Play with me! Just don't break me!
She always reminded him of a cat. She did what she wanted and when she wanted. She was willful and unpredictable. Her mood changed in a completely incomprehensible way. When he wanted to play with her, she wanted to be left alone. And when he wanted to be left alone, she wanted to play. And she also adored teasing him. And now she says again that she can't stay because she has some absolutely urgent matters to attend to. And before that, she had enticed him with her closeness, kisses, scent, the feeling that today she was definitely in his hands and wouldn't go anywhere. And he endured, allowing her to play with him. But she went too far and his patience snapped.
Today he would show this cat who her master was.— No, darling, you're not going anywhere, — he says with a smirk.
— I have things to do! — she immediately flares up, but he notices a flash of interest in her eyes.
— Your things can wait, — he continues to smirk. — Right now, I'm going to play with you.
She shudders almost imperceptibly, and the interest in her eyes grows stronger. She likes this game, but she is too proud to show it.
— How dare you! Who do you think you are?! — she flares up, but the interest in her eyes doesn't fade. She wants it to continue. He doesn't answer, just looks at her with a mocking smile. Now she won't go anywhere. But he forgot that he was dealing with a cat. Proud and willful. She snorts angrily and wants to leave, but he grabs her by the hand.
— Let go! — she exclaims, trying to wrench her hand free. But he just smiles and sharply pulls her to him, encircling her in the ring of his arms.
— You don't want that, my kitten, — he says quietly, still looking into her eyes with the same smirk. And in them, he sees he has hit the mark.
— I do! And don't you dare call me that!! — she screams, pressing her hands against his chest, trying to push him away, to break free.
— Your eyes say otherwise, — he whispers, letting his lips glide over her shoulder, neck, to her ear. She sighs unevenly and stops struggling. Their gazes meet again. She admits she has lost the first skirmish, but the outcome of the whole war is still unknown. But not to him. She had won too often for him to let her do it again now. She hugs and kisses him.
He presses her closer to him, runs his hand through her hair. She wants to break the kiss, but he doesn't allow it, instead sinking deeper into her lips. She is displeased because the game isn't going by her rules, but... For some reason, she doesn't want to quit it. But the thought that she has now become the toy burns her and makes her try to free herself from his embrace. But he continues to hold her, enjoying the feeling of power over her. Finally, he breaks away from her lips and looks into her eyes again. Now he can read them like an open book. She still looks defiant, but also wants the game to continue. A struggle is going on inside her. She wants to say something, but he quickly frees his hand from her hair and puts a finger to her lips, shaking his head. But she slightly turns her head and is already opening her mouth, but he covers her lips with his again, not letting her say anything.
Today he dictates the rules of the game. She tries to pull away again, but again he doesn't let her, and she yields to the tender but commanding kiss. When he finally allows her to break away from his lips, she looks into his eyes for a long time and suddenly rests her head on his shoulder. He strokes her head, inhaling the scent of her hair spread over his shoulders, runs his fingers through the fluffy curls, winds them around his finger, tugging slightly, which makes her press closer to him and almost purr with pleasure. Continuing to play with her hair, he kisses the delicate skin behind her ear, her neck, her shoulder, while his other hand strokes her back. Now his fingers find the zipper of her dress and begin to slowly unzip it. She suddenly lifts her head from his shoulder, as if coming to her senses. Yes, she had loved this game madly, but she still doesn't want to lose.
She herself begins to kiss his neck, knowing he loves it very much and hoping to become the mistress of the situation again. At the touch of her hot, soft lips, he shudders and closes his eyes, but his hands don't stop. Finally, the dress slides off her body, forming a puddle at her feet. Slightly pulling back and removing his hand from her hair, he kisses her, and his hands stroke her now bare back with light, massaging movements. At the touch of his rough, slightly cool fingers, at the kiss, her body shudders slightly, and her will melts like a piece of metal in a white-hot forge. But no, it shouldn't be like this! The cat in her raises its head again, and she pulls away from him with a jerk and takes a few steps back, her back against the wall. He slowly bends down, picks up her dress from the floor, and with a careless motion tosses it onto a chair, never for a moment stopping looking at her.
What should she do now? Continue this game? But the Cat understood perfectly well that she wouldn't win anymore. Leave? Yes, that could be a great way out, if not for the Maestro's fingers gently stroking her breasts. The pleasure she feels from his touch keeps her in place no worse than his gaze, and even her feline pride can't save her now. The Maestro's fingers catch her nipples and, pinching them, begin to carefully twist them, now increasing, now easing the pressure. The Cat resists the rapidly growing desire, having sworn to herself to hold out as long as possible. A smirk doesn't leave the Maestro's lips when he sees her biting her lips, holding back a moan, and her chest heaving more and more frequently under his palms due to her ragged breathing. But when she looks up at him again, the Maestro understands that she is still the Cat.
She closes her eyes, trying to overcome the strongest desire with which her body responds to every, even the lightest, touch of his long, sensitive fingers. The Cat trembles finely and bites her lips harder and harder, suppressing a moan and a plea to stop the sweet torture. The Maestro continues to watch her intently. But he is not calm. He passionately desires to possess the Cat, to make her his... But the Maestro doesn't want to abandon the game either. But victory is no longer his goal. Yes, he wants the Cat to moan and writhe from his touches... But not because he wants to break her or teach her a lesson, but to give his... no, not the Cat, his beloved, an unprecedented pleasure. And the Maestro succeeded, because the Cat also loved him and that's why she lost her head from his touches. But she was still a Cat. And it was precisely feline pride and willfulness that made her hold back, although everything was already clear. But the desire is too sharp, too agonizing... A moan finally escapes the Cat's lips. She leans forward, pressing her whole body against the Maestro. Their bodies are burning and grow even hotter, feeling each other's heat. He smirks at the corner of his lips. The Cat has admitted her defeat. Embracing her with one arm, the Maestro strokes her hair again with the other. The Cat doesn't dare raise her head and look at the Maestro, afraid to see an expression of triumph on his face... Now she finally raises her head, but her eyelids are lowered. The Maestro smiles again and kisses them, pressing the Cat closer. She slowly, slowly opens her eyes, afraid... But his eyes are not burning with triumph at all. They blaze with a tender fire. And on his lips plays not a smirk or a grin, but a gentle smile. The Cat also smiles timidly and finally drowns, dissolves in the Maestro's eyes and in her own feelings.
The game is over. They are no longer the Maestro and the Cat, but once again he and she. He kisses her passionately, literally devouring her soft lips. She responds no less ardently. They finally give vent to the accumulated passion. Breaking the kiss, he impatiently frees himself and her from their clothes and takes possession of her lips again. The bed is beside them and he, without breaking the kiss, tumbles her onto the sheets. She wraps her legs around his hips, opening and offering herself. He doesn't refuse. A moment, and their bodies merge and move in a single dance, the rhythm of which is known only to the two of them. He loves her hotly and strongly. She gives herself to him completely and without reserve. Their mutual pleasure is sharp as a sword's edge, and their amorous ardor rivals the excitement of battle and grows stronger and hotter...
Author's e-mail: Jаsmin-35@yаndеx.ru