Chapter 1: The Art of Possession
I watched the way the dim, warm light caught the red in your wine glass and then the green in your eyes, and I knew I couldn't wait any longer. The air was thick with the scent of my oils and the soft crackle of the record, and I set my glass down on the floor beside the sofa.
"I really want to kiss you now," I said, my voice low, and your breath hitched, just a little.
You nodded, a small, almost imperceptible motion, your long purple hair sliding over your shoulder. I closed the space between us, my hand coming up to cradle your jaw, my thumb tracing the line of your cheekbone. Your skin was so soft. I leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away, but you didn’t. You met me halfway.
The first touch of your lips was tentative, a whisper of a kiss, sweet and tasting of dark wine. I deepened it gradually, parting your lips with mine, and you let out a soft, shaky sigh that went straight to my core. Your hands came up, hesitant at first, then fisting gently in the fabric of my shirt. The kiss turned hungrier, less polite, our tongues sliding together in a slow, exploratory rhythm that made my head spin.
I pulled back, just an inch, to see your face. Your lips were parted, swollen, and your eyes were wide with a dazed kind of wonder."Okay?" I breathed.
"More than okay," you whispered, your voice trembling.
I stood, taking your hands and pulling you up with me. I led you by the hand down the short hall to my bedroom, the shadows from the living room blinds stretching into long, dark fingers across the floor. Inside my room, the light was even softer, coming only from a small salt lamp on the dresser, casting the whole space in a warm, pink-orange glow.
I backed you gently against the closed door, kissing you again, deeper this time. My body pressed against yours, and I could feel the rapid flutter of your heartbeat through your thin sweater. My hands slid down your sides, over your hips, pulling you tighter against me. You melted into it, your own hands gaining confidence, tangling in my short, choppy hair, pulling me closer.
We kissed like that for a long time, a slow, building fire. I traced the shell of your ear with my tongue, nipped gently at your jaw, kissed down the column of your throat. You arched into it, a small, desperate sound escaping you.
"Tell me what you want," I murmured against your skin, my hands stroking your back.
You were quiet for a moment, your forehead resting against my shoulder. Then you spoke, so softly I almost missed it. "I... I want you. I want to go further. I’ve never... with a woman... but I want to.With you."
"I’ll take care of you," I promised.
I kept my mouth on yours as my fingers found the hem of my own shirt, pulling it up and over my head in one smooth motion. I broke the kiss just long enough to toss it aside, and your gaze dropped, taking in the bare skin, the curve of my breasts in the black lace bra. Your lips parted softly, a quiet, awestruck breath escaping you. "You're so beautiful," you whispered, the words hushed and reverent.
My thumb stroked your bottom lip. "Can I take this off you?" I asked, my fingers lightly tugging at the hem of your sweater. You nodded, a blush spreading across your cheeks as you raised your arms, letting me peel the soft fabric away. Your own bra was simple, cotton, and seeing it made my chest tighten with a fierce, protective affection. "Fuck, look at you," I breathed, my eyes drinking in the sight. You crossed your arms instinctively over your stomach, your shoulders curling forward. "Don't you dare hide from me." I gently pulled your arms down, holding your wrists. "You are exquisite. Every perfect, shy inch of you. Good girl."
A tiny, overwhelmed sound caught in your throat. "Say that again," you murmured, your green eyes glazing with want.
I smiled, leaning in to kiss the hollow between your collarbones. "My good girl," I murmured against your skin, feeling you shiver. "Is this what you like? Hearing how good you are for me?" You could only nod, your head falling back against the door. My hands slid around to your back, unhooking your bra with practiced ease, letting it fall away. My mouth found your nipple, tongue circling the tight peak before sucking it deep, and you cried out, your hands flying to my hair. "Tell me, Nari. Does my mouth on your pretty tits feel good?"
“Yes,” you gasped, your voice a broken whisper against my hair, and the sound of it, so honest and needy, made my cunt clench with a sharp, hot ache.
“Yes, what?” I murmured, my lips dragging wetly across your skin to your other nipple, sucking it between my teeth just enough to make you jolt.
“Yes, it feels good,” you managed, your hips shifting restlessly.
