Placing a hand on either side of me on the back of the chair, his reflection gives me a knowing look as he tells me in a sensual tone. “Oh I think I can when I hear a certain lady calling my name.” He pauses and gives me another heated look in the mirror before adding. “Twice”
He is courteous enough not to add ‘while climaxing’ or ‘in rapture’. His hungry expression is not as well mannered. It makes it clear to us both that he knows his name was drawn from me in the heat of orgasm.
I want to bury my face in my hands and sink into the floor. This has to be one of my worst nightmares. Caught out masturbating by the subject of my desire is beyond humiliating. So why does my body find it seriously hot? So much for my plan to intervene and halt, or at least slow down my libido. My pussy is pulsing and moisture is pooling around the entrance to my womb just as copiously as before. I fail to answer him and avoid his gaze.
He eases me back against the chair and bends to whispers in my ear with a hot hunger in his voice. “It excites me to know you can follow my instructions so well and so immediately, il mio tesoro.” He turns my face towards him and I see his excitement in the dilation of his pupils, the smoky gold flecks almost disappearing in the blaze of his lust.
A heat very different from embarrassment flows through me at the blatant evidence of his need for me and his use of the Italian endearment. What woman wouldn’t melt when the man of her dreams calls her his treasure?
A detective on an undercover mission that is who!
I try desperately to salvage my sense of duty and struggle to use my mechanism, but it is no use, I am too far-gone, still too deeply taken by the afterglow and his hot tender touch and voice. I turn my face back and just stare stupidly at him in the mirror.
He emits a satisfied growl and my stomach flips when he encircles my waist with one arm to pull me up out of the seat and hold me with my back, and buttocks hot against him. I squeak in fright and surprise as he has me facing the wall in two powerful strides. He lets me slide sensuously down from him to slowly ease, tortuously, over his hard erection to stand on shaky legs. His hands travel up from my waist in one accord as I slide down and he imprisons my upper arms and raises them to lay my hands flat on the wall in a captive pose. His palms cover my hands on either side, easily engulfing them.
The heat of his body flows into me and his hot breath is above me as he nuzzles into my hair. “You can’t deny your feelings after this, Raisa.”
The honeyed caress in the way he says my name is more tempting than any endearment and I moan and melt back into him for just a moment before I regain my senses.
“Admit it.” He insists gently.
I take a deep breath and struggle to curb the emotion rampant in me at this hugely erotic position and the confident passion in his voice. He waits patiently as I try to outlast him, the sound of both our breathing pounding in my ears, the feel of his heartbeat pulsing in unison with mine against my back. Finally, I can take it no more and I come clean in a strangled whisper.
“Okay, I admit it! But just because I feel this way doesn’t mean I want these sensations or intend to act on them.” I strive to inflect some disdain into my tone. “Why do you think I am in here, playing with myself?”
“Because you are a coward, cara mia!” He chastises me fiercely.
The twisted truth in his low-drawled assertion punches me in the gut and I push back against him and turn, making a play to get away from him. He stops me, his arms caging me, his strong, muscular leg thrusting between my reluctant thighs. His body is so close on mine, his heat pulses through me in waves. Gliding his long fingers under my nape, he softly seizes my braid in an erotic claiming that alluringly commands me.
“Yield to me, Raisa.”
It is an order, but it is a seductive one, his voice a caress in my ear, his teeth gently nibbling, easing a sweet fire through my entire body. His lips are on my throat, his tongue trailing lightly along my collarbone. The sizzling sensations make me light-headed and my will to resist ebbs quietly away. I have never felt this way in a man’s arms, never wanted to surrender so totally. I tilt my chin up towards him, offering my lips.
He draws in his breath swiftly at my unexpected submission and murmurs tortuously. “Raisa, sweet. You won’t be sorry.”
I expect him to take my lips hungrily, but he draws the moment out continuing to trail leisurely along my collarbone up my throat to the curve of my jaw, lightly tracing the outline of my mouth, slipping in so gently the swirl of his tongue mixing with mine is feather light.
His hands mirror this slow sensuality, discovering my body in a sweet symmetry from neck to hip, before sliding a hand under the curve of each buttock to draw me close against him down along his thigh. He moves in a slow, undulating cadence so I ride him, the friction of his hard muscles against the seam of my jeans setting my pussy afire with a slow, burning heat.
He eases out of my mouth, turning his attention to my ear, while gliding his hand slowly up to clasp my breast and tease my nipple. All this feels so fine, I can’t stop myself from voicing my satisfaction in a sexy moaning of his name. “Mmm, oh, Leo.”
“Mmm. For me too, cara.” Burying his face in my hair, he moves lower to inhale and lave his tongue along my cleavage. “You smell and taste intoxicating.” I can almost see his erotic, teasing smile as he whispers in a subtly, chiding murmur. “Kissing.” He nips kisses along my throat, thrusting and swirling his tongue inside when he reaches my moist mouth. “Inhaling…” He nuzzles my neck and takes in a long draught of my scent. “Tasting…” He bends back my throat nibbling, licking in soft little bites. “Embracing…” His arms pull me close, his hands possessively encircling my nape and waist. “None of these pleasures are possible by yourself, teserino.”
