Obsession

Obsession

Everything about him is wrong. He isn't a man meant for me. But I want him so badly I can feel fire in my veins just by hearing him speak my name. I have tried so hard to hide the way he makes me feel from him, but I am beginning to think he knows, like a predator who can smell the fear on his prey; I am the white rabbit and he is my wolf. He chases me like a nightmare that I don't want to wake from. He lights me on fire in a way no other man is capable of doing.

He isn't mine. I'm certainly not his. Yet, somehow, we belong to each other. Something deep in the recesses of our minds calls to one another constantly. The pull gets stronger by the day, and my ability to stop myself is becoming harder to reach with every encounter.

Today was nothing. Had he been any other man, the entire scenario would have been meaningless and forgettable. But because it was him, the entire thing is scorched into my brain like a brand that I neither wanted nor asked for. He passed me. That's all. He was walking one way, and I was walking the other. I didn't see him; I felt him. I felt the eyes of my wolf upon me, and I didn't even need to look around in the crowd of people to know exactly where he was. When my gaze snapped up in his direction, his stare back was full of a hunger I hadn't seen before. He hadn't expected me to look up, and it felt as though I had caught him. The second he knew I had seen him, he broke eye contact and walked in a different direction to avoid me.

We have never exchanged words that weren't pleasantries. Meaningless niceties that neither of us means, but each conversation is charged with something hidden behind each uttered phrase. It's as though we speak an entirely different language that no one else can interpret. His scent, his gait, the different ways his eyes look depending on whom he is speaking with. I know him in ways no one else does, and yet I don't know him at all. His very presence has become an obsession that I desperately want gone.

Now he even haunts my dreams. He does things to me I have only ever fantasized about, and I am a mess when I wake. Never in my life has anyone had this effect on me, not even men of fantasy. Only he has this power. I can't continue this way, or I will surely lose my mind.

My mind spins on what to do next. I want to approach him and demand answers. Demand that he tell me what spell he has cast upon me, what poison he fed me while I was unaware. My rationale tells me no. What if this is all just some lingering girlish fantasy of a woman too long untouched? He will think you're insane. Today was nothing more than awkward eye contact with a man who was yards away; the look in his eyes was imagined. He merely saw you and dismissed you as you should have dismissed him. Stop reading into this.

Getting control of my more basic urges reminds me to get back to the chores that wait for no tryst. The chores are harder now with my husband's passing. Everyone offers their condolences, promising help when you need it, but asking for it makes me feel weak. I can't do most of these things to the level they need to be done. I don't have the strength that man had, but I can't pay anyone to help me either. I am left to my own capabilities. My arms and legs have gained muscle since his passing, and the cold nights are starting to become a way of life. Especially when they are warmed by the thought of the man with dark eyes staring at me from across the crowd, using his hands in a way that makes me--

"No!" I shout into my still house. I have other things to occupy my mind than my obsession. It's not that I feel guilty; my husband passed away three years ago and would hate the thought of me being alone. I just know that this predator is a different man from my late husband in every way. How could I want a man like him?

"Ugh! You don't want him or need him." I tell myself unconvincingly. The most conversation I get anymore is with myself. I must just be too deprived of human contact. That's the problem.

I hum to myself to drown out the unwanted thoughts. I make a point of making a list of things I need from town as an excuse to see other people tomorrow. Slowly, the chores get done, albeit not well. At the end of the night, my bones ache and a bath calls my name. I look to my claw-foot tub and form another plan in silence.

Lighting as many candles as I can and pouring hot water along with rose-scented soap and oils into the tub, my mind starts to right itself. I make sure to pour myself a glass of wine and lower myself into the almost-too-hot water. The sensation of the water against my chilled skin is a delightful contrast, and as soon as my waist goes below the water and my bare ass hits the bottom, I close my eyes and relax against the back of the leaning frame. The water rises, and my aching muscles sing a song of welcome relief in response. When I lazily open my eyes to focus on turning the water off with my outstretched foot, I pay close attention to my silhouette beneath the lapping, scented ripples in the water.

My hair swirls in circles around me. My skin is pink with the heat of the water, and my nipples are a rosy color, undoubtedly matching my lips and cheeks by this point. Stomach hiding beneath the surface and long legs peeking above show off the figure of someone who deserves to be wrapped up in the arms of someone strong and capable. Someone who would know exactly what to do with the body in front of him. Someone with dark eyes and dark hair who stares at me from across a crowded street.

"For fuck's sake!" I am immediately angry with myself. He probably never has me on his mind, and I pine for him like a schoolgirl.

