We drove to my apartment building and the talk was light, of the upcoming election my dad was hoping to win, of Drake's busy schedule practicing with his band. I was still undecided as to whether I'd invite him in. Part of me wanted to. Part of me wanted him to push me, to see how much I could feel just having 'vanilla' sex with him.

Part of me was scared to death.

We walked up the steps to the building's entry and stopped. He stood too close to me, of course, probably hoping to influence me with his animal magnetism. I glanced up in his eyes and he just waited, his eyes half-hooded, the slightest hint of a smile on his mouth. Finally, he sighed.

"Kate, invite me in. Trust me. I won't risk anything with you, given who you are and who your father is."

"You won't touch me?"

He bent down and tipped my chin up with a finger. "I may touch you, but I won't force you to do anything. I don't rape women, Kate. I don't like real resistance. Only the fun kind. The play kind."

"We won't have sex, Drake. I'm not like that. I don't have sex on a first date."

"I know."

"I'm serious. No sex. I'll think about the goodnight kiss."

I glanced at my cell phone to see what time it was.

"Why don't you call Lara and let her know I'm coming into your apartment. Tell her you'll call her in an hour and if you don't call, she should take action. That way, you'll feel safe."

I dialed Lara's cell. It rang three times before she answered.

"Kate, what's up?"

"I'm standing on the front step of my building with Drake. He wants to come in and just talk, and suggested that I call you so you know I'm alone with him. That I'll call you in an hour to let you know things are OK."

"That's good, Kate. By all means, go ahead. Invite him in. I have complete trust in him to keep his word. Call me in an hour. If you don't, I'll bring Bruno and come right over. Tell Drake that, although I know I won't need to."

I turned to Drake. "Lara said if I don't call in an hour, she'll bring Bruno over."

Drake laughed at that, his eyes merry. He took my hand and leaned down to the cell. "Oh, you're threatening to use the heavy artillery. You've never had to use Bruno with me yet and won't have to tonight."

I pulled the cell back to my ear and heard laughter on the other end. "Have fun, Kate, and relax. You're in very good hands, and I mean good. You can trust Drake. Call me in an hour."

"Thanks, Lara."

I ended the call and exhaled heavily. "Who's Bruno?"

"Her Rottweiler."

Even I laughed at that. "Come on up."

As we climbed the stairs, I wondered if I should let him in. I didn't really believe I would, and adrenaline jolted through me because this meant it wasn't completely out of the question that we'd have sex. He promised not to force me, but I knew he'd try to seduce me. He'd seduce me with his words and with his touch. In the back of my mind, I realized I let him in because I wanted what happened between us at the concert hall to continue. I liked his touch. I wanted him to touch me. I just wasn't sure about the sex part. That was too intimate, and we weren't intimate enough yet for me to let him in.

He followed me up the stairs to my third floor apartment, and we stopped at my door while I fumbled in my bag for my keys, muttering to myself about how big it was and how I always lost my keys at the bottom. Just nervous chatter. In the time before I found them, Mrs. Kropotkin opened her door a crack and peered out at us. Drake turned to her and smiled.

"Zdrastvooyte."

She closed her door.

"Did you study Russian in college?" I asked, my voice a bit quivery.

"My father had a cassette tape with Russian lessons on it and I used to listen as a kid." He cleared his throat because his own voice was husky.  "I don’t really speak Russian well. Just enough to order in a restaurant or make a few toasts."

I had to take in a few deep breaths to get control over myself. Finally, I wrestled the lock open and stepped inside, turning and blocking the doorway before he could enter.

"You'll keep your promise to just talk? No sex?"

He held his hands up, palms out as if to signal surrender. "Kate, it's up to you. You'll be the one to decide what happens. Whatever you want."

"We're not having sex. Tell me you understand."

"I understand."

I stood in the doorway for a moment, deciding, my hands on the door, Drake outside. I didn't want this night to end. I wanted him to come in and touch me. I was just afraid.

"Come in," I said and sighed.

He stepped across the threshold, turning around, staring at my apartment.

"Kate why do you live like this? This apartment looks like it belongs to a poor kid, not the daughter of a wealthy judge running for election."

"I don't want his money and I don't earn enough even with the scholarship to live anywhere else."

