Waiting for u

The hotel, the room, the instructions—those were all the same as they had been each time she met the handsome lawyer who licked her boots on command. He always seemed to take all of her commands in his stride. Whether he was kept kneeling or left in the bath or with one arm handcuffed to the bed. That they never exchange names. She always found him as he asked, ready to begin.

This wasn't even the first time she'd asked him to wait blindfolded. But she wanted to play long, with the potential for playing hard. It turned her on to watch him from the hotel bar, to see him miss that she was there. To leave him waiting a very long time. To leave her dress and shoes and inhibitions in the living room of the suite. To linger naked in its bedroom doorway.

He sat on the hotel bed, feet planted on the ground, blindfold carefully in place.

He knew she was there, but his breathing was still slow and even. Strange how he could look so meditative with his cock bobbing in front of him, so needy, she couldn't help stating the obvious.

"Oh, you are so hard." She drifted closer. "What's got you so hard?" Before he could react, she moved in again, a little faster, to make sure he caught the breeze of her motion. He followed it, a bit distracted, but she was gone again.

"Tell me?" she asked.

It was addicting to watch the way he reacted. That even her voice could make goosebumps break out over his flesh. She was tempted to run her tongue over his shoulder. To feel the change in the texture of his skin.

"Will you tell me?" she repeated. "What have you been thinking about that has you so turned on?"

He huffed out a little laugh. "You."

"What about me?" she pushed. He wanted that. Needed that. The words he whispered to her sometimes. Not teasing. Not bratting. Not topping from the bottom. He cracked himself open to ask it of her. Usually, with his hands around her hips, his nose nuzzling into her navel.

Make me.

And she would because they both wanted it.

He licked his lips. They were unfairly pink and infinitely kissable. "You. Your body. The things I want to do to it. What I hope you'll—you'll do to me."

She let out a shuddering breath. His body vibrated with an attentive sort of energy. Attuned. Waiting.

Anticipating.

She took a step closer. Watched his entire body twitch in her direction. Seeking her out. As she stepped closer still, he shifted in other ways. Adjusting himself to all things less tangible than touch, less anchoring than sight. The slight flare of his nostrils when he could smell her. The upturn of his lip, so amused when he realised she was wearing his cologne. She smiled too. He leaned toward her body heat, seeking out the places where it radiated highest. It was a hot, heavy, brain-addling thing to know that she could make him respond so viscerally.

He shifted just a little as her hands moved to hover over his head. Yes, I'm here, I'm right here. The second she put her fingernails to his scalp, he let out a long, low hiss. The sound was ground down by his gritted teeth and lifted up the sharp edge of hope at the end of it as she gently raked her nails across his scalp.

He let out a small, helpless sound and fell into the sensation she created. Gentle circles. Long scratches from his hairline, dragging down the back of his neck and up again. Softer, over the sides of his face.

It was mesmerising, drugging, to watch him. Even with all of the time he's spent deprived of any sight, he still tried to look at her as she touched him, only to be reminded that he couldn't.

That's right. You see when I want you to see.

What she wanted him to see.

She skimmed his bottom lip—pink and plump and ready—with her thumb. He jerked, a little surprised, and she bit her lip to keep in a little, good-natured laugh.

"How's that?" she asked.

"It's good," he said. The words slurred a little, losing a bit of definition around his consonants.

He let out a long, rolling sigh as she swept the pads of her fingers over the outer ridge of his ears. It was easy to watch him sink deeper into the pull of subspace as she kept running her nails along the exposed skin of his body. The rasp of stubble on his cheeks. The line of his jaw. The tendons of his neck. His biceps, his nipples, the sensitive, rippling muscles of his abdomen. Down the length of his thighs, crisp hairs sprang back into place as she raked grooves through them.

His chest rose and fell faster as she lingered, tracing slow circles across the expanse of his thighs. Occasionally moving close to his cock, but never touching. It strained more than it had when she entered the room. Pinky-red and drippy with precum, it bobbed towards his belly button, begging for attention.

Attention she wasn't yet prepared to give.

"Is this what you imagined?"

He huffed out a little laugh, his hands curling into the comforter. "Not exactly. But I should have."

"Mouthy," she teased.

He shivered as she ran a feather-light touch up the veiny side of his cock. Just the very tip of her finger, barely touching, and he still groaned like she'd taken him in her mouth.

"You've been so patient," she murmured, and he made a careful sound. He didn't want to agree too vehemently, but she was right, and he wasn't going to argue. She let her voice go cotton soft and silky smooth. "You can wait a little longer, can't you?"

His cock jerked again, but he was silent. After a long, steadying breath, he spoke. "Yes."