“Good girl,” I breathed, the words a reward. “Now tell me you want my mouth lower.”
You whimpered, a flush spreading across your chest. I released your nipple with a soft pop. “Say it, or I stop everything right here.”
“I want it,” you blurted out, your eyes screwed shut. “Please, Miori, I want your mouth lower.”
I kissed down the trembling plane of your stomach, my tongue dipping into your navel. “My good, good girl,” I whispered against your skin, my fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans. “Can I take these off? I need to see all of you.” You nodded frantically, lifting your hips as I peeled the denim and your panties down your legs in one slow, deliberate motion, leaving you utterly bare. I knelt on the floor between your legs, my hands spreading you open as I leaned in to press my lips to the sharp curve of your hipbone, then the other, my teeth grazing the sensitive skin there until you cried out.
“Where do you want my tongue, Nari?” I asked, my voice rough. “You have to tell me.”
You shook your head, overwhelmed, covering your face with your hands. “I can’t,” you whispered, mortified and burning with want.
“Then I’ll decide,” I said, standing and guiding you by the hand to the bed, laying you back against the pillows. I crawled over you, my weight balanced on my arms, my bare chest just brushing yours. I lowered my mouth to your ear. “Do you want me to eat your pussy?” I whispered, the crude words hanging in the air. You gasped, a shocked, hungry sound. “Please,” you begged. “Fuck, you’re so polite when you’re desperate for it,” I teased, my knee nudging your thighs wider. I kissed back down your body, taking my time, sucking each nipple until you were arching off the mattress, my lips finally tracing the damp hem of your heat before I spread your legs wide with my hands.
My fingers hooked into the lace of your panties, peeling the soaked fabric down your thighs with a deliberate, slow drag that made you shudder. I tossed them aside, my eyes dark as I took in the sight of you, completely bare and trembling for me. I leaned down and kissed the inside of your knee, my mouth a soft, maddening brand against your skin. My lips traveled up your inner thigh in a slow, open-mouthed path, avoiding the place where you ached, where you were dripping for me. You whimpered, your hips lifting in a silent, desperate plea, but I held you down firmly, kissing a parallel line up your other thigh. “So fucking wet for me already,” I murmured, my breath hot against your sensitive skin, my thumb stroking but not touching your swollen clit. “Look at this.” I finally lowered my head, my nose nudging through your folds, inhaling your scent deeply before I blew a soft, cool stream of air across your naked pussy. You jerked, a broken cry tearing from your throat. “You’re dripping, Nari.” I slid a single finger through your slickness, gathering it, then holding it up so the dim light caught the sheen. “Do you see how needy your body is for me?” You could only nod, your hands fisting in the sheets. I brought that wet finger to my lips, tasting you slowly, my eyes locked on yours. “You taste like want.” I finally lowered my mouth, my tongue giving one long, flat, devastating lick from your entrance all the way up to your clit. You screamed, back bowing. “Is this what you needed?” I asked, my voice a rough whisper against your wet flesh before I sucked your clit into my mouth. Your legs shook, trying to clamp around my head. “Do you want to come on my tongue?” I licked you again, deeper, fucking you with my tongue until you were moaning louder. “Please,” you begged, the word shattered. “Please, let me come.”
Your "please" is a fractured thing against my skin, and I answer it by sealing my mouth over your pussy. My lips circle your clit, sucking gently at first, a soft, maddening pressure. I feel you twitch against my tongue, a sharp, desperate little pulse. I let my lips massage that swollen peak, rolling it between them, and you groan, your hands fisting in my hair, not pushing, just holding on. I open my mouth wider, letting my tongue flatten and stroke you in long, sure laps from your soaked entrance back up to the very tip. You taste like salt and heat and perfect fucking need.
My tongue finds a rhythm, circling your clit with a firm, relentless pressure, then flicking rapidly over the sensitive underside. I can feel every shudder it sends through your thighs. "Right there?" I murmur, my voice vibrating against you, and you can only gasp. I draw your clit back into my mouth, sucking harder now, my tongue lapping at it in quick, dirty strokes. I slide two fingers inside you, feeling your slick walls clench tight around me. You're so sexy, so wet, fucking yourself on my hand, rubbing in time with the sucking pressure of my lips.