He walked around and the way he was looking at everything and touching all my possessions made me feel as if he were entering my mind and my body.

While I went to the side table in the entry and deposited my keys on a tray, he stood in the hallway and took in a deep breath as if he were smelling me. My apartment had a pleasant scent. With Thanksgiving approaching, I put a few decorations up, a couple of tiny pumpkins on a dish on a small round table in the living/dining area. Vanilla and cinnamon were the main scents from a container of potpourri beside the dish with my keys. 

I took off my coat and hung it on a coat tree by the door, then went to Drake. "Let me take your coat," I said, extending my hands. He shrugged off his coat. Then, he unbuttoned his jacket, loosening his tie as well. He kicked off his boots and watched me hang up his coat, and I felt awkward under his gaze, trying to hide my nervousness.

"Do you mind if I take a look around?"

I shook my head without responding, worried that my voice would give away my nerves.

He came to me and tipped up my chin with a finger. "Its OK. I know you're nervous. A bit excited. You know what? So am I."  

He sounded a bit nervous, and as if to demonstrate, he took in a deep breath and smiled.  I glanced away.

He walked down the hallway that led to the back of the apartment and my bedroom, examining the art on my walls. Stopping at one long narrow picture that I called 'Lady/Knight', he checked it out more closely. A pencil drawing of a couple, a man and a woman, the man in full knight's armor, the woman naked beneath him, her arms outstretched. She strained to meet his mouth, which was trapped behind the metal grill of his helmet, his lips just visible through the grating. He lay on top of her, resting on his elbows, and not one piece of his flesh touched hers.

"You did this?"

I went to stand beside him and tilted my head. I pointed to my initials at the bottom right hand corner. KMcD  

"I did it in my Freshman year. I took a fine arts elective."

"It's good. Actually technically skilled." He turned to me. "Tell me about this."

"What's to tell?" I said. "It's a pencil drawing of a knight and his lady love."

"And why is she naked while he's in full armor?"

I said nothing for a moment, thinking of how I wanted to explain it. "Our assignment was to show contrasts in textures. I thought that metal and flesh were opposites – almost mortal enemies – and contrasting, kind of like male and female, masculine and feminine. My professor said I took the assignment way too literally."

"Metal and flesh aren't always enemies. I use steel to cut out tumors, open the skull to let pressure off a swelling brain."

I frowned. "I never thought of that. I was thinking more of war."

"It's all in your point of view. Even in war, metal can save lives. Trauma surgeons like my father worked in hospitals on the front lines in Vietnam using steel and cutting flesh to save lives." He turned back to the drawing once more. "Did you at least get a good grade? This is very good."

Technically, it was good.  My prof said I showed excellent use of shading and perspective.

"I got an A."

"Good. But why a couple? If you wanted to show contrast between flesh and metal, if you wanted the war theme, why not a hand holding a sword? Or were you thinking of a different kind of war – the war between the sexes?"

I was silent for a moment, not wanting to admit the melodrama surrounding it.

"It was after a boyfriend and I broke up and I was all upset about it. You know what it's like when you're nineteen. You'd think it would be the other way around, right? The woman would be covered in armor while the man would be naked, so willing to have sex."

He studied the drawing for a moment.

"Oh, very deep," he said. "He can't really touch her even when they have sex because he wears armor to protect himself. It's symbolic of men's psychological armor. There she is, naked, open, and he can't really touch her even when he's fucking her." He turned and looked at me as if for acknowledgement. "Did you study psychology?"

I kept my eyes firmly on the drawing. "Yes," I said. "I took a course in my Freshman year."

"So you're implying that despite the fact that men want to have sex, they're not really touching the women they fuck. There's always that male armor keeping them from intimacy. Am I right?"

I forced a smile. "You're one of the few to get it."

"I have a degree in psychology. I was trained to look for underlying explanations for behavior."

He took a step to the next painting framed and hanging on the wall. An abstract, all greens and yellows and black lines – I bought it from a friend who went to art school.

"Research suggests that men fall in love more easily than women," he said, his voice light. "Do you really believe that men never let down their armor even during sex?"

"You tell me. You're the expert at keeping things compartmentalized."

"What could you possibly mean by that, Ms. Bennet?" he said, as if surprised. "Are you suggesting that I use D/s as a way to keep my distance from the women I fuck? I assure you, it's quite the opposite. I get right into their minds."

