Yanna

The ride didn’t clear my head. He caught up to me before I even reached the main avenue leading from the community center to my house, and then he kept pace no matter how much I sped up, or how many yellow lights I ran. So now, as he dismounts in my driveway beside me, the sight of his grin just makes my brain boil even worse.

“Two Russians threatened me and you just stood there in the dark listening in?” I snap at him as he joins me on the front porch.

“I wanted them to show their hand,” he says grinning at me. “But you were in no danger, I was right there.”

He says it in this arrogant way like I need his protection, like I’m some weak and scared girly woman who needs to be looked after, and my anger explodes like booming fireworks inside me. My hands are locked in a tight spasm from it, making me drop the keys as I try to unlock the door.

“Let me get that,” he says and bends down, but I’m quicker.

“I got it,” I say. “I don’t need your help unlocking the door, I need it against the Russian mafia. And you’re not a whole lot of help there either.”

I finally manage to unlock the door and I fling it wide so hard it slams against the wall.

He’s still grinning at me when I glance at him over my shoulder, but his eyes are sharp, opaque and dark with lust. I can just hear his brain coming up with another wisecrack remark. What do I have to do to get through to this guy?

“What were you hoping to overhear them saying, anyway?” I ask, glaring at him as he shuts the door behind us very carefully. “You don’t even understand my language. Or were you hoping they’d just take me away so you wouldn’t have to work as my bodyguard anymore, because clearly you’re no good at it? Or no, maybe you’re scared of them, is that it?”

I may have gone too far. Not that I care. I have more to say. But his eyes are glowing with an edgy internal light now, red like anger and lust.

“There’s precious little I’m scared of and a bunch of Russian thugs ain’t it,” he says in a clipped voice, which is deeper than usual and makes me think of a predator showing his true colors. Like a tiger that’s no longer playful, or a wolf that a moment ago seemed docile like a dog. He slams the door shut closed and joins me at the foot of the stairs, that ferocious strength inside him reaching me first. He’s the first guy who’s ever overpowered me like this, whose strength of character was greater than my own. He’s the first guy I’ve ever met that I want to submit to, that I want to let take whatever he wants from me. And that’s a very scary thought.

“I get that they spooked you, but I know what I’m doing, and I don’t fail at the jobs I take on,” he says stopping so close to me I can feel his breath on my face.

“And if they killed me today?” I snap. “What would you have done then? You were too far away.”

“What do you know about these guys that you’re not telling me?” he asks, zeroing in on the exact thing I don’t want anyone to know. How does he know? How can he know?

“What I know is that they keep showing up where I least expect them and that I hired you to stop that,” I say, my anger not quite as edgy anymore, because now I’m afraid he’ll make good on that lustful promise in his eyes and make me submit. I want it bad, but it frightens me like nothing ever has.

He takes the last step towards me, but I back away. He takes another and so do I, but now there’s nowhere left to go. My back is against the wall and he’s looming over me. Waves of hot desire are crashing inside me, starting in his dark, burning eyes. They’re the exact opposite of the hard, cold wall I’m leaning on, which is also the last reminder that I want to keep our relationship professional. But it’s not just that simple anymore. There’s still about a foot of space between us and when that’s gone nothing will ever be the same again and there will be no going back.

“They’d have killed you by now, if that was their plan,” he says. “They want to talk to you, that much is clear.”

“You’re just full of talk too, aren’t you?” I ask, my voice not as sharp as I wanted it to be when I planned this retort in my head. It’s those burning eyes of his making me feel things, making me think things I’ve never done before.

I meant it in terms of him guarding me, but that dark lust in his eyes grows deeper, and I realize it could be taken another way too. Maybe that’s even the way I truly meant it, as an invitation, I don’t even know that anymore.

“You’re really pretty when you’re angry,” he says moving even closer to me. I don’t run this time. I’m caught in his gaze and the sea of desire he’s making roil and crash inside me.

“Even more than you usually are,” he adds once his lips are less than an inch from mine. “No, I wanted to do more than talk to you for awhile now, haven’t you noticed?”

He doesn’t wait for me to answer, just grabs the back of my head and kisses me. It’s good that he’s holding me up, because I might’ve buckled to the ground as the full force of that kiss hits me. At first it was just the touching of our lips, but then all that warm water of desire he called up inside me crashed violently against my ability to breathe, to think, to do anything other than feel good.

