Coercion:Curio Vignettes 01(10)

By: Cara McKenna



“Just kissing, you said before.”

“I won’t ask for anything else,” I lie. “But it hurts, I want this so much. Touch me. Just once. Let me show you what you’ve done.”

Still she resists, limply. I pull her hand closer, closer, until her fingertips brush me through my pants, the contact like lightning. As I press her palm over my erection, every instinct begs to thrust against her, fast and greedy until the friction tears me apart. But I won’t. I won’t. There is too much fun yet to be discovered.

Her mouth is open, eyelids heavy. I know this look—it’s Caroly. I’m charmed to find she’s not such a fine actress that she can shroud those little cues I’ve come to recognize so well.

“See? You feel how much I want you?” She lets me squeeze her hand tighter, draw it up and down my ridge in short, maddening strokes. I can’t imagine I’ve ever been so hard before.

“I can feel it.”

“I could show you as well.”

“No.”

Rougher now, I guide her hand. “You don’t want to see what you’ve done?”

“It’s too fast.”

“How long since you’ve seen a man? Touched his bare flesh?”

“A while.”

“Let’s change that.” I let her hand go to slip free the button of my trousers, and suddenly it is she who holds my wrist.

“No.”

“You don’t want to see?” I rub myself through the fabric. “Don’t you want to feel how hard you’ve made me? Find out how big I am?”

She shakes her head. “Not this soon.”

“Very well. But here,” I say, sliding my hand up to cup her breast. “Give me this, at least.”

She doesn’t speak, her throat flexing to gulp a breath. Her fingers rest on my side, uncertain.

“We will kiss,” I tell her, kneading, “and any way you want to touch me, just know that you may.” As our mouths reunite I squeeze her, stroke her with my thumb until her nipple stiffens under the whispering glide of her blouse. I feel lace as well, and I imagine what color it might be. I hope it’s the navy one she sometimes wears, the shade of a stormy sea. She’s so pale the blue highlights her veins, making her seem ethereal, some delicate creature with its very heartbeat painted across its skin.

She permits me to free the second button with little more than a sigh to mark her protest. Teasing her tongue with mine, I let her hear my ragged breaths. As I suckle her lip, I’m reminded of other things I’ve missed since our last date. I release her flesh. My mouth is poised to whisper how badly I wish to taste her elsewhere…

But I am selfish in this game, and I doubt such a man would preoccupy himself with an act that focuses so purely on a woman’s pleasure. He would take, not give, and so my craving must wait.

I’ve been a bad man before, for clients who wish it of me, though never with Caroly. It feels new and forbidden. Criminal. For the sake of our game, I muster a force I’m not entirely at ease wielding and pin her down, her shoulders pressed flat to the bed. I shove her legs apart with my knees, jerk her hem to her hips.

“Don’t.”

She grasps my shirt but I pretend to mistake the gesture. I peel the top away, and her hands are on my bare chest, pushing. As I cast the shirt aside, I grab and open a condom from the side table and set it on the covers, trying to ignore its presence. The man I play would not trouble himself with such a requisite courtesy, and I hope she, like me, is filtering it from the scene.

“I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you.” The lust makes me sound angry, and my arousal shifts to mimic that emotion—hot and urgent, in need of a target.

She slaps at my hand when I push her skirt higher. “Don’t.”

I abandon her clothes to attend to mine, opening my fly. My cock escapes from its prison, enveloped in cool air, the band of my shorts shoved down, out of the way. It binds my balls, the discomfort somehow perfect. Her sex is hampered as well, but only a strip of lace and cotton stands between me and my goal, and whether it’s shed or ripped or yanked aside, it won’t protect her. I stroke myself, wondering if I’ve ever felt this big.

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