"One more time. Then that's it." The lie slips out of my mouth before I even try to stop it. Who am I attempting to convince in the privacy of my own bathtub, anyway?

I let my hand slowly graze the column of my neck while my eyes drift shut again, imagining exactly where he would touch me. I brush against my collarbone and inhale deeply. The smell of roses and something else, something that shouldn't be here, fills my senses. Mahogany and whiskey; his scent. It's masculine with a hint of danger to it; safe and yet forbidden. I recognize the scent immediately, and my eyes shoot open, and I disturb the water by shooting into an upright sitting position. Some of it splashes over the side, and the waves roll against my suddenly chilled skin.

"Is someone there?" I half-whisper into the darkness beyond the bathroom door. Nothing answers. Not even a slight noise to indicate a hidden intruder. All I can smell now is rose oil. Deciding my imagination overreacted, I lean back down into the water. My heart is still racing at the prospect of an unwanted guest in my home without my permission. So I let out a breath and calm my mind. It doesn't take long before my mind is back to what it seems to know best these days.

When my fingers explore again, I sigh in the candlelit room. I love the feeling of my wet body beneath my fingertips. My skin feels softer, and when they reach between my legs, the contrast of the different kind of wet that lingers there is one I enjoy even more. I start to play in the area as I adjust my body and slide further into the water. My legs are bent out of the water and perch on either side of the tub, giving me more access. Playfulness turns into something stronger, and I inhale through my teeth when I hit a particular spot that causes my toes to curl and my head to lull backward even further. My hips chase the sensation, and I am rocking them back and forth, causing the water to roll along with them.

My fingers work faster and harder, playing with my clit and diving inside of me when they need to keep the sensations changing constantly. When my hips lift entirely off the floor of the tub, I nearly come out of the water altogether. He is on my mind the whole time. His hands, his fingers, his lips, the thought of his body pressed against mine. I want my legs wrapped around him now. I feel completely empty inside and need more. My hips lift more when I imagine his mouth between my legs, lapping at me even more than the water around me can. The crash of the orgasm comes suddenly and hard. I moan his name loudly into the room, and when my muscles are finally spent, they release my body back to the bottom of the tub. Water splashes over the side once more, and my high from an orgasm immediately goes to a mess to be cleaned. Rather a buzzkill.

The release wasn't even close to enough. I know this won't be the last time I touch myself with his name on my lips. Hell, it probably won't even be the last one tonight. Cutting my losses, I clean myself in the tub and take care to shave, making sure my legs and pussy are oiled and smooth. Apparently, I like myself a certain way before I pleasure myself. I can't help but laugh at myself for that one. "I have standards for the way I like to be before I can masturbate." The thought is ridiculous. And I know the reality is that somewhere in the back of my mind is a wishful thought that he will show up and ravish me; I'd hate to not be ready.

I finally get out of the bath and towel off. I haphazardly clean the floor with the towel I just dried myself off with and blow out most of the candles. Grabbing my silk robe, I don it to brush my teeth and run a comb through my waves. Looking at myself again, I can almost hear my husband telling me how someone this beautiful doesn't deserve to sleep alone. I decide to ignore his voice and salvage what's left of the evening. The sky is dark and cold tonight. All the stars are out and speak to a windless, winter night. My favorite.

Still wearing only my robe and with my hair damp, I walk barefoot onto the front porch. My mom taught me to enjoy the cold and let it cleanse my mind. The freezing temperature immediately seeps into my skin, and just as the snow on the ground beyond the front porch cleanses my soul, it cleanses the earth. I inhale deeply several times, letting the earth reset my horny brain. When I finally feel like I can get back to being normal, I turn to walk into my home, but something catches my eye.

There is snow on the porch in the shape of boots. Men's boots. I don't wear boots that large. The steps come up from the walkway and onto the porch, then straight to my door. They don't turn around. They don't leave the porch; they disappear beyond it. I open the door to my own home, half expecting someone to be standing on the other side.

Still standing on the porch, feeling far more exposed than cleansed now, I shout into the darkness of my fortress: "Who's there?" No answer. I can't stand the cold anymore, being as unclothed as I am, and I have no choice but to cross my threshold and walk inside.

I tiptoe to the kitchen and pull a knife from the butcher's block and widen my eyes in an attempt to unlock some night-seeing inhuman power I have never possessed before. All of my senses are on high alert. Someone is here. I can feel it. I'm not alone.

A moment of shame crosses my mind at the fact that whoever this is heard me yell a man's name into the air while I got off in my bathtub. He also probably saw me walk naked from my bathroom to my bedroom.

