Bella Bambina

bendingsubmission:

I told her not to wear them.

She ignored the request, to see if I was serious.

Her version of a little game.

“Why are those still on?”

“I thought you were joking.”

“No you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t. I suppose I’m in trouble now?”

“You think you’re safe because we’re almost in the lobby?”

“I like my chances.” 

I didn’t wait for the smirk. As I forced her to the wall and pulled them to her calves, she froze. Before the shock wore off, my fingers had her suspended. Hanging off me. Eyes closed, her mouth parted. Then movement. Her hand to my forearm. Fingers tightening as mine increased speed. Elegant enough to avoid overstimulation, rough enough to force her back to arch in preparation. She didn’t realize how well I knew her body. How I easily I could read her. How quickly I could rip this from her if I chose to. Her nails were sinking into my arm before the it struck her. Her eyes opened. That wonderful look of ecstasy, coupled with bewilderment.

“I’m going to . .”

“You most certainly are.”

They closed again as she slipped into violently silent convulsions, followed by a little “oh fuck” mantra only I could hear. Normally I would stop at this point. Not tonight. She might not listen to me, but her body would. Eyes open again, ecstasy mixed this time with a touch of fear. 

“Oh God, I can’t stop …”

“No, you can’t.”

Pull all the levers. There are no brakes for this. I held her there, past the edge, just shy of tears. Long enough to make my point. Long enough to open another door in her she was afraid to look into. There’s a reason the French call this the little death. Without warning, I stepped back, leaving her against the wall. Her hips still bucking. Her body dancing to echoes from my fingers. The fabric around her calves fluttering as her left leg twitched. 

“Now take those off and find a trash can for them.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“My legs don’t work.” 

delectabledeviants:

He made her melt. Within the way he looked at her. The slight quirk of the way he smiled. The way his eyes glinted when he spoke of things he was passionate about. 

By the time they made it to the bedroom, she buckled at what an attentive lover he was. How he seemingly celebrated every inch of her skin, spoke his name into her pores and kissed her like the world was ending. When fuck found it’s sinful way into the mix, he could be anything, anyone .. the most romantic lover or the forbidden Sir from school. He kept her guessing. 

But more than that, she knew the day after she wouldn’t feel empty. That the ensuing day would be full of old video games, munchies, good movies, adventures, whatever sprung to mind or suggested itself within the spontaneous.

She didn’t believe in love, but there was a feeling interlacing each heartbeat that perhaps .. perhaps .. this was real. 

(Source: daitro)