“Very good” he said, his voice returning to a whisper. That whisper that had seared itself into her brain. “No clothes you intend to keep, yes?”
Ffiona nodded – stupidly, he couldn’t see her in the dark – and then found her voice again. “Yes.” She didn’t realise he’d moved – the plush carpets muffled any sound – until she felt his arms move around her, and the heel of his palms brushing against her cheeks. After he swept her hair to one side – even that slight, tickling sensation making her skin begin to prickle – he tied a soft blindfold around her face. He gently repositioned her, so she was standing at ease, with her arms slightly outstretched.
A few moments after that, she heard a soft clicking noise, and she could see a trickle of warm light permeating through the edges of the fabric. Slight changes in the hints of shadows and light gave her hints, now, that he was moving.
Ffiona’s pulse quickened as his fingers brushed her cheek, caressing down her neck, and inside the top of her blouse. She involuntarily arched her back as his fingers worked the first few buttons apart, the pounding in her chest reverberating through her body. In her mind’s eye, as the pounding intensified between her legs, she anticipated him undoing the rest of the buttons, and her skin being exposed. Ready for him to take as he saw fit. It was so close she could almost taste it.
Instead, she suddenly felt his breath against her waist, his hands on her hips. Perhaps steadying himself with one hand? – but his other hand swept across her waistband, stopping when it found the zip. Again her mind ran away from her – imagining her skirt falling, crumpled at her feet, her body hungry with desire as she anticipated fast forwarding this moment. The hunger gnawed as she realised the clasp on her waist was still fastened. The finish line seemed achingly close, but she couldn’t have it. He wouldn’t let her. Not yet.
He took his hand away, and he seemed to be leaning. Was he reaching for something? Ffiona couldn’t quite tell.
Her body jolted as she felt something cold running up the inside her thigh. Something metallic? The hard, cold object contrasted sharply with the warmth emanating from her knickers. She shivered.
He snatched the object away, and rested his hand on her hip. A calming, practised touch.
“It’s ok.” His murmur surprised her: she’d been so caught up in herself. “This is normal. Nada duvida, quem naõ sabe.”
He stood, taking her hair in his hand. He tugged it – not hard enough to hurt. Just to focus her mind. Ffiona was entirely at his mercy. Her breathing grew heavier: both with desire and with uncertainty. His hands returned to her collarbone, grasping her blouse.
With a sudden movement, he’d torn the rest of the buttons apart, making Ffiona gasp. He quickly removed the ruined material, casting it to one side.
Several beeps – she noticed the air conditioning humming. The temperature in the room plummeted. Ffiona resisted the urge to move. Her skin, already sensitised, erupted in goosebumps. She barely noticed him unzip her skirt and push it to the ground, the fabric pooling over her feet.
She felt exposed. Vulnerable. The feeling strangely accentuated her lust. She’d not anticipated that. She could almost feel him standing over her, his height clearly marking his physical dominance. She had mixed feelings about that, in this moment. She remained still, as they’d agreed.
Ffiona’s reticence melted a little as he took her face into his hands, stroking her cheek with one finger. A momentary gesture of comfort, not control.
His hands continued to wander, pushing her bra straps off her shoulders. But he didn’t stay there, his hands brushing down her stomach. It wasn’t a caress, nor a tickle. If Ffiona had to guess, it was just letting her know where they were.
His hands had returned to her hips. The top of her knickers – the oldest ones she had, as they’d agreed. She hadn’t known why, hadn’t wanted to ask questions.
His fingers pinched at the material for a second, and then, as though he’d changed his mind, he leaned away again. One hand returned to her hip. The back of his hand quickly brushed up her inner thigh, the contrast of her soft skin making his feel that much rougher.
Her shivering intensified when he slipped the cold, hard object inside the gusset of her knickers. Her arousal by this time was intense: so hot and wet. The contrast was almost deliciously painful. Before she could adjust to that, there was a flick and the gusset fell away. After a beat, she felt his mouth on her hip, tearing the side of her knickers apart with his teeth.
Ffiona’s knees buckled slightly, and his hand moved to the small of her back to steady her.
“Not long left here,” he said quietly.
She could feel him stand, his hand still steadying her for a moment. Then his hands moved to her bra, limply hanging from her without the straps to support it. The cold, hard object found its way between her breasts, and Ffiona knew what was coming next. A flick, and it began to fall away. She felt him toss it to one side.
The vulnerability blossomed inside her, but it was drowned out. She was even more enraptured than she’d been a few days ago. Completely under his spell. Ready for him to do anything he wanted to her. |
