Friday, October 18, 2013


Author's Note: I'll edit this later and add on the rest of the scene when I get the opportunity to finish it.

His hands settled lightly on my shoulders. “You're stressed,” he said in an equally light tone. The care with which hs approached me only heightened my irritation.

“I'm not made of glass,” I snapped. I didn't need eyes in the back of my head to know his expression. It would be droll or consillatory. It was almost always so when I got testy. I simply had been having a rotten day and I didn't know what I wanted.

There was a cold, calculating tone in his words that surprised me when he said, “Are you not fragile?” A part of me responded to that level tone by turning soft with arousal. Irritated by this, I scowled and started to reposition myself to get up out of the chair.

His grip on my shoulders hardened. I opened my mouth about to demand that he let me up. He pressed his thumbs hard against the pressure points on my shoulders. I gasped as the world went white with pain and exstascy. Held in that wickedly delightful and agonizing place, I was dimly aware of his voice as he said quietly in my ear, “Shall I try your strength?”

I tried to speak but could only manage a throaty moan. His touch suddenly turned light and I gasped, shuddering with pleasure. “Hmm,” he mused, “What you need is a distraction. Not all of this damned work infront of you.” As the rush of arousal began to subside, my annoyance surged back with greater force. I straightened in the chair and pressed my hands flat against it.

“No, what I need is to get this shit done,” I snapped waspishly, “You're not helping matters, at all.”

He moved swiftly and put me into a headlock. I tried to pull his forearm away from my neck as I shouted, “Not fucking funny.” He grinned and tightened the hold, putting firm pressure upon my throat. My heart beat quickened and despite my insistance of the contrary, I found myself enjoying his unexpected attention. Torn between maintaining my irate attitude or succumbing to his attentions, I grabbed at his wrist.

“Hilarious,” he murmured in my ear with that silken tone that always made my panties wet. Even as arousal pooled in my hips, anger flared. I twisted in his hold, reaching to pinch his thigh. He laughed darkly. “Oh, fight me,” he purred, squeezing tighter, “Pour that anger out on me, little girl.” His voice was like a caress to my senses and I couldn't help how my eyes rolled and the shiver of pleasure.

Breathless and dazed, I found myself profoundly thankful for the fact that I was sitting when he abruptly let go. He stepped back and gave me a feral smile of challenge as I turned to face him. “Come on,” he said, arousal making his tone rich and smooth, “You were looking for a fight. Come fight me.”

“Damn it,” I snapped, suddenly remembering my annoyance with the whole situation, “Does everything come down to sex with you?” His smile turned into a grin as he leaned against the wall. I stood up, attempting to will my heartbeat back to normal as he rubbed the stubble on his chin with the back of his hand. I started to step away when he suddenly stepped forward and took hold of my wrist.

I turned and tried to pull my wrist out of his hand but he continued to hold on, moving forward with the motion of my arm. We danced back a few paces. He wrapped his free arm around my waist, holding me firmly against himself. He smiled down at me. “Let g--” I started to demand when his mouth muffled mine. His kiss seemed to pour liquid fire into my veins and my knees started to feel a bit weak.

The hand holding my wrist let go and found its way to the back of my head. He took hold of my hair and broke the seemingly endless kiss to pull my head back. My throat bared to him, he lightly nipped at my pulse before gently closing his teeth over my windpipe. He made a low noise deep in his throat and I shuddered from head to toe in some pleasurable feeling that I simply couldn't identify.

His mouth moved down from my throat to the bit of my right collarbone peeking out the neckline of my shirt. His teeth closed over the thin skin and he rolled it beneath them. I groaned, failing to notice when he let go of my hair. His hands traveled down my shoulders and around my ribs. They paused long enough to cup my breasts as I swayed slightly on my feet. He gave a low, evil laugh before he took hold of the neckline of my shirt.

“Nasty bit of fabric,” he said with another laugh, “Let's get rid of it, shall we?” I had almost gathered my thoughts enough to respond to his statement when he tore open the offending garment. My squeak of surprise made him grin wolfishly. He pressed his face between my breasts and took a deep breath. Expecting him to gently tease my breasts with his mouth, I gave a startled cry when he bit down on my left nipple.

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