Shaking the embarrassment from my head, I press forward, not really sure what I should do next. I don't know many men that I could win against in hand-to-hand combat, so my best bet is to get the fuck out and to the neighbor's house. My boots are by the door. They live a mile away. I turn my back to the front door to keep an eye on my dark house, hoping that he is in another room attempting to find treasure that I simply don't own. As I step backward, my wooden floor groans to give away my presence. Each noise has me freeze with every hair on my body standing on end. The knife is in my outstretched hand, and my breath is low and quick. Now, I truly am the rabbit.

As I back myself up to the corner where I keep my boots, my eyes pick up a moving shadow in the corner, and I freeze again. Even my breathing stops. The stillness is unnerving, and I feel incredibly small. Tears well in my eyes, and I finally find the nerve to back up one more step as one falls over my lid and silently down my cheek. My back presses into something hard and warm. The thought hits me before my body can react. You backed up into him!

My arms fly out and are immediately overpowered from behind. The knife is dropped instantly to the ground, and both of my arms are pinned behind me and against him. The smell of mahogany and whiskey envelops my senses, and my pussy responds accordingly. I instinctively push my thighs together as hard as I can. I feel vulnerable and exposed at the same time, and something about the two combined is exquisite.

The tip of his nose runs up the column of my neck in a way that is so intimate my knees buckle and a soft whine escapes my throat. My immediate embarrassment has me pulling away from him to hide in shame. He sees it as a challenge and tightens his grip. His face is buried in my hair, and I can hear him inhaling me. Like a man deprived of air. When he does, his body seems to tremble in delight. All I can do is pant. My heart is racing, and I don't care to know the exact reason.

One of his hands grips my wrists together, pulling my arms closer and forcing me to arch my back. This inevitably forces my breasts to push out, and the robe starts to slip. One of my nipples is exposed and hardens in the chilled air. I can feel heat rise to my cheeks in humiliation. The hand he freed anxiously awaited this moment and lost no time to greedily knead and squeeze. He even takes my nipple between his thumb and finger and rolls the tortured nub until my head lolls back onto his shoulder. I yell out in obvious pleasure. He chuckles in response.

My panting increases, and his lips lightly dust my neck with kisses. I can hear his growls and groans over my own. He is pulling noises out of me that I didn't know I had inside. When his hand finally leaves my abused breast, he slides it slowly up until his firm grasp is concentrated on my neck. The pressure is slight but firm, and I am left with a gaping mouth desperately seeking air that is readily available. My pussy is soaking wet at the entire situation, and I know the second he discovers it, it will be the end of me.

In one swift move, his hand releases my wrists and he turns while his other hand never leaves my throat. He backs me into the wall and, in the darkness, all I can see is his silhouette in front of me. The hand on my throat tightens slightly, and another tear falls. I look directly into where his eyes should be, and stare wide-eyed, mouth gaping, unsure what to do. He steps into my space, and his knees find their way between my legs. My eyes close to release more tears. He 'tsks' at this move, and they shoot open in response. My heart flutters at the thought of disappointing him, so I return my attention to his eyes.

As my breath quickens, his thumb traces the vulnerable skin of my exposed throat. We stand in silence. I can feel him, just as I did earlier today and so many times before. His wolf-like predatory presence called out to my little rabbit. I knew I was caught. I knew I had no choice but to submit. And that thought sent fire through my veins. The fire that leaves pebbled skin in its wake. A fire that floods me and stands my nipples in erect attention all at once. His power over me was not given but taken somehow. And I fear I would let him do this to me again and again.

Hand still pressed to my throat, his face bows down to mine, and the heat of his breath against my cheek sends chills down my spine. His gentle kisses along my jawline contrast with the danger in his grip. My senses are overloaded, and I am overwhelmed. My knees buckle again, and his own catches me between my legs. A squeal comes out of my mouth at the sudden pressure on my needy cunt. His grip tightens slightly, and he chuckles against my jaw. I'm suddenly extremely aware that I have on no panties and my bare pussy is pressed to the coarse material of his pants.

His lips find my ear, and my mouth circles into an 'O' as I gasp at the intimacy and danger of the situation. His rugged and deep voice whispered into my ear, "I heard you calling out for me." My eyes closed in mortifying reality; he was here and had heard me. My captor, my obsession, he knew everything--information he is currently using against me. I am lost to him now, and I know it more than I care to admit.

"The next time you call out my name, I will be buried inside of you." His voice has taken on something ragged and tortured. He is barely hanging on to his control. A man so desperate is a dangerous thing, and I can't help but relish the thought.