"But you don't love them. You're not really intimate with them, despite controlling them sexually."

"I'm exceedingly intimate with them." He smiled, but I could see a bit of edge in his eyes. "It all depends on how you define intimacy. Back to you and your difficulty sleeping with men on the first date." He stepped closer to me so that I was forced back against the wall. "You can't open your thighs without being intimate with a man and it bothers you that men can fuck women without being intimate, without actually caring about her the way you think they should. Am I right?"

I nodded. "My body is private. How can I get naked with someone I don't care about?"

"My heart is private. How can I care about someone who won't get naked with me?" he said, countering my logic, stepping even closer to me, lifting up a strand of my hair, running it under his nose. "What if I was to tell you that your inability to have casual sex was because of your father's and society's influence on you, not because of anything inherent in male-female sex differences? We're both animals with drives, Kate. Society has just controlled women's drives more, redirected them, couched the control in moral platitudes."

I frowned. "I forgot you wanted to be a psychoanalyst. I never did like Freud and his focus on fathers."

"He was right, but in the wrong way," Drake said. "Your father – the generalized father of patriarchal authority – made you believe that if you were purely sexual, if you needed to be fucked, you were bad. Isn't that right? He and the Church made you believe you were a bad girl to just want a hard cock inside of you. So you always held back, using this idea of intimacy as a shield – as armor against just feeling pleasure for its own sake. You use the demand for intimacy as an excuse so you can maintain the façade of being a good girl when really you're just an animal like me."

I just stood there, turning my face away from his. I could tell he enjoyed how his physical proximity made me nervous but he did nothing. Finally, he turned and walked into the living room, the moment ending but the thought still hanging there.

Was he right? Did I demand intimacy as a way of pretending I'm a good girl?

Why was it not good for me to just want to fuck a man?

After taking off his jacket and laying it on the back of a dining room chair, he removed his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. He sat on the couch, right in the middle so that I either had to sit beside him or pull up a dining room chair. He leaned back, his arms stretched out on the back of the couch, his feet up on my coffee table.

He caught my eyes. "Am I right?"

"Maybe," I said. "But whose approach is more satisfying in the end?"

Drake shrugged. "I've tried your approach. I was married for five years. You haven't tried mine. Yet. Why don't you give it a chance? Then you'll know."

"I can't imagine that meaningless sex can be rewarding in the long run."

He sighed, as if he was growing impatient with talking. "It's not. But it's good enough for now."

I stood on the other side of the coffee table and stared him down. "I only want to fuck someone who loves me," I said. "Is that so wrong?"

"Someone will love you, Kate. Do you really want to wait until he does? Is masturbating all alone in your room at night, for what – a year? Is that really good enough for you?"

That hurt.

I turned on my heel and went to the kitchen, opening and closing drawers, looking for my tea strainer so I could make some tea for us, but of course, I really just wanted to escape him. He came to me, standing behind me. He probably realized he went too far with that.

"I'm sorry." He reached out and touched my shoulder, softly.

"You’re a bastard."

"No, I'm not. I'm just being honest." He took hold of my shoulders and turned me around to face him but I did my best to avoid his eyes, because mine were wet. The truth of his words hurt me.

"Kate, you deserve to have pleasure when you need it. You're not a bad girl for wanting to feel it. I can give it to you. I want to give you the pleasure you need in the way that most appeals to you, deep down inside if you're brave enough to admit it to yourself."

He bent down and tried to catch my eyes, but I closed them.

"Here," he said and folded me into his arms. I didn't stop him, but neither did I melt into his embrace. I was still too hurt to let him comfort me, my body stiff, unyielding.

"I'm sorry I hurt your feelings by speaking the truth so plainly. If this is going to work between us, you have to let me break down those protective walls you've built up around yourself. Otherwise, you won’t really experience submission the way you need to."

I looked up at him briefly before glancing away. "So you're telling me you have to be mean to me in order for me to be able to submit?"

"No," he said, and tilted my face back to him. "You have to be honest with me about what you need and want. You have to honest with yourself."

I just stood there, breathing deeply, fighting with myself.

"Kate, are you sexually attracted to me?"

