firefly-flashes:“It’s inevitable,” he told me.We were having a drink together. The air in the hotel
firefly-flashes:“It’s inevitable,” he told me.We were having a drink together. The air in the hotel bar seemed far too thin, crackling with electricity. I expected to see sparks fly when he touched my hand. Just my hand, and I was already wet and aching for him. Just his voice, and the butterflies in my stomach were practicing for the Olympics. Just that look, and suddenly I couldn’t bring myself to meet his eyes. “What is?” I finally managed to find my voice and ask.“Angel,” he said in that gravelly voice, “I’m going to have you. And you are going to beg for it before the night is over.”I should say no. It’s too soon. He’s too overwhelming. But oh, I want to say yes. It’s all I can do to sit like a lady and not crawl up on his lap and wrap myself around him and let my shameless, wanton body do the begging for me.“Maybe,” I said. He put his hand on my knee and stilled the nervous tapping of my foot. I looked up at him, caught myself staring at his mouth as he sipped at his drink. I think I shivered. The pressure of his hands uncrossed my legs; his foot between mine wedged them apart. His hand skimmed up my thigh, tracing the strap of my garters under my skirt. I put my hand over his, not pushing him away, but to keep myself from giving in to the impulse to slide forward on my barstool and grind myself against his hand.“You can tell me no,” he said, studying the blush that stained my cheeks. “But I don’t think you want to.” His fingers inched higher, pushing my hand out of the way, and found me wet and bared to his touch. His eyes widened a little as he smiled. I bet he was expecting satin or lace, something demure and seductive. I did warn him that I only look proper. “No,” he repeated. “I think you want to tell me something else entirely.”I smiled, my heart hammering so loud he had to hear it. He didn’t let me go and he didn’t pull away. He just sat there in the bar, sipping his drink and toying with me as if he did it every day, when I wasn’t sure if the room was spinning or if it was just me. He was the only real thing in my field of vision, solid, implacable, relentless.“Say it,” he insisted.“Please,” I whispered, starting to tremble from the effort of holding myself together. I wanted to say so much more, the words fighting my lips to spill out from my mouth and beg him to take me now. Right here on the bar. “Please what?” he said archly, watching the dilemma in my eyes, the blush on my cheeks, the desperate gasp of my breath. “I can’t say it.”“You will if you want me to take you upstairs, sweetheart. All you have to do is say it.”His thumb brushed over me, rough and demanding. He was going to do this, right here unless I said it. It was the most pleasurable agony, his touch, but it was worse when he pulled his hand away, his fingers sticky-wet, and brought them to his lips. “Say it now,” he said. “Or I’m going upstairs without you, and I’m going to jerk off with the taste of your pussy in my mouth, and you won’t even get to watch. You can sit down here until I’m done, and then we can have a nice quiet dinner and I’ll let you go home, back to your good-girl life and you can only dream about what should have been.”He would do it, too. I saw it in his eyes. And the thought of missing that chance to have him, the pain and the pleasure he offered, brought me to my feet. He stood with me and held me when I shook my head frantically.“Please,” I begged the buttons of his white dress shirt. “Please take me upstairs and fuck me.”I felt him sigh, the tension between us alive and crackling again as he pressed his lips against my hair. “I thought you’d never ask.” -- source link