. I did not give you permission to look at my eyes, now did I?” “No, sir.” “Look at you, being bad.” “Yes, sir.” I take my jacket off first, and then my shoes. I put on my winter slippers and then I tend to Samantha. I slowly unzip her jacket. I am revelling in the slowness, the gentleness, the sound of the zipper as it slides over the teeth. I can hear her breathing, too. It is slightly deeper and slightly quicker than normal. My hands grab the lapels of her jacket, and I open it to reveal her sweatshirt. I draw the jacket back, around her shoulders, and down over her hands. As my hands pass her hands, I grip her wrists through the jacket and hold them firmly. I am still standing in front of her, nearly touching her. I am holding her hands behind her back. I am looking directly into her eyes, and she is looking at my neck. “You're mine. All mine. And you will do as I say.” “Yes, sir.” I lean my head just a bit, and plant a warm, slow kiss on her forehead. “That's my girl. That's my. That was what got her in her current predicament. And allowed them to get closer... Yet there she was, transferred away, quickly silenced for her disorderly sense of justice, her tendencies to search too far and wide for truths better-kept secret.Finally, they reached the strip, and he released her from his grip, only for a moment, to come face to face with her. His eyes delved deep into hers, as nightlife sleepily slowed around them, and the grizzly amber tint of the light post above them painted them as other-worldly creatures. She knew what he was about to ask, and what they both wanted.She asked, ''Do you want to grab a drink at home?''Her tone seemed vaguely innocent, inauspicious but he knew. His voice thundered, assured and definitive, ''Yes.''------------------------------------Moments later, and he was roaring like a mating lion, his coarse, deep moans echoing at the nape of her neck, vibrating through her eardrums, as he thrust himself deep within her. His rugged palms were.
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