Saturday, September 5, 2015

A Glass of Wine

The room was dimly lit and the table I sat at was bare except for a crystal goblet of rich red wine. The delicacy of the goblet was in stark contrast to the rustic heaviness of the furniture. The light from the fireplace was caught in that goblet and the wine within, making it a dazzling sight to my weary eyes. Sitting on a rough bench facing the fire, it was difficult for me to see in the darkness around me in that large space.

I heard his step before I saw him moving at the edge of the circle of light. His long, wheat gold hair was tied back into a loose braid that fell over his left shoulder and gleamed silkily where the light hit it. The red and white plaid of his flannel shirt looked muted, as though the lines of the fabric became fuzzy in that golden light. I watched him out the corner of my eye, unsure what to say or do. It had been so long since we had been together like this.

I reached forward. Nervously, I toyed with the stem of that goblet as he stopped behind me. I could feel his presence at my back like a slow heat seeping through my clothes. The urge to hide rose up strong within me and I found myself feeling painfully self conscious. I pulled the hair tie out of my hair and looked down at the table before me. My stomach felt filled with butterflies as he stepped up so close that his body nearly touched my back.

"You've been away too long," he said quietly, catching a lock of my hair in his fingers and twisting it around them. "Running and hiding doesn't suit you," he continued, a mixture of amusement and sexual heat in his voice. He let go of the tips of my hair to brush it over my left shoulder. As his lips settled against the nape of my neck, a shiver ran through me. That one touch made me feel like I was burning and freezing at the same time. Dizzying arousal began to rise up in my blood as I attempted to keep myself calm and still.

I struggled with the feeling that I was doing everything wrong, feeling confused by the pleasure that came from his hands as they moved down from my shoulders to cup my breasts. "What are you so afraid of?" he asked in a husky whisper in my right ear, "Nothing can harm you here." He placed another kiss on my neck, this time closer to my shoulder.

"You make me feel like I'm drunk," I said, "Like I'm intoxicated and out of control."

"You haven't had a drop of wine. And what of your precious control? You can not control everything," he murmured, "Why do you fight yourself like this? Why don't you let yourself be happy? Why don't you let yourself feel pleasure?" I closed my eyes as painful shame washed through me. A warm hand settled over my right hand. The heat of his touch sent an electric thrill through me.

"I don't deserve it," I answered in a voice scarcely more than a whisper, "I don't deserve you."

His voice was warm with amusement and sexual suggestion, "Isn't it a good thing I decide who deserves what I give them? And who deserves me? You don't have to worry about any of that." My head swam with the contrast between the arousal that made me shiver with pleasure at his words and the anxious misery that had kept me away from him for so long. Slowly, he moved his hand up my bare forearm. The feeling of his skin against mine, even with it only being his hand, filled me with hunger to feel more.

I closed my eyes against it, trying to remember what I had wanted to talk to him about. Even as I mentally fumbled and tried to grasp the reason why I had wanted to talk to him before anything more happened, the words slipped away. The stubble on his cheek rasped against my cheek as he looked over my shoulder at his hand's slow ascent up my arm over the thin fabric of my dress's sleeve. I breathed in the smell of him and the feeling of being home rolled over me. As much as I didn't want to admit it, he was right. It had been too long since I had come to him like this.

"Drink your wine," he said, turning his face to kiss my cheek. I thought to argue with him but the warmth of his presence lulled that anxiety into silence. His hands rested on my shoulders as I picked up that glass of wine and raised it to my lips. Kissing the top of my head, he stood quietly behind me while I drank my first sip. The alcohol sent warmth through me. Despite my earlier insistence on keeping my head and resisting long enough to get words out, I closed my eyes and leaned back against him. "So stubborn," he chided gently, "That will get you in trouble one of these days."

"It hasn't today?" I answered in a droll tone. He laughed. "I worry I'm not good enough for you," I continued, unable to keep the tiredness out of my voice. He took the glass of wine from my hand and set it a bit farther away from me on the table before leaning down to look me in the face.

"You worry too much," he replied before giving me a slow, full kiss. His right hand cradled the back of my head as he kissed me. As he broke the kiss, he looked at me with a serious light in his eyes. "I see," he said, though I didn't understand what it was he saw or realized in that moment. I opened my mouth to ask him when he moved suddenly. His hands were at my sides, lifting me up from my seat. I gave a little alarmed squawk of surprise but he continued to pull me to my feet as he stepped away from the table.

"Wait," I said as I scrambled to get my feet under me, "What are you doing?" I had just managed to win clear of the bench I had been sitting at when he stooped and lifted me up over his shoulder. "What are you up to? Put me down," I cried in shock as he straightened. Ignoring my demand to know what he was intending, he carried me from the room over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The dimness of the hallway didn't give me much of an idea as to the direction we were going, only that we were moving away from the fireplace and that we had passed a door on our way.

