It's all about control. About being in control. All day, every day for so
very, very long.
Don't pick that up, a normal girl couldn't do it.
Don't run that fast, a normal girl couldn't break that record.
Accentuate that fading bruise, a normal girl wouldn't have healed that fast.
The list goes on and on.
Don't get angry, you're dangerous when you're angry.
Don't get excited, you're too strong when you're excited.
Don't get too depressed, you can't do your job when you are depressed.
Stay in control. People like you in control. They rely on you, on your being dependable. You make them feel safe. They want you to be safe.
Never mind that you don't feel like being safe. You're the strong one, the responsible one. Always taking charge, always making the "good" choice. Except for now.
He lets you lose control.
No place to hide here, head to head, mind to mind, flesh to flesh. He takes control. He's in charge. He makes you gasp as his lips touch your skin, writhe as he strokes you deep inside. He doesn't want you in control.
You surrender, give your trust, put down the burden. You're not normal and neither is he. He won't turn away when you ask for that next level, beg for the sensation that drives all else from your mind. He doesn't even have to be asked.
He knows. Knows those places on your skin that drive blood from your brain and your nerves into overdrive. Knows before you tell him that the heat of your flesh is driving you mad. His mouth is everywhere. Light, hard, nipping, sucking, caressing. His fingers join his mouth. You start to lose control.
You want to touch. Skin that begs you to touch it, taste it, bite it. He's beautiful… but you're not in control. "Maybe next time, luv," he whispers against your breast, the words vibrating against your sensitized flesh. Your hands struggle against the restraints, your body surges forward. You want to capture, to tame, you want…
Your world explodes. He's taken you, possessed you, sunk deep inside you. He sets the pace. You move at his rhythm, your bodies dancing together. Unlike the others, he's not afraid. He can take you. All of you, nothing hidden, no facades. He won't lose himself. Won't stop, won't cease, won't let you go.
You might lose yourself.
After all, it's a matter of control.
Don't pick that up, a normal girl couldn't do it.
Don't run that fast, a normal girl couldn't break that record.
Accentuate that fading bruise, a normal girl wouldn't have healed that fast.
The list goes on and on.
Don't get angry, you're dangerous when you're angry.
Don't get excited, you're too strong when you're excited.
Don't get too depressed, you can't do your job when you are depressed.
Stay in control. People like you in control. They rely on you, on your being dependable. You make them feel safe. They want you to be safe.
Never mind that you don't feel like being safe. You're the strong one, the responsible one. Always taking charge, always making the "good" choice. Except for now.
He lets you lose control.
No place to hide here, head to head, mind to mind, flesh to flesh. He takes control. He's in charge. He makes you gasp as his lips touch your skin, writhe as he strokes you deep inside. He doesn't want you in control.
You surrender, give your trust, put down the burden. You're not normal and neither is he. He won't turn away when you ask for that next level, beg for the sensation that drives all else from your mind. He doesn't even have to be asked.
He knows. Knows those places on your skin that drive blood from your brain and your nerves into overdrive. Knows before you tell him that the heat of your flesh is driving you mad. His mouth is everywhere. Light, hard, nipping, sucking, caressing. His fingers join his mouth. You start to lose control.
You want to touch. Skin that begs you to touch it, taste it, bite it. He's beautiful… but you're not in control. "Maybe next time, luv," he whispers against your breast, the words vibrating against your sensitized flesh. Your hands struggle against the restraints, your body surges forward. You want to capture, to tame, you want…
Your world explodes. He's taken you, possessed you, sunk deep inside you. He sets the pace. You move at his rhythm, your bodies dancing together. Unlike the others, he's not afraid. He can take you. All of you, nothing hidden, no facades. He won't lose himself. Won't stop, won't cease, won't let you go.
You might lose yourself.
After all, it's a matter of control.
