Behind Closed Doors

I'm working on a sequel to At Last, but here's something in the meantime. Much less character- and plot-driven, short, sharp and to the point, but hopefully good in its own way.

***

"Shhhh."

The light pressure of my finger against your lips is enough to stop you mid-sentence, not through force, but through the knowledge that it's what I'm asking of you. My other hand is wrapped around your wrist, pulling you away from the buzzing crowd, through a half-open door and into a room where the sounds of other people fade and cease to matter.

When I shut the door behind us, quietly so as not to be heard by anyone other than you, I trace my finger from your lips, down your chin and neck, until it reaches the top button of your blouse. My eyes lock on to yours as I flick the button undone.

"People are going to hear us," you say softly, but the smile playing at the edges of your lips says that you might not care too much.

"No, they won't." As I continue to unfasten your buttons, I lean in until my lips almost graze your ear. "Not if you can keep quiet." I punctuate my sentence by pressing a kiss against your earlobe, and then taking it between my lips and my teeth. Your gasp hits me in my core.

"What did I just tell you?" I ask, pulling my lips away from your ear.

"S-sorry..." you whisper, your eyes downcast. "I'll be good."

"Good." The final button of your blouse finally undone, I slide my hands underneath the fabric and around your waist, and your face tilts up towards mine.

It never ceases to amaze me how your gentle lips can kiss so fiercely.

When our kiss breaks, the shine in your eyes and the flush of your cheeks and lips tell me all I need to know about how you're feeling right now, and when I lead you to the bed, you can't hold the smile back from your face. Your hands find their place in mine, surrendering their control to me. You're facing me, sitting down on the bed.

"Lie down," I whisper, and I watch your gaze flicker up from my lips to my eyes. You stretch out onto your back, and I move your hands until they're behind your head. "You're going to stay still, aren't you?"

"Yes," you murmur, and I cup your cheek with my hand. You're not restrained by anything except your desire to please, and a shiver ripples through me as I realise once more how lucky I am.

My lips find that spot where your neck becomes your shoulder, and when I take the skin between my teeth, I can feel your jaw move as you try and hold back the sound that this act usually draws from within you. I can't hold back a smile.

When your neck and your shoulders are scattered with red marks in the shape of my mouth, and your efforts at holding back your usual little squeals have left you breathless, I let my fingers wander from your shoulder down your chest. The tips of my fingers brush across the soft fabric of your bra, and even the lightest touch elicits a gasp.

"Shhhh," I remind you, and you squeeze your eyes closed. My fingers play across your breasts, the sensation blunted by your bra, but enough to inflame you. When I unfasten your bra, and give you permission to move your arms just long enough to remove it, you open you eyes again and fix them onto mine. Without breaking eye contact, I press one finger to your lips, and drag the fingernails of my other hand down your rib cage.

When my nails bite into your skin, leaving hot red trails behind them, you bite your lip so hard I worry you'll draw blood. But your eyes stay locked onto mine, and the only sound you make is a hitching in your breath. I lower my face to yours, and murmur the words "good girl", so close that you can feel them against your lips.

My fingers play across your body, finding every spot that I know can drive you wild - your collarbone, the ridge of your hip bones, the back of your neck where smooth hair gives way to warm skin. Your breath is shaky, punctuated by tiny whimpers. I run my fingers up your thigh, feeling it tense under my touch, and smirk as I brush against the damp fabric of your underwear.

"I've barely even touched you..." I murmur in your ear.

"You call that barely even touching me?" you grin right back, and I place another kiss on your earlobe.

"I haven't even been doing this," I tell you as I let the pad of my thumb roll across your taut nipple. I can feel your body jerk.

"You so don't play fair," you complain in a whisper, but the smile hasn't left your face, and I know it's mirrored on mine.

"Of course I don't." With that, I lowered my head to flick my tongue across your nipple, my hands still wandering across your body and up and down the inside of your thighs. "Remember, keep it down."

When you're squirming under my touch, I slip my hand into the waistband of your underwear, sliding it just far enough down your thighs. Your eyes are wide, and your body totally still, tense with desire. When I slide a finger between your lips, it comes out wet. My fingertip works little circles around your clit as I kiss you again, swallowing what would probably have been a moan.

I know the signs that you're getting close, and I know that with this kind of buildup, you're not going to last long. When I break our kiss, and move to place another bite on your collarbone, I can tell you're not going to hold out much longer - your hips are starting to rock and push up against my hand, and you're making little, intoxicating noises from the back of your throat. And you're so wet that it's easy to ease a finger inside you.

The sound you make this time is loud, loud enough that it might be audible through the door. Instantly your eyes widen as you realise your momentary loss of control, and I slowly pull my hand away and look you in the eye.

"I'm sorry," you blurt out, back at the soft volume I've been keeping us at. I run my fingers up the nail marks running down your side.

"You only get to come if you've been good. When I tell you to keep it down, you keep it down - got it? Can you be good?"

You nod.

"I'm not sure. I think you need to wait a little longer." Moving away from you just slightly, I pull my shirt over my head, unfastening my bra and let it drop. I watch your eyes lower their focus, staring at my breasts almost hungrily.

"May I..." you begin, and I press a finger to your lips once more.

"What did I say about waiting?"

My hands go back to your body, but again, in places that inflame but don't bring relief. My lips and my teeth on your earlobes, your collarbones; my hands caress you, but not where you're silently begging to be touched. But your pleading is still done with your eyes, not with sounds; eventually, I lower my head to place kisses on your hip bones, one and then the other. I look up at you, your flushed face and shining eyes.

"Let's try this again," I whisper, running my hand back up your thighs, which are damp. "Remember what I told you." I watch your face, the expressions flickering over it, a combination of determination and desire. As my fingertip teases, you bite your lip; as one finger works its way inside you, then two, your eyes close tightly. My thumb finds your clit, and your breath catches.

You're tight around my fingers, hot, almost unbelievably wet; the little bud of your clit hard under my thumb. You're right on the edge already, and it takes little more than a few strokes of my thumb and thrusts of my fingers to bring you to the point of no return. The tension I've been building up within you reaches shattering point, too much for you to contain any longer.

You're trying so hard to hold back noise that your body is responding unrestrained; your hips bucking towards my hand, back arching, toes literally curling. "Good girl," I whisper again, my hand still moving slowly as you ride out what looks like an incredibly intense orgasm. Your response is a shaking moan, but a quiet one.

When your body finally relaxes, you fall back against the mattress, trying to catch your breath. I lower myself to lie beside you, taking your hands in mine, removing the restraints that weren't there. Your kiss is less fierce than before, but no less passionate.

"Was that quiet enough for you?" you ask me, the ghost of your cheeky grin pulling at your lips.

"I think so." I scatter kisses on the marks I left across your shoulders.

"May I touch you now?" you ask, a note of desire still colouring your voice.

"You may."