"You already know you're very handsome."

"I didn’t ask that. I asked you if you were sexually attracted to me."

I couldn't say it. I felt it, but couldn't admit it.

He tried again, his voice very soft. "Do you want to fuck me? Is there a part of you that just wishes you could right now and to hell with convention?"

Finally, I exhaled. "Yes. But I'm afraid."

"What are you afraid of? That you'll have a great orgasm or three?"

"I'm afraid that you'll hurt me."

He sighed, frowning. "I told you and Lara told you that I'm not into pain. I don’t want to hurt you, Kate. I want to make you feel pleasure."

"Not that kind of hurt." Of course, he knew what I really meant.

"That won't happen. We'll only have sex. None of that relationship stuff. We won't have breakfast together or go to movies or on dates. We'll fuck. I'll tie you up and make you come until you scream. I'll come. Then I'll go home. You'll sleep like a baby. End of story."

"What if I fall in love with you?"

He shook his head, smiling. "I won't let you."

"That's like saying you can control the weather. You can't."

"I can control the weather, too."

I caught his grin and couldn’t help but smile. Reluctantly.

"I know this is all new to you. I know you're afraid." He pulled me against him, his arms around me, his hand caught in my hair, his obvious erection pressed against my belly. He desired me. He wanted me to know. To feel it.

Then, just when I thought he'd push me a bit, he released me and returned to the couch, sitting in the middle once more. He meant what he said. He wouldn’t force me to do anything. It would be my choice, but with him being the way he was – so desirable, so powerful, so… knowing, how could I resist him?

I stood in the kitchen for a moment, still debating with myself. I pushed a few dishes around, pretending to wash a cup, but finally, I gave up pretending to be busy and returned to the living room to stand in front of him once more.

"Just theoretical, but if I was really your sub-in-training, what would you normally do at this point?"

He examined me, briefly catching my eye. "I'd suggest that you come and sit with me and we can talk some more."

I sat on the edge of the couch, not touching him, not looking at him, my hands crossed on my lap.

"Did you go to a Catholic school as a child?"

I glanced up, frowning. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

"You have very good posture. Your hands are folded." He pointed to my clasped hands.

I glanced down at them and then unclasped them, smiling a bit ruefully.

"Yes, they expected us to sit properly. The nuns gave us the cane if we were slovenly in our dress or behavior."

He nodded. "A good Catholic school upbringing.  Making uptight women out of excited little girls full of life and promise. Only the really rebellious ones escaped with their libidos fully intact."

"Yeah, the nuns really did a number on us."

Then he patted his knee. "If you were really my sub-in-training, I'd tell you to come closer. Sit on my lap. So why don't you?"

I frowned. "Am I a child?"

"No," he said. "But I like to sit close together at first. Just touching for a while with all our clothes on. If you decide to stop at any time, you just have to get up. I won't prevent you."

I stood up and moved a bit closer, standing directly in front of him.

"How do I…"

He reached up and took my arms, pulling me down on top of him so that I sat on his lap with my legs to the side, my arms around his neck. It was far too close at first and I trembled a bit to feel his arms slide around me, one arm around my waist, the other resting on my hip. I tried to avoid looking in his eyes as much as possible, and he didn't push, but finally I felt stupid and met his gaze, his blue eyes so gorgeous with those thick dark lashes.

Oh God...

He adjusted me a bit, grasping my hips and moving me a couple of inches. My thigh pressed against his erection, which I could tell was now hard as rock.

"Sorry," he said, grimacing a bit. "You're pressing just a bit too hard on my…" He let his voice trail off. He moved his hips beneath me. "That's better."

He wanted me to know he was aroused. I couldn’t help but respond, closing my eyes as my flesh throbbed, a pleasant ache building in me.

"You smell so good," he said, breathing in. He slid one hand up my thigh and just let it rest on my hip.

"It's my perfume," I said. "It's called Mystique."

"I wasn't referring to your perfume."

"Oh." I tensed. "Maybe I…" I tried to get up, embarrassed that he could smell me but he stopped me.

"I love how you smell. Your female scent and the thought of how wet you are makes me so hard."

He took my hand and pressed it against his erection, sliding my fingers along its length so that I knew how hard and thick he was. I couldn't help but imagine him filling me up.

