“What do you want?” I lean back and look into his dark brown eyes. Samson’s hold wavers and I know he’d love to skirt the question. But if I have to endure the ordeal of sharing, so does he. Leaning my forehead against his, I echo his words. “Let me in on your secrets.”
“Here and now?”
I kiss him again. There are worse things I can think of than trying on a few of his secrets. Especially since all of mine require a certain amount of preparation. “Whenever you’re ready.”
I stretch out along him, taking my eyes off his face to soften the tension. The way he almost squirms against my skin is delicious. I consider letting him get off easy in exchange for even the most vanilla version of sex if he takes me right now.
But Samson pushes away gently. I roll onto my back as he props himself up on one arm. I hold on to the hunger in his eyes. His cock swells enough so it touches my thigh while Samson runs a finger over my face, following invisible glyphs written on my skin.
“Would you be helpless for me?” His eyes deepen with desire.
“How?” I breathe.
Samson takes my hands and stretches them to the headpiece of the bed. There he curls my fingers around the thin metal bars. His eyes never leave mine and his hands trail back down my arms. He makes a short stop to gently close my eyes.
The anticipatory dark is loaded with tension that breaks free in a gasp when his lips claim mine once more. I arch upwards despite the strain in my shoulders. Samson presses me down on the pillow his hands firm around my shoulders.
“Yes,” I whisper when he breaks us apart and stare up, unable to keep my eyes closed. “I will.”
Fire lights up the dark of his eyes as he moves to kneel over me so his full weight rests on my shoulders and hips. “You will,” Samson orders softly, “not let go.”
I shake my head and tighten my grip. When he closes my eyes with his thumb again I shake my head free. “No,” I grind out, “I want to see.”
He leans back a little, an insolent grin on his lips. “You like what you see?”
I rake my eyes over Samson’s body — wiry muscles wrapped tight around his slim form, sharp cheekbones throwing shadows over his face, his eyes ablaze. “Yes, yes I like.” The tension spanning his body coils at his centre and my mouth runs dry.
I try to lean up high enough to kiss him but Samson shakes his head and presses a gentle finger over my lips. “Safeword first.”
I quiver and nod, uncertain if I’m more excited by the possibility we’d go straight there or that regardless of how easy he takes me, he needs me to be safe. My eyes dart over his face as I search for something. “Jack-knife,” I finally say.
He smiles, his finger still over my lips. “A simple ‘no’ or ‘stop’ would have done.”
I shake my head wildly. “No way. I want to be able to complain and beg the whole way.”
“The whole way,” he echoes my words, and his body tenses at the prospect. He leans down, his hands reaching for mine and wrapping around my wrists. “For today, you just hold on.”
My reply is swallowed by his mouth and I have no complaint.
Having my hands bound changes everything. Even the illusion of it rattles me to the bone. Yes, I can let go of the thin metal bars any moment. But I fear to find out that Samson will just — top if I do. His lips press sweet promises into mine and I gobble them up greedily.
My attempts to keep his mouth on mine eventually fail. Samson runs his palm along my sides and up my arms as his lips explore my throat and neck. When his right comes to rest on my hip, Samson catches my chin between the fingers of his right and turns my head to the side. His mouth trails a hot path along my aorta, punctuated with teeth it slips to my collarbone and follows its line before dropping off its end.
Samson’s fingers dig into my side when I arch up with my nipple caught between his teeth. His tongue scrapes a careful rhythm over its top. And he is taking his time. His other hand still holds on to my chin though my other breast is burning in negligence. I struggle against his hips.
In response, Samson moves down a little, barely enough to move his hand from my hip to my belly, just above my mons. I whine in frustration and am silenced with a thumb. Sucking on it distracts me for a little while. My tongue is direct with the hints it is giving, a silent demand that expires unmet. Samson moves his right over my throat, covering it with his thumb and middle finger resting over the aortas. I swallow against the gentle pressure.
He comes up to look at me with glazed eyes. After taking a deep breath he lowers again and my anticipation breaks to pieces when his mouth presses down between my breasts and trails a wet path over my torso. My fingers tighten around their metal centres. The urge to move, to push, to make him act is hard on my endurance while Samson leads a fiery trail over my ribcage.
His tongue caresses the underside of my breast when he moves up again, then closes his mouth over the nipple. “You can always just ask,” he grins before doubling down and making words impossible.
I relax my arms and bob along on the waves of desire running down my skin and pooling between my legs. For a while the roiling want drowns out everything but the next nip, the pretend dip of his thumb between my legs. The balance is broken when his mouth sets my breast free and moves down. Samson’s hands converge upwards to continue the work of his lips with rasping thumbs.