"Very good."

The high of praise seemed to settle over him, his arm pleasantly relaxed, even as she lifted his hand in the air. Two of his fingers fit in the hollow made by her grasp. She lifted those fingers slowly. Pressed them to the pillow of her bottom lip. A sharp inhale told her he knew what was going to happen. She drew his fingers into her mouth and sucked.

Generous with her attention. Generous with her saliva, ensuring that his fingers were slick and shiny. She let her foot graze the hard line of his thigh muscle as she braced it on the mattress next to him. Though he and his hand were clearly willing, it was a slow tug, to pull him into the heat between her legs. It only took a bit of encouragement to nudge his fingers inside her. After that, he barely had to move and slickness of her body eased the way for him. They both groaned.

He worked her gently. Listening to the small sounds of encouragement she gave him.

"Did you imagine this?" she asked, bracing her hands on his shoulders with a gasp as he unexpectedly circled her clit with his thumb.

"I did," he said, a smile in his voice. "I imagined you would let me taste you by now."

She gave a shuddering laugh. His touch was expert as far as she was concerned. Good at this, he was so good at this. He'd always been good at this, from the first kiss, first touch, first text, first glance. But the way he knew to touch her now—it was like he'd been a generalist then, and now he'd specialised, had mastery of her body. His devotion to his education came out each and every time they touched and she wasn't sure when he'd slipped beyond her instruction. Beyond touch me here, beyond touch me like this. He knew. He already knew. He knew things she didn't. Discoveries charted over time and careful consideration. As much an expert of her body as she was of his.

She rolled her hips in slow, undulating circles, fucking his fingers. The wetness of her mouth was quickly forgotten in the wetness of her cunt. Drippy, just from watching the way he fought to hold the reins on the wildness of his own desperation. It made her feel wanting and hungry to know that he was waiting, would wait, for her to find her pleasure first.

Groaning, she sank one knee into the bedspread, crushing the pillowy white cotton in her descent. His fingers followed along; dog on a leash, his hands and his shoulders the only things keeping her upright.

"Just like that," she said, eyes blinking rapidly, close close close. She swore, her hands digging in. "Make me come," she told him. She clenched around his fingers when he moaned just a little. "You make me come, just li—"

Words failed her, but she didn't need them. He withdrew his fingers, and a question lingered between them.

"They won't clean themselves," she whispered, limbs still like jelly.

The next moment his fingers were in his mouth. He wasn't quiet as he sucked them clean of her. Just as he was finishing—his tongue stuck out, kitten pink and lion lapping— she spat into her hand and gave him one smooth stroke.

"Uh—fuck," he said, clenching his jaw. The tanned muscles of his body and face were so stark they could have been carved. All of the man's tendon and sinew were reduced to clay and marble because she liked the show of it, and he liked to suffer just a bit.

She followed the first stroke with a second and then her mouth. It seemed like the only thing that kept him from rocketing off of the bed were her orders in his ears and his cock in her mouth. She gave him a reprieve from the suction and drooled down the length of his cock. A few more pumps had him digging into the bedspread. Her gaze climbed the muscles of his torso until she reached his face. He'd rolled his lips inside his mouth, a frantic effort to hold the sound in the sound. She licked him in great big strokes like she was catching a melting ice cream cone. She laughed to herself as he groaned. At his pleading grunt, she let his cock fall out of her mouth.

"Where do you want to come?" she asked him, as if he had a choice.

He let out a noise, an aggrieved sound like he knew he was being teased. That they both knew he enjoyed the prolonged torment. The sound grew bigger for a brief moment as she started slow-stroking him, before it died in a hiss.

"Wherever you want," he said, after a moment, when his voice was steady.

She smirked. God, submissives were so cute because he meant that. It was also the safe, hedging answer and he needed a bit more pushing. Even so, she murmured, "Good answer," with sugary condescension. She didn't need to see his face to know he was enjoying the war between the warning in her tone and the compliment.

"But, if you had a choice," she purred, "what would you choose."

There was only the barest hesitation before he admitted the truth. "Your cunt. I'd always choose your cunt."

She raked her fingernails up and down her thighs. "Aww, baby. You like it that much? The way it feels? The way it tastes?"

He whimpered, and she got instantly wet as if she'd never come and hadn't in years. A lifetime's worth of need throbbed between her legs every time he managed to surprise her. He nodded frantically, and though he couldn't see her, she nodded in reply.

"Okay, then." She let her hands do the teasing her mouth couldn't. Touching him everywhere but his weepy cock. "But what if I want you to come in my hand? What if I want you to come all over your stomach? What if I want you to blow right in my face?"

