"Stand there. Do not move." Crane's voice is commanding, but soft. A low rumble he uses because he knows what it does to Abbie. "Undress."
"I need to move to do that," she unthinkingly retorts, then presses her lips together.
He leans in very close. "Do not test me, Miss Mills," he purrs into her ear.
"Yes, Captain," she squeaks, and begins to undress. Damn, I'm already wet. How does he do that?
He watches her with casual interest, his eyes hooded, as he leans against the doorframe of their bedroom. He is shirtless and barefoot, his trousers hugging his narrow waist.
She peels her snug-fitting jeans from her legs, bending down to pull them off, wondering what he is up to this time. He's never so completely objectified her like this before. It's kind of hot.
"You are beautiful, Miss Mills," he murmurs.
"Thank you, Captain," she demurely answers, reaching back to unclasp her bra.
Crane steps closer and gently brushes her hands away. He deftly unhooks the garment, his fingertips just barely brushing her skin. She lightly shivers at the scant contact, her body craving his touch.
He withdraws without fully touching her. She swallows her disappointment, and bends to remove her panties.
"Give them to me," he commands, his hand extended.
She places them in his hand, fairly certain of what is coming next. She watches as he thoughtfully rubs the scant, silken garment between his fingers.
"These are already damp," he comments, his long fingers still toying with the purple fabric. "I have barely touched you, and yet your undergarment is saturated. Why is that, do you think?"
"Because you make them that way," she obediently answers. "You make me that way," she amends.
He drops her panties to the floor and steps closer. Stalks closer. "Yes. It is because I know your body better than you do, Miss Mills." His voice is like warm honey, dripping slowly over her as he circles her. "Every dip and swell, every curve and line… they are mine to do with what I will." He stops, standing right behind her, leaning down to speak softly in her ear. "I am a virtuoso, and you, my instrument. I will play your every sinew, plucking your strings until you sing."
Abbie's knees nearly buckle. She swallows hard, but says nothing.
Crane's hands softly land on her hips, his thumbs circling, stroking her silken skin. "I know which spots make you whimper," he murmurs, leaning in again to suck at the side of her neck, and she unwittingly mewls, her head dropping to the side. "I know how to make you sigh." His hands slide forwards and upwards, his palms grazing her erect nipples before he fully closes his hands over her breasts.
She sighs, not even caring that he is, indeed, playing her like she's a violin and he is Itzhak Perlman. He presses his hips into her backside, and she can feel his arousal against her.
"I know how to make you moan, gasp, and cry out my name..." he thoughtfully pauses, kissing her neck and shoulder. "The only question is, shall I make you cry my name like a prayer or a shout?" He slides one hand lower, ghosting over her taut belly to slip between her legs.
Abbie moans, her knees do buckle now, but he holds her upright.
"Hmm... perhaps you should not be on your feet," Crane muses, his fingers unrelenting in their pursuit of her pleasure. He holds her upright a few seconds longer, just to torment her a little longer.
Her legs are shaky by the time he leads her to the bed. He guides her down onto the mattress, then steps back and removes his pants and boxer briefs. When he joins her, she reaches for him, wanting to touch, but he stops her.
"Does the violin take the musician in its hand?" he asks, arching his brow. She drops her hand. He lifts it in his, kissing it. He turns it over, kissing each slender fingertip, then places a wet, lingering kiss on her palm. "The violin only responds. It does not act on its own."
No touching then. "Yes, Captain." Abbie tries to hide her disappointment, but Crane knows her far too well.
He leans close, half on top of her, and kisses her lips. "Allow me to make you sing, Treasure," he whispers.
Her lips curve into a tiny smile, and she understands his game. It's for me. He wants to do this for me. She leans up and kisses him then. He allows it, but cocks another eyebrow at her afterward.
Crane proceeds to find all the hidden places on Abbie's body that draw various responses from her. He kisses down her neck, licking the hollow of her throat, and she hums. He lightly drags his teeth along her collarbone, and she sighs. He sucks a nipple into his mouth and tugs, and she gasps. He feathers kisses under her breasts, along the side of her rib cage, and she shudders as goosebumps erupt on her skin. He dips his tongue into her navel and she giggles.
"Oh..." He slips his fingers inside of her as his tongue flicks and circles, and she moans, arching her back. Her fingers grasp the bedclothes at her sides, itching for something to do. "Ah... mmm..."
He hums in response, his baritone voice vibrating against her and she moans again. She is so close, and he knows this, so he backs off. She whimpers, chasing her pleasure but knowing better than to thrust her hips up against his mouth. "Not yet, Miss Mills," he murmurs, kissing her inner thigh.
He continues moving lower, lightly nipping her thigh, then kissing her knee. He lifts her leg and kisses the back of the joint, and Abbie lightly gasps, not realizing that spot was sensitive. She can't see his face, but knows he is smugly grinning as he drags his lips down her calf to her ankle. He kisses the inside of it, then her instep. Next, her sole, then each of her tiny toes with their perfect red nails.
Her eyes widen in surprise when he sucks her toes into his mouth. That's new. It's a strange sensation, but not unpleasant. Not at all. She closes her eyes and decides to enjoy it. After a few seconds, she sighs contentedly.
Crane kisses her big toe one final time. "Turn over," he orders.
Abbie opens her eyes and just stares at him.
"On your stomach, Miss Mills," he says. The "trust me" is plain in his eyes, so she flips over.
He leans down and kisses her backside, then grips her hips, lifting them until she gets the message and tucks her knees under her.
"Higher," he says, his voice low and rough. She raises up, hugging the pillow beneath her, and feels the bed dip under his weight as he kneels behind her. His knees are between her calves and she can feel his erection brushing against her as he settles in. He bends down, kisses her back, then straightens up again as he takes his length in his hand and guides it into her from behind.
"Oh..." she moans, bracing herself against his still-slow thrusts. "Oh," she repeats.
He caresses her rear with his large hand, softly and slowly, with just enough pressure to not tickle. A moment later, he lifts his hand and brings it down just sharply enough to sting a tiny bit. Then, his fingers become soft and tender once again.
"Ah!" she gasps. She was ready for it; knew he was likely going to spank her, but it still catches her off guard.
Crane repeats this a few times. Caress, spank, caress. Abbie is amazed at his ability to multi-task, as he never breaks the rhythm of his thrusts while his hands do other things. He leaves his left hand on her rear and moves his right around to stroke her sensitive bud in the front, ready to let her have her release.
"Mmm... ohhh..." she begins to moan in earnest as she plummets, sinking her teeth into the pillow clutched under her head.
"Yes," he hisses through gritted teeth, thrusting harder.
"Oh... oh... ohhIchabod..." Abbie cries out his name as she tightens around him. She arches her back, her head tilted up, her fingers almost painfully gripping the pillow.
Mercifully, he moves his hand away from her over-sensitized button and tightly holds her hips as he snaps his hips a half-dozen more times. "Aaaabbie..." he grunts, his whole body going rigid as he releases into her in a rush of sensation and emotion that leaves him pleasantly weak.
He leans forward over her, enveloping her, and kisses her cheek. "I love you," he whispers, gently disengaging himself from her and pulling her down to lie beside him.
"I love you, too," she answers, curling into his embrace. "Was I a good little violin?" she asks, smiling against his chest.
He tightens his arms around her and answers, "My heart, the finest Stradivarius could not produce a more beautiful sound to these ears."
-End-