The Kiss

around his length and started stroking himself, and she felt powerless to do anything but watch his fist move up and down slowly.
    “Take off your dress.”
    She did.
    “Do you like watching?”
    She nodded mutely, absentmindedly caressing her stomach.
    “I like watching, too.” He tilted his head to the side and pinned her with those green eyes of his. God, she loved his eyes and the myriads of looks they were capable of. She could see his soul through those eyes.
    She cupped her breasts, pushed them together, pinched the nipples.
    He shook his head. “Sit on me, and do that.”
    His knees were apart, keeping her own legs spread when she straddled his thighs, her ass on the sheets. She felt so vulnerable. Then again, she always felt vulnerable with him; he had the power to break her. She loved how he only used that power to make her happy.
    Holding his gaze, she began caressing her pussy. Her movements were languid, like those of his hand.
    “Show me how wet you are.”
    She pushed two fingers inside her and brought them up for him to see. He grabbed her wrist, brought her fingers to his mouth to lick them clean. “Good girl. Now show me how you bring yourself off.”
    One arm behind her to keep herself propped up, she started circling her clit.
    “That’s not how you do it.” He pumped himself faster. “That’s just teasing.”
    She began to protest, but he lifted her, and then the head of his cock was at her entrance. “Maybe you need some help,” he said with a leer.
    Nodding again—what was wrong with her vocal cords?—she lowered herself around him, loving how he slowly filled her. Yes, that was what she loved the most about his cock: it was made for her. It was a perfect fit, stretching her just right.
    They sighed in unison when he was completely seated inside her.
    “Now, show me.” His hands were around her waist, directing her rhythm.
    And she did.
    She planted her feet on the bed and rode him for all she was worth.
    He kept talking to her, telling her how he loved seeing her so wanton, how he craved nothing more than being inside her, how hot it made him to see her play with herself while he pounded into her.
    She loved how he loved her.
    And maybe tonight, after they were sated and cuddling under the covers, she wouldn’t pretend to be asleep when he said he loved her—like he had every night before.
    Maybe tonight she’d say it back.
    His fingers digging inside the flesh of her hips, he took her harder. Faster. His eyes never left hers, his teeth worrying his lower lip. She was close. She knew he was, too.
    Her name on his lips sounded like a prayer.
    Yes, maybe tonight was the night.
    The End