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Possession
Ciana Rose (c) 2001 All rights reserved
I hear his return and my heart races.
In lace and high heels, I face the wall, arms raised and hands
tied to a hook. He has left me in this way for some time and I have grown
needy of pampering.
As he enters the room, solace comes with him. I shed the void of his
absence with relief.
He stands at a distance, out of my view, but his gaze is upon
me--watching, claiming--I can feel it. It excites me and stokes my craving
for his closeness. But I know better than to expect; he will come to me at
his accord, not mine.
He waits quietly, intentionally, forcing my body to writhe and beg for
his attention. My movements are limited, and as desire continues to
consume me, I can only express my yearning with swaying hips.
Deeming the gesture worthy, he takes a step closer. I burn with the
anticipation of his touch but he is not lenient and comes no farther. An
ache fills me and I moan with a small whimper. I must feel him. My back
arches and my crush against the wall. With labored breath, I push
my ass out to him--as a plea, as a lure. And he moves closer, where I can
feel his heat.
I inhale--drawing him, absorbing him with my senses. At last, a small
step and my tender cheeks brush against his pants. I become breathless,
eager for more.
Gently, he trails the back of is hand down my spine. As male knuckles
slide lower, my needs grow intolerable. I push out more prominently and
wait for the arrival. He deliberately slows his hand to torment me while I
remain motionless, in suspense.
An eternity passes before he reaches my and grants me a single
finger. Ohhh, I am so ready... My moans arise and I move on his precious
hand languidly.
His sound of approval tells me so--my wetness pleases him. It is a
definitive of his power over me. He allows me a moment of indulgence, then
strips me of it.
I protest the emptiness with bleak moans, but he presses masculine body
against my back and quiets me with that. A different sort of satisfaction
fills my core.
With the lavish kiss on my shoulder, my head rolls back and my eyes
drift shut. I have entered the gates of ecstasy and my world is spinning.
Circling me with his arms, he traps my wriggling body against the solid
mass that is his. There is a roughness to his shirt, but it is his and I
cherish the sensation.
I gasp with pleasure and move to urge when he begins to harden against
my quivering buttocks. Take me, fill me, begs of him my entire being.
Yet, he continues to deny, all the while caressing, groping, seducing my
nerves with his touch. I am no match against his demands and raw hunger
brings tears to my eyes.
With my eminent defeat, I grow limp. He reaches up and releases my
hands. When my drained body begins to collapse, he quickly collects me in
his arms. I cling to him, whimpering, as he carries me to bed--his bed.
And now there, in heaven, he will complete his possession of me.
I am delirious; passion is pounding in my heart.
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