The thunderous sound of his boot hitting the door we stopped briefly at made me yelp heartbeats before the crash of the door striking the wall. Striding across the room in a few paces, he shifted me from his shoulder to his arms. I was then abruptly dropped onto something soft, which I could only presume was a bed judging from how it felt when I landed. I sat up as he crossed to the door and shut it firmly. I moved to the edge of the bed as he opened the shutters.

"No," he said firmly, "You are going to stay right there. I'm not done yet." I arched an eyebrow and almost said something impertinent but something about the hardness in his expression gave me pause. In the cool light of the moon, his face took on an eerie beauty that fascinated me. I stared in rapt attention as he turned to look at me. His green eyes burned with an intensity that I couldn't tear my gaze from. I was only half aware as he started taking off his clothes. When his shirt came off, I swallowed nervously.

Old battle scars showed on his chest, looking darker in that dim play of light and shadow. He kicked off his boots and looked down long enough to unbuckle his belt. As he did so, he said, "You apparently need someone to grab your attention." He shimmied out of his pants, continuing, "And you apparently need someone to remind you that life is for living." As he spoke, a faint note of anger warmed his tone when he said, "And you clearly need to be shown that you're worth more than the sum of your parts. Because someone has forgotten her value, again."

"I'm..." I started when he pointed at me with a stern look. I blushed and started to look away.

"No," he commanded, "Look at me. You are not some scullion to run and cower. You are my wife. Run as you may, I am done chasing. This ends now."

"I'm not running..." I protested when he finished the sentence for me.

"Not tonight," he growled. He walked up to me and yanked me off the bed and to my feet. He held me hard against him and I had no choice but to be aware of his erection pressing insistently against me. "Feel this," he said, taking my right hand and putting on his erection, "This is not some passing compliment. This is not some game." He let go of my left arm and plunged his hands into my hair, forcibly lifting my gaze from his chest to his face. The intensity in his gaze and the mingled expression of hunger and outrage made me blush. I started to look away when he shook me slightly one time. "This," he said, some of the anger bleeding out of his voice, "This is no game. Not to me."

He kissed me. At first, I was stiff with shock and uncertain of what to do. As he kissed me and I began to relax, I placed my hands on his chest. I found myself beginning to be short of breath and tried to break the kiss but he pulled me against him when I did. When I found myself on the edge of desperation to breathe, he broke the kiss and ran his hands down my back. He pressed his forehead against mine as he said breathily, "If you must fight me, then fight. I'm tough enough to handle it."

"I need to catch my breath," I said weakly, unsure what I was supposed to do.

"Then breathe," he said, smiling fiercely, "I've other things I'm going to do." I looked at him not comprehending what he was saying. That word of warning should have prepared me for when he took hold of the neckline of the dress and tore it apart. It didn't, so I just gaped at him in amazement as he ripped the gauzy fabric apart with his hands. The fabric tangled about me as he tried to pull it off me. He gave a short bark of laughter and stepped aside.

Dropping to his knee, he grabbed hold of the lower hem of the now ruined dress and the under dress. He stood, pulling the silky fabric up over my head as he did so. My arms caught in the sleeves as he took the dress off me. I tugged awkwardly at it as he laughed. My gaze snapped from trying to look over my shoulder at where I was tangled in the dress to him. "Forget about it," he breathed before giving me a shove. My ungraceful tumble back onto the bed was accompanied by a little gasp as he grinned at me. "Where to begin?" he sighed looking me over as a starving man would a banquet. I vainly wondered if my honoring his request of going commando was a good idea as his gaze lowered to my hips.

He set his right hand on my left knee and gently pushed it aside. Guessing his intentions, I parted my legs. He smiled as he knelt. Placing a kiss on the inside of my right thigh, he murmured, "All the fight running out of you?" I shivered in pleasure at the erotic warmth in his voice. His hands moved up my thighs as he placed light kisses up my leg. As he drew near to my sex, I started to wrap my legs about his shoulders. I sighed as he breathed against my labia. He dragged his tongue slowly along that tender flesh with a little groan of pleasure.

His left hand continued its upward journey as his right moved from the top of my thigh to where his fingers brushed against my labia. He watched the way I arched with pleasure as he slipped a finger into my slick sex. He flicked my right nipple and I gasped. Slowly, he pumped his hand, relishing how I moaned for more. A second finger entered me and I shuddered. "Let go," he urged me, "Just let go." I gave a small sob of sexual frustration as I felt a climax beginning to slowly rise.

He took his fingers out of my dripping pussey. I groaned. As he stood, he wrapped his hand around his erection. Rubbing my juices against his hardness, he looked down at me. My arms were pinned beneath me, still caught in the fabric of the dresses, forcing me to arch my back slightly. My legs were spread wide to give him full access to my hungry sex. I looked up at him, dazed by lust. He lifted my hips slightly and thrust into me with a smooth motion.