I let out a soft whine at the thought, and his grip releases slightly from around my neck. I draw in a deep breath I hadn't realized I needed quite so badly. He pulls back to look down at me, though his face is still shrouded in darkness. I feel his gaze lower to my now exposed breasts, and my legs straddling his leg that sits precariously at my middle.

A rough and callused hand reaches out to graze my thigh. The suddenness has me cry out unexpectedly, and I can practically hear him smirk. The idea of making him smile in any way sends tingles down my limbs, and I have to inhale sharply through my teeth. His knee presses slightly into me, and I moan. My hands are pressed to the wall behind me to ground me in anything that isn't him. Without realizing it, my hands give me enough purchase, and I slightly move my hips to rub myself against his knee again.

His head shoots up in response, and he is staring into my soul once more. I can't see it, but the prey can feel when her predator's eyes are upon her. The grip around my throat tightens more than before, and I have to take small, shallow breaths. It sends tears to my eyes, which begin to fall of their own accord. He licks a tear from my cheek and brings his mouth back to my ear while I gasp beneath his grip. "Grind yourself against me!" His voice has taken on more of that rugged and barely controlled quality again, and I stand helpless before him.

Using my stance, I comply immediately so as not to provoke my current threat. I may be full of lust, but I am not an idiot. My wet pussy slides against the coarse fabric, and the sensation is maddening. One of my hands reaches up and entangles itself in his shirt. The heat of his skin beneath my hand sends new waves of crazed lust through me, and my hips move faster. More urgency, and the chase of a needed release are all that drive me. My tears continue to flow as my airway is precariously constricted by the strength of his hand. Hips rolling and grinding into him, my teeth bared down and my eyes staring intently at the blank darkness of his face. My breathing is ragged now, and I start to inhale sharply, bringing a high-pitched moan with each drawn breath. My legs begin to tremble, and I find myself balanced upon the tips of my toes. His hand grips, but my head falls backward against the wall as I feel the climax climb closer and closer. My other hand raises to his forearm and grabs tightly. Nails buried in his skin, I inhale as deeply as I can--

his knee and hand are both removed, and I nearly topple over. Instead of a sweet release, all sensation leaves along with the needed orgasm. I bend at the waist to catch my balance and my breath before an annoyed growl exits my once-again-bared teeth. When I right myself, he is out of sight. The curtains on the other side of the room move slightly, and I realize they were the cause of my earlier distraction.

"Where are you?" I demand. This isn't fair, and I feel incredibly rejected. The fact that he broke into my house and touched me without my permission is no longer even a contender in this game; I'm just pissed off. I retie my robe to cover my exposed body and march back to my bedroom. Somehow, I know that's where he is. I can feel that pull again.

As soon as I tear open my bedroom door, candlelight appears all around my room. Most of it taken from my bathtub escapade earlier. "How did you--"

"Doesn't matter," he interrupts again. I decide immediately that that annoys me.

"I want answers. Now!" My wounded ego is showing, and it's coming out with more vibrato than I deserve in my current predicament.

He uncrosses his arms and pushes off the wall slightly. His strides toward me are sure and steady. The gait of a man with more confidence than I can handle right now. I immediately shrink some in response. Something about him calls out to that submissive side I try desperately to hide from the world. My late husband didn't even see this side of me much. Somehow, this stranger knows exactly how and where to find this version of myself that I bury deep.

My head bows instinctively, and I hate myself for it. He puts his fingers under my chin and raises my face to meet his own. Now the candlelight gives me just enough to make out the planes and shadows on his face. The same handsome face that stared at me today. That stares into my soul, even in my dreams. His eyes have that hunger in them again, and I audibly gulp at the sight.

"Nice try, little bane, but it's not your turn to give commands." There is no laughter in his voice now. No amusement to soften the blow of the intensity behind those words. He holds the power and will only allow me to have it when he wants me to. My belly flutters in a way I haven't felt in years at the promise behind those words. Had any other soul on earth uttered them to me, I would've slapped them in the face; he is not one to test. Not right now, anyway.

He stands in my space again, looking down at me. He crowds me until I am forced to back away. Without me even realizing it, he uses his technique to back me up to the bed. When my legs hit the soft mattress, I am thrown off balance and fall onto the cushioned surface. He squats so that he is face to face with me again, and the air is so charged with electricity and hunger that I start to pant again; short and quick breaths through my nose, so I can continue to clench my teeth behind my closed lips. Trying to remind myself that I am meant to be angry, not aroused.

