Her back arches, mouth flying open in a strangled scream of unadulterated pleasure. One hand cups her breast, fingers carving into the flesh. Another assaults the glistening slit between quivering legs. Curled toes grate against the carpet as she switches breasts, taking another nipple between her fingers and twisting till the skin turn ghostly pale. This scream resounds with pleasure and pure primal lust. Emotions that roil and burn behind eyes locked on me.
I stare back levelly. Leaning back into my chair I keep my posture relaxed. Casual interest plays across my face as I regard her with an expression of polite interest, my lips quirked into an indulgent smile. One hand rests on my knee the other idly swirls a drink. For all the world I seem to be almost disinterested with the sight in front of me.
But she and I know it is a lie.
We are locked in a battle of wills. Her to crack my facade. To break down the barriers and unleash the torrent of need and desire coursing below my surface. Snap my careful restraint and send me charging forward to take her, to make her mine. Meanwhile I seek to maintain my control, restrain myself. Knowing that restraint is driving her wild, pushing her to greater depth of depravity and heights of pleasure. My feigned disinterest pushing her on. Prompting ever greater displays on her part and fueling my bemused grin with malicious glee.
She kneels and I sit, but we dance. We struggle and push. Testing each other's resolve. And yet. It is a contest with no real bad outcome. Though I will not lose.
