Nice to Meet You, Kane

His hand slid from my hip, up my ribcage, under my breast, cupping it easily in his huge palm. His chest is a solid wall at my back, the only other source of heat in the room. His mouth traveled from the tip of my shoulder, slowly, moistly, to the nape of my neck, where his teeth nipped firmly, where the tip of his tongue trailed a line lingeringly along the column of my throat. His fingers kneaded my tit firmly, found my hardening nipple, roll it and tweak it to peak, made me gasp.

"Easy, now." He growled, rasping his beard along my neck. Having him bodily surround me like this, was an adventure in sensuousness, into hedonism. His cock rested tight between my ass cheeks, not in my ass, just in the crack, get it? His other hand was slipping between my thighs, finding my slit, my soaking hole, sliding in, along, making my body arch against his.

"You need to take me to bed."

"Not yet."

"That's what you said last time and oh, mmm...oh, damn it. Remember what happened?" I did and still felt guilty about breaking his cheekbone. I felt his hand wrap a fistful of my hair, gently but firmly pinning me to the wall.

"Here, now...mmm, oh you're soaking...let me slide this..." he purred in my ear, as the fingers of his other hand started pumping into me. "Juicy, sweet angel...oh, yeah, you're so slippery. ...mmmm, come again for me...come on my hand, watching you, feeling you come like this drives me mad." His words, his voice has this habit of turning me into puddle, then a wild crazy fury, then leaving me limper than soggy noodles.

I can't resist him, he's my drug. He's divorcing his wife. He's been divorcing his wife for the last three years. I'm not his mistress. I'm just his fuck. For now. Sometimes he finds me, sometimes I find him.

I feel his cock riding back and forth along my ass crack, feel him shift it so it slides through my wet snatch, feel his fingers spread my lips wide, feel his cock slither and bump madly against my clit. He slides into me, a little at a time, just his head at first, rubbing in and out, dipping a bit deeper, deeper until he's sunk balls deep, retreating to his head. His hand molds my body like warm putty, bracing my hands on the wall in front of me, kneading one of my tits, one ass cheek as he watches his cock tease me.

His hand doesn't just slide gently, it grips firmly, hard even sometimes. He knows I'm not fragile, that I want to fuck him as a whole woman. His fingertips flawlessly find, knead and mold me into a pliable, flexible fuck.

When he's hammering my hole, I'm fucking him back as hard as he's giving it to me, from every hair pull to every sensuous finger trail. His eyes traveled from where his cock teased to the reflection of my face in the mirror.

"Open your eyes." I did, with an effort, to see his blazing at me. "Keep them open." I held his gaze, as he slid into me in entirety, as he sank balls deep. He held me still, letting the ripples of complete fullness, of roiling orgasm roll over him.

"Watch me." He snapped as the wave of pleasure began crashing through me, taking me mindlessly with it. I was lost, railing against him, riding him, snarling for more, biting his wrist to free my hair.

I felt myself bounced onto his cock again as he fell back onto the bed, entangling me above him. I had to shift, free my legs, feeling his cock grinding deep inside, rolling more small waves through me. His hands pushed, prodded and poked me until I was freed and slowly sliding him in and out of my cunt, massaging my ass, my lower back, guiding my body, my pace.

My fingers dug into his thighs, kneading and gripping, as I rode his cock, feeling his hands pushing harder, faster. I had to rise up, let my hips be dragged along as he drove me higher, let loose the deep moan that had been building. I came over and over, every time his hands gripped, squeezed, shifted my body.

In a blink, he had me on my knees, my face buried in the sheet as he slammed into me. I rode the wave, wildly bucking with him, riding his cock. He raised us both up, his hands cradling my head as he pumped out his seed. I felt myself bounce onto the mattress, still cradled in his arms, bonelessly flopping, heard his soft chuckle, grinned myself into oblivion.

His hands held me captive. How he knows just how to stroke that one spot, how he finds the nasty knots at the base of my skull, how he finds that one spot to dissolve me into furious giggles, to raise me to the winds as he strokes inside me.

I knew it the first time his hand touched mine. I saw in his eyes he'd felt that sizzle too, knew he wouldn't deny it. It's in his eyes every time we meet somewhere. One glance and I can almost feel his hands skimming over every inch of my body. He's my drug, Kane is, my obsession, my addiction.