His fingers reach out gingerly, moving my robe to the side again. Exposing my breasts and my stomach, but leaving the silky material still tied to me and wrapped around my arms. Pressing his hand to my chest, he lowers me down to the bed. One more tear escapes me as I give in to the inevitable; I want this as much as he does. I am so vulnerable that it keeps a level of danger in the whole situation that I find unsettling and somehow, still incredibly thrilling. He climbs up my body, leaving a trail of kisses and licks up my body. His eyes, hands, and mouth explore every inch of my exposed skin, and before I know it, my body is back to its traitorous ways.

My back arches into his ministrations. My breaths come in small gasps with every lick and every kiss. Eyes roll back into my head as he sucks at one nipple. I have to fist the blankets beneath me to ground myself once more. His wicked tongue is sending me high into desire and need.

"More!" I whine into the room. My whole body shakes with anticipation. His body is resting between my legs, and my knees bend up and around him to pin his body against mine. I have to have more.

"What do you say?" he is breathless atop me as his mouth disconnects from my over-sensitized nipple. He peers down into my eyes, his shaggy hair falling somewhat into his face in the most 'bad boy' way I could imagine. I want him completely disheveled and undone by me. I need more of this man, and I need to give him more of me.

"Please." It's less of a beg and more of a command at this point. "I need more. Please." I say the whole thing through bared teeth again. He brings out something primal in me. I am barely in control of myself.

His wolfish smile is all the 'good girl' I need in the moment, and my pussy floods at his approval again. "When you come, you had better say my name louder than you did when you were alone." His words have the hint of promise and threat in them. This man knows my soul better than I seem to.

He kisses me back down my belly. His hands explore each plane and dip that my curves have to offer. They seem expert at finding each erogenous zone my body has ever concocted for itself. When his kisses dip below the belt of my robe and move the fabric to expose my bottom half, I stutter a breath in pleasant surprise. My eyes watch his every move. Each one more tantalizing than the last. His kisses avoid the one area I need them most, and he makes a mockery of me by looking up into my eyes and smiling each time he purposefully leaves me in more need than when he started. The tease is making me insane, and an unprecedented growl comes from deep in my body. In response, a nip to my inner thigh has me squealing and clenching my thighs together. With a smirk and a look that does not permit insubordination, he uses his hands to easily pry my thighs apart again. My brow furrows, and I bite my bottom lip to attempt to quiet myself.

His finger brushes over my lips, and I can feel how wet I am. His moan says the same thing. He brings the finger up to his mouth and sucks every bit of me off of himself. The move was so raw and primal that it caught me off guard and sent another roaring fire through my veins. My belly uncoiled, and the fluttering from before was something much more intense now. I breathe hard and lift myself into a sitting position to face him. I grab the back of his head and pull him to me.

When our mouths collide, the world around us explodes. I have only ever read about this kind of physical connection in books that I have to pretend to have no interest in when other people pass me in the library. The books of passion and romance. I loved my husband, but I never felt this kind of need, this kind of untapped animal energy. His tongue runs along the seam of my mouth, and I part my lips for him. Our tongues entwine and our bodies move in sync. There is a need in him that I didn't know I needed to feel. He is desperate for me. He needs this just as much as I do. I pull him down with me to the mattress, and we entwine ourselves. His tongue and mine dance together in a provocative kiss while his hips start to roll against my soaking pussy. My hands entangle in his hair, and the other grabs ahold of his bicep. When we both find ourselves gasping for breath, I wrap my legs around him again and kiss his neck.

He pulls himself from my grasp and straightens himself back at the edge of the bed. His hand upon my chest keeps me in place, and he smiles down at me. The most devilish and devastating smile I have ever seen. Each of his hands finds purchase on my inner thighs and gently pries me apart further for his hungry eyes.

"Your creamy thighs are glistening wet, little bane," he says with mischief on his breath.

I feel the blush creep up my neck and into my cheeks. In my mind, though, I can't help but think we are far past embarrassment now. So instead, I opt for insanity. "What do you plan to do about it?" It would have sounded more convincing had I not drawn in an audible gasp at the end. My breathing and heartbeat have a mind of their own at this point. He keeps raising me higher, and then settling me down in a way that is tantalizing and unfair.

"Don't challenge me." That serious and ragged tone is on full alert again. My mouth closes in response. My eyes follow shortly after, and I focus on breathing. In and out. In and out. In and out.

