Twelve Hours

My eyes opened and I blinked slowly, several times, before realizing I had been asleep. The morning sun was flooding the room and it was already hot. I saw blurry piles of black clothing strewn across the floor. For a few seconds I couldn't get my body to move, not that I particularly wanted to, but I had reached that point of satisfied exhaustion where functioning was not really an option. Suddenly the memory of the previous night flooded my mind, and my eyes opened all the way with the awareness of the man sleeping next to me. My right hand intertwined with his left, my left hand on his chest, his right hand covering mine, him lying on his back with the sheet wrapped around his legs. It was the picture of absolute perfection. I watched his chest rise and fall gently, beautifully, took in the angles of his face and the muscles of his irresistible arms, and closed my eyes.

In my mind, I opened them and his were above me, looking down at me, holding me with him while he moved inside me, no sound in the darkness except our breath, no light except the reflection of the dim lamp in his eyes. I felt him coming with the subtlety of his eyes closing and his arm under the small of my back lifting me up to take him as deep as possible.

He wasn't done with me. Not by a long shot.

Without missing a beat, he gently pulled out of me and crawled backwards to the end of the bed. Up on his knees, he rolled me onto my stomach and ran his hands down my sides to the front of my hip bones. He yanked up so that my ass was in the air. After a few moments of silence, I looked back to see what he was doing and was met with a soft but commanding "put your head down." Deciding that argument was both futile and undesirable, I obeyed. I waited. Soon I felt his fingertips lightly trailing down my cheeks and thighs, repeatedly, getting closer and closer to the wettest parts each time. Teasing me so that I involuntarily pushed back to try to get him to touch me there, he ignored it and pushed me back into place as he continued. I tried to reach back for a handful of him, but he grabbed my wrist and pinned it behind my back, again, continuing without a word.

He felt me reach the point where I was about to beg. The bed moved and suddenly all I felt was warmth, wetness, and pressure as his tongue pressed against the part that ached. Less than thirty seconds went by before I was screaming into the pillow. Back up onto his knees, his right hand slid from my ass all the way up my back and took a fistful of hair as he slid inside me in one fluid motion. I moaned a little louder than I meant to as my knees slid out from under me and brought me back onto my stomach. I heard muffled voices giggling on the other side of the wall. He used my hair as a control to turn my head to the left, and his left hand came up, slid across my cheek and cupped around my mouth. Completely under the control of his entire body, I gave in to utter domination, hearing nothing but his breath in my ear as he pounded into me. I relished the feeling of being used by him, in whatever way he wanted to. I wanted, NEEDED to be controlled; I wanted to struggle and lose, I wanted him to show me how strong he was, to remind me that he didn't need ropes or handcuffs or any external restraints, that he could keep me right where he wanted me and still get the job done using nothing but his own body.

He did so with no problem whatsoever.

That must have went on until the early morning hours, because I remember the way his eyes turned gray to match the sky outside. I don't remember falling asleep.

I opened my eyes again and this time those gray eyes, now blue in the morning sun, were lazily resting on me. His hand was tracing lines on my arm, still draped across his chest. I propped myself up on my elbow and watched the sun creep up the sheet and across his belly and our hands. He had seven tiny scars on his right hand, telling stories about forgotten pain and the heart of a woman who loved him enough to know every inch of him by memory.

I couldn't help thinking, there would never be enough time.

He seemed to hear my thoughts, as he tended to do somehow. I watched that little smile form in the corner of his mouth as that perfect hand slid ever-so-slowly down my body and slipped right into the center of me, his eyes never leaving mine. We were both already glistening with sweat and I had a feeling we'd both be drenched by the time he was done with me.

To Be Continued....Again