It’s Complicated

The morning ritual is pretty typical – getting ready for work, getting out the door, heading in to work. Normal stuff. But it’s never far over the horizon to change things up, to try and make things…. “unusual.”

I’m running around like a mad-man, getting dressed, getting my stuff done to get out of the house on time. I think everyone learns a pattern of stuff in normal daily life – shower, dressed, garbage, out the door – normal things. You sort of slip into automatic mode.

I’ve done my stuff, am heading out the door. My brain is already in work mode, switching gears, getting my day straight in my head. I drop my stuff off in the back seat, you grab my shoulders from behind, spinning me to face you.

You pull the garage door opener from your pocket (where did that come from?), push the button and as the door comes down, the buttons on my shirt are undone, slowly, one by one. You run your hands up and down my chest, around my back, and pull yourself to me, kissing my chest at first, but then the kissing turns to nibbling, the nibbling turns to a full on bite, screaming from my chest to my head.

I growl a bit, getting my bearings, my work day crashing around my head in an instant, my thoughts coming back to the present, to you, to us. As you hold your bite, even grinding your teeth a bit, the pain gets to that breaking point, then starts to subside. You always recognize this in me. You can feel it in my body. You have two choices. Double down, or move. Usually, it’s the first.

My breath blows out of my lungs and I try to keep from squelching out loud too badly. I succeed at least partially, but you don’t give up. When you do draw away, you look at me, but only for a split second.

Your hand snakes into my pants, grabbing me very firmly around my cage, now working to do its job, pulling, confining, controlling. You sink your teeth into my chest, on the other side now, and hold, all the while pulling, pushing, manhandling the cage, flicking my PA ring through the bars of the cage.

My eyes are shut tight. My breathing is ragged. The low, guttural growl makes another appearance. As soon as it does, I see you smiling around the flesh of my chest. I see you grin through it, just as you increase the pressure, just a bit more.

White flashes through my eyes, my head swims.

And then you stop.

Slowly you button up my shirt. As you do, you pat me down, like a fashionista checking out their clothing on a mannequin.

You kiss me, your tongue chasing mine. In, out, back and forth. For just a minute or so, you lay against my chest and hug me close. Then, as you’re pulling away, you pull the garage door opener out again, click to open the door.

Have a great day at work, can’t wait for date night… can you?” *kiss*

At work, I arrive and am flustered, flushed and still fighting the cage. Someone notices I’m a little … off. Asks if everything is ok.

Yes, yes. No problem. It’s complicated…” is all I manage to say, hoping to shut them down…

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

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