That flustered me, and I felt caught between wanting to run away from embarrassment and wanting to stay. Other than my own arousal, a pleasant swollenness, a wetness between my thighs, butterflies in my stomach, I was warm in his arms, comfortable nestled against his chest.

"So we just sit here like this?"

"Yes," he said, stretching out again, his arms on the back of the couch. "We can just talk. With my new subs, I always let them choose the time of our first fuck. If they want anything to happen, they have to make the move. If they want me, all they have to do is kiss me. But I warn them. If they do, I take that as a sign they want to fuck me and I take over. I take control and I fuck them. If they change their mind, they have to use a safe word. If they do, it all stops right then, and I go home."

I relaxed just a bit, knowing that I had ultimate control over whether and when we would fuck the first time. It would be my choice.

He caught my eye for a brief moment.

"So be warned. Don't kiss me unless you mean it." He held my gaze, grasping my chin when I tried to look away. "I can sit here like this for as long as you want and talk if that's all you want tonight. Sure, I'm hard as rock, but it will fade eventually if nothing more happens. But if you kiss me, I'll take it to mean you want me to fuck you. I'll take your clothes off and I'll eat you and then I'll fuck you. I'm not a frat boy, Kate. I don't like to play games."

My cheeks heated at that and I stiffened. "I thought you liked playing games. Isn't that what people in the lifestyle call it? Playing?"

"Fuck games, Kate. Not emotional games."

We sat like that for a few moments as his warning sunk in, his arms on the back of the couch, me nestled against him, my arms around his neck. He wasn't touching me. I was touching him. If anything was going to happen, I had to make it happen.

And the thing was, I wanted it to happen.

He had me right where he wanted me. He knew exactly how to manipulate me, knew what to say, how to get me to think and feel the things he wanted me to think and feel.

He was a Master. I could see that now.

Sitting on his lap like that, his body warm beneath mine, his shoulder muscles beneath the expensive white shirt solid under my hands, his aftershave masculine, his slight male musk intoxicating. His very large and very hard erection pressing against me was a reminder of how aroused he was.

He was mine – this gorgeous powerful man – if I wanted him. I had never felt this much lust for someone and I felt almost out of control, my body warm, swollen, my breathing shallow.

Yet, I had ultimate control. I decided if anything happened. But I decided only if he would fuck me or not. Once I kissed him, he'd take over and have his way with me.

He was right. I always felt guilt for wanting sex. I always felt bad when I fantasized about sex with men I'd just met or seen – like it was wrong for me to just feel horny. When I did have a boyfriend, even then, I couldn't really let go. Orgasms were so hard and took so long because I always felt insecure, unsure if my noises and movements and preferences would turn my lover off. Like how I was feeling – my body's arousal – was somehow unsightly and offensive.

He made me feel as if my body and my desire were intoxicating to him. As if he knew what to do when it came time for sex. I wouldn't have to worry.

All I had to do was kiss him and he'd take over. If I didn't kiss him, we'd just talk and then, when it came time to leave, he'd go.

"Why do your subs need a safe word if the first time is just vanilla sex?"

"It's always good to have a safe word. Things get passionate. Heavy. Hard. Fast. If I overwhelm the sub and she can't handle it, I need to know. But Kate," he said and turned my face to his. "Using red as a safe word isn't a request just to slow things down a bit or to adjust things. It's a signal for a full-stop. Once they use it, it's over. So I warn my subs not to use red unless they really are unable to go on."

"What exactly do you mean by heavy? Hard?"

"Kate…" He smiled indulgently, as if I were a child. "Have you never had really passionate sex with a man before? A little desperate? He's pounding into you from behind, grabbing your hips, thrusting hard and fast?"

Oh, God… Those words and the thought of how big he was made me clench.

I swallowed, my throat dry. I looked in his eyes, and I could tell he was a bit amused at my inexperience, but even his cheeks were flushed. I took him in all at once as he leaned back against the couch – his face so symmetrical, his jaw square with a day's growth of whiskers, his eyes so blue and fringed with thick dark lashes. His mouth was soft, his lips parted. His black hair a bit mussed, collar open, shirt undone just enough to see his chest.

He was the most desirable man I'd ever seen.

"Red is a stoplight," he said. "You say red, everything stops."

