Oliver's Hunger

His hot breath seared her, his tongue delved deep into her, leaving no corner unexplored, and his hands roamed her body, commanded by a man who knew he would encounter no resistance. With confidence and determination, he pulled her T-shirt over her head, exposing her naked skin beneath. Skin that tingled pleasantly. When the zipper of his jacket rubbed against her breast, she cried out, making him release her instantly.

“Your jacket,” she said. “Take it off. Take all of it off.”

Oliver jumped from the bed and rid himself of his clothes. She’d never seen anybody undress himself with such speed and grace. When he stood in front of her with only his boxer briefs, she licked her lips, and her eyes moved to the impressive outline of his cock. The bulbous head of his erection peeked out from the waistband of his underwear, too large to be contained by the fabric that stretched too tightly to truly conceal anything.

“I love the way you look at me,” he claimed.

“How do I look at you?”

He growled softly. “Hungry.”

Before she could reply to him, he stripped her of her jeans, leaving her with only her bikini panties. But instead of joining her on the bed again, he turned to the chest of drawers behind him and opened the top drawer. He rummaged around in it.

“What are you doing?”

He turned, and she saw him holding up a virtually see-through negligee. He tossed it at her. “Put this on. I think you’ll look good in red.”

She took the gauzy fabric that hid nothing and slipped it over her head. It was surprisingly soft. But as soon as she wore it, she also realized that the area where it should cover her breasts was devoid of fabric. She felt scandalous in the outfit and was about to take it off again when she noticed Oliver staring at her, unbridled desire burning in his eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, and the admiring sheen in his eyes made her heart beat faster. At the same time her nipples tightened into hard little buds, and she felt moisture collect at her core.

Slowly, she lowered herself back onto the mattress, aware that she was presenting herself as if on a silver platter, her breasts sticking out through the holes in the negligee. Suddenly she felt powerful. She felt like she was the one in charge, the one who pulled the strings. Ursula licked her lips.

“Fuck, baby!” Oliver cursed and jerked open the second drawer, pulling out a couple of silk scarves, before he walked to the bed and joined her.

He straddled her midsection, then leaned over her, the erection behind his boxer briefs brushing against her stomach. “Stretch your arms over your head.”

“In a moment.” She would comply with his wish, but there was something she wanted first.

Without embarrassment she tugged on the waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling them down as far as his position allowed. Then she closed her palm around his hard cock and squeezed the firm flesh.

Oliver moaned loudly, his eyes closing, his head falling back. His breathing accelerated as she stroked him, running her hand up and down his length.

“You’ve gotta stop,” he begged, “or I’ll spill all over you.” His eyes opened and met hers.

“And would that be so terrible?”

He gripped her hand and gently pried it off him. “Yes. Because I want to come inside you when you’re climaxing.”

Then he took both her hands and pinned them over her head. With swift and surprisingly practiced moves, he tied both her hands to the bed frame. She pulled on them slightly and noticed that they were loose, just like he’d promised. If she curled her hands, she could slip from the bonds.

“Promise me something.”

She looked up into his blue eyes. “Yes?”

“Pretend you can’t escape those bonds. I’d like to believe that you’re at my mercy, even though I know that I’m at yours.”

She nodded, surprised at his words. Did he really think he was at her mercy? Or was this all part of the sexual game they were playing? Either way, she liked the feeling of power that suddenly coursed through her. For so long, she’d had none. Now, she felt strong and invincible.

“In that case, come a little closer.” She dropped her gaze to his cock, noticing how he did the same.

A sharp intake of air signaled that he’d caught on to her thinking. “You’re not . . . ”

Deliberately slowly, she ran her tongue over her lower lip, then lifted her eyelids to meet his surprised look. “You did it to me.”

“This isn’t exactly how bondage works,” he said as he scooted farther up her body, lifting himself onto his knees in the process. “I’m supposed to be the one telling you what I want you to do.”