As if to test the truth of his words, I indulge my own senses in the scent and feel of him. The strength of his hard muscles under my hands causes my body to yield even more and I am glad of his strong thigh hot against my pussy supporting me. My arousal is so potent I wonder if my juices have soaked through my jeans. He smells of a mixture of woodsy cologne and primal musk. Taking a soft nip at the opening of his shirt, I take pleasure in the bite of his salty, masculine taste.
Kissing me deeply, his hands cover and massage both my breasts in a gentle rhythm that keeps pace with the cadence of his thigh. I cannot deny his tender claim on me. A feeling of inevitability creeps over me, as I fear I am slipping into an inescapable world of his making.
Suddenly he hardens his assault on my senses. Clutching me fiercely, he drops his leg and lifts me by my ass to grind solidly against his stiff erection. Seizing my braid in a powerful grasp, he plunges his tongue forcefully into my yielding mouth. This rollercoaster possession is breathtaking. An exciting sweep of adrenaline crashes through me along with a potent thrill at the mastery of his skill. He roughly kneads my ass with one hand, rhythmically lifting me even higher to fit his rigid cock tightly against my hungry clit. My breath comes in pants and gasps and I cry out as he hauls my leg up around his upper hip, driving me hard against the wall.
His roughness acts like a drug liberating my inhibitions in a fiery haze and I shamelessly meet his thrusts desperate for the feel of him against me. The wildness of my response pushes him further, his hands at my clothing practically rip my shirt open to unclasp the front of my bra and take my nipples hard in his mouth. Thrusting lower he unzips my jeans and fits his long fingers down inside to rub against my sopping wet pussy.
Moaning, captured by devouring need, all thoughts of duty or fear are eradicated by lust. In this moment, I know that he could take me up against the wall anyway, anyhow and I would have no will to stop him. From deep inside, the craving for him to take me now, ending any obligation to resist almost spirals out of control. It is all I can do to keep from crying out my crude, demanding need.
Thank God, the traitorous cry stays inside me. I hear his voice gruff with a lust as strong as mine offering a softer solution to my need. “Raisa, you’re so wet, you’re dripping like honey. I need to make you come, cara. You need it.”
I feel his fingers sweep against my bare flesh setting me alight, spreading my juices along my labia and clit, pinching and plumping. I cry out and feel myself sliding slowly down the wall. The world tilts as he lifts me, cradling me with his chest hot against my back, his hand still inside my jeans cupping my mound. Crossing to the chair, he settles me in his lap, facing me away from him, spreading me wide, increasing his pressure on my clit, working my juices all over my pussy lips. I curl into him and bite my lip to stop from begging him to thrust his fingers, hell, his whole fist deep inside me. I just want him to fill me. I arch and moan lewdly on his lap.
I feel his deep laugh vibrate through me, his voice muffled in my hair. “So different, Raisa. So cool before and now so hot. It excites me, you are so volatile. I am looking forward to fucking you in many ways, in many moods.”
His takes my chin and turns my lips up to meet his just as he did when he first kissed me. Possessing my mouth cruelly, he starts working his magic on my nub. Desperate as I was before to have him fill me, now his compelling strokes on my clit center my heat and arousal on my erect, jutting, little core. Stroke follows deep, fiery stroke and soon my whole existence descends onto that one swollen, pulsing point.
“Open your eyes, Raisa. Look. Look at us together. I want you to see yourself in my arms when I pleasure you. To gaze into your eyes when you orgasm.”
I resist at first. I am a strictly bonk in the dark kinda girl, but his undulating accent is too persuasive and I am afraid he may stop, so I sneak a look through my lashes. Responding to the view in the mirror with a gasp, my eyes fly wide open. I marvel at the sight of him as he plays me expertly, keeping his attentions to my body at a level that allows me to ride a long, slow, crescending wave of pleasure towards my climax. I am arched against him, my head flung back, one arm encircling his neck, the other clutching and pushing at his thigh in a rhythmic mirroring of his possession of the responsive, fleshy spot between my rolling, surging hips.
The sight of me in the mirror abandoned in his arms is such a turn on, I peak and, with a soft, keening cry, watch this wanton woman, I hardly recognize, come apart cradled against him. He pulls me in tighter and through my orgasmic mist, a sinister fear steals through me. His glittering, gold-flecked stare captures mine, promising the inevitable infiltration of my sealed, guarded, dark places.
Turning me towards him, he cradles me in his lap curling me into his chest. The scent and heat of him fills me, his words surrounding me in heavy, ragged breaths. “You are mine, now, Raisa.
Check out the other sexy post on other blogs for #MasurbationMonday
http://masturbationmonday.kaylalords.com/masturbation-monday-week-42/
Hi All,
