It has been awhile...

Katherine’s key slipped into the door, it was cold and she could see her breath. Her boots had clicked along the salted glittering sidewalk. Katherine was late. Traffic had been bad and she had texted from the traffic light, near his place. The cab driver had driven fast, but it had still taken more time than normal.

“Be there in about 5 minutes.”

There had been no response. She wondered absently what he was doing. Reading maybe? Talking on the phone? Had someone called?

She opened the door. Before she had a foot into the foyer, she felt a hand on her shoulder and he was pushing her back up against the wall, shutting the door at the same time. Katherine dropped her bag, just as his arm was pressed against her. Nigel’s hand pulled her hair, her head back and then as she gasps he kisses her. Hard. Katherine struggled to breath, feeling her bones melt into the wall, melted from the intensity of the kiss. A kiss that said, “I love you, I hate that you are late, I want you, I want to consume you, I am hungry for the essences of you and I want to bang you against the wall like the dirty slut I know you to be.”

The buttons of her coat give, under the instance of his fingers. She felt Nigel pushing it over her shoulders, applying pressure, making her feel the presence of his hands. She thought he would have torn at the buttons, had she not had to wear it home later. Quickly the coat pools at her feet, on the floor, near her boots, Katherine struggled against him, reaching to pick it up.

“Leave it.” Nigel hisses and then pressing against her, he kissed her again. Hard. With the passion of a week, pushed into the space between their lips, engulfing her.
Her skirt brushes against her thighs as he raising the hem, inch by inch, as they kiss. She is participating now. No longer bowled over by his presence. She is meeting him, sucking in the energy between them, letting it carry her. Nigel’s considerable desire feeding her escalating desire.

She felt the last firm yank of her skirt as he raises it up, fully exposing her ass. The next thing she knows, her panties are pulled from her and Nigel’s hand is between her legs. She is wet. She was wet even before she sent the text from the traffic light. Katherine feels his fingers sink into her and she moans into the kiss. Moving her hips, enjoying the warmth building up through her belly and down her neck, as Nigel begins to play, driving her higher.

Breaking the kiss, Nigel whispers in her ear. Nothing really, just vibrations, a hum, his lips warm against her up-do. She feels his hand driving thru her hair, pulling out the pins and releasing the claw, holding the mass of dark hair. Absently Katherine thinks about the time she had spent on her hair. Winding it up and placing it just so. It matters not now, Nigel’s warm hard hand grasping the strands, pushing her closer to the wall, as if he could press her into the wall and the wall would somehow open up to cradle her, the way her body was opening to cradle him.
Suddenly, Nigel’s hand pulled out of her hair and the other from her pussy, Katherine pouts just a bit, feeling suddenly needy and aggressive.

“Stay.” Nigel says, as he presses her with one arm into the wall and pressing her legs open, her lower back pressing into the wall firmly, then one hand on his belt buckle, loosening, sliding his pants over his ass, rolling on a condom, all the while she feel as if she is hurling into space and melting all at once. Her grasp of the motion around her fades, as all her senses focus on the fact that Nigel is going to fuck her. He is going to press her into the wall and press into her; and fuck her hard against the wall.

Raising her right leg, to wrap slightly around his waist, Katherine’s left leg balancing on the floor in the obscene move of a ballerina, she gasps as suddenly his cock is filling her.

Without warning, no time for her to adjust to the invasion or settle into the feeling of being full, his hands grip her hips and press her into the wall and then, without warning he is moving, fucking in and out of her, hard, deep thrusts. His lips devour hers and Katherine is engulfed, completely mastered in that moment, it is as if she is open, a vessel for his lust. He is hungry.

At first Katherine is very aware of the wall, hard and cool against her back, but as the heat from their bodies intensifies, she is lost, only aware of their bodies, of the pleasure singing through her veins, of being formless and grounded; tied to him, in this quest.

Breaking the kiss, his lips eat along her neck and then stop at her ear.
Nigel begins to count.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Katherine gasps. “Oh God.” She is going to come. He is fucking her hard and it vibrates through her, into the wall and back again. The force of each thrust and the push back of the hard cold plaster, she feels it in every part of her.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Nigel is whispering and she can feel it in him too. He is awash in the pleasure. He wanted her and he is taking her. He was hungry and now he is devouring her.

Three.

Two.

One.

“Come.”

And with that whispered grunt, Katherine feels him tense, as she feels her orgasm break free, like a tidal wave. She is unbound, as her hair was unbound, only in a rush. She screams into his kiss, his lips had moved to hers as they came. His a tensing, a tightening and a snap of the bow and hers a wave or a rushed opening, not an explosion, but certainly the sense of even more openness.

