‘The relief of giving in to destruction’
Who do you belong to? He said, biting down on my jaw.
You. I told him, breathless.
An hour ago I told myself this wasn’t going to happen, that under no circumstances was it allowed to happen. I told myself this time I would be in control, I wouldn’t give into the fleeting feelings of my body.
It was supposed to just be coffee. Casual - except I spent two hours getting ready, making sure every inch of myself was perfect. For you. The moment you walked in and sat across from me I knew it would be anything but casual.
I couldn’t stop staring at your hands gripped around the porcelain mug, wondering how they would look around my neck. You caught me looking and smirked, leaning forward to ask, everything alright darling? I blushed violently, nodding, my gaze dropped to the ground.
We talked. You gave me advice on that one situation I couldn’t solve. I told you what I’d been reading, you’d read it too. I wanted to skinny dip inside your brain.
My place is nearby, I can show you that book I mentioned. You said it devoid of any expectation. I knew what would follow if I said yes. My eyes traced the outline of your bicep under your shirt as you held out your hand for me.
It began innocently. You sat down in a large plush chair and tapped your knee. You had one arm around my waist, the other holding a book as you read aloud to me. Your voice was firm, deep. I couldn’t focus on the words, I was too busy trying to keep my breathing steady. A page flipped, my thighs squeezed together, you tightened your grip on me.
Are you enjoying it? You asked. Did you mean the book or the sensation of being pressed against you? I simply nodded, biting down on my lip. You studied me intensely, placing the book down. Your thumb brushed against my lower lip. I traced my tongue over it as you pressed the digit deeper into my mouth. Such a good girl, you murmured.
My body erupted at the words, desperate and willing, the threads of self-control unravelling. Your hand found its way up my thigh, my legs inching wider as I welcomed your touch. You began slowly, telling me how pretty I look like this, that you loved how wet I was for you. Before I could reach that high I craved so deeply, you withdrew.
I want to take my time with you, little one. You said. I whined in response, frustrated. You picked the book up again and continued reading. My head was resting in the crook of your neck, the vibration of each word travelling through my spine down to my core. I could feel your hardness pressed beneath my thigh. Each time I shifted, withering in agony, you paused on a word, groaning ever so slightly.
Finally, you lifted me up so I could wrap my legs around you. I savoured every second of your lips on mine, of feeling you inside of me - stretching me out, filling me up, of your hands running up and down my body leaving every inch of skin ablaze. You took me to heaven on earth, transported me to a place I couldn’t reach on my own. By the time we were finished, I was dripping in sin. I had given in to destruction, let myself be consumed by the sheer force of you which I didn’t even try to fight. Destroying myself at your hand was ecstasy, and I wanted to do it over and over again.