The feel of hot breath blowing against my exposed clit and pussy awakens my senses in seconds. I am back on the edge without hardly any buildup. I draw in a breath and look down at my tormentor. His eyes are plastered to the view in front of him. When his head finally dips down further, his eyes flash upward to me for one wicked second. That same charged energy shoots between us. When his tongue touches my swollen clit, I have to cry out into the room. My body has been on edge for too long, and I have to have release.

His tongue is a weapon in our game, and I am at an unfair disadvantage. No woman could say no to this kind of attention. I briefly wonder how many women he must have done this with to be so insanely good at it. The thought leaves as soon as it comes; he is what is on my mind. No more. No less.

His devilish tongue explores me and laps up every bit of me as my body responds. My hips roll against him, and I am unapologetic about their force. I pursue a much-needed release, and have become a wanton whore in my endeavour. My hand laces into his hair and pulls his face harder into me. He sucks on my clit with expertise no man should have, and his finger slides into me slowly at first. After he slides one in and out again and again, covering his digit with my wetness, another finger joins. Now two fingers are deeply seated, and he plays with his prey. The curling inside hits me in a way that has my hips completely off the bed. I am rocking into his mouth for more, and moaning and groaning while panting and gasping for breath. I am like a woman possessed in this moment. I don't care who sees or hears us; I will have this orgasm with him.

He presses my body back down to the bed with a hand on my belly. His fingers and mouth never stop. All of my muscles contract, and I am completely at his mercy. "Please... please... please!" I whine between each panted breath. One hand is entangled in his hair, the other fisted in the blankets beneath. He uses his hand that had been holding me down to lift my legs over his shoulders. The new position brings my hips back up further, and both of my hands move to either of his forearms to hold on during the ride. My pussy is still lined up to his mouth, and he growls his need into my needy cunt.

I am so close that my eyes roll back into my skull and I attempt to draw in breath in pathetic gasps that leave me needing more air than what I received. Finally, his fingers and his mouth curl and suck at the exact right moment and send me crashing over a tidal wave! My muscles contract and I draw in a huge breath before I scream out his name while my legs shake violently around his head, and my back arches to the point of pain. He continues to suck and curl throughout the orgasm, causing more intensity than my fingers have ever brought me. My toes curl, and whimpers and moans come out between each life-giving panted breath.

Finally, the waves cease and my body crashes down to the bed. I can feel cold sweat on my skin. My eyes drift shut as I catch my breath. He climbs up me again, while my legs are still draped over his shoulders. The movement has me bent at an angle that makes it difficult to move. When his face meets mine, I can see my wetness glistening on his lips and chin, and I raise my head as much as I am capable of licking myself from his face. He bends further to accommodate me, and I immediately seize the opportunity for another kiss that nearly sent me to the stars last time.

As he kisses me, he releases the hold on my legs, and I am able to lie under him normally again. It leaves me more room to explore him with my hands. I desperately search for more skin-to-skin contact. I pull at his shirt and soon have it up to his chin. He breaks off the kiss for a moment to relieve himself of the shirt and then immediately comes back to me. The heat and touch of his skin against mine are making my body desperate again. His legs are between mine, and the coarseness of those cursed pants plays against my overly sensitized clitoris. I begin to moan and whine again at the feeling.

He loses himself in me. His hands explore again, and his mouth ravishes my own. He is attempting to regain control; I know it instinctively. But that isn't how I want him. I pull him down so his ear is at my mouth and my voice, now hoarse from screaming earlier, whispers, "I need to feel you inside of me."

He rears up and a growl from deep inside rises out of him. My eyes search his, and I am lost in his predatory gaze. The rabbit lays itself upon the altar of the wolf. He climbs off the bed and turns his back to me. I can hear him releasing his belt, sliding it through the loops, the telltale sound of a zipper being lowered, at the same time as boots being kicked off. I raise myself onto my elbows for a better view, my mouth hangs slightly open, and my legs are still open for him. I watch as he pushes the pants down off his hips, and he kicks them off too. Even in the candlelight, I can see he has no underwear on, and his ass has my heart pounding once more; maybe it never stopped pounding. As he turns around, the silhouette of his erect cock causes my mouth to fall further open. I stare at his erection and, without realizing it, I wet my lips with my tongue.

His responding growl nearly takes me over the edge. I am flooded once again. He stares at me with an intensity that is almost difficult to be under, but I am beginning to learn his ways. His intensity doesn't frighten; it delights. Deciding I want to draw the moment out a little longer, I move upward and off the bed. I make my way to him in just a couple of steps. His cock is in his hand, but I never take my eyes off of his intense focus. I reach up to wrap my fingers around the back of his neck. He moves his head down the way he knows I want, and I say with confidence to him, "I want to taste you first."