"How do I know you won't run a red light?"

He closed his eyes and smiled. "Unlike flyboy, I'm not into rape, Kate. Not even mock rape. If I do it, it's because my sub needs it and asked for it." He opened his eyes again and now they were so intense, his brows furrowed. "I can only get off with a woman who wants it. Who wants me."

I stared at him. Everything inside of me, my body, my emotions, my heart, was pushing me towards him. The only thing holding me back was that annoying sense of propriety that my father and the nuns created in me.

Damn them…

"I want you."

He just waited, watching me with those eyes. He was so calm, patient. I didn't know what held me back. Why was it so hard for me to just lean over and kiss him?

Finally, he exhaled as if he'd been holding his breath.

"Then kiss me."

I closed my eyes, feeling utterly frozen in place. "I can't."

"Oh, Kate…"

Then he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me on top of him as he lay down on the couch, his head against the armrest. I couldn't help but straddle his hips, my thighs on either side of his, my hands holding me up, my face poised directly above his. He pushed my hair away from my face, tucking it behind my ear, then he slipped his arms around my waist, pulling my hips against him so that I could feel his erection. It actually made me tremble.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head down, my cheek pressed against his.

"Oh, God." I practically panted in his ear but I just couldn’t force myself to kiss him. If I did, it would be game over. This would really happen and it scared me so much.

"Jesus, Kate, are you that repressed that you can't even kiss me?"

"You said it yourself," I managed to say. "If I kiss you, you're going to fuck me."

"You said you want me, so just do it."

"Why are you making me?" I said, emotion filling me. "You already kissed me three times tonight. Why do I have to be the one now?"

"You have to be the one."

"Why?"

"You have to say yes. I have to know that you want me to fuck you. That this is what you really want. What you really need. I don't want any doubt."

"Then, yes, for Christ's sake, yes," I blurted out, tears of frustration actually springing to my eyes. "I want you to fuck me. I need you to fu—"

Before I could say the words, he pulled me down to him and forced me to kiss him, and I did. I kissed him back and when I did, I felt him relax completely beneath me. With the exception of his erection, his body was yielding instead of hard, his arms no longer tense, no longer pulling me against him. He let me kiss him. I cupped his cheek, my fingers threading through his hair while my mouth moved against his, my tongue searching and finding his.

The kiss went on and on, all the while my body grew more aroused, if that was even possible. I ground my groin on his erection, needing to feel it against me, my heart pounding in my ears, a delicious stab of lust racing through my body at the thought of him entering me, pounding me from behind like he'd described.

Finally, I pulled away, confused at his lack of – well, of anything.

"I thought," I said, gasping as our lips parted. "I thought you were going to take control after I kissed you."

He smiled slowly, his eyes half-hooded. "Who's to say I haven't?"

"I don't understand. You said—"

"Stop talking."

Then he did take control, rising up, forcing me to sit up as well. Instead of me lying on top of him, he pushed me down on the couch and now he lay on top of me, his body heavy on mine. He didn't kiss me. He watched me as he pressed against me. Resting on one elbow so that his body was poised above me, his eyes never left mine. He trailed his fingers over my cheek, over my bottom lip, then down the side of my neck to my throat. His fingers traced the upper curve of my breasts, making me shiver, then he squeezed one breast through the silky fabric of my dress, his finger and thumb unerringly finding my nipple and tweaking it, making me gasp, my back arching.

He smiled and spread my thighs open with a rough knee, hiking up my dress around my hips, his hand grabbing my mound, his finger searching for my clit through my pantyhose and panties. Then he pulled his hand away and ground his erection against me until I groaned, my eyes closing.

"Keep your eyes open."

I opened my eyes to find myself staring into his determined ones.

Then, he rose up between my thighs and reached for my pantyhose, grasping the waistband and removing them, pulling them down and off me.

"From now on, you're only wearing garters and nylons when you're with me. No underwear."

When he reached for my panties and pulled at them, I took in a deep breath, my heart racing, knowing this was it. He pulled them off me and I was bare from the waist down. Instinctively, I drew my knees together, but he deliberately spread them again with his hands until my thighs were wide open, exposing myself to him, the air cool on my heated flesh.

"Oh, you’re so nice and wet."