I’m even angrier now that he just kissed me with no warning, and my hands are fists against his chest, but not very hard or strong, because I don’t want this kiss to stop. I just think it should. Because I want things to stay the same, the way they’ve always been. But this kiss is the most real thing I’ve ever felt. The one thing I’ve been missing, but didn’t even know it. Until this second. Until his tongue entered my mouth and started wrestling with my own. His body is pressed against me, hard and immovable like the wall at my back, but warm and soft too, letting me know he’s got more of what I’ve been missing to give me. My hands aren’t fists anymore, they’re relaxed and open now, resting against his hard chest, the beat of his heart strong against my palm. He’s a distraction, the way I feel about him is a complication, but it also feels so damn good, I never want to go without again.

Not that he’s giving me a choice. His hands are all over me, gliding over my stomach and my breasts, messing up my hair and pulling on it, they’re on my neck, my arms, my ass and back, moving in a controlled frenzy, touching each spot just long enough that I miss them once they’re gone. I’m not shy with my hands either, because I need to feel those muscles of his I’ve only been admiring in my mind until now.

His jacket thuds against the floor, the zippers clanking as he lets me push it off his shoulders, our kiss deepening as his hands let me go for the moment it takes to remove it.

He stops the kiss and removes my sweater next, so I’m standing before him in just my sports bra and leggings now. He doesn’t start kissing me again afterwards, his eyes glowing with a soft golden light like sunset when our eyes meet next. He’s slowing the lust that consumed us for the past few frenzied minutes, but I still feel it coiled inside him like a spring wound too tight, sparkling from the effort of holding it.

“This is what you want, right?” he asks, and his lips are sparkling too. We’re standing so close I practically feel his heartbeat in the air between us, and yes, I want this. It’s a distraction, and it’s a complication but it’s the only thing that can happen now. There is no other thing.

So I don’t say anything, just kiss him again and then all is how it needs to be, how it should’ve been from the moment we met.

But we’re still in the hallway and we need to get more naked, I need to feel his skin against my skin, have to feel the coiling of his muscles beneath my fingers and palms, have to feel his weight against me, and his cock inside me. My desire for him is wound just as tightly as his is for me. So as much as I don’t want to, I stop the kiss this time, grab his arm and pull him after me up the stairs.

I remember none of the way to my bedroom, the first moment my memory starts working again is when he pulls me to him by the bed and kisses me roughly, hungrily, our desire no longer coiled. It’s unleashed and is now a wavy, frothing sea nothing can tame. He unzips my bra next, his eyes glowing and his lips sparkling as he watches my breasts bounce free. It’s another soft moment we share, frozen still forever in my memory, like that first time we shook hands, like that first time I watched him wait for me in front of the gym.

But it doesn’t last, his eyes growing sharp with lust right before he kisses me again, his palms closing around my breasts, the touch culminating in a pinch to my nipples that makes me whimper. The pain rips straight to my core and turns the hot sea of our desire even hotter. I’ve never wanted to be with a man more than I want to be with him.

Before I know it, I’m on my back on the bed, the covers bunched up beneath me since I didn’t make the bed this morning. But what does that matter? Nothing matters, only how good, how perfect, how light, yet full of searing hot desire his kisses and bites, licks and pinches feel as his lips travel down to my stomach leaving no soft, sensitive spot untouched.

I yelp in surprise as he yanks down my leggings along with my panties. I’m suddenly naked, the cool air in the room totally at odds with the heat of his breath, the fire burning in his eyes, and the searing river of desire flowing fast and angry through me.

I’m naked and he’s not, I’m on my back and he’s on top of me, and that’s not how I’m used to it. But at the same time, I wouldn’t want it any other way.

He kisses me again, deep and rough, his tongue filling my mouth and I sigh and moan right in the middle of that kiss, as his fingers find my clit. He rubs and flicks it just so, just perfectly, his fingers more skilled at conjuring up the flames of an orgasm inside me than even my own are, let alone any man’s I’ve ever been with before him. In no time I’m moaning, my breaths jagged, my brain turned to soft, fuzzy cotton, because all I want is his fingers to give me the release from the devastating heat of the fire they’re stoking up. Fire so hot even the sea of our desire is just steam now. He pushes two fingers into me and I yelp in surprise, but a second later I’m moaning and writhing on the bed as he starts pumping them into me faster and faster, hitting the right spot, hitting it too hard, too fast, the fire no longer just flames, but molten lava, creeping upwards, faster and faster, melting everything in it’s path. He’s not kissing me anymore, just watching me, his face fuzzy because my vision is going. But I can see he’s smirking and grinning, because he knows he has me in his power, knows how good he’s making me feel, and knows he holds my release in his hands and likes that fact.