I gasped and came almost immediately. Where our previous love making was gentle and slow, he was rougher with me this time. Our hips met with such force that I gave a little cry of pain. This only seemed to encourage him as he thrust as deeply into me as he could. I shuddered and groaned with a second orgasm after what seemed mere moments of this harsh treatment. "Good," he said harshly, "Just give in." The sound of his voice, roughened by frustration and lust brought a sensual little moan from me. Though I couldn't see it because my eyes were closed in pleasure, he grinned with the same fierce expression of earlier.

"I'm going to fuck the fight right out of you," he gasped. My body shook with the force of his thrusts and the trembling that came before a particularly hard orgasm. I gasped for air as I felt my body tense. Somewhere in the midst of things, I felt something rising deep within me. Some sort of heat that both made me shudder and relax. Sudden terror of that sensation made me throw my head from side to side as I gave a little sob. He paused for a moment and the words came out my mouth before I could stop them, "More. Give me more." He gave a triumphant little laugh and resume his efforts with what seemed to be an air of greater vigor.

That molten heat beneath my skin reached a crest. Unable to withstand the pressure of resisting the urge, I threw my head back and screamed with pleasure as the hardest of my orgasms rolled over me. It seemed endless and I screamed until I was hoarse. Where I had been bowed and shuddering with my orgasm, I fell back against the bed bonelessly when he finished with his own climax. The moment he had withdrawn himself, all of my strength ran out of me like water through a sieve. I opened my eyes and looked at him dazedly. He lightly ran a hand over my left thigh. I gave a little gasp and a shudder as a much smaller orgasm struck me.

He smiled at this development. As he lifted me and turned how I was laying upon the bed, I groaned with pleasure at the heat in his hands. Laying on my stomach, I discovered that I lacked the strength to lift my head. All I could do was lie limply before him. He took hold of the sleeves tangled about my arms and began to work them off me. I gasped and rolled my eyes with pleasure at the sensations that shot through my arms and shoulders as he did so. With my arms free, he again reached under me and lifted me slightly at the shoulders.

Limp as a rag doll, I struggled to turn my head to look at him. Once I had done so, he placed me upon the bed again and then laid down beside me. With his right hand, he drew lazy spirals and patterns on my back. As he did so, my breathing sped up and the earlier feeling of irresitable heat rising in me returned. I made a small agonized sound and he chuckled. "Do I have your attention?" he asked in a tone filled with mirth, "Or do I need to do this again? Because I can, you know." Despite the arousal, a chill washed over me at the thought of yet more intense sex in my weakened state.

"I... I don't think I could handle that," I whimpered. He laughed and brushed some hair away from my face. The touch of his skin against mine seemed to burn and weaken me further even as I gasped and shivered, rolling my eyes.

In a more serious tone, he asked me again, "Do I have your attention?"

In a very small voice, I answered "Yes." He smiled wolfishly. Something about his expression unnerved me. "Are you going to kill me with pleasure?" I said nervously.

"Oh no, not at all," he replied as he lightly dragged his nails over my left shoulder making me mew with mingled pain and pleasure. "I simply want to talk to you, tonight."

"That was talking?" I asked in confusion. He snuggled up closer to me, his smile turning into an almost feral grin.

"No, that was getting your attention. Now that I have it, I'm going to tell you something," he said. I blinked at him. "Do not ever do this again. Do not run from me. He is not the only one who'll hunt you. I, however, will wring screams of pleasure out of you with out giving you that harshness you crave." I swallowed nervously as he caught a lock of my hair between his fingers. "Run and I will find you. I will always find you. And I will take you," he continued, his voice turning suggestive, making me squirm slightly, "You don't need to be hurt for a message to go through. You just need to be very aroused. Unable to think clearly. It stops you from second guessing and it stops you from running." His expression, which had turned solemn, returned to that grin from moments before. "I can rip your wits away from you as surely as he can," he said, placing his hand flat on my spine, "I can probably do it better. And that is what scares you."

"I'm.. I'm not afraid," I said weakly.

"Oh really? Up for another round are we?" he said and I blanched. "I guess you are afraid after all," he chuckled, "I can make that work for me as well. And I think I will. But now, you'll sleep. And when you wake, you'll be unable to stop thinking about me. And that is good. Very, very good." He pulled a warm, soft blanket over me. As the fuzzy fabric moved over my bare skin, I closed my eyes and tried to keep my breathing even despite the feeling like my whole body was being caressed. His soft laughter rang in my ears as he wrapped his arms about me. As I dropped down into sleep, I couldn't help the anxious thought 'What am I getting into?'

No comments:

Post a Comment