At that, I tried to cover myself up, embarrassed that I was so wet. I wanted to run to the bathroom and wash myself.

"I should take a bath…"

He made a face. "What? No. Kate, you're supposed to be wet. Your scent makes me rock hard. I can't wait to taste you."

Then he stood and pulled me up as well so that we were standing by the couch. I felt dizzy, my head spinning just a bit at the abrupt transition. He turned me around and undid my zipper, pulling the shoulders of my dress down from behind. He pushed my hair out of the way, his mouth on my neck. He bit my shoulder but not hard enough to hurt. My dress slipped off and down my arms so that I was standing in my bra and nothing else. While still behind me, he ran his hands over my hips and around to my belly, then up until he cupped each breast briefly, squeezing them through the lacy black fabric. I leaned back against him, my eyes closing as he touched me so gently, his erection still pressed against me from behind. His fingers pulled the lacy cups of my bra down so that my breasts jutted out over top of the fabric, my nipples puckering in the cool air. The palms of his hands grazed my nipples and I couldn't help but gasp.

He embraced me from behind, one hand below my breast, the other sliding down my skin over my belly and then lower to my mound, barely touching me, then down to my thighs.

"Spread your legs," he said, his tone authoritative, but his voice still warm.

I complied and his hand moved back to my labia very lightly without touching my inner lips or clit. All the while, he licked my neck, sucked the skin on my shoulder, biting me softly.

Then he pulled me around to face him and removed my bra, unclasping the hook in front so that my breasts spilled out. He threw the bra on the floor, and just stared at me, his gaze moving over my body from my face to my thighs and then back.

I couldn't help but move to cover up, but he stopped me, his hands holding my arms.

"Don't cover yourself," he said, his voice firm. "You look so delicious, I want to lick you. I want to run my tongue over every inch of you."

He did nothing, just stood there staring at my naked body, letting that sink in and the thought of his mouth on me, of him licking me, sent a stab of lust through me.

He'd barely touched me, but I was more aroused than I had ever been before.

"Undress me."

I swallowed and stepped closer, reaching for his shirt. His eyes never left my face as I pulled his shirt out of his pants and then unbuttoned it. I took each hand and unbuttoned the cuffs, then pulled the shirt off him, leaving him bare-chested. His abs were well-developed, a washboard six pack, his pecs large but not overly, a trail of dark hair leading from his navel to beneath his trouser waistband. His erection pressed against the fabric of his trousers, and when I started to unbuckle his belt, my fingers grazed it and he made this sound in the back of his throat. I unzipped him, his pants dropping and he stepped out of them. He wore boxer briefs in black, and I almost gasped when I saw how large he really was.

I hesitated when it came to removing his briefs, but took in a breath and pulled them down so that his erection sprung out, heavy and thick and long, the head smooth and wet with fluid that had leaked out, leaving a spot on his briefs. He stepped out of them and now all that remained were his socks. I rolled each one off his foot, my face next to his cock, unable to avoid looking at it.

He was so beautiful, his skin pale. His cock was beautiful, long and thick and pink, a prominent vein running up the shaft.

"See how ready I am for you?"

I glanced up into his eyes, which were dark, no trace of humor in them now. I quickly stood and waited for his next command.

"Touch me. Feel how hard I am because of you."

I did, grasping him, stroking up his length to the head. He was hard and my body responded to the feel of him in my hand. I imagined how he'd feel inside of me, filling me up, the pressure intense.

He was almost as big as Big.

"Kneel down and lick me. Taste me," he said. I did, kneeling as he instructed, and with one hand, I grasped him and directed the head to my lips, licking the head all around, his fluid salty.

"Suck me."

I took the head into my mouth with soft lips, my tongue rolling around the head, stroking the underside and he gasped. At the sound of his pleasure, my body responded, a thrill racing through me.

I felt his cock jump in my mouth and I sucked the head in further, moving my wet lips over him slowly. He let me do this for a few moments, then reached down and guided my head, increasing the speed, pushing inside my mouth a little deeper. His breathing became more intense and he thrust his hips just a bit each time, pushing deeper into my mouth but not so deep that I gagged.

I glanced up at him with his cock in my mouth.

"That's so good, Kate."

Then he pulled me off him and kissed me, dragging me with him back towards my bedroom.

