The Game

Michael quickly grabbed her hand, preventing her from attempting the knots. "Not yet."

He held her hand while finding the controls to push her seat as far back as it would go and tilt the steering wheel up. He then reclined the seat and wormed his way between her knees, kneeling in front of her, closing the door.

"Cozy," he said with a smile, releasing her hand.

Claire slapped him.

"Do I need to tie this one, too?" he asked, taking her hand again. "I've always kept an extra tie and shirt in my office, just in case I needed them. Of course, this isn't quite what I'd envisioned needing them for."

He looked at her softly and released her hand again. She let it rest at her side.

"Michael," she sighed. "What are you doing?"

"What we both want."

"I told you I can't."

"Yes," he replied calmly. "You've made that perfectly clear. But you are not. I am."

"Michael, you can't," Claire objected.

"Oh, yes," he said, laughing softly, raising himself and resting himself on top of her, his lips brushing her ear. "I can."

Claire was paralyzed. Her mind was a blur; heart racing; every nerve in her body alert. Michael kissed her neck softly, his lips trailing over her skin, sending chills through her. Claire turned her head to the side. Michael's hands were warm against her as he slowly explored her sides, running one hand along her ribs, brushing against her breast and then up the length of her extended arm. Another chill ran through her when his fingers made contact with her skin where the edge of her short-sleeved blouse ended. His fingers continued softly over her arm to her bound wrist, checking the knot.

"That hurts," Claire said, hoping he'd feel guilty and stop this.

Instead, he took her hand and felt each finger, all the while kissing her neck just under her ear.

"Your circulation seems fine," he responded quietly, moving his lips higher, grazing her ear. "And I promise to make you forget all about that."

Claire swallowed hard and closed her eyes. Michael's breath in her ear, his body against hers, his scent, everything was creating such heat within her. She kept her free arm still beside her, determined not to react. She'd remain completely still. He'd lose interest and stop. But her body was betraying her, her nipples growing hard under his caresses, a slow, steady pulsing growing in her clit.

He shifted his weight and unbuttoned her blouse, taking his time to slide first one and then the other panel aside. He licked his way from her collarbone to her cleavage, the fingers of his right hand working her nipple, gently pinching and tugging on it through the soft material of her bra. Claire bit her lip to stifle a moan as her pussy muscles contracted, reacting to his touch.

Bracing himself with the console and seat, Michael lifted himself from her and placed one leg on either side of her, kneeling as best he could in the small space. He removed his shirt and then his belt. Almost losing his balance, he steadied himself again with the console and then unbuttoned and unzipped his pants.

He paused, watching her face and then took her free hand, guiding it to his crotch. Molding his hand to the outside of hers, he pressed it inside his pants, against his swollen cock.

"Please, Claire," he whispered. "Stroke me."

Claire closed her eyes and took a sharp breath. She couldn't. But god, she wanted to. The times she thought about stroking his hard cock, sucking it, running her tongue up and down its length, feeling it pulsing in her mouth were too numerous to count. It felt good on her hand. Smooth, hard, large. She wanted to grasp it, to tease the head with her fingers and hear him moan. When she did nothing, Michael took over and tightened his grip on her hand, closing it around his thick shaft.

Claire opened her eyes to watch as he maneuvered her hand. He moaned quietly, sending another ripple of desire through her core.

Michael released her hand and moved off of her, settling himself on his knees again, between her legs. He pushed her knee length, flared skirt up to her waist and ran his fingers back down the front of her naked thighs. Claire watched as he kissed his way from her knee to her hip, one hand continuing to caress her thigh, moving closer and closer to her lace-covered mound. He stopped kissing her and smiled, tracing the edges of her panties with his fingers.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked.

Claire paused, her emotions a confusing mix of desire and guilt.

"Yes," she managed.

Michael slid his thumb and fingers under the side edge of her panties and over her wet slit. He stroked her a few time and then withdrew his hand.

"I don't believe you," he grinned, licking his thumb.

He grasped her panties at her hips, pulled them off and inspected them for a moment in the dim light.

"Mmm. Very pretty. Think I'll keep them," he said, tucking them into his pocket, causing his unfastened pants to slide further down his body.

He spread Claire's legs further apart and resumed his kissing, working his tongue along her inner thigh until his mouth was poised just over her hot cunt. He brought his mouth just a fraction of an inch from her pussy lips and blew lightly. Claire's entire body tensed. And then he made contact, running his tongue slowly and firmly along her slit, causing Claire to arch her back and tug at her restraints.

He covered her mound with his mouth and pressed his tongue between her folds, moving it back and forth and then circling her sensitive clitoral hood. Claire clenched her teeth and her hands as he pulled back, using just the tip to gently trace up and down her outer lips. Unconsciously, she tilted herself forward and he slid one hand under her thigh, wrapping it around her leg and gripping her tight. Then he moved back to the hood of flesh covering her clit and slowly sucked it between his lips while using a finger to stroke her swollen, saturated lips.

Claire longed to feel him inside of her as he alternated from long, slow strokes of his tongue to shorter, quicker circles around her clitoris. He paused; looking up at Claire's flushed face, he slipped first one and then two fingers inside her. They locked eyes and he licked his lips, watching her, as he began to move his fingers rhythmically in and out of her, pressing against the front inner wall of her vagina. She gripped the seat with her free hand as her muscles tightened.

Claire suppressed a whimper when he withdrew his fingers from her. He paused only a moment before returning his warm, exquisite tongue to her pussy. He used his thumbs to spread her lips; pulling them taut, he flicked his tongue over her clit and then plunged it into her cunt. Despite herself, Claire moaned loudly. She felt him smile against her soaked pussy.

Claire's mind went blank as Michael fucked her with his tongue. She felt her orgasm building, as did he. His cock twitched and strained, longing to be buried deep within her tight, hot pussy.

Michael withdrew his tongue and gave her engorged clit one last lick as he moved up the length of her body, positioning himself over her. Using his hand, he stroked the head of his throbbing cock along her slit, smearing it with her juices. Positioning himself at her entrance, he paused to kiss her mouth, her sweet, musky taste coating his lips. And then he thrust himself deep within her and held himself there.

"Oh, fuck... Michael..." Claire moaned and sank her fingernails into his flesh.

"There's my girl," he groaned and buried his face in her neck.

He withdrew slowly until the head of his cock was almost entirely out of her and then plunged himself back in. He did this several times and then shortened his strides and quickened his pace. Changing again, he moved from side to side and then in circular motions as his pelvis ground against her clitoris.

Claire was moments from cumming. So was Michael, as he pounded her relentlessly.

"Do you want me to stop?" he grunted, fucking her harder still.

"Yes," she breathed.

"Do you?"

"Yes. Oh, fuck yes. Michael..." Claire groaned loudly as her pussy clamped onto his cock, contracting wildly, and she tightened the grip of her legs around him.

Claire came hard and loud and Michael lost it, unloading streams of hot cum deep inside her, shaking him to the very core. His pace slowed as did their breathing, but her muscles held his cock tight, milking every bit from him. Then, they began their decline.

As their breathing slowed, Michael reached to release the knot holding Claire's wrist. It had become so tight from her thrashing that it was quite impossible to untie.

"There are some scissors in my laptop bag," she whispered.

Michael retrieved them and cut her free.

"Damn," he chuckled. "That was my favorite tie."

"Mmm. Sorry," Claire sighed.

"It's been a pleasure, Seventeen," he whispered.

"Likewise," she replied and closed her eyes as he gathered himself and his clothes.

And then he was gone.

Game over.