#Balance :: A #WankWednesday Submission

Another #wankwednesday piece for Ruby Kiddell

” Don’t.  Do.  That.”

I looked at her, sun-licked skin, streaked hair wound up into a messy ponytail.  Her composure a deliberate untidy composition.  My smile curled, purposeful, as I tilted back in my chair, propped on the back legs and one toe.  Kim’s inhale hissed through her teeth and I hooked my thumbs in my pockets and found my balance.  I lifted my foot, hanging on the fulcrum as her gaze bore into mine.

I counted.  One.  Two.  Three.

Kim sliced a heartbeat in halves when she moved, surging from her seat to my side.  Her fingers twisted into my hair and she thrust me backwards, following me to the floor as the chair hit with a crack, her grip slowing my fall.

“Always pushing,” she growled, lips close to mine, baring her teeth at me in a feral smile.  I didn’t smile.  I didn’t dare.

Her kiss drove a moan from my throat, the ladder back chair embossing her barely restrained frustration into my flesh.

Did I walk to the bed?  I can’t recall.  One moment I sat in a chair driven to the floor, the next I stared up at the smooth blanks of the cottage’s second floor.  A breath later even that view disappeared as she slid a blindfold over my eyes.

“Pushing, pushing,” she murmured.  I shivered as slight tugs on my blouse were followed by the tease of air against my flesh.  “And pushing on purpose,” she said, leaning in to scent a line from my collarbone up my neck.  “I ought to tie you up and leave you here while I finish my work,” she whispered.

I swallowed a moan, my lip caught in my teeth.  Did I want that?  Yesssss.

“In fact. . .”  Cool leather wrapped around my wrists and I didn’t resist when she drew my arms above me head and clipped the cuffs to the headboard.

The bed shifted and I knew she’d left.  I reached with my senses for her and heard the whisper of her bare feet on the floor.  Music swelled, reaching me from the far side of the cottage and I shuddered.

I’d teased her, shoving our balance to the far side of our dynamic.  She could see me, I know, from her studio.  My nipples tightened, skin rippled with goosebumps.

I waited.  My stomach tightened, cunt slicked with want, need parading memories of our play through my mind, winding me up.  I could call for her, but that would please her all too much.  So I would wait.  Wait for the sight of me ready for her, needing her, to drive her past the edge of patience and back to our bed, our fuck, our lust.

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