Dryfter's Sexy Kitten
DarkWarrioress is offline
Join Date: Apr 2011
Location: Southern Minnesota
“Come with me.” his voice came over the phone, “Come with me to this wedding. I’ll sweep you around the floor. You in an elegant dress. I’ll be in a suit and bow tie. We can retire to our room and fuck until exhaustion makes us drop.”
She had to laugh. It was the way he put that. Seemingly innocuous and innocence to begin with and finishing with a big bang. Now that made her laugh all over again. There was silence on her end while she rolled everything over in her mind.
“I can do that. I’ll meet you at the airport.”
A wedding. She riffled through her closet. Her fingers drifted over reds, emeralds, amethysts. It was the bride’s day and no one should outshine the bride. Something…. Her fingertips drifted further along the line of clothes….soft. Pastel, maybe. Something that didn’t wash out her own coloring. Her fingers stopped on the shoulder of a dress. A brief hesitation, then she was drawing out and examining it. Her lips turned up at the corners. Her eyes shone with delight. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. The dress was packed into her suitcase with care. Stockings, garter belt, heels were added in. All stored carefully, meticulously. Matching bra and panties followed as did a hair brush, a toothbrush, and assorted necessities. Jewelry was next, but she kept it simple. A contrast. She chose a pair of slacks and a dark gray sweater for returning home in.
She met him at the airport. The soft click of her heels on busy airport floors proceeded her. They stopped just in front of him. He looked up from his phone, getting to his feet, stretching before his arms wound around her and pulled her up close, urging her to the tips of her toes before his head lowered and he kissed her thoroughly and well. She was lost. A goner. The kiss continued until they had to give in and breathe. She came down off her toes, cheeks flushed, chest slightly heaving and panting. She sat down in the chair next to the one he had been sitting in. He joined her as they waited to board.
Once they were airborne, his arms went around her, pulling her against him. Her cheek found his chest and rested there. Turned slightly toward him, her arm rested across his thigh. Her hand, resting lightly on the other. He was tired. He was more than tired but he had things to do. He had slept only a little earlier. She could feel, as well as sense, the coiled tension in his body. There was no way to relax. Not completely. Not yet. Later. Much later.
True to his word, he danced her around the floor, rakish and handsome in his suit and bow tie. She was elegant in her soft pink dress and heels. Feminine and didn’t even come close to outshining the bride. The square cut ruby around her neck wasn’t very large and it nestled between her breasts. His eyes kept going back to it. It made her lips quirk in humor and at one point, she almost stood on tiptoe and admonished him by telling him that he needed to stop being jealous of a piece of jewelry. There was more than enough room for him there too. Almost. Instead, she teased him with a look. Leaving hers unguarded whenever he looked her way. Leaving him without a doubt where her thoughts lie. She teased him with her lips, the tip of her tongue and now and then, a light brush of her nails. Oh, there was no doubt in her mind she was going to pay for all that at some point. It was a debt she was more than willing to meet. Nothing got past him. But he was clever or so he thought. His eyes gave away nothing. For her? That meant everything. Now what he had in mind for her behind closed doors, she couldn’t be sure but she knew she was going to be a wreck in his arms. A wonderful sleepy, achy wreck.
She was never far from him and if she did stray upon occasion, her eyes didn’t. He caught her looking his way. His eyes, catching and holding hers with an intensity that covered her suddenly in shyness and she was forced to look away on the pretext of speaking to someone. Her back was to him when he came for her. Strong blunt fingers of one hand found the top of her shoulder, the others pressed into the small of her back. Hidden by his body from view, they slipped over the curve of her ass briefly. She faltered in what she had been saying. Damn him. Casually, as if he had done nothing, that sneaky mischievous hand came up to rest lightly on her other shoulder, fingertips pressing lightly into her skin. She finished speaking, turning her head toward him with a slight tip back. He smiled. Then excused them both from the few she had been talking to. His fingers slipped down the underside of her arm, across her palm until they twined between her own and closed around her hand. He spirited her away. Taking her back to their room. They didn’t speak but she felt the tension in him. In both of them. The keycard got them inside the room. He closed and locked the door, then pushed her up against it. His mouth swooping down on her own, locking against hers. She whimpered into his mouth. Her hands clung to his forearms, fingers digging into his skin as he pressed her up on her toes and back against the door, grinding himself into her. The effect was immediate. She was wet. Achy. Needy. Throbbing. His hand slipped between their bodies, his fingers glided up under her dress, via her thigh. He wanted her know his hand was there and where it was headed, teasing her in the process. Her legs parted involuntary. The rough tips of his fingers were a direct contrast from the softness of her inner thigh. She tore her mouth from his, sucking in air, her lungs stung from the sudden surge of oxygen. Her eyes opened and she found herself staring into his. Didn’t he already have her drowning? If she wasn’t before, he sucked her in now. The waters swirled like some sort of whirlpool out of Alice in Wonderland. Her chest heaved with effort. His eyes slipped downward, watching silently. His fingers lifted from her inner thigh and she stopped breathing. It came then, slipping between her wet folds, teasing her inner emptiness. Her head banged back against the door. A soft whimper leaving her. The torturous finger dipped. Barely. Fuck. The muscles of her cunt clenched.