Normally, I dictate the pace. I like to always be in control, even during sex, and that need is flaring up in my mind right now. But my need for the release his fingers are promising me is too strong to yield to anything.

A few more pumps of his fingers and I’m done, I’m undone, all that fire, all that lava exploding into a billion glowing sparks burning the air around us, making it too hot to breathe, too bright to see. But who needs to breathe, who needs to see, when your body feels this good?

He’s rubbing my clit in slow, gentle circles when my mind finally clears after that single best orgasm of my life he just gave me. All is as soft as I imagine clouds must be to walk on, and my body isn’t quite my own anymore, because I’ve never felt this good, not even in dreams.

“Ready for more?” he asks, sliding his hand up from my clit to my lips preventing me from answering, letting me taste myself as he runs his fingers across my lips.

He’s asking, but he’s not really asking. He’ll give me more, and I’ll take it, that’s what he’s saying. And in my orgasm muddled mind that’s still soft like cotton, it makes perfect sense, even though a thing like that has never made sense to me before. So I nod.

His eyes are glowing like fire as he stands up to remove first his boots, then his shirt and finally letting me get a good look at him. I come up on my elbows to see better. His chest and arms and abs are perfectly defined, as I knew they would be, but better, more shapely, more real than what I’ve seen on other guys. His jeans are next, and the sound of his belt buckle hitting the wooden floor echoes like a gong as his cock comes into view. Once that happens all else fades into the background. He’s big, bigger than any I’ve seen, so big it might not fit, and I’m not sure I’m ready after all. But at the same time, my pussy is clenching and tingling and growing even wetter, growing even more ready, so I guess I am.

“You’re impressed,” he says in that slow, arrogant drawl of his. “Good.”

His eyes are still glowing, brighter than before, but the gaze in them is steady, like a predator’s as he gets ready to pounce on his prey. And I’m it.

“You like to impress, don’t you?” I ask, biting my lip right after, because he’s right, and I can’t deny it.

He laughs. “You? Yeah, I’ve wanted to impress you for awhile now.”

I don’t think he means just for the last couple of days that we’ve known each other. He means that he’s wanted to have me naked and ready for him like this for a lot longer than that, since he started watching my videos probably. And a bubble of the fear I have of that kinda thing since that stalker stalked me for awhile does form and pop in my stomach. But I feel like I’ve wanted him since before I actually met him too, and it’s a strange, other-worldly and soft feeling, yet as real as anything else I’ve ever felt.

“Well, you’ve done it,” I tell him.

“Oh, you’ve seen nothing yet,” he says and walks back over to the bed, so he’s looming over me once again.

He spreads my legs wide and climbs on the bed between them, his predator eyes never leaving mine, boring into me, transferring that glow in them straight into my brain and my chest, making me readier than I was, making me want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything else in my life. But I blink and reconsider as the fat head of his cock touches my clit, gasp and writhe away as he presses it against my hole.

“You can take it,” he says. “And I know you want to.”

He’s not wrong, not at all. But it’s so big and that’s scary, and that glow in his eyes is downright dangerous now. Wanting him this much is dangerous. All I wanted for a very long time is to win, to be the best fighter. But right now, all I want is him, all I want is for him to make me his. And that makes so little sense it’s frightening. I’m not myself in this moment. I’m someone I don’t know.

I yelp as he pushes the head of his cock into me, gasp and dig my nails into his sides as he gives me more of it, cracking me open in a mixture of pain and pure bliss so tightly woven together I can’t tell one from the other.

“Just let me in,” he says, grinning at me as he grabs my wrists and pins them to the mattress at my sides. Not rough, not hard, just using precisely the right amount of strength he needs to, but letting me know he has more, has enough to dominate me completely. I have strength too, lots and lots of it, but right now, I don’t even know where to find it inside me. I’m just letting him take control, letting him dominate me, and that’s not right, it’s not me, but it’s perfect nonetheless.

He starts thrusting his cock into my pussy, going deeper and deeper, opening me up in places I’ve never been touched, and even those thoughts make no sense anymore. The only thing that makes sense is this fiery sea of bliss he’s creating inside, it’s waves flames, rising higher and higher, growing hotter and hotter, so hot they burn through my body and mind, warming my very soul.