"Do you have any condoms?"

I shook my head. "No," I said, embarrassed. "I haven't had sex for a long time. I wasn’t planning… "

"That's all right," he said, stopping by the coat tree, reaching into a pocket inside his lapel. "I honestly didn't really think we'd end up here, but I brought a couple just in case lady luck smiled down on me." He pulled out a couple of condoms in foil packs and smiled. "I prefer bareback and we will once we're both tested and clear. Are you on the birth control pill?"

"Yes," I said. " I'm on the pill and I was tested a few months ago. There's been no one for a year."

He ran his hand through his hair. "Look, Kate, I get tested regularly and I make sure all my partners are tested. I'm clean." He shook his head. "But until we both get the all clear? We have to use these."

I nodded. "You’re the doctor."

"Doctors still get HIV."

"I trust you."

He took my hand and led me to the bed. Sitting on the edge, he directed me between his spread thighs, burying his face between my breasts. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against him, then his mouth claimed first one then the other nipple, his tongue wet and warm against them, the tugging as he sucked sending a delicious thrill through my body, making me gasp. He squeezed my breasts while he sucked, working me up even more, my body feeling so swollen and aching.

He turned me around, pushing me onto the bed so that I lay back, closing my eyes, letting him have his way with me. He lifted my thighs so that they were spread wide, then he opened one of the packs and held the condom out to me.

"Put it on."

I sat up and held the condom, unsure how to do it. "I've never…"

"You've never put a condom on a man?"

"They always did it."

"Hold the top between your finger and thumb and then place it over the head. Unroll it over the head and down as far as it will go."

I followed his instructions, amazed at how big he was, my breath shallow from arousal. Then he pushed me back against the bed again and kissed me as he slid his cock against me, rubbing the head against my clit while he held my hands firmly in one of his above my head. My heart was beating so fast, my face hot, my thighs trembling.

"You're so nice and wet, Kate," he said, sliding the head of his cock up and down against my clit and it felt so good I groaned out loud, unable to stop myself. "Oh, you like that do you?"

He kept rubbing me like that, the pleasure building inside of me. Then he pressed the head against the entrance to my body, sliding it just an inch inside me, then back up and around my clit, repeating that over and over again, entering a bit deeper each time.

"It's been a while, hasn't it, since you had a cock inside of you."

I didn't say anything. I wasn't going to mention Big, although I'd never managed to get Big more than a couple inches inside. With that, he shoved himself a little deeper into me, the pressure intense. He was bigger than anyone I'd been with before.

"You're so nice and big." I gasped, the pleasure building as he entered me just a couple of inches and then withdrew, teasing my clit with the head before plunging back inside me again.

"You're so nice and tight." He closed his eyes and thrust deeper.  He remained inside me this time, his thumb against my clit, stroking all around it while he just kept still. I couldn’t help it. I wanted to feel him move inside of me, a little deeper, and I thrust my hips up, trying to increase the sensations.

"Feels good, doesn’t it? So sweet…"

He thrust a bit, still only a couple of inches inside of me, his thumb rubbing my clit. Straight fucking with other men had never felt that good before and I'd always only come through oral sex. Now, with all the workup, with everything that happened since the concert hall, all the nerve ending inside of me seemed to be on fire, and every time he thrust, I felt closer and closer to going over the edge.

"I feel," I said, my eyes closing as the sweetness built, " that feels so…"

I watched him from under my eyelashes and his eyes were closed as he thrust slowly inside of me, still so much of him outside of my body he was so big. This was just teasing me with his cock. He wasn't really thrusting deep or fast. Just slow, pulling out every couple of thrusts, stroking over my labia to my clit and then back inside. But it was enough and my body started to tense as my orgasm started.

"Ohhh." Waves of pleasure spread out from my center, up into my belly and down my thighs. "Oh, God…" I gritted my teeth, my eyes closing from the intensity.

"Don't come yet," he said, stopping his movements. "This is too fast. Breathe, Kate. Wait and it will be even better."

I couldn’t speak, caught in the waves of pleasure, gasping when his movement stopped, depriving me of the stimulation just when my orgasm started.

"Oh, baby, you're already gone," he said, and began thrusting harder, faster, entering me deeply, pushing me back over the edge once more.