By the time his lips reach my navel, I am ready to throw him into orbit with my hips. But Samson is onto me. He lets go of my breasts and take hold of my hips to keep them in check while the tip of his tongue worms its way down. It slips over my clit and I whine in need of more.
The corners of his mouth move up over my sensitive skin in a smug grin. I am about to complain when his tongue runs down the length of me, threatens to slip in before retuning to my centre. Samson moves slow and light. It’s driving me nuts and I yearn to take hold of his head and press that trolling tongue down hard.
As if he can read my thoughts, Samson rears up. His eyes wander over my skin and linger on my face for a moment before rising to my fingers curled desperately around the metal bars of my headpiece. The smug grin softens into a soft smile and his fingers caress my hips as he holds on to them.
“You are doing very well.” His words drop between my legs heavy with his breath. “So I shall, too.”
Samson dips back down and for a fervent moment I wish he hadn’t. The surge of desire crashing up my body from where his mouth closes over me arches my back until the strain in my shoulders competes with it.
Samson pushes me up a little. His tongue grinds hard on me. With every millimetre I move up it brings relief to my arms that is negligible compared to the lust coursing through my veins, urging for release between my legs.
One of his hands trails upwards to cup my breast. Samson runs his thumb over the nipple in sync with his to tongue ravaging my clit. He slips his left index finger down inside my labia, but the hot trail of promise ends just short of my slick opening. I want to press down over it, but he is out of reach.
“Please!” I gasp when Samson almost slips a finger into me while his tongue and other hand strike in unison.
It was the wrong reaction. Samson leaves of. He props himself up, dark smile magnetic expectation under negative space eyes. “Please what?”
I whine because I am exposed and burning. His eyes hold mine and I can’t ask. A knowing smile plays over his lips.
“Things are easier when you ask for them.” His fingers play with my nipple. “But we can do this the hard way.”
“Please!” My mouth claps shut after the word. I just cannot ask.
Samson smiles. He comes up, body dragging tantalising over mine and bends down to suck at my nipple again. His lips are soft against my sensitive skin. The urgent need abates under his gentle touch. Of course, he plays me. His tongue curls around the hard tip with a firm grasp and the finger between my legs moves to cover my clit in a rough substitute.
I want to beg again, but when it comes out more like ‘kiss’ I lean into that. So does Samson. His weight covers me, hot skin pressed against mine, the length of his cock heavy between us. He stretches out and while his lips find mine, his fingers caress my wrists.
I press my body up against him with all I have. It’s not much but that doesn’t matter deter me. I have his lip caught between my teeth and slip my tongue past the guard of his demonstrating incursions for further down.
Samson runs his hands down my arms to cup my face for a moment before pulls back to look down at me. “You cannot ask?” His breath burns my skin as I shake my head. “No matter.”
His hands move on, slipping between us to find my breasts. When Samson rises a little for better access, his hard-on presses deeply into my thigh. I gasp into our kiss and close my eyes to drown in the feeling. Samson stills and his breath falls heavy over my face. Before I can move, he leans down, placing a kiss on each of my closed eyes.
Then he goes down. I have barely exhaled when his lips press down over my clit once more. I suck the air back in sharply. But there is nothing coy about his tongue this time. It moves against me with singular purpose. Any relief the short interlude had held evaporates into hot air seeping from my lips in a high sigh.
I tilt my hips up, an invitation Samson takes seriously. With his fingers firmly embedded in my hips, he tips me over the edge. I rub into his mouth, riding the waves of satisfaction over his tongue that finally slips into me for quick temptations.
I didn’t know it is possible to draw out a climax like this but Samson does and he is pushing it for every split second. Finally, his tongue softens. One hand lets go of its iron grip to rest on my belly that heaves like tidal waves. When Samson sits up, I am lying exhausted with my eyes still closed, shuddering half in aftershocks, half in memory.
He drinks me in when I open my eyes. “That was alright?” His gaze wanders to my hands that still grip the headpiece as if my life depended on it.
“Yes. Very much so and,” I let my eyes wander down his chest to the erection in his crotch, “not over yet.”
Samson smiles. He runs his hands over my skin as far as he can reach. It’s a luxurious trickle talking of things to come. He slips one hand between my legs. “I heard you want to beg?”
I raise my hips against the gentle cover, caught between the last echoes of my orgasm and his teasing fingers, steering me towards another. “Kiss me.”
He leans a little closer. “Say what?”
“Samson!”
