It started as a typical evening, and it ended with your t-shirt tied around my head and covering my eyes in a make-shift blindfold. Not that the evening ended there — just the typical nature thereof. Your hands gripped both of my wrists, pulling them behind my back, pulling them to you — and used them to steer me to the bed. When I hit the bed you let go of my hands and pushed me over in a single, liquid motion. I felt the mattress shift as you sat on the bed; felt a single finger trailing up my leg slowly, from my ankle to mid-thigh then higher, pushing up the hem of my dress as you moved along. When I attempted to sit up, to roll over, you pushed me back down. When I attempted to remove the make-shift blindfold from my eyes, you grasped my wrists, firmly, and placed them straight over my head. “No,” you said. “Don’t make me do that again or I’ll find something to restrain them with as well.”

I squirmed and you took that as assent; let my wrists go and moved one hand to the back of my neck, the other to my leg. As your finger trailed up my inner thigh I adjusted my hips, opening my legs further. You tightened your grip on my neck as you leaned down, then released to stroke my hair and whispered in my ear “patience.” Your hand moved from my leg to my ass, alternately rubbing and squeezing, pulling up the fabric with each motion. “Let’s just get rid of this,” you said with what sounded like a grin, and I eagerly raised my torso as you lifted my dress up and over my head. “Mmmm …. That’s more like it,” your voice stroked my ear, crooning humid and husky. Your fingers two-stepped the vertebrae of my spine as my hips raised by equivalent increments, every inch pleading. Your hand on the small of my back; your voice a gentle reminder: “not yet.”

You flip me over with ease and your hands roam my torso as your lips meet mine. You bite my lip and a tiny moan escapes. Your teeth follow your lips down my bodies releasing strawberry whines and whimpers. Give me a new bruise, I think. Give me something to remember you by. Mark me. Make me yours. All I know are your lips and teeth on my flesh.

Your tease is delicious and I’m distraught at the thought of what might be yet to come.