But that would be too easy…

It’s been a really long day and as we’re just sitting chatting, you keep talking, but stand up and do this extremely slow, deliberate undressing.  If you were only listening to what’s going on, you’d not even realize something had changed; you keep up the conversation, you keep asking questions, the whole bit.

But if I stop to watch, or make any indication that I “notice” (puhleaze, not something I will miss), you stop and just look at me until it’s back to normal. Then you move forward… button by agonizing button.  Untucking, undressing, even throwing in some gyrating…

Then you reach for me, undressing me, teasing me, stopping again, if I say anything or acknowledge what’s going on.  I do get the hint though and believe me, I’m not saying a word.  In fact, I’m pretty sure we could talk about anything, from any angle, for as long as you’d like at this point…

When you have me undressed, you start kissing me, kissing my neck, down my chest and back up again.  You can see me straining – just as you bite down on my chest in mid-sentence.  My sentence.  I stop and gasp and feel the pain rip through my head and mind.  As soon as I do, you stop, look at me, wag your finger at me.  “You were saying?” is all you say.

Frankly, I have no idea what I was saying.

But I just start talking.  Yammering on about whatever is in sight and trying to get my head back.  Just as you clamp down again, teeth, sucking and torturing the other side of my chest now.  You’re pulling me to you, holding me in place as you mark me.  Over and over again – and somehow the words keep coming out.  In my mind, I know they’re absolute gibberish.  In my mind, I know it is just a torture thing for you.

You lean back and run your nails from my collar bone to my groin, then reverse the path, going back exactly where you came down, leaving bright red trails up my body.  I can feel the hot, stinging burn of the scratches, as you travel down my body again.

You leave marks – from your nails to bites to hickeys and more all over my body, leading down… and I feel your hand on me.  You start stroking as you latch on once again, adding to the array of marks and I can feel myself slipping into that delicious animal mode…

And you stop.

You hand me one dice.

Shit.  One of your trademark games.  I just wanna, well, yeah.

With that grin.  “Roll.  Even, I continue.  Odd, you take care of me… “

I gather myself and roll the dice.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

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