Demanding

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  • August 20, 2018
  • I drag my breasts down his torso towards it, my ass tilting up to give him a view that blows away everything on The Strip. His abdomen flexes as my mouth reaches his cock and laps up the pre-cum dripping from the tip. “I’m not going to kill you, Victoria.” His voice is husky. “There’s […]

    I drag my breasts down his torso towards it, my ass tilting up to give him a view that blows away everything on The Strip. His abdomen flexes as my mouth reaches his cock and laps up the pre-cum dripping from the tip.

    “I’m not going to kill you, Victoria.” His voice is husky.

    “There’s a weapon in every corner of this suite at my disposal,” I say. “Of course you’re not going to kill me.”

    I wrap my lips around his eight-inch steel. Goddamn, that feels good in my mouth.

    “Ay…dios mío…dame esa panocha,” he demands, landing his bound hands on my ass, hard.

    The sting makes me hot. His wet tongue reaching my pussy makes me hotter. And the relief…it’s like gliding into a pool on a scorching summer day. My mouth relaxes, briefly forgetting the task at hand as he wicks around my folds, sucking on that nub as I inch into position and rock my hips back and forth. I could grind on his face all night.

    His hands ply my ass as his thick shaft engorges my mouth, nearly gagging me. But all I can focus on is the growing pressure at my slit. His thumb teases my folds and then moves up that delicate skin to that even-more-delicate opening, popping in just a little. But it’s enough for my body to buck as an orgasm ripples through my core. He drives his thumb deeper, electrifying the peak…

    With the Vegas lights twinkling in the early morning sky, I collapse onto him, mouth still full of his cock, feeling like I’ve conquered something. At least in this moment.

    I don’t come for just every man. In fact, I’ve only given into one other lover like this. Control is a wicked bitch, but it’s as much part of me as it is my dance with Diego since the first time we gave into the heat between us. I rotate my tongue around his shaft, wanting to give him that same amount of pleasure…

    “No. Te quiero estar dentro de ti.”

    Diego likes to speak Spanish when we fuck, and I like to disobey him—sucking harder, swirling faster, and squeezing his sack.

    I also like savoring his juices when they explode in my mouth. That massive load. I can’t swallow it fast enough—like a satisfying dinner you’ve just hunted and killed. And then I have to get him hard again, because I need him hard again. I want him inside of me as much as I want to bite into that fresh kill. Not all men can get hard again. Diego always does.

    “Dije que no, Victoria,” he protests, smacking my ass again with both his palms, lunging me forward.

    I roll to my side. “My suite, my rules.”

    “Fuck your rules.” He strains up, his bound hands now in his lap, sweat on his brow. He’s not getting out of that constrictor knot anytime soon.

    “Untie me,” he says.

    I slide out of bed and reach for the leather whip I’ve put under my mattress for protection, my heart beating loudly, swollen knuckles scraping against the box spring. I clutch the rawhide and pull it out, letting the long coil drop to my side. I smack it against the bed and my breathing hastens.

    “I’ll untie you when I’m ready.” My pussy clenches.

    His secured hands stroke slowly up and down his hardness, his eyes fixed on mine.

    “You have a weapon in every corner,” he says, “but we have a man at every casino exit. I’m the only one who can get you out of here alive.”

    You Don’t Want My Type of Love

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  • August 19, 2015
  • I stop sucking on her nipple and look up. She’s spent. Her eyes are closed, her mouth is slightly ajar, and her breathing is quieting. She doesn’t look like a beast on a war path anymore, only beautiful, like the night we met. It reminds me of why I was attracted to her in the […]

    I stop sucking on her nipple and look up. She’s spent. Her eyes are closed, her mouth is slightly ajar, and her breathing is quieting. She doesn’t look like a beast on a war path anymore, only beautiful, like the night we met. It reminds me of why I was attracted to her in the first place, why I let her take me home with her, and why I allowed myself to delve into something…different. I know it was my frustration with Erik and the alcohol to an extent, and I know I blamed it on that the next day, but there was also something about her. She was the yin to my yang and I’d only ever felt that once before.

    Remembering the camera in the drawer of the end table, I reach for the latch and open it quietly, not wanting to wake her. The camera is still there, but all the receipts have been removed…it’s not important right now.

    I focus the zoom on the perfect arch of her one eyebrow and click the shutter button. Flecks of mascara have amassed under each eye and I document this next because it gives the impression of a woman who’s worked too hard to notice. The lens moves down to the dark mole near her rib cage, and every time the aperture opens and closes, I’ve caught another detail of the woman preoccupying my mind.

    If only things hadn’t gotten so ugly and complicated, and so quickly. I turn on the lamp to get a softer hue. After testing the focus about an arm’s length from where she lies, I slide back down next to her, nuzzling my face into her neck and inhaling her musty scent. Maybe she could’ve been my…I scold myself for so quickly losing sight of my mission. I’m supposed to make her fall in love with me, not the other way around.

    I run my fingers along the black lace of her bra and untwist one of the straps. I lift the camera back to where I tested the focus. Pictures begin to snap of two women in bed. Their eyes are closed. Maybe they’re sleeping, or maybe they’re enjoying a brief moment that’s out of the ordinary for both of them. They could be a couple, strictly lovers, or considering a change to the status quo.

    The camera lets out a mechanical whirl, signaling the film’s end. I lower the camera, enjoying the stillness of the moment, listening to our shallow breaths syncopate in an irregular pattern.

    “Impressive.” She yawns and stretches. “Not many people can use that piece so deftly.”

    Her voice startles me. I thought she was in a deep sleep. “Something I picked up.”

    She adjusts the underwear that’s been moved out of place and rolls to her side. Her fingers float up the side of my face and whisk the long bangs of my wig out of my eyes, carefully removing the bobby pins before sliding the entire piece off my head. “You don’t have to change a thing for me, Angie.”

    I place the camera on the bed. “I know.”

    She unbuttons the tight latex of my vest and my breasts spill out in relief. “We can develop it tomorrow.”

    My chest heaves in anticipation. “I’d like that.”

    A knowing smile curls on her face as she unzips my bottoms and peels them off. “I’d like to see what it is about me that inspired you to embrace a different destiny.”

    The cool air hits my thighs. “As if you don’t already know.”

    I reach up for her, grasping the back of her neck, biting at her shoulder, wanting to pull her in. My body in another frenzy, needing to feel her skin against my skin. If only we could completely absorb one another…

    She shifts back. “You’re trying to make me fall in love with you, aren’t you?”

    “What? No, I mean, I—”

    Her throat clears as she rolls away from me. “You don’t want my type of love.”

    “That’s not true. Why would you say that?” I reach for her but she stops me. “Love is for strangers and fools, and you and I are neither.” She sits up. “I need to cool off. It’s been another long, hot day at the office.”

    The muscles of her back flex as she fluffs out her hair.

    I watch her leisurely stroll to the bathroom before laying my head back down, not willing to accept that she doesn’t want what I thought she did all along.

    Copyright 2015 by S.L. Hannah

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