Below The Surface: Part 6

(Writing Spicy Prompt 7 “She couldn’t bring herself to say it.”)

Zoey

The heat between our bodies had risen like a tidal wave, both of us breathless, settled deep in our desire for the other and expelling things we’d been holding in hard. My fingers were sore from how tight I was holding onto the fabric of the hem of their shirt, their collar, the belt loops of their jeans. 

Their hand around my throat felt like a necklace, then a choker and I felt my guard crumble as I let their dark eyes ground me. It was hard to hold their gaze. My limbs felt weak and hazy, grappling myself between the wall and the strength of their body. Nothing felt good enough as a stronghold and the more they spoke to me, the more my knees buckled. 

When they had that tight grip on my throat, possessive, enough so I couldn’t breathe, they leaned into me like a vice. Letting me listen to their deep inhales and exhales, I felt like they were paving a road for my mind to follow. Their whisper warmed my cheeks, 

“Just one more round. Keep going. Hold still. I’m here. You’re doing so fucking good. You can hold my wrist, sweet girl. Mmm, fuck.” 

When they loosened their palm, it left my pulse racing and I exhaled dramatically. They moaned like they were about to come. The more I tried and pushed myself, the more I suffered for them, the bigger their presence felt against me. 

My stomach was trembling from the vulnerability of it all and when they pulled away, they slumped down to their knees, rested their head against my core. They gripped the hem of my dress and tenderly slid it up, revealing my flesh inch by inch. 

Their tongue and teeth met me in a communion, a form of worship I’d only known as a strict top. 

Their spine and shoulders danced and their mouth couldn’t seem to settle anywhere, frantic and sensuous against my calves, my thighs, my hips, hands gripping the back of my knees like they owned the bones inside. 

They raised themselves back up, my dress creeping over my tits, held the bunch of fabric over my face. I moaned and their hand covered my mouth, shoved some of my dress between my lips. 

My body felt hot and cold all at once. Their mouth on me felt like another universe and when the reverb of my whimpers hit their palm, they pressed harder to stifle the sounds. I clamped my jaw down to hold the fabric and they started painting my skin with slaps, stinging me pink. 

That ache in my core beat from the bass of them. Nothing was enough. We made a religion out of desire. I was disappearing. I was resurrected. I was still being hunted and the tremor of my lower lip reminded me I was running while standing still. 

Their touch stung. It burned. Their mouth soothed. Then their teeth shattered parts of me that needed to crumble, until their mouth came back to mine and swallowed it all in hungry gulps. 

After a while, they slowed, then stilled, 

“Tell me you want me to fuck you tonight. I want you to beg.”

My eyes opened halfway in their lidded state, breathless and still shivering from the last domino of touches that made me collapse. 

I felt spotlit, shrunken. They looked at me like they knew the inside parts of me like a criminal. 

Luca: 

She was silent as a prayer, looking back at me. I slid my fingers between her lips and she sucked them sweetly, choked a little when I pushed past the back of her tongue. I knew those words where there, knew I could pull them out of her. Fuck I needed her to speak them. I worried she couldn’t bring herself to say it. 

I added a third finger and felt that part of her jaw panic, her hand flew to my wrist again, warning me and asking for mercy. I kept them at the back of her throat, felt her narrow and choke a little. I pulled away, gripped her chin rough, 

“Say it, girl.” 

She stuttered the first part and it was all I could do to not take her by the hair and drag her to my bedroom. I was already inside her, we just hadn’t fucked yet. The first part was quiet and my hand found the back of her neck, steadying her tenderly. 

“P-please. I want you to fuck me tonight. Please.”

I planted languid kisses along her collarbone, 

“Hmmm. I need one more word.”

She exhaled a breath she’d been holding and my hand slid inside her panties. She was soaked and she cried out into my ear at the pressure. 

“I want you to call me “Sir”. Go on. One more time for me. Say it real pretty.”

I slid a finger inside her and it felt like coming home. She clenched me tighter the deeper I went and my fist banged the wall next to her head. 

“Please. Sir. I-I want you to fuck me. Sir.” 

Bang into a whisper this time, my head swam and I felt her thigh rise against mine, opening to me more, needy and desperate. Her tongue was still thick with that last word and I took it from her mouth like medicine. 

Slowly, I pulled out of her, slid the rest of her dress over her head and wove my fingers between hers and led her down the hall. My boots  echoed down the hall with her quiet footsteps behind me, just like I liked it.