His forehead presses hard into mine as he battles with some internal conflict. "I'm not good for you." His voice is rough and hoarse and comes out to me between his bared teeth. His composure is nearly spent.

"I know," I respond. It feels like I have somehow been given some unseen upper hand, and I plan to use it. "But I want you nonetheless."

His eyes close, and he lets out a sigh through his nose. Something about this situation frustrates him, but I simply don't care at the moment. He came here tonight looking for something, and I won't allow him to leave until I have had my fill of him. With that final thought, I sink slowly to my knees and look up into his gaze one more time. My hands are on the backs of his thighs for balance. Never breaking eye contact, I lean in and kiss the head of his cock. His jaw immediately clenches and his head falls back. As though some silent permission had just been given, I take one hand and begin to stroke. His length is impressive, and his girth is even more so. Wanting him wet to ease him into my mouth, I take my tongue and lick him from base to tip several times. His chest rises and falls in ragged breaths, and his hips start to jut out a bit more each time.

He needs this more than he wants to admit to himself. The thought gives me another vote of confidence. I take him in my mouth then, and his moan gives me that much-needed 'good girl' that I crave so much. Using as much of my tongue as I can, I work him up and down. I can't take his entire length in my mouth, so I have to use my hand at the base. I learned a move a long time ago that every man appreciates, and this one is no different. When I start, he rises onto his tiptoes, and I have to adjust my stance with a smile on my face. Sucking his cock puts me back in control, and I fucking love it!

My tongue swirls around him as my cheeks hollow and suck. One hand lightly twists over the base to stimulate, and the other cups his balls. He starts to thrust into my mouth, and it makes me choke more than once. That never stops me, though. Momentarily, I look down to see his hands at his sides in fists so tight his knuckles are nearly white. I love this part.

Grabbing one hand, I move it to the back of my head and give him a reassuring look while I suck back and forth on his cock. He takes the hint immediately and uses his hand to guide the rhythm. He starts slow, but quickly moves to more forceful movements. I gag more than once, and have to move my hands around his thighs again so I don't fall over with his force. He pulls himself out of my mouth completely now and then to give me time to catch my breath before filling my mouth again. At one point, he wraps his hand around my hair and holds my head in place while he fucks my face. I drool all over myself, and tears roll down my cheeks. But when he pulls out of my mouth and looks down at my face, I smile up at him like some sexual goddess. I want to be used. I never realized it, but I crave it in a way some deep part of my soul always knew.

Just when I think he's getting close, he pulls himself from my mouth and stands back a step to keep me from continuing. His hand is still wrapped in my hair, holding me in place. His breathing is ragged and uncontrolled. He closes his eyes and attempts to control himself with some deep inhales through the nose and exhales through his, once again, bared teeth. When his eyes finally open and meet mine again, something in them has changed. A hunger. A thirst. An animal that found something. Not its prey, but its mate. Something that matches his own animal and primal nature that he has craved for too long.

He lets go of my hair and scoops me up in one move. My legs wrap around his middle, and he slams my back into the wall. We are immediately lost in each other. Our kisses are less passionate, and more sloppy and possessive. We are both slaves to the lust the other creates within our souls.

I can feel his erection pressed against me, but I can do nothing to get to it. I try to rock my hips, but he has me pinned against the wall in such a way that I can barely move. My hands entangle in his hair, and hold onto his bicep, while my legs keep me anchored to him by wrapping around him and pressing him to me. I am breathless against him, and lost in his scent that now mixes with a heady need. Or maybe it's my own? I truly don't care anymore.

He shifts his hold a bit, and I feel his erection press against my pussy. All I have to do is shift slightly, and...

"Oh my god!" I cry into the candlelit room as he enters me. My nails sink into his bicep, and his grip on my ass tightens so much that it's punishing. He groans into my neck as he slowly enters, pulls out, and reenters me again and again.

"Fuck!" is the only word that lets me know he is as lust-crazed as I am now. We lose ourselves in each other. He thrusts into me again and again, making me climb higher each time. I try to concentrate enough to kiss him, or touch him, but I am momentarily lost in a sea of pleasure. Something in my belly uncoils a bit more. I can feel the build and start to pant again. Each exhale gives out a soft cry or moan to release some of the pent-up energy that needs somewhere to go.

"Oh god, please!" I beg. My fingernails sink deeper, and he responds with punishing thrusts and moans of his own. When the rhythm picks up, I start to feel my lower extremities tremble, and I can barely hang on. My body tingles and lights up everywhere. The coil unravels anymore. It is difficult to breathe. My hips move on their own accord, and my eyes start to roll back in my head.

