But I’ll take what I can have, I’ll enjoy every minute of her here with me. I don't know what's going to happen next, I don't know how to hold on to someone like her, like a little bird who's gotten her wings. Ostensibly, we kept her here to keep her prisoner. Can I use that excuse anymore?
The question isn't how I can keep her, then. The question is, how do I make her want to stay? I can keep her safe from her brother. I can keep her safe from pretty much anyone that will hurt her… except me. I don't trust myself. I'm not capable of fully loving anyone, and a woman like her deserves not only to be loved, but to be worshiped. Idolized. Adored.
But we have tonight, and I’m going to make the bloody best of it. We take turns, painting our naked bodies with the sweet, pungent whisky, licking it off each other, passing the bottle back and forth. It’s the sexiest fucking drinking session I’ve ever had in my life.
I can tell when she’s getting tipsy because she covers her mouth in silent giggles and gets bolder. She wraps her hands around the back of my neck, and tugs me down to her. I hold her, kiss her, brush my lips against hers until she’s arching into me, and I know she’s throbbing with desire.
But I don't want to rush this. I want to savor every single second. So I kiss her again, all over her body, paying homage with my lips and tongue until her chest heaves. She reaches for my cock, but I grab her wrist and pull away. “Not yet,” I say in her ear. “Not until I give you permission, lass.”
She bites her lip and looks shyly at me, then she nods. This is her granting me permission. And I love it. She's all in. A woman like her has no pretensions, no wiles. She's honest and forthright, and she knows what she wants. I've made love to her several times now, each time better than the last, as we find our way around each other's bodies. As we find our way around each other's hearts.
As the fire warms in the hearth, it feels like a symbol of my need for her. It consumes me. I cup her chin in my hand, hoping shecan see, or somehow even feel, what I can’t say. She’s adept at understanding what someone means without any words at all, a skill she’s mastered because of her own limitations. And maybe that's one of the things I love best about her. I don't know how to communicate with people sometimes, how to really explain what I want, or what I need. I hold it all so hard inside, unable to allow myself to become vulnerable with others. And I know this about myself, but I suspect she's the only one that does, too. There’s empathy in her eyes when she’s with me that I've never seen from another person, even those I’m closest to.
She kisses her fingertips and places them on mine, then tips her head to the side. I wonder what she’s thinking, what she’s feeling. What she wants. Then she bites her lip and takes my hand, placing it fully on her breast. I cup her sensitive skin, and her eyelids flutter closed in ecstasy.
I cup her other breast, palming both while her eyes flutter back open and she holds my gaze. She nods slowly, a soft smile playing at her lips, as she reaches for my hand and drags it lower still.
I grin at her, and Christ it feels good to crack a smile like this. I’ve smiled more with her this week than I have in the past year. She makes it easy.
She guides my fingers to her lower abdomen, but no further. I hold my hand there, watching her eyes. She wants me to touch her. She’s probably fucking throbbing by now, because I know how she likes me to touch her and I’ve watched her obvious signs of arousal like a hunter, eager for any signs of what I’m after.
"You want me to touch your belly?" I give her teasing look, before I drag my thumb past her pussy to her upper thigh, ignoring her throbbing pussy on purpose.
She gives me a pleading look, begging with every single ounce of her being, but in silence. So I continue to tease her.
“Or your leg, lass?” I bend my mouth to her thigh and suckle the sweet, sensitive skin. Her knees come up, she parts her legs, and I groan at the sight of her glistening arousal and swollen pussy.
"Do you want me to touch you?” She nods vehemently, and swallows as she grabs at my hand again.
“Ah, ah,” I tease. “You were a naughty girl today. It won’t be that easy.”
She frowns and gives me a questioning look.
“Did you give me the book when I asked earlier?” She bites her lip and shakes her head. “Did you smack me in the kitchen when I teased you?” She squeezes her eyes shut.
“Look at me, lass.”
I’m not angry with her, but I have been waiting for an excuse to punish her. I want to feel her skin beneath my palm. I want to see her cry out in pain before I make it better.
She obeys, opening her wide blue eyes to capture mine.
“You know what I’ve told you.” She nods. The next thing I know, she’s scrambling up onto her knees, practically throwing herself over the arm of the couch. She wriggles her little heart-shaped arse, offering herself to be punished.
Jesus.
“You think I should give you the spanking you’ve earned?”
She nods, pretending to be repentant, but I can tell how badly she wants this.
“It must not be proper punishment if you want it. I ought to do a better job this time.”
I stand beside her, place my palm on her lower back, then slam my hand against the fullest part of her arse. Her head snaps back, and I spank her again. My handprint blooms against her pale white skin, a pink-shaped mark that makes my cock throb.
I rub the place I’ve just spanked. “I think you like your spanking, don’t you?”
She wriggles her arse again in response. “I think you need more.”
She nods eagerly.
