[]
Mine
[]
I force myself not to run after her, following at a distance until we get into her bedroom.
Then I'm leaning down a little to kiss her, brushing the hair out of her face, and she's arching up on tip toes, trying to deepen the kiss, but I don't let her. Staying just close enough to be soft against her lips, almost tender, because she thinks she got me. She thinks that she was breaking me, making me mad, and that I'll take her hard. Demand answers and see red when she teases me. I'm starting to see a pattern of what Cat does, and she keeps playing me to get what she wants. But when she was walking slow up the steps to her room, I realized something that maybe she didn't. She keeps blind siding me, keeping two steps ahead of me, but I'm catching up, little girl.
She starts pulling us toward her bed, and I let her, but I don't let her get closer to me. When we're sitting, I don't speed up my pace, I don't push her down, just gentle explorations of her mouth that makes her whimper a bit out of frustration. As she makes signs to push herself closer to me, my mouth moves down past her jaw line and I place feather light kisses down her neck. I move my fingers under the hem of her shirt, and feel the curve of her hips, move them to the small of her back.
After slight hesitation, her hands rest on the top of my shoulders, "Why are you teasing me?" Her voice is filled with imitation and exasperation. Poor baby.
I move back up to her ear and whisper sickly sweet, "I'm giving you what you want." My lips nip at her earlobe before I quickly peel her shirt off. "If you want her, then you want this." I glide her body down with mine until she's lying under me, and I'm running my nails lightly over her chest and down her stomach. Then I snap the straps of her bra a little and give a firm, "Off." And she does, so quick and eager, tossing her bra aside. My lips go back on her neck, kissing, gently running my tongue along her collarbone. "This is how she is with you, isn't it?" I move my mouth around her breast, barely touching skin, and she arches into me. "She's sweet and soft, and takes her time, doesn't she?" I blow air gently on her nipple, watching it harden while I wait for her to answer.
She gasps a little.
"Yes."
"That must be what you want, then." My breath is on her while I talk, and then I'm moving my lips south, over the toned muscles of her stomach.
She whimpers.
"No,"
I place kisses just below her belly button.
"No?"
"I want you," My head raises a little, to watch her watching me. "Just you." She's breaking when she says it. Breaking apart and it's beautiful.
My hands go to unbutton her shorts, and I slowly peel them off her, because I really like her like this, frustrated and exasperated. Not being able to get the upper hand.
"Tell me Cat," My nails run up her thighs that have wrapped themselves around my hips while I sit up and look down at her. She tries to move her hips up against my legs for friction, but I stop her quick, my hands gripping her hips and keeping her still. "What did you lie to me about?" I keep my eyes on her; press my thumbs into bone a little
"When—" She squirms a bit and takes a breath. "When I said that most of the time I thought about you, when I touch myself." My eyes narrow. "I lied, because," My thumb digs in a little more, making her flinch. "Because I think about you every time."
"Every time?"
"Yes," Maybe she's lying, but maybe she isn't. Maybe she never has. But Cat has always been a good actress.
Despite my cynical and paranoid side, I feel a smirk grow on my face, because I just want to believe her. I need to, because I need her. I need this.
"Whenever I touch myself," My right hand starts moving over cotton panties. "Whenever someone else touches me," Fingers pushing into her, she's arching against me, moving her hands to her breasts. I need to have every part of her. I won't stop until I do. "I always think about you."
I pull the last piece of material off of her with blinding speed, dropping down on her. She meets my lips with some kind of passion that's burning, that's melting me, and I barely register that she's moving her legs, positioning a thigh between mine. But when she pushes up, I register that. I start moaning into her lips, and grinding my hips down on her.
My hand moves between her legs, making her almost cry out the way I push down and slide inside. She couldn't be faking this. She couldn't be lying about the way I'm making her buck and shake against me.
Maybe she is lying, but I spend the rest of the night having her beg for me. Gasping out my name.
Tonight she's mine.
[]