The trip down the hall to my quarters is too long. And not long enough. His hand hasn’t left me since we got dressed. Broad hand spanning my lower back. Possessive circles, stroking, a signal to anyone that watched, that he had claimed me, and all others were to keep their hands off. Strange, and oddly comforting, that it doesn’t seem to matter how far we come, that some things are timeless.
A slight hesitation, before opening the door. His body pressing to mine, leaning down to kiss my neck, a low growl, his hand, not mine, moving over the sensor. Not pushing, just not letting me back up, walking forward with me, locking the door behind us. Realizing that, for the first time, my door has been locked. The first time in the five years I’ve been here. It’s not fear I feel. Something else. I’m out of my depth.
I don’t bother with the lights, when I get inside. I don’t need them to see in my own room, and Riddick definitely doesn’t. He pulls me firmly to face him, once we’re inside, his goggles off, and thrown on the bedside table in one fluid movement. Eyes narrowed, mercurial, glinting in the dark, blink closed slowly, as his lips lower to mine. Nothing restrained in that kiss, nothing tentative. We’ve moved well past the stage of gentle. And, finally for me, well past the stage of shyness. It took me long enough.
If I was with anyone else, I would probably be embarrassed by the whimper of need that escaped me, as our kiss deepened. A scrape of stubble, tongues entangled, a kiss hard enough to bruise. His fists in my hair, holding me to him, as if I would leave, letting me know he had no intention of letting me.
Reach for the hem of his shirt, any pretense of play thrown out. We’ve been playing with each other all day, it seems. The feel of him through his clothes isn’t going to be enough. We break our kiss, his hands pulling his shirt over his head, throwing it somewhere on the floor. He’s reaching for mine, as my hands run over his stomach, feeling the muscles bunch and tense underneath.
Kicking boots off, fumbling, pulling at buttons, clothes strewn on the floor, until we’re both finally naked again. A brief moment of calm, as our skin slides together, a hand around my waist, pulling me close to him, that electric heat of skin on skin. His head lowered to mine, not kissing, just nuzzling, as our hands explore again, moving with a will of their own.
His hands settle on my jaw, leaving the rest of me aching for his touch. Done on purpose, I realize, so that I’ll touch him. Cupping my face in his hands, nuzzling my ears, a growl low in his chest, his rapid heartbeat, the only sounds. Staying perfectly still in his body, letting me touch him everywhere I can reach. Stroking over arms, over the curve of shoulder, running hands over his chest, his growl deepening as I pull on a nipple. Slide over hips and belly, his head raising, making me look up. Eye contact, telling me with his eyes to go further. His hands remaining still, cupping my jaw. Making me make the first move.
The skin of his cock like silk, so strange that a man’s skin should be so soft. That something so hard should be covered by such delicate skin. It makes me shy that my hands should flutter when I touch him, I’m too old to feel this nervous, this shy, but I do. He lets me drop my head to his chest, my breath a slow stutter, as my hands stroke over him, the sound of his racing heart, his growl, pounding in my ears.
His hands dropping, sliding over my body, pushing me backwards, until my knees hit the bed. Catching my hands, lowering me back across the bed, the press of his body to mine. His knee between my legs urging me to move up, with him following me. His hips pressing his cock hard into my thigh, biting my lip, before kissing me hard, his tongue staking a claim the rest of his body wants. Resting on one elbow, the hard skin of his chest gliding over mine, his other hand free to explore. Nothing gentle in that movement, his every touch, possessive and sure, moving over throat and breast, hip and belly.
Pulling back to watch me, two quicksilver pools in the darkness, his eyes narrowed, as his hand slides through curls, stroking over my clitoris, the gentlest pressure, at first. Testing. An appreciative growl, as my hips buck into his hand, a moan pulled unbidden from me.
A small circle of skilled fingers, pulling my hood back, circling again over the sensitive nub of flesh. His head dips down, sucking my bottom lip, pulling and teasing me, his circles over my clitoris slow and langourous, almost painfully so. His tongue slipping between my parted lips, keeping time with the movements of his hand. His grin, a low chuckle, at my muffled whimpers of need. I had never realized just how cruel a man could be.
My hands pulling at his hips, feeling myself lose control, my hips pressing up harder into his hand. Feeling the scream build, either frustration or pleasure, I’m not sure which. He doesn’t let me get that far. A low ragged moan is torn from me, when he slides one, then two fingers deep into wetness, a low hum of appreciation from him. Pulling his hand free, his back arching slightly, the silky hard head of his cock running over wet folds, teasing, at the entrance. Just touching, waiting until we both adjust, my hips arching up to take him in.
Slow, relentless press of his hips into mine. Weight and heat and fullness. Wrapping my legs around him, driving him even deeper into me. A gasp of breath, sharp, my hands clenching the skin over his hips. He’s watching me again, a flicker of concern, of arrogance, knowing the effect he’s having on me, but gentle enough, wanting me to still like it. Starting slow, loving his hissed intake of breath, as he pulls out, before gliding back, my hips moving in time with his. A slow grind over my clitoris.
Run my hands up his back, over his shoulders, our bodies moving in perfect time with each other. Too slow. It’s too slow. I want more, I want all of him, he’s holding back, afraid he’s going to hurt me, maybe just waiting for me to let go. Slide my hands around his neck, pulling him hard to me, biting his lip, my kiss growing savage, as my need increases.
She’s finally where I want her to be. Where I know she wants to be, where her shyness kept her from being. She’s not shy anymore. The back end of a scream in every moan. Biting and nipping. Panting hard. Frustration, as I pull back to watch her, before slamming hard into her, all gentleness gone, once I know I won’t hurt her, once I know just how badly she wants me. How badly she needs me.
That first scream cut short. Surprise, at the aggressiveness of it. The glint of lust, her teeth bared, her hips arching up to mine. She’s letting go. Not shy anymore. Hot and very, very wet. The muscles of her thighs twitching against my hip, bucking her hard into every thrust. Hard and fast. What we both wanted, what we both needed. Just needed her to be ready for it. Breathing too hard to keep kissing her, bury my face in her neck, biting, sucking the sweat off her skin. The vibration of her short screams driving me harder. My back arching, driving harder into her, losing control, her hips setting the pace now, pushing me over the edge. The hand braced on the wall behind her for leverage. Her breath coming faster and faster, her every exhale, crying out higher, and louder.
Grunting like an animal, fighting to hold out, until she comes, crying out with the relief of it, the sheer joy of it, that deep flutter of muscle within her, her hips bucking wildly, her muscles clenching, before her back arches. The flush of pink racing down her throat, her chest. Her ragged scream drowning out my roar, as I let go, coming so hard everything goes grey around the edges. Her ragged cries, close to strangled sobs, as her hips continue to buck, unable to control the violence of her orgasm, caught by it, riding it out.
Her thigh muscles trembling with exertion, her breath ragged, kiss her quick. Resting my weight on my elbows, her body pressed to mine, her heart racing. Kiss her, stroking her hair, her face, her neck. So gentle with her, until she’s alright again. Furiously blinking back tears, overcome. Whisper her name, over and over, until her breathing stills, and she’s back in control of herself a little.
Only when she’s alright, lie beside her, pulling her tight to me, stroking her back. The scent of her filling the room, filling me.
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