She's very tense but that isn't too unusual. I wonder if it’s situational.
I brush her hair back from her face and she nods to me; a nearly unnoticeable movement, the slightest imaginable, and I move away.
When her arms dropped to her sides I knew she was mine for the night. As the shirt slipped onto the floor I leaned in close enough for her to feel my breath on her bare skin. If she wanted out, this was the time. I entwined her hair in my fingers and pulled while bringing her body closer to me. I kissed her lightly at first along her neck up to her ear. I can feel her tense against me, can feel the struggle already.
I move my hand down to her stomach; l linger there while I try to read her expressions. When I unzip her zipper she looks away quickly. I'm balanced on one elbow but can reach her hair with that hand. I wrap my fingers in it to gain her attention. When my other hand slips into her jeans, underneath the fabric, I hear the sharp intake of air and realize she wasn't breathing.
I run my teeth along her skin for a moment letting her know what's coming and when I bite her she barely flinches. Her hair is still in my hand and now I pull harder, gauging each reaction as it comes from her. When I sink my teeth into her again she makes the slightest noise in her throat and tries momentarily to pull away. I look at the teeth marks, slightly reddened now and look for a new spot.
She is already slick with anticipation when I finally touch her. I repress a smile. Her body is stunning, perfect. And I want to see more.
The next time I bite her she is expecting it. As the pain increases she leans back into me instead of pulling away and I know she's okay with progression. I let her hair go but she doesn't move her head back. I bite hard into the pale flesh of her shoulder right along the muscle. She flinches and I can feel her wanting to move away but she doesn't. I’m almost impressed. The blue-black circles are beginning to form, contrasting against her skin. It’s getting darker in the room but I can see clearly see each bruise, each mark left. I run my hand along the light welts forming in a row across her shoulder and then grasp it firmly and guide her flat onto the bed. I push her forward and she lies out evenly on the bed. When I drag my nails down her back I watch for the lines to appear. I use her arm as leverage to turn her over, to face me. That's what this is all about.
I sit up and navigate myself on top of her legs and wait until she looks at me. I hold each side of her jeans in both hands and just watch her. She's a bit harder to read than I had imagined and I'm unsure if this is what she wants. When I start to pull them down over her hips she raises them toward me, an almost imperceptive movement that allows me to continue. I pull them off and drop them over the side of the bed. I've been waiting for a very long time and I can barely even breathe. My head is blazing with thoughts and I am forced to purposely take one breath after another.
She still looks a little distracted.
And she still looks kind of scared.
When I finally reach out to touch her again she closes her eyes. I lower myself onto this ugly plaid comforter and all I hear is her breathing coming harder and faster when I lean in to taste her.
She jerks when my mouth touches her, as if it was unexpected and I grasp her tightly to limit her movement. I don’t begin slowly; give her no time to become accustomed to this. Her hips match my movements magically and I realize how wrong I was about being able to know what she wants. She’s amazingly responsive and makes it very easy to know what to continue. I play into every shift and every noise. I match her readily letting her set the pace for now. I note every movement and noise for reference.
When she moves more slowly I alternate between light and then increasingly aggressive strokes along the entire area she shares with me. When she moves more quickly I flick my tongue against her most sensitive spots until she at the edge before drawing her back down. I don’t want this to end but I can sense her frustration – in the way she turns her head repeatedly to the sounds she makes. All I can hear is her voice as I allow her to get off. My eyes are closed but I can tell she is thrashing around a lot and I hold her tighter so we don’t inadvertently lose contact. When she’s done she becomes still and I give her some time to come down. I’m completely overwhelmed and tell myself to breathe. Relax.
I move to the side so we are parallel like stair steps to one another. When my hand begins to wander I sense a possible protest but she is quiet even as I slide it between her thighs. She turns her head when I look at her but makes no effort to stop me as I put two fingers inside her. I hear her take a deep breath as I enter and begin to explore what she likes. I initially touch her slowly but her reaction escalates and forces me deep inside her. I push hard and she allows me more space to move. I alter my patterns to see how she wants to do this. If I go slowly she grinds against my hand and makes the greatest sounds and when it’s faster she drives her hips in perfect sync with the rhythm I set. I feel all of her muscles tighten around me when I put my thumb against her clit and add another finger. I know the masochist in her can take more from me but for now I let her grind her way to orgasm with me buried deep within her.