Just One Night, Part 3_ Binding Agreement(3)

I straddle him, wearing nothing but my bra and panties. His hands cup my breasts. “Take this off,” he says softly but with a note of authority that’s impossible to miss.

I remove the bra, let my breasts spill out. With languid, almost casual movements he feels them, squeezing them slightly, toying with my nipples until they become long and hard and needing.

“You’re beautiful this way,” he says. “We should designate a day when this is all you wear, just these panties”—he puts his finger inside the waistband, pulls the elastic. “We could have dinner like this, watch television, chat over coffee with you wearing virtually nothing, completely available for me to touch and taste.”

And with that he leans forward, kisses my breasts while his hand slips inside my panties, finding my clit and making me gasp. “Would you do that for me, Kasie?”

I flush knowing the answer should be no even as I nod.

“And what would you do for yourself?” he asks, slipping a finger inside of me. “If I give you the world on a platter, will you take it?”

“Robert,” I say. I want to explain, to tell him where he’s wrong but his finger begins to move. He covers my neck and shoulders with kisses designed to provoke yearning rather than satisfaction. I groan and instinctively buck my hips against him.

“Just wait, Kasie.” His caresses become more demanding, I feel the orgasm coming. “They’ll play by our rules and we’ll change the rules as we please. All these worries you have about the opinions of others will have no foundation. No one will judge you, no one will dare.”

With that another finger pushes inside of me and I come, right there straddling his lap. I shiver, grasping his shoulders, my fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, pressing into his skin. I think I say his name but I’m so overcome that it’s hard for me to know what I’m doing, what I’m saying . . . it’s chaos.

It’s spectacular.

He pushes me onto my back; the panties come off. He stands above me as he removes his clothes watching as I struggle to catch my breath. He’s naked now, his erection reaching for me, his hard, sculpted muscles only hinting at the real power that exists within. He reaches down and strokes my cheek. It’s a gentle touch, as tender as it is sensual. “You are so beautiful,” he says quietly. “Tell me you know that.”

I don’t know how to respond. I shake with anticipation as I reach for him but he takes me by the wrist, holds me off even as he steps closer. “Say it, Kasie. Tell me you’re beautiful.”

I squirm slightly and I try to turn away but he guides my face back to him. “Say it.”

I press my lips into a thin line, look up at him through lowered lids.

And then something happens to me. I forcefully pull my arm away. As he observes me, his expression now questioning, I slowly raise myself up until I’m standing on my knees, my legs tucked back, my posture straight as I brazenly meet his gaze. “I’m beautiful,” I say; my voice is assured, strong . . . and even to my own ears, seductive.

He smiles, kneels before me on the couch. He watches as in languid, luxurious movements I lay back, my knees still bent, my back arched. I reach my arms above my head as if posing for a poster. “I’m beautiful,” I say again.

And he’s above me now, his hands gripping my shoulders. I feel him hard, against the inside of my thigh.

“Now, Robert. Enter me now.”

And with a moan he does, penetrating me in wide, circular motions. His hips grinding against mine as I hold my pose like a ballerina being lifted to the heavens by her partner. He’s so deep now, thrusting with a straightforward force; he’s hit every nerve, and like a quiet applause that builds to a roar I feel the orgasm taking over. I feel my walls contracting around him, holding him as my body trembles and a cry escapes my lips.

In that moment I believe all of it. I am beautiful and powerful.

And I will rule. If not the world then certainly this man.

With care I unfold my legs, so they stretch to either side of him. He lifts up, shifting his weight onto his knees to give me room but I don’t wait for him to lower himself again. Instead I plant my feet and raise my hips, pressing my pelvis into his, forcing him inside once again. This time it’s me who sets the rhythm, savoring the friction as I move my hips up and down in the air. I can see what I’m doing to him; his breath is shallow; his arms shake although I know it’s not from strain. It’s exhilarating.

And when he can’t stay still anymore, he grasps my legs and while he’s still on his knees raises my legs to his shoulders. With one arm on either side of me he takes the lead once again. And again he is deep into my world, vulnerable and strong and awash in perfect ecstasy.