Reluctant Consent (9 page)

 
He palmed the back of her head and
returned to an exploration of her mouth with his fingers, his lips making their
own path over her face.
 

Her
head held firmly, Denise felt his finger trace her tongue, and his tongue
tenderly lap up a tear newly released from her eye. “Shush, baby,” he crooned. “This
is going to be so good.”

Her
body told her he was right.
 
She
trembled from the effort not to arch upward, raise herself to him,
allow
her legs to open.
 
He put an end to that -- moving his hand to cup her breast,
lazily rubbing his thumb over her rigid nipple.
 
She moaned.

Her
brain did not surrender.
 
This was
all wrong.
 
She supposed if she
were an intellectual woman she would be able to find treatises discussing this
phenomenon.
 
Her
body betraying, her mind crying out against the betrayal.
 
So it was all one, was it?
 
Mind and body, not separate?
 
Bullshit.
 
Tears ran freely down her cheeks. Andrew cradled her head,
those wicked thumbs stroking her cheekbones, soothing lightly over her lids,
his tongue gently following the tears’ path.
 
She hated him.
 
Her body gushed approval.

Andrew
asked absolutely nothing from her, simply wrote his absolute dominion on her
skin.
 
His fingers finessed buttons
and scooped her breasts from the cradle of her
bra,
lavished
warm pulls of his lips and slight, fierce nips of teeth.
 
A knee plowed a furlough between her
legs, hands slipping between skin and cloth, allowing those lean strong fingers
to slide down her ass, scalping the boxers in one swoop.
 

He
rocked back on his heels and watched her face. He circled her ankles with his
thumb and forefinger and ran them at leisure up her claves, widening at her
knees to stroke with strong hands before his palms lifted her ass.
 
She struggled briefly then and he held
her, his weight on his heels, eyes watching her face, hands steady and when she
stopped squirming, the pressure and tilt of his palms forced her legs open
further, and his mouth descended, eyes never ceasing their vigilance.

He
took his time with teeth and tongue, stroking, probing, fingers parting,
murmuring approval until he was satisfied by the limp nonresistance of her
body, the soft whimpers from her when he stopped, and he reached for pillows.

“Lift
your ass.” He placed the two pillows under her, elevating her slightly.
 
His hands slid down her
arms,
lacing her fingers in his own he moved her arms over
her head and then circled both thin wrists with one of his. His other hand
reached for his zipper.
 
He watched
her face as he released his cock.
 
“Look at me, Denise.”

Her
eyes opened slowly.
 
Glazed with
desire.
 
He smiled softly and
pressed the head of his cock at her entrance.
 
Still holding himself, he nodded.
 
“Take me in.”

She
obediently lifted her hips and he slid in of her effort.
 
Another tear dropped from the corner of
one eye.
 

Andrew
braced his hands near her head. He moved his own face close to hers and tilted
his hips, his cock thrusting against her cervix. He added pressure, watching as
her eyes widened a bit.

He
nodded.
 
“Yeah.
 
That’s right, Denise.”
 

Her
eyelids drifted and he shoved at her again.
 
“Look at me!” he commanded and began his ride.
 
Her eyes didn’t waver again.
 
His hand moved to her clit, his touch
relentless. When she came, she screamed.
 
When she lay limp, Andrew relaxed his control, thrusting hard several
times before he came, finally joining her, sated, limp on the bed, one hand
possessively splayed over her stomach.