Control

His hands are gentle, but strong. They mean business as they slide across my neck, thumbs pressing against my windpipe, pressing against my jaw to tilt my head back. His mouth dips down for a kiss, as his tongue plunges into my mouth, just as controlling as anything else about him.

As it dips and strokes against mine, one of those strong, gentle hands drops to the top of my dress and jerks it down off my breasts. The touch itself is considerate, but the action is not.

His hand moves from my neck and tangles in the hair at the nape of my neck, pulling my head further back. I gasp as my scalp tingles. The other hand has cupped my breast, lifting, squeezing, thumb and forefinger coming together to pinch my nipple. I again gasp into his mouth, something I think will end up happening a lot.

Moisture pools between my legs, and my hips shift forward, trying to connect with his body. He keeps his distance, and the hand that's pinching my nipple on the edge of pain again finds my dress and rips it down off my hips.

I've been instructed not to wear panties, so all I'm left to wear is wetness, and the redness his hand has left on my neck.

He releases my hair and I stagger a step. He removes his shirt and pants quickly as I watch, my breath caught in my throat with anticipation. My chest rises and falls, and my nipples tingle. I want to press my legs together but I'm frozen. As he stands, his cock poking out in front of him proudly, my mouth all but waters, wishing to suck him. But that's not on the agenda.

His hands are again on me, all over me. He pushes me and I fall back onto the bed, and just as quickly he's on top of me, his neck and shoulders filling my vision. His lips claim mine once more, and he reaches between us, his fingers sliding the length of my slit quickly, ensuring I'm wet. It shouldn't have been a question.

Thinking about him, talking to him, craving him daily keeps me on edge and half wet most of the time. That's how he wants it. So that's how he gets it.

The head of his cock nudges against me, and with a dip of his hips he's into my entrance. With a thrust he's sheathed half way. Oh. My. He's girthy. He's not going any further. He pulls back and pushes in again, still not getting any deeper.

"Turn over." He scoots back and stands up.

My stomach jumps at his words, his tone. But I quickly comply. As I raise to my hands and knees, he slaps my ass. Once. Hard. He grabs my hips, and again I feel him bumping against me. In he slides.. Again there's resistance. He pulls back and slams forward as he jerks my hips back against him. He drives home. He's sheathed full length, and I cry out.

He begins thrusting. He's big. Oh. God. I can feel my walls stretching to accommodate his size. As he becomes slick with my wetness, he moves faster. He grunts when our hips slam together. Thrusting becomes and inaccurate word. He's pounding.

I drop off my hands so that I'm laying on my chest, and tilt my hips. I want all of that. I want to feel all of that. Every inch. The force behind every thrust. The power. The aggression. I want the pounding.

As I move, his grunts turn into "fuck" said through gritted teeth.

Somehow he manages to go harder. Our skin hitting, my breath as he hits bottom each time, and his grunts are the only noise in the room. He slaps my ass again and the noise startles me more than the sensation.

I cum. As my pussy clenches around him, it doesn't feel like there's any room for the contractions. Somehow, the word "fuck" through gritted teeth becomes the only acceptable way to express the sensations, because I do the same thing.

He's still driving into me. He doesn't slow, he just...fucks. I cum again. I draw my hands back even with my shoulders and grab the sheet for leverage. He's slamming into me so hard I'm starting to scoot up the bed. I cum once more.

He groans as I feel his cock arch, shooting the first spurt into me. He keeps thrusting, but slows. I feel the contractions of his cock as he fills me. My pussy clamps around him, helping draw out every last drop.

He pulls out and steps back, slapping my ass.

"Thanks."

He disappears into the bathroom as I let my knees slide out from under me. I roll onto my side, feeling the very essence of him seeping from my body. I hold still, keeping as much of him inside me as I can. I feel owned.

Everything about him spells control. That's how he likes it. So that's how he gets it.