Before Katherine came back to reality, she feel s as if she is floating like a balloon, only isn’t, Nigel is lifting her. Placing her in the chair, overstuffed and large, Katherine dimly realizing she feels small in this big chair.

Nigel’s large hand pushes her back and slides her ass roughly forward, so that her creamy, smooth ass and legs are on the edge of the chair. Her legs, being pushed up and open and over the arms of the chair, in a fluid motion, leaving her spread open. Katherine feels naked. In truth she is still dressed, her skirt up around her waist, her knee hi socks and boots still on her feet.

Fuzzy and hazy she looks down, at Nigel. She is fuzzy and hazy and Nigel, he is intent. Before Katherine can say a word, his fingers, one then two are in her, parting the wet flesh of her pussy, seeking her g-spot, and then his mouth, devouring her pussy, tongue lashing her clit and before Katherine can gasp a second breath, she is begging, begging to come, begging to give into the intensity.
Nigel pulls back enough to bark a quick “no.” before resuming his assault; his fingers fucking in and out of her, his tongue and lips caressing and licking and nipping. Katherine thinks dimly somewhere in her pleasure clouded mind, this, this is why they call it “eating.” She feels utterly consumed and all the while, she is wanting more. More. Just a little bit more.

Katherine knows she is supposed to wait. She feels like she is going to burst, like a cork out of the shaken bottle of champagne. Waiting though is its own special pleasure, a newly discovered pleasure. But it is also a trial. Ever defiant, Katherine does not want to wait. Just as Nigel did not want to wait as she walked in the door. But she waits, letting the pleasure build up behind that damn, the one they have built together, the “special trick” he called it.

Nigel’s fingers are relentless now. He knows her body well and he knows what she craves. Locked in a battle now, can he push her over the edge, how far can he push her, will she break. Will she cry out first? Will she disobey? How badly will she let the ache build?

“Please.” Katherine murmurs quietly.

Nigel continues to feast and fuck her with his fingers. She is thrashing her hips and beginning to babble. Her hands pull his hair and she can feel the tension building, the tension between them and within her. She wants to come. She wants it. She wants what he will not give her.

“Please. Please. Oh fuck, Nigel. Please.” Katherine starts to beg.

Nigel stops and pulls back. Katherine knows now that he will watch. He likes to watch her come. That is his special treat. To sit back and watch her as her mind leaves her body and her body becomes consumed in the electricity of the tension between them. Being wholly one – mind and body, but also apart, as if ripped asunder, as the damn bursts and the pleasure flows free. Katherine thinks, that is how it is – the pleasure is within her, all the time, that power, but she has to break open, in order to let it flow. The act of breaking, of surrendering her guard, of giving into the forces within her, brings her the burst of light, the ecstasy.
Nigel’s fingers continue their assault. She is bucking her hips and can feel the cracks, forming one by one, the achy needy feeling building within her.

He is looking at her now, she can feel it. Her eyes are closed, consumed by the colors she sees behind her eyes and her need to hold the dam up, to not let the burst of pleasure go; there is contentment in the climb, eating the drops of sugar as they fall, the sweetness of agony very poignant.

“Count.”

As if in the mist, she hears her voice, low and sweet, begin to count. Slowly. Why so slowly she wonders.

“Five…four… three, oh, uhhhh, two…..one…” then a pause. The silence stretches slowly, like taffy on a warm day.

“Come.” The word whispered and then it is if gasoline has been thrown on the fire. The damn bursts and she hears in the distance a scream, so sweet and so fierce.

“Again.” Nigel commands.

And as with the tide during a storm, Katherine feels herself rolling again, hears the scream and the moans and feels the waves hit her, and drag her away and then his voice is quieter and deeper, his hand still pushing her.

“One more time.”

And she does, opening her eyes and drinking in the naked hunger and the mastery, in a pale blue fire.

As if on a low tide, sweeping at her, as her eyes flutter close, Katherine feels his fingers, receding as the fierce wind is receding, Fee ling formless, battered and alive, Katherine floats.

In a swoop, Nigel lifts Katherine and cradles her against his warm chest and the gentle rocking motion continues, making her feel almost sea sick, until she lands on the soft mattress. Her skirt and sweater removed, her boots, and then warm arms and a warm body surround her, like an envelope.

Quietly. Just the sound of breath.

Until, she hears nothing but their heartbeats, the music of her dreams.