Flirting For a moment he played with the illusion of inexperience, his fingers slipping over her thr

Flirting For a moment he played with the illusion of inexperience, his fingers slipping over her throat with a clumsy strength, constricting without precision. Breathing would be difficult, but he was missing that specific point, the particular button that would cut it off entirely. He was toying with her.  Her head lolled back and she let out a muted moan, the volume turned way down. He was standing over her, and the instant he felt her head press against his stomach he leaned down, pressing his lips to hers and stealing that soft little breath, right from her mouth.  Her tongue forayed out, as if trying to steal it back, but he met it with teeth, grazing down her tastebuds as she pulled it back. Another moan bubbled up, and that was the moment he decided to stop playing with her.  It was his thumb that knew the location best, that point slightly to the side of the windpipe, a softness that gave way just as everything around it constricted harder around his digit. She suddenly tensed up, one hand coming up to grab at his face, an instinctual reaction. The grab turned into a caress, and she let her fingers trail furrows in his stubble, before languishing back down to her side. They kissed some more. He only needed one hand to choke her. One hand to cut off all of her air, and one hand to wander down her pretty little body, find that tightly wound knot of femininity that had been aching since the first moment he’d touched her. One hand to hold her down, and one hand to set her free. Their eyes were closed, and he didn’t have the slightest trouble finding his way.  Occasionally he’d pulse his thumb, let up for a moment, and she’d gasp, whatever air left trapped in her lungs coming bursting past her lips to be devoured by him. There was barely any space for her to suck in her next breath, barely any time before that thumb came down hard again, cut her right back off. He knew she’d tap out if she needed to, but she was a daredevil, and she was always going to push it to the limits.  She was moving, too, a bodily writhe that had a pair of fixed points, exactly where his hands were. His other hand wasn’t even on skin, rubbing her through skirt and underwear, and still she was going wild. He played with the illusion of inexperience, dancing around her most sensitive spot and eating up every complaint that tried to form on her tongue. Finally his thumb eased off, and he broke the kiss for a moment, just to stare into her eyes for a moment. The edges were red, and they glistened. She was suppressing a smile. “You’re a monster.” She whispered out, and he couldn’t help but feel the corners of his lips quirk upwards. “You expected something else?"  -- source link

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