Second Chances

"I wanted you that night back in college. I knew you were a virgin. Hell, it might as well have been tattooed on your forehead. I wanted to be the first. Well, this is a kind of first, isn't it? Ever been tied up and taken?

She shook her head. Her mouth was dry. Did he really expect answers? Yet, it was so incredibly erotic that he was talking to her. Weren't men supposed to lose control? What did it mean when a man could calmly, determinedly tie you up, talk to you? She took a couple of deep breaths. What was he going to do?

He knelt over her and sucked on each breast in turn, rubbing the already erect nipples even harder. She felt herself arch off the chaise, offering more of herself to him. She pulled at the restraints but they were tight. She couldn't touch or hold him; she could only feel. She must have drawn her knees together because she felt him push them apart.

"Spread your legs for me, Clare. I want to see you. I want to see your cunt. I want to watch you come."

He ran a finger down her belly and she watched it disappear into the dark pubic curls. Then she gasped as he used both hands to spread the slick pink lips and expose the bud of her clitoris. She could feel her inner thighs pulse. He slid one, then two fingers into her cunt, massaging the clit, rubbing small gentle circles around it. Her breaths became shallower and she knew she was moving in rhythm to his fingers. His fingers were wet with her and he pulled them out but continued to press, and rub, and circle her clit. She was groaning now, eyes closed, pushing at the restraints. Not being able to move seemed to heighten the sensation. She didn't want any of it to stop when she felt his fingers move away and...no, she moaned, don't stop, please...

Oh, my god, she arched further off the chaise as he spread her legs even wider and lowered his mouth, sucking on her clit, tonguing her vulva. His mouth was hot, his lips and tongue strong and he wouldn't let her move her legs. Her arms pulled the ties even tighter. She wasn't sure if she was trying to get away from him or trying to get closer. She had lost all sense of inhibition. She was simply at his mercy and she had the distinct feeling that he was controlling her, that he would push her to the edge, pull her back, and push again until he was ready for her to finish. She couldn't control the arching and pulsing, the tide of feeling that was overwhelming her. She felt his mouth move away and fingers play with her.

"I want to watch you come, Clare. I want to watch you come. Arch for me Clare. That's it, baby. Do you like this? Answer me. Clare.

He rubbed harder, and then stopped. No, don't stop. Did she scream that?

"Answer me, Claire. Do you like me fingering you? Sucking you?"

"Yes, alright, yes." He rubbed her clit with his thumb and eased fingers into her aching cunt and whispered, now, Clare, now, now...and she pushed against his fingers, rocking and arching, rubbing against him as she orgasmed for long seconds. When she finally stopped arching, the tingling went on. She opened an eye to see him standing, taking another long sip from his drink. Her eyes ran down his body, lingering on his still erect cock from which glistening drops of liquid hung. He followed her glance, gave her that same amused expression.

"It's really not fair, you know. Women can come several times. Men, well, they get one good shot and then, they have to wait. Now, when you're eighteen, the wait's not so long so it's easy to be greedy. Get older and you begin to appreciate the finer points of sex, like having total control over a woman. That's what I have over you Clare."

He set the glass down and knelt between her legs, spreading her legs apart. Reaching down with a hand, he gently touched her clit, noted that she moved back against him. He rubbed a little more, making circles on her clit, gently tugging, then pulling on the lips, bent over and sucked on her nipples, arousing her again easily, too easily.

"Been a while since you've been taken, Clare. It shows."

She watched him touching her, spreading her legs, listened to his voice telling her what he wanted to do. The air was warm over her body. She closed her eyes only to hear him tell her to open them and look at him.

"I'm going to fuck you now Clare. Put my cock in you and thrust until you scream and I come. You can't stop me, but then, you don't really want to."

She watched him ease into her, his hand beneath her ass, lifting her slightly to change the angle. Gasped as he began thrusting into her, gently at first and then harder and stronger. They watched each other, almost as if each was daring the other to give way first, admit to the pleasure. Clare began to draw raggedly breaths as the pleasure mounted, as his thrusting became harder and more rhythmic. He reached for a chair cushion, pushed it under her ass and settled her, moved his hand to her knees and pushed them further apart, telling her he liked to see her spread her legs for him, liked to watch his cock go in and out of her cunt. She wasn't sure if being tied up or hearing him talk or feeling him fuck was pushing her pleasure. She was so used to being in control; this was so different. There was no use fighting it; she felt vulnerable, exposed but completely sensual. She didn't remember moving this way or wanting to thrust with a man so completely. She felt wanton; that was the only way to describe it. She wanted him to touch her and bite and thrust into her; she wanted to be completely mastered. The more she twisted, the more trapped she felt but somehow that made it feel better. And then a wave of the most intense pleasure came rushing and she thought she was going to break apart, certainly scream and she heard him moan in turn and thrust into her and then she was gone, arching off the chaise, pushing into his thrust. It was harder to think now, she just wanted to feel, and call his name, and come.

She never slept after sex so it was a bit of a surprise to find herself opening her eyes. Almost as much of a surprise to find that she wasn't tied up anymore. Instead, the ties were tossed in a heap on the ground and she was pulled against his chest and, yes, damn it, he was taking yet another sip of his drink. He looked down at her, dropped a kiss on her head and asked if that home cooked dinner invitation was still good. She really didn't know what to say, or where to start. This was definitely unchartered territory. What do you say to a man you hadn't seen in fifteen years who had just thoroughly tied you up and ravished you? She supposed he was hungry and she had offered. Well, she'd pull together some pasta and a salad. That was quick and the limo would be here at midnight to take her to the airport. Now how to tactfully tell him that he wasn't spending the night.

"I'll help. Have a limo coming around midnight to take me to the airport. Wouldn't want to leave you with dirty dishes." He smiled and pulled her to her feet, searched around for her dress and dropped it over her head. Then he bent and picked up the sash (she'd never look at that sash quite the same again) and wrapped it around her waist, knotting it securely.

"So," she started as they walked toward the kitchen, "where are you off to?"

"The Bahamas." He said it quietly and looked at her with that same damn smirk.

"No, this is not going to happen. I am definitely not going to be on the same plane as you. We are not to the same tiny island, sharing the same house for the same week. You are not going to, to tie me up again, to....she sputtered and stopped, both hands on her hips and she would have stamped a foot but it seemed so cliché.

He just looked at her, took another sip of his drink, and nodded his head once. "Yes, Clare, you are, we are, I absolutely will."