Forceful.
Powerful.
Dominant.
Strong.
Controlling.
Possessive.
In your hands I feel so safe.
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She never left the bedroom that Sunday. From the minute she woke up, he was on her, his hands, exploring every inch of her. His lips caressing her. His tongue dancing across her naked body. That day she felt it all. She felt his strength and his power. His roughness. His body against her. His power. But she also felt his tenderness. His desire for her. His complete rapture for all of her.
He kept her naked all day, making sure that he had her every which way before he was done. Enjoying her. All the wonderful corners and secrets of her body that only he knew. He made sure that by the time he finished, she was completely spent, satisfied and exhausted. As she curled up in bed against him that night, her body aching with delight, she looked at him, her eyes wide with lust. “Can we do that again next Sunday?” He smiled back at her, a seductive, sly smile. He nodded his head ever so slowly, not saying a word.
I’ve waited.
It seems like an eternity.
This moment.
The here and now.
Your resistance futile.
Your mind entranced.
Your body succumbing.
All of you.
Belonging to me.
His tongue explored her slowly, delicately, seeking out her clit. It slithered over her eager sex, in search of that one area, the one spot where his tongue could make her react like nothing else.
He could hear her breathing getting heavier, louder, more pronounced, in part from the pleasure of his tongue, in part from the knowledge that his tongue would not be denied, that it would continue on, not ceasing till it completed its mission.
Suddenly, she gasped, the noise of pleasure escaping her lips, her back arching suddenly and desperately. His tongue, hovered where it was, having reached its destination, finding its prey and cornering it, lathering it with attention and pressure, overwhelming the muscles of her aching cunt.
Her fingers gripped the sheets hard, her hips beginning to grind as his tongue stayed in place, his cock stiffening as he listened to her, her moans filling his ears with pleasure. His fingers began to push inside her, one finger at first, followed quickly by another, pushing and pulling inside her, each one curling up as they elicited loud, desperate gasps, her body releasing, unable to hold off the inevitable, the orgasm crashing over her, waves of pleasure shaking her body, filling her brain with ecstasy, a warmth fading over all of her.
His tongue, slowly receding, letting her body relax, the tension leaving her fingers as she released her grip on the sheets, the warm sheen of perspiration coating her. His tongue gently kissing her dripping sex, slowly tasting her, wanting more, craving more, seeking more, the process beginning all over again.
Wait for the man who has a clear understanding of who he is and what he is looking for in a partner.
It’s not his responsibility to break down your walls. It’s not his responsibility to prove he’s not like the men before him. It’s not his responsibility to understand and unwind you. It’s not his responsibility to love you just as you are and take on your shit. It’s not his responsibly to fix you. It’s not his responsibility to mend your broken heart and put your broken pieces back together again. You need to take care of your wounding yourself.
.
His job is to prove he’s trustworthy, safe, stable. His job is to show you how he reacts to stress and pressure. It’s his job to prove he can ‘handle’ a woman like you without yelling, fighting or running away. It’s his job to hold space for you so you can allow your emotions to move through you. Its his job to hold you, allow you to lean on him, gather strength from his power. It’s his job to be centred, focused, and confident. It’s his job to be purposeful, stand up in front of the world and claim what he’s here to do.❣️
Mischief's Muse 