Unrelenting

I don’t know when this one started. Maybe somewhere between my second sip of coffee and the fifth time my mind drifted back to you today… Maybe it’s been running in the background for hours, just waiting for me to notice… maybe days… maybe months…

Either way… here we are.

We’ve just been seated at one of those restaurants with dim lighting and cocktails named after local landmarks or something.

I glance at the menu, but let’s be honest… I’m not paying any attention to the drinks.

I’m looking at you.

Sitting across from me in that short, tight little skirt, hugging you like a second skin, the one you seem to delight in walking in front of me in…

You shift, crossing and uncrossing those long, lovely legs… table's blocking my view, but I already know… know there's something waiting for me there, just out of sight.

Oh, not the little surprise I've been teasing you about. Oh, no.

Something else.

Something built for control. For denial.

I lean in, elbows on the table, letting my voice drop low… just for you.

“You look so damn beautiful tonight.”

Your breath catches for just a second and you shift again, just the tiniest little bit, and I catch it… that flicker in your eyes… the way you swallow. Slow.

Oh.

Oh.

It's already started, hasn't it?

You’re already feeling it… the weight, the pressure, the maddening anticipation.

And we haven’t even ordered drinks yet.

Oh. This is going to be fun.

…

A bit later, we find ourselves back home on the couch — house to ourselves tonight, babe. I glance into those lovely sea greens for just a moment, before leaning in for a kiss.

Brushing your hair out of the way, I lean in even closer and whisper, lips just grazing your ear… “God, you're sexy…” I take a moment to take a tiny little nibble on your lobe before continuing… “my sweet little thing.”

Then, as my lips move down to your neck, forgetting my own game for just a moment, my hand traces up your thigh, almost with a mind of its own — as if called by your desperation for my touch…

But I remember myself when I find leather instead of your soft warmth…

Though, not before a gentle moan escapes your lips.

I can't quite decide whether I'm being benevolent or a tad evil as I press again, shifting the material slightly, the sensations muted but still making themselves felt… before I take my hand back away.

Either way, I take supreme satisfaction as your moan becomes a groan.

And as I peel your clothes away, unclasping your bra before I begin my own devotional for a pair of my very favorite parts of you, I wonder…

Will that tiny bit of you that's still covered… inaccessible… matter?

Or can I make you come undone, even without it?

Mmm.

I, for one, would surely like to find out.

You?

Yours.