Message in a Bottle #2

Photo by Alexander Krivitskiy

My naked feet silently stepped across the cold kitchen floor, taking me up to you. Dark flannel spanned your broad shoulders, gently moving as you finished the dinner dishes.

My body stretched to tippy toes as I reached my arms around you, leaning my cheek against your back. For moments I just held you; the rise and fall of your chest led my breath.

The scent of you was delicious and relaxing. My heart danced to match your heartbeat, and I felt something click into place....

Home, nothing else mattered because I was finally home–connected by heartstrings–soul strings to you.

A low growl rumbled through your body, then you spun, breaking my hold. An iron grip transported me to the countertop. Squeals erupted from my lips as my skin touched the cold surface.

Eyes roamed, surprised at my state of complete undress. Gaze darkened at my exposed heat, glistening with arousal.

"Do you want to fuck my cock?"

"No...make me fuck your cock."

A fist grabbed my hair, holding me still, while the other hand released you from your jeans. I thrashed, trying to break your hold, but one sharp yank of my locks, and I am under your command.

One thrust and you were fully inside me. Trembling legs wrapped around your waist. Gripping my ass, you lifted me again only to fuck me against the fridge door, my back slammed against cold steel as magnets, photos, and coupons rained down on the floor.

My teeth sunk into your neck, your hips thrust harder, deeper, until I screamed, and my release spasmed around you.

You carried me upstairs to see what else you could make me do.