“Have you missed this?” he asked, his voice thick as he took a step closer. I could feel the hot whisper of his whiskey-soaked breath on the back of my neck, the solid press of his body against me. So familiar, and yet still fresh and exciting.
We’d been ‘hooking up’, as people call it nowadays, on and off, for years. Nearly two decades, in fact. We’d both had serious, monogamous relationships with other people during that time, but it was almost a given that when those relationships faltered and died, we would find our way back into bed. Or the back seat of his Audi. Or a disabled loo at the Royal Festival Hall.
I allowed myself to lean back into him slightly, grateful for the support and loving the way his swelling cock pressed against my bottom.
“What do you think?” I murmured, playfully grinding myself against his crotch. I heard his breath catch in his throat, and he growled as he lowered his head. I felt the soft wet glide of his tongue run up my neck until it reached my earlobe, and I purred. He nipped gently at the lobe with his teeth, while he ran his hands over my hips and up to my breasts, which he kneaded slowly as I continued to grind my arse against him.
“Shall I fuck you?” he growled, picking up the rhythm of my hips and moving in tandem against me. Lifting one hand from my breasts, he gripped a handful of my hair and pulled my head back until my mouth was aligned with his own. Now only millimetres away from his blistering, devastating kisses, I was burning.
“Hmm?” he prodded. My mouth was watering, hungry for the taste of his tongue. I lunged forward to kiss him, but he yanked my hair back hard before I could reach him. I yelped, but he didn’t hurt me. He was always careful not to hurt me too much.
“No no,” he growled. “You haven’t answered my question yet, you naughty little bitch.”
I loved this game. It was our ritual. I gave a throaty laugh, and saw the wicked twinkle light up his eyes.
“Hmmm?” he breathed, as he lowered his mouth to my shoulder and bit the soft flesh firmly. “Are you a naughty little bitch? You are, aren’t you?”
The hand that had been gripping my breast slid down, down, down, ghosting over my hips and along my pubic bone. Desire oozed from my very centre. I felt the wet trail sliding down the inside of my thighs, as a strangled moan caught in my throat.
He chuckled. I knew he was perfectly aware of the effect he was having on me, how badly I wanted him. But I also knew how much he liked to play with his food….