I grow stiff.
Warners hand is on my hip, his thumb slowly stroking up and down on my stomach.
I look up from his hand and lock eyes with him. That's how we remain, him sitting, me standing; the only movement is coming from his thumb determinately caressing me through the thin fabric of my shirt. My lips part by themselves. Something in his eyes flickers and he drops his hand to my thigh. My breathing quickens at the contact of our skin. His eyes follow the path of his hand as he is sliding it up, past my skirt, leaving a trail of heat and craving.
He stops midway to look up into my eyes again. His face is still as unreadable like before, as if he's been talking about the weather and not pushing his hand up my skirt. But his eyes, they've ignited with something I don't know anything about. "Do you want me to stop?" he asks, his voice restrained.
The things he's done to me. The things he's made me do. I was ready to jump down 15 stories to get away from him just days ago. Warner is horrible. A deceiving, twisted human being. But do I want him to stop?
"No", my voice is a hesitant shaky whisper.
His grip around my thigh tightens as he forces me to step closer to him. I am standing between his legs and I am looking down at him. Both his hands are on my thighs, moving upwards. I gasp when I feel him tugging on my underwear. He slowly slides them of f, making me step out of them as he does.
He looks up at me and sits back again like he's got all the time in the world tucked up his sleeve. He takes my hand and pulls me forward, into his lap. I am straddling him and he's gazing at my lips. I can't read his face but I can feel his fingertips inching up my left shoulder. I can feel the strap of my top being pushed down. He repeats this on my right arm, slowly drags down the strap of my top which is now hanging low on my chest. He takes my braid in his hand and tugs on it until I'm facing the ceiling. He is supporting me with his arm, keeping me from falling backwards and I am grateful because I am sure I would, I feel oh so lightheaded. His lips touch my jaw move all the way to my ear, then down the slope of my neck. He is kissing his way to my chest making my body grow hotter with each kiss. He sucks my left nipple between his teeth and I let out a breathy moan. I place my hands on his shoulders. There is an ache throbbing between my legs and I want more, of him, of this feeling, of my skin being so deliciously touched.
And as if he had heard my pleading he moves his free hand under my skirt.
There is a dark growl coming from his throat.
I whimper at his touch. I close my eyes at the sensation, bite down on my lip. I want to scream or burst or implode. I want to feel like this forever. But suddenly he stops; breathing like he's ran a marathon. I look into his eyes, panting, wanting to tell him to continue and never stop again but he kisses me. Deeply and urgent as if he's waited too long and he can't subdue it another second. My hands around his neck he stands and sits me on the boardroom table.
I hear the faint rattling of a belt. I feel as if my head is caught in a cloud. His scent is huddled around me like a blanket. He breaks the kiss and cups my face in his hands, his thumbs synchronically stroking my cheeks. There are silent questions in his eyes I don't dare to fathom. All I know is that I want him. Here, everywhere, right now. I pull him in for another kiss. Our last one, I decide. I don't fancy the thought of his lips ever leaving mine again. He tastes sweet and like mint and I can't think of one thing I would want to be differently in this moment. His hand slips behind my knee spreading my legs apart and we're so out of breath that we still for a moment trying to steady our breathing. I can't help but giggle at this impossible situation and he, too, laughs a husky deep laugh that makes shivers run down my spine. But then his lips are back on mine and I am gripping at his shirt trying so desperately to hold on to this.
I can feel him between my legs. He holds his breath and so do I. I've never longed, no, ached for something this bad, I think. He pushes into me, slowly but firm. I gasp, clinging to him, wanting him even closer. Both, pain and pleasure wash over me in such a devastating intensity that I cry out dragging his mouth back on mine. My hands are in his hair, tugging and I moan into his mouth because it's too much. It's too much but I don't want him to stop. I have been dead for the longest time, feeling this alive is so wonderful and beautiful and he is building a slow, steady rhythm and I might burst. His hands softly guide me backwards on the table and then drop to my hips digging into my flesh, holding onto me as he thrusts into me. My head tilts backwards and my back arches away from the table and I'm bending in to his touch like a cat; these things seem to be happening by themselves because all I can focus on is this incredible feeling as the pain dissolves into something more, something hot and it seems to be spreading in every fiber of my body. I bite my lip trying to contain the urge to moan and curse and scream his name. I curl my toes so tight it hurts but I don't care. I lift my hips cravingly still not having enough. He groans into this sweet silence we've created. It's so quiet except for our raspy breaths, the sound of our flesh intervening and the ringing of his unbuckled belt.
I keep trying to tell him that he's missing but I don't even know what it is that he is missing. And every time I open my mouth the words seem to be stuck in my throat and all I can vocalize are sobs begging him for something above myself. Please, I want to tell him, right there. Every inch of me is tingling.
My body jerks as a wave of pressure crushes down on me and I'm so startled I sit up in an instant. I feel as if I've been electrocuted. My whole body is convulsing and contracting and this is like nothing I've ever felt. But he holds me in his arms, kissing my neck. He shudders, sucking and biting as he does, holding me tighter and tighter he moans deeply until finally he stills.
We stay like this, holding onto each other until we've caught our breaths. He kisses his way up, kissing my throat, that soft spot just below my ear, across my jaw line. They're sweet, wet kisses and I'm suddenly so, so tired. I lift my hand to rub my eyes. He pulls back and there's a big grin on his face. His gaze is heavy but a good sort of heavy, a tired, happy one. I lean my head on his shoulder because it's too heavy for mine. I close my eyes only faintly acknowledging him picking me up again and carrying me away. "Sweet girl." is the last thing I hear as I feel the cold blankets touch my skin. I fall backwards into a deep sleep.