He swore again, hips lifting off of the bed as he would suddenly find something to fuck in midair. "I don't think I can make it, Miss—Miss—"

The poor man was at his brink.

So he was almost where she wanted him.

"It doesn't matter what you think," she matter-of-factly. "Does it?"

He shook his head. She pumped his cock with an enthusiasm that wouldn't get it him off but wouldn't let him off the hook either. He was so close to that moment. The moment where the real world melted away, and they were only the two people in this room. The moment where she owned him completely. The moment when he's forgotten why he asked for this, but their bodies remember how much they both need it.

After retrieving a condom and putting it on him, she fucked him with a lazy hand.

Amidst his half-miserable little sounds, she said, "It's not your job to think. What's your job?"

"To take it." Gritted, controlled and only barely.

"To take it and what?"

There it was. He moved like he'd been electrified. Like the energy inside him had nowhere to go. She let he hand wander over the stubbled on his chin, down the ridge of his jaw, curling against his throat. No threat. She stroked her finger lightly along his vocal cords and then again after he swallowed.

"To take it and what?" she repeated.

"And enjoy—"

"And enjoy," she said before leaning in to give him a kiss.

He leaned into the kiss with all the shock and surprise that had been held in his limbs. The kiss was a release. For both of them. Blood singing with finally finally finally. It was messy and begging. He said, please, please, gotta, now, please. She said, you fuck me, right now, make me feel good, want you.

She was on her back, with him notched at the warm honey entrance of her cunt, before he even got the blindfold off. It was all muscle memory, two dancers doing a routine they'd done a thousand times before. It couldn't be said for certain whose hand actually swiped the black fabric away. They both went for it at the same time. He shoved inside her as his eyes flew to hers. His pupil reacting to the light. To all the things the light allowed him to see.

He made a great, gasping, hiccoughing sound of relief once he was inside her. Like he couldn't believe it had happened. In one quick breath, he hauled her closer to him, under the crouch of his body and the weight of his gaze. He pulled out, nearly all the way, and sank back in again. A slow, insistent feel-every-inch sort of press. He stretched her so completely it was like they'd measured; practised. Perfect every fucking time.

"Again," she directed him. "More."

It nearly annoyed her that she almost didn't need to tell him. He knew how to please her, he studied, and he watched with those eyes of his. They saw so much. She could waste eyes cataloguing his every sigh and touch. How to make him hurt or how to make him cry, or how to make him come so hard that it hurts and he cries. But he was watching her too, and as he fucked her to her exact favourite specifications, she let out a long rolling good boy.

She repeated it over and over as their bodies grappled, sweat-slick and hungry. The words eventually turned to nothing. Lost in the sounds of hips meeting hips. Not just the loud smack of skin but the wetness. So loud and sticky-sounding that she clenched around him, toes curling.

He gazed down at her with a fierce sort of fondness that threatened to take her with him. She drew her knees toward her chest and sandwiched him between them. The change in angle shoved her toward another orgasm.

"Oh god," she moaned, dragging him down for another kiss. "It's—"

She came, knocking her forehead against his shoulder. Her grip on the comforter was just as strong as the grip her cunt had on him, milking her pleasure, trying to bring him along with her.

"Miss—" His voice warbled a bit, and he fucked deeper into her still, relentless. Close himself. That's when she realised he wasn't struggling with the honorific. It just turned him on too fucking much to say it.

Pulling back so their eyes could meet, she gripped his biceps and his hips tighter. Urging him to fuck her deeper. "I'm not going to break," she said. "Come on. Come for me. Come for mistress, yeah?"

It was that simple. The only thing holding him back was the burden of his submission and the idea of disappointing her. But once given permission, he leaned over her body and forced himself deeper inside her. He grunted like an animal, salty, sweaty dripping from his hair. Across her face. On her lip.

"Go on," she murmured soothingly. "Give it to me."

He said something that might have been "Jesus," before he buried his face in her neck and fucked her harder. Another few seconds and he came, breathing heavily like he had just run a marathon.

They collapsed on the bed together. And as she always did, she ensured they both had a trip to the bathroom, though he was gracious enough to let her go first. He came back in the room, dick swinging as he rubbed at his eyes. She sat up, braced on her elbows. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah?" he said, hunting for his pants and climbing back in the bed. He looked at her tits questioningly, and at her nod, he gave one a gentle nibble.

In all the weeks they'd been doing this, she figured it would be him breaking this rule. But she couldn't help it.

"Um," she said quietly, "what's your name?"

He grinned in the span of a second he had before he switched to her other nipple. Warm breath swept over the peak when he spoke.

"I thought you'd never ask."

The End