Suddenly, my muscles contract, my vision goes black, and I scream out silently. Tears fall down my cheeks as I stop breathing completely. The orgasm is unlike anything I have ever felt before. As I topple over the precipice of orgasm, my body responds accordingly. I no longer hold myself to him, my body goes limp, and he is forced to keep me up. He pins me harder against the wall to keep me from falling, all the while pistoning his hips into me again and again. Without any thought, I find his neck with my mouth and bite down. He growls and thrusts harder. I attach myself to him this way.

Wave after wave rolls through me, and I am lost at sea. He never falters. When they finally start to slow, my mouth releases him and his thrusts slow until they finally come to a stop. We are both breathless, and yet, he continues to hold me against the wall. My hands both find the back of his neck and hold on while my eyes try and focus again. He smirks at me, then peers down at his neck with a smile of pride and mischief.

"That was unexpected, little bane." I can hear the pride in his voice as he refers to the bite. "I never figured you'd be the type to mark what's yours."

It's a challenge. One I don't plan to back down from. "If you continually try to predict what I will do next, you will be constantly disappointed."

"Disappointed isn't the word I would use for it." He smiles at me. Not the smile of a man who merely likes his woman, but the smile of one who wants her. The smile of a man who knows the worth of what he holds in his arms because he observes it regularly.

"How long have you been predicting my movements?" I ask with genuine curiosity. I have so many questions.

"We aren't done here yet." Is the predatory answer I receive. I am spun around and practically tossed onto the bed. My body even bounces up slightly in response to the mattress.

He grabs a pillow from under my head and thrusts it under my hips instead. Without any further talk, he parts my legs with his strong hands and lines himself up to my entrance. One thrust finds its way inside, and my head falls back in response. My body is nearly spent and can't handle much more.

As if he knew what I was thinking, he rasps out, "My turn, little bane!" His thrusts are punishing and delicious. Again and again, he pounds into me at an angle that hits me inside exactly where his curled fingers had before. The sensation overwhelms me again, and I am helpless against the movement.

He takes my legs with both hands and raises them so they are straight up and down, covering my view of him almost entirely. I hear a groan, "Fuck, you're so tight!" as he continues to pound into me without mercy.

I am gasping for breath in no time and have to hold onto the pillow under my head for something to grab onto. I can hardly breathe, and my back tries to arch even further than it already is. He moves my legs so that they straddle his head now, and I bend them over his shoulders. His hands reach under me and lift my hips further off the bed, just as they did when his face was between my legs. All of my weight is on my shoulders, which are pinned into the mattress. He is so deep inside of me that I can feel the uncoiling and shaking begin simultaneously. His thrusts are nonstop, and I can't catch my breath.

"Please!... Pl.... Plea... Oh god, pleeeaaasse!" I scream at him.

His voice is that of a wolf as he growls, "Come with me!" I cry out, not wanting to wait a second longer. I am not left waiting long, though. On his next breath, he yells, "Now, Bane! Come now!"

I scream out his name once more as he growls his orgasm into the night. His thrusts are erratic and his breathing stutters. My own breathing is in punishing gasps that I can't control. My entire body trembles and shakes uncontrollably. Now and then, an aftershock makes its way into my core and my body twitches. He topples down next to me on the mattress to catch his own breath. I can feel his cum exiting me, flowing down my ass and landing on the blanket underneath. Again, I can't bring myself to care. We are both covered in a mix of sweat and each other.

As my body attempts to calm itself, my mind starts to come back to me. I have questions I need answered. In a frenzy to lock one into place to make sense of my questions, I stumble upon the one that matters least: "Why do you keep calling me bane?" It was an odd little nickname that he seemed accustomed to. All of this is information I tuck away for later.

He smiles up at the ceiling with his eyes still closed and his head resting on his arm that's folded beneath him. "Since the first time I saw you, you have been the bane of my existence." He answers so matter-of-factly. "You sneak your way into every thought, every dream, and every single fantasy a man could have." This is when he finally moves his gaze, finally opens it, and he meets my own. "You have been driving me crazy for far longer than I care to admit."

"How long?" I ask. My mind is piqued. He was feeling the same things as me. Suddenly, I am less embarrassed about my bathtub scenario.

"That's a question for another day." His tone became very serious. I can't figure out what hidden message lay behind that, but before I can think much more about it, he leans over and kisses me.

The kiss is passionate, possessive, and consuming. I thought sex with him might extinguish the fire in my veins, but it feels like it's awakened something that burns even hotter.