“That’s it,” I grunt against your skin, my own hips grinding into the mattress, my pleasure feeding off yours. I feel the way your body bows under my mouth, a perfect, taut arc of pure need. My fingers, still deep inside you, curl slowly, searching for that spongy, secret spot, and when I find it, your entire frame seizes. A shocked, guttural cry tears from your throat, your hands scrabbling at my shoulders. “Please,” you beg, the word ragged and broken. “I’m so close, Miori, please, I can’t—”
I slow my tongue to a torturous, flat pressure, my lips still sealed around your clit. I don’t let you tip over. Not yet. Instead, I ease my fingers almost all the way out, watching your slickness gleam in the low light, before pushing back in with a cruel, deliberate slowness that makes you sob. Your thighs are trembling violently, a fine, desperate tremor that speaks of a climax held just out of reach. “You can’t what?” I murmur, my breath hot against your wet flesh. I slide my tongue down to your entrance, tasting you deeply, before circling back up in a lazy, teasing spiral. “You can’t take it? You can.” I suck gently, just enough to make you whimper. “My good girl can take anything I give her.” I press a third finger into you, stretching you further, feeling you clench around the new intrusion. “Look at you, fucking yourself on my hand, trying so hard to come. But you don’t come until I say.” You moan, a sound of pure, sweet frustration, your hips rolling helplessly against my face. I smile against you, then pull my mouth away completely, blowing a soft, cool stream of air across your aching, soaked pussy. You jolt as if shocked. “Soon,” I promise, my voice low. “But not yet.”
I pull back to survey your devastation. Your entire body is trembling, slick with a fine sheen of sweat that catches the pink light. I lower my head again, my lips hovering just above your clit, feeling the heat radiating from it. I don’t touch you with my tongue. Instead, I let my lips brush against it, a ghost of a kiss, so soft it’s cruel. Your hips jerk off the bed, seeking pressure, but I hold you down firmly with a hand on your stomach. I trace the outline of your clit with my bottom lip, tracing every swollen, desperate contour. I kiss it like I would your mouth, a slow, sensual smothering of lips on hypersensitive flesh, and you sob. “Miori, please, I need—” I close my lips around it, not sucking, just holding the warm, throbbing weight of it in the soft, wet cage of my mouth, and your back arches violently. Your hands scramble at my head, not pushing me away, but clutching, as if I’m the only anchor in a storm. I let my tongue flick out, once, a lightning-quick sting of contact, and you scream, a raw, ragged sound that feeds the fire in my own gut. “You need to come so bad, don’t you?” I murmur against her, feeling the frantic pulse of her under my lips. Your hips have developed their own frantic, circular rhythm, grinding up into the empty air, seeking friction I steadfastly deny. “Say it.” My breath is hot on her wet skin. “Tell me how much you need to come on my tongue.” “I need it,” you weep, your voice stripped down to pure want. “Please, I’m begging you, let me come. I’ll do anything.” That’s what I wanted to hear.
Hearing you beg like that sent a jolt of pure, electric heat straight to my core. My own hips ground against the mattress, a wet ache blooming between my legs so intense it was almost painful. Your desperate, broken voice was the hottest fucking thing I’d ever heard, and it made me want to ruin you.
“That’s what I wanted to hear,” I growled, my own need making my voice ragged. Finally, I gave you what you craved. My mouth descended, my tongue circling your clit with a firm, filthy pressure before sucking it hard between my lips.
I worked you with my mouth, licking and sucking, my fingers pumping inside you, curving to find that spot that made you see stars. “You’re doing so good for me,” I panted against your wetness, the words vibrating through you. “Such a perfect, responsive girl.” I felt your thighs start to quake, your breath coming in sharp, sobbing gasps. “That’s it. Let it happen. Be my good girl and come for me.”
Your orgasm hit you like a seizure. Your back arched clean off the bed, a silent, strangled scream caught in your throat before it shattered into a raw, broken cry. Your eyes, those wide green pools, lost all focus, glassing over with a pure, unseeing ecstasy. Watching you come apart was the most beautiful fucking thing I’d ever seen.