I’m his to do with as he will, my legs spread wide, my arms pinned down and his cock filling me, entering me, opening me, allowing no resistance, the devastating flames of bliss and passion as alive in the air between us as they are inside me.

I fight them like I fight everything, like I’ve always fought everything, because I’ve always had to fight, because I’m a fighter. But that just makes the flames burn brighter, hotter, more devastating. The air I’m gasping for is hot, my body is fire, and still I fight it. I will always fight all and everything. I know no other thing. I will fight even that passion in his eyes, which no longer look dangerous, the darkness in them receding fast to show me the blue skies of forever once again.

It’s not my mind that finally gives as his thrusts get wilder and deeper, it’s my body, because every tiny cell of my being is screaming for release from these flames that are so hot they’re burning away everything I thought I knew.

When release finally comes it’s in the form of a huge wave made of pleasure and bliss, crashing against me and dousing the flames, calming the devastation our desire left in its wake, making it bearable as it balances the fight with surrender, makes them equal, gives me the softness, the relaxation, the complete peace I’ve never had before. If I could stay right here and exactly like this forever, I would.

* * *

I come to with my head on the pillow, the covers draped over me, and his hard, warm body pressing into my side. Everything inside me is still softer than clouds, so I know I wasn’t asleep for very long, yet I feel more rested than I have on any morning that I still remember waking up on.

He’s watching me as I turn my face to him, smiling softly, his eyes no longer edgy but soft too. They’re still glowing, but the light in them is soft now. Like candlelight in a glass at the end of a long day.

“You don’t let go easily, do you?” he asks, and I’m not sure what he’s talking about, yet I know perfectly well anyway.

“I’m a fighter. That’s what I am,” I tell him and my voice is soft too, softer than I ever heard it. As is the kiss he gives me, which is pleasant and warm and encompasses all of me, not just my lips.

My pussy is twitching and pinging and ready for more, despite how his cock literally broke me open not so long ago. But he’s happy just kissing me, just caressing my breasts and the rest of my soft parts, and I’m happy just letting him do that, while I run my hand along the bumps on his arms, and his back and side, just happy feeling the curve of his neck which is soft, yet so very hard at the same time.

Before I know it, he’s on top of me again, pressing me down completely and relentlessly, using just enough strength to keep me pinned, and yes, I am frightened by my inability to flee, but at the same time, I don’t want to move a muscle.

This time he enters me more smoothly, because he already paved the inroad before. And this time, his cock feels more like it belongs inside me, because he already molded my pussy to it before, but I still wasn’t ready, so I’m still fighting it, writhing and trying to wrestle the control over my pleasure from him.

But none of that stops him moving his cock in and out of me slowly, inch by long inch, his kiss soft and his cock hard, as it caresses my insides, molding me even more perfectly to its girth, showing me he’s in control, and making me like it, making me crave it, making me forget all else all over again, as he stokes the flames of bliss ever higher. They’re not as hot as before, not as high and searing, but just as devastating, just as dangerous.

My body accepts it again, in spite of my mind’s need to fight the pleasure he’s giving me, to control the all-encompassing bliss that makes me want nothing but more of that bliss.

I’m breathing hard, whimpering and moaning, and he’s kissing me softly but groaning too. My moans and his groans, my body and his, they’re almost in tune, almost a song, but not quite, because I want the control he’s not giving me, I want to set the pace, I want to be the one to say when, and what. My mind wants that. But my body just wants the pleasure and bliss only his body can give me.

His kiss gets wilder and deeper, as though he’s trying to tame the last of my resistance to the pleasure his cock and his lips and his hands are giving me. He picks up the pace, giving me his wide, long cock in sturdy, deep jabs, demanding my body’s surrender to it. But he already has that.

He wants my mind too, he’s demanding I give myself completely to the sea of bliss he brings, to let its current drag me under and drown me in the soft rolling waves of pleasure. To let it give me a new life, free from the need and the desire to fight.

Once again, my body yield’s before my mind does, as the pleasure he’s giving me explodes outward, takes my ability to breathe and make sound, my pussy clenching against its invader, grasping for more even though it’s already too much, too big, too good, too devastating. Yet it’s also so perfect, so very right, the way it was always meant to be.

What feels like an eternity later, my gasps finally draw air into my lungs again, and it feels like my very first breath. My body and my mind and my soul are all softer than clouds, and there’s no fight left in me, no tightness, no muscle left to fight with. At least none that I control. Nor do I want to.