Coercion:Curio Vignettes 01(6)

By: Cara McKenna



“No. Just kissing. Really.”

I sigh, the lazy sound of a womanizer’s petulant, feigned defeat, and let my throbbing cock go. “Just kissing.” I hold her face and sample her deeply, fingertips as possessive as my tongue and lips. The wine tastes ever richer from her mouth, as warm and dark as the secrets she keeps between her smooth, pale legs. Perhaps I’ll kiss her there as well before the night is done, and feel her fingers in my hair, clutching in time with her moans.

I draw my tongue along her jaw, finding her perfume. Such a bitter flavor to offer so sweet a scent. The palm she sets on my neck is cool and unsure, and I shiver from how right it feels, how easily she’s slipped inside this other woman’s being. Caroly disappears. I disappear. The people on my couch are strangers now, seducer and resister. I feel this man’s desire rising from deep in my body, consuming me, a hot, growing force in need of an outlet.

I pull away, take her glass from the table and urge her hands around it. “Drink.”

“I’ve had too much.”

“I chose it for you. And the evening is still young. Plenty of time to indulge before the morning.” The morning—the hateful pulse of a hangover, soured further by regret.

“I have to be at the office early…”

“You work too much,” I tell her. “All this struggling only to keep your head above the water. Let yourself go under, just for one night. One glass.”

“I’d drown.”

“Drowning feels good, I promise.” I coax her hands to her mouth, and she drinks.

“Good. In a minute you’ll feel how fine an idea this is. Worry about work some other day, but not here. Not with me.” There is a silk tie at the collar of her blouse and I slip its bow free, revealing creamy flesh and the shadow of her clavicle. Her hand covers mine, telling me to stop.

I fan my fingers across the bare vee below her throat. “So soft.” And so cool, the only thing that can quench the heat beating under my own skin. This torment would go if I could just be inside her.

“Don’t.”

“You’ve forgotten how to let a man be male.”

“What do you mean?”

“You make us into your rivals, and forget what we really are.”

“What are you?”

“Animals,” I tell her, and slide my fingers under her shirt and beneath the strap of her brassiere. It slips from her shoulder when I push, her chest swelling with a gulped breath. I’ll hold her this way in my bed, watch her breasts rise as her back arches, watch her flesh quiver, echoing the impact as my cock claims what it’s owed.

“I don’t need an animal in my life,” she tells me, forcing my hand away and righting her strap. “I don’t need any man, but if I wanted one, I’d pick a gentleman.” She clutches her collar closed.

“A gentleman is nothing but a dog on a leash. Take away his tether and you’ll meet the beast as he wishes to be.”

“I should leave.” As she rises, I grasp her wrist. She tugs. “Let me go.”

“I’m sorry. Stay, just to finish your wine. I’ll be good.”

She doesn’t move, and I tug again at her arm gently, once, twice, until she bends her knees, sits once more. I pick up my own glass, letting her think me well behaved for a minute or two.

“I’m sorry if I offended you.”

“You have, a little.”

“The way you looked at me at the bar, I took you for a different kind of woman.”

“What kind of woman?”

I picture such a scene, myself a man capable of prowling so easily in public, among strangers. Her, a sophisticated professional longing to escape the cage she’s made for herself, if only for a night.

“You looked so…hungry,” I tell her. “So much fire in those eyes.”

“I never meant to lead you on.”

“It was your eyes that led you here, to my flat. Your eyes, and other forces…” I drop my gaze to her breasts, her lap, then smile at her. “I’d give you anything you desire, if only your mouth would admit what those things were.”

“I just want to finish this wine and get home to bed.”

“There is a bed here. A fine one, big enough for two.”

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