Weak to pleasure (1)

She was weak to him. Damn it, she had fallen prey to some enchantment she couldn't sense.

What else could explain it?

She was accepting anything, including bites and teasing words. He had pushed her on the sofa, bit her shoulder, and even told her that - in some way - it was her fault.

And she had nodded at his words and told him to go on.

Had she known she was so weak to pleasure... Had she known... What would she have done? Oh, likely nothing.

That night was special: her last mission for the agency, the end of the world behind the corner, and the most alluring being she had laid eyes on. She couldn't explain with rationality alone what was happening to her.

Meanwhile, without asking for permission a second time, he unbuttoned his own shirt on her, uncovering her chest and kissing his way down.

His teeth - which she knew were sharp - teased her nipple. Her chest swell when she inhaled, but she didn't dare move. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists while his tongue moved on her breast.

His lips smiled against her skin, but she couldn't complain in fear he would bite her again. It made her burn, even more, that simple thought.

Since her mind had let go of the last bits of rationality, she let her instincts take over. She arched her back when his hand crawled on her side, leaving space for his arm to surround her waist and lift her up.

His other arm folded around her knees, and he carried her to another room. His room, she realised when she was left on the mattress of a king-size bed. Should she feel honoured to have reached so far? She was getting a huge, comfortable bed instead of the sofa... Was that a sign she had done well so far?

Or was he just tired of keeping his balance all the time?

Whatever the case, she was happy. She smiled content when meeting his gaze, and his eyes stopped on the last few buttons keeping the shirt where it was.

Instead of kissing her again, he straightened his back and observed her from up there. He crossed his arms, and she followed the line of his muscles without any chance to stop. His fingers, then his forearms... His biceps and finally his shoulders. Was there anything more perfect in this world? She had had those arms around her, and she knew they were just as firm as they looked.

«Undress by yourself,» he said.

She blinked, surprised. Was that how he wanted to play it? She had only a shirt and her undies to take off. Was he as lazy as to make her do it on her own?

Or was he asking for a show?

Her blushing face made him arch his brow, but he didn't lift a finger. She had been pretty passive since the moment he had started kissing her. Not that he disliked it, but... He wanted something more.

She shifted her gaze to the buttons and started undoing them, but she froze when he stopped her.

«No,» he said. «Not like that.»

«No?» she repeated. What was wrong?

So, he did want a spectacle. But she couldn't give him that! She was too clumsy to succeed in a strip tease. And she was shy, especially with a stranger.

«Not like this,» he repeated, tapping with his forefinger on his arm. Yet, he didn't seem to have any intention to help her. «Don't move your eyes away from me.»

«Oh,» she sighed, realising. So, he wanted her to look at him. That was already better; she didn't have to be too proactive and dance around him.

Undressing and staring at him was fine.

She lifted her head, sitting on the bed with her legs sprawled and her knees folded. In his eyes, she could see her reflection. She did look like a haunted rabbit, especially while looking up.

And he liked observing her from that angle. She could read it on his face just like he could read through her body signals. He liked telling her what to do, and he loved it even more when she did it.

She let the shirt slip down her shoulders, revealing her chest and bare stomach. All that was on her, at that moment, were her undies. But she could take care of those later. First, there was that gaze, his eyes moving on her body as greedily as she wished them to be.

He wanted her. That discovery built part of her confidence. He truly wished to get his hands - and not just those - on her. He wanted to stare at her, touch her, kiss... He wanted all of that and more.

«It's your turn,» she said. She had taken off enough while he was still clothed. And her eyes had the same right as his to be cured. She also wanted to stare!

«My turn?»

«To undress.»

His smirk made her head spin, but she didn't allow it to break her focus.

«Can I help you?» she inquired.

Somehow, even though he had just ordered her, she felt no right to do the same.

«You're asking politely. How can I say no?»

«Do you always agree when one asks politely?» she murmured, tilting her head.

«Depends on who's asking. As for you... I might as well allow you the honour of undressing me.»

His tone was ironic as if making a joke out of her. But she couldn't care less. He had bit, ordered, and made fun of her. Was there anything else on his list before he was satisfied?

«Oh, thanks,» she said, rolling her eyes.

If he wanted to play so much, he should have found a girlfriend for that.

She was just a stranger he met by chance. How could he allow himself so much confidence?

However, no matter how she would have reacted in any other circumstances, she crawled to him when he sat on the bed. She hated that kind of behaviour with all her being: who did he think he was?

But, on that bed, she followed his wish and undid the shirt he was wearing. Her hands caressed his skin when she made it slip down his arms, and her senses were blessed by that touch.

Before she could proceed with his trousers, something changed again in his gaze. He pushed her down and blocked her under his weight.