He pulled her away from the door, walking her backwards toward the bed. She thought. She wasn’t sure. His fingers were busy unzipping her dress. She felt the hard edge of the bed behind her knees. His mouth found the side of her neck. Her head naturally tipped back, giving him all the access he wanted. Her skin tingled wherever his mouth touched. Her dress fell from her shoulders, exposing her bra. His fingers found that next. Unbelievably gentle hands guided the straps off her shoulders, tugging the wisp of material free and dropped it somewhere on the floor. The top of her dress pooled at her waist as a large hand cupped a breast. Squeezed. He stared into her eyes a moment, then his head slowly lowered. It was all she could do to stand still in anticipation. She went up on her toes. Her chest lifted, pressed forward. His palm gripped supple firm flesh from underside, lifting her breast. He stopped. She could feel his breath on her skin. She trembled on her toes. His lips found her nipple, drawing the hardened pebble into the warmth of his mouth. Her hand found the nape of his neck, fingers curling around it, fingers that uncurled, sliding up the back of his head, palming it, holding him to her. Could her nipple get any tighter with his tongue rasping against it? Was the suction of his mouth drawing it deeper? His head lifted. His eyes found and held hers. Her lips were slightly parted, her breath, short and shallow. A strong arm slid around her waist, tugging her body flush against his as his lips found the front of her throat, his tongue finding the small hollow there at the base. His hands pushed the dress over her hips. She felt it slip down over her thighs to pool at her heels. She made to step free of it as his arm clamped around her waist again, pinning her to him.
His adroit fingers found the front clasp of her bra. It was removed with ease. He pushed her backwards, watching her tumble to the mattress. His hands found the waistband of her panties, peeling it down and away from her body. They were stained with her wetness. Evidence of her arousal. She, for her part, lay there, watching him as he, with deliberate movement, undid his bow tie and pulling it free from the collar of his shirt. He swept up her dress and draped it over the arm of the chair nearby with his tie. Her eyes watched as he shrugged out of his coat, laying it with the other discarded clothing. He never took his eyes off her. Her own meandered over him, from the crown of his head to his feet and were drawn back to his hands as they undid his shirt before shrugging that off too. He was lean. The hair on his chest, sparse. It suited him. His torso tapered to narrow hips still covered by the pants he wore. She found herself leaning up on her elbows as his hands went to the front of those pants and undid them, sliding the zipper down casually. It was the only other sound in the room except for their breathing. She found herself wetting her lips with the top of her tongue, especially as his hands slid those pants off. She watched them slide down his legs, but then she was afraid to raise her eyes, knowing what she’d see then and knew the sight was going to make her wetter. She stopped breathing. There, outlined beneath boxer briefs, was the rigid outline of his cock. She bit her bottom lip. Hard. Shoes, socks and boxer briefs disappeared. God, he was gorgeous. Pure male. Raw sensuality that couldn’t be faked. He came toward her. Reflexively, she squirmed back on the bed. His arm shot out, his fingers found her ankle, tightened around it and tugged, halting her retreat as he came to the edge of the bed. Her eyes flew up to his. She couldn’t look away. Lines of intensity marked his face. It was there in the look he gave her. He drug her across the bed, toward him and with deliberate movement, he placed the heel of her foot on his shoulder. His fingers raked down her leg to her inner thigh. She could feel her body tensing. Anticipation was a bitch. Was it possible to quiver, there, between her legs? Surely he felt her heat? His finger dipped, finding its way between the lips that hid the feminine tunnel behind it. Her breath was sucked inward in a long drawn hiss. Her abdominal muscles did quiver and tighten. His hand came away and grasped her other ankle, giving it a little tug as well. He put it around his hip. She was open and vulnerable to him. She wanted him with every desperate fiber of her being.
There was a need in her to run her fingertips over his skin, to follow lines of muscle where they flexed in anticipation of her touch. To run her lips, her tongue, over those same areas and saturate his taste into her taste buds. Her look was drawn to his cock. Flagrant. Pulsing with blood. Thick and extended. She swallowed, the tip of her tongue stroked against the roof of her mouth. She wanted him there, the slanted, sensitive head pressing then gliding across that spot her tongue just stroked against. She wanted to feel him delve deep into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat as her tongue stroked his underside. She wanted him to fuck her mouth, his fingers threaded into her hair, holding her head rock steady as he did so. She wanted him to take her in every perceivable hole she had then cum again between her breasts, spraying his scent, his seed, on her skin until he was drained of everything.
It was all there in her eyes for him to read. She hid nothing from him. Her desire. Her need for him. His fingertips slid back down her thigh, leaving a trail of heat to sear her being. One tip paused at the portal to her deep, wet, darkness as his eyes roamed down her body, taking in the flush to her skin caused by the desire and passion he raised in her. His look lingered on taut breasts with their hard slightly turned up nipples, then raked down her abdomen, taking in the visual rise and fall of her quickened breathing as his finger pushed past dew covered petals, teasing her inner self. He saw the soft slight swell of her belly tighten under his smoldering look. His lips moved. Barely. Minimally. Her own eyes caught it however. His finger pushed deeper. Her hips arched upward off the bed. The heels of her feet dug into his shoulders until her pink heels were hanging from her toes, dangling precariously. Neither seemed to notice. Another roughened masculine finger joined the first, both now pushing into her heated interior. Her hands grabbed the bed sheet under her, clenching it into a fist with her fingers.
“We have all night,” he told her and pressed his fingers deeper.
Last edited by DarkWarrioress : 11-04-2012 at 05:22 PM.