“I like that.” He bows his head down to my ear. “Say it again.”
His lips on my ear and finger between my legs are unbearable. “Please,” I beg, “kiss me Samson.”
For a moment he sits up, contemplating my face and writhing body. Then he comes over me with a greedy smile and buries my thoughts under the weight of his kiss.
The hum of my body increases, echoes of the orgasm mingling with renewed desire. I want to run my palms over Samson’s skin so bad. I want to hold him close, I want to dig my fingers into his warm body and feel the wiry muscles play under my hands.
A small part of me also wants to return the favour, unleash unbridled desire over him and watch him collapse under my ministrations. But I easily forget about it, drowning in lust kindled by his knowing smile.
His palms carve burning paths up the inside of my arms and when his fingers curl around mine, my heart pounds out of my chest. I suck the last lingering taste of myself from his lips. My hips grind against his, desperate to feel his hard-on close, half trying to move it closer to my open centre.
But Samson is on top of that as he is on me. He allows me just enough motion to feel the heat drip off him and his smile bites into our kiss.
“Is this what you want?” His smile trails down my throat and as he descends and his cock moves out of reach. But I can’t complain because his lips close around my nipple and I could never ever not want that. I whine as each nip rushes down to my clit and drags it along on the skippy rhythm.
He calls his left hand down for support. I writhe as double signals fire away, rising my hips wide against his stomach. His laughter perls down my wet skin. It pools between my breasts, stopped by his lips and follows as he slowly meanders downwards.
He allows me to buffet him around with my writhing hips knowing that I am only prolonging his trek as he backtracks, picks up the wet rail and circles back over missed spots. Everything about me forgot I just had an orgasm and clamours for more.
Samson delivers, but it is not enough. Skin on skin is barely cutting it, lips on sweat is closer, but not even his tongue drawing glyphs into me is enough. I clench my legs around his shoulders which earns me hands wandering down the soft insides of my thighs. But Samson only clasps my knees to pry me open again.
He sits up and his hands converge just above my mons. Then he looks at me as if I were a masterwork instead of a sweaty pile of quivering want. His smile is steel as his thumbs circle deftly, but uselessly for my desire. “So greedy.”
“I want you inside me,” I breathe. Any shame I felt about admitting such things is gone.
Samson slips his knees under my thighs. His left rests on my stomach, a comforting gesture undermined by the two fingers entering me.
I lean back with a groan because yes, good but also not enough, not what I meant. My eyes fall close when Samson moves back and forth. He knows exactly when to curl his fingers to drag them over my sensitive spots.
“Like this?” His voice is strained.
“Samson!” I can’t form a coherent thought and the hand on my stomach wanders up my body to tease at my nipples. “Please.”
“Please what?” He takes his time asking, fingers working me to extinction. When he pulls out and leans over me with burning eyes, I can feel his cock press against the inside of my thigh. “You haven’t said ‘no’ a single time so far,” he teases.
I stare into his gleaming eyes. His thumb wanders down my throat and settles over my nipple in slow motions. “Samson,” I rasp.
“I like the way you croak my name.” His lips trail along my throat. “Anything to add?”
His hip moves between my legs until the tips of his cock rests against my swollen entrance slick with former release.
“No.” I press against him until his cock slips into me. “Oh gods, no.”
“Feel free to change your mind any time.” Samson pulls back, balancing an empty second over me before thrusting back in.
I moan at the fulfilment, greedy to finally feel him along my insides. Samson doesn’t hold back. His deep thrusts bring my arching hips back down onto the mattress hard.
“Please.”
“Please what?” His breath scalds my face but his movements pause. When I have no reply, Samson sucks another kiss from my soul. He takes up his thrusting only after my mouth is free again.
I breathe into his chest as he works me towards another fraying dissolution. “Please.”
“Please what?” His lips graze my ear in a gentle counterpoint to the determined grind of his hips.
“Don’t,” I force trough desire-laden lips, “stop.”
“Not what we discussed,” his words trickle down the side of my face. “But I like it.”
I strain to use the feeble hold on the metal to work into his pace. My body is ready to explode, to burn and take the world down to cinders.
But Samson has other plans. He slows down and takes his time to reach my depths.
“No!” It slips out unguarded to immediate effect.
Samson’s lips curve into a smile at my cheek. “No?” He slows down further, each thrust an agonising eternity.
“No,” I repeat and try to raise my hips at him faster.
Samson props himself up to cup both of my breasts with his hands. “No?” He asks again.
“Please, no.” I only want him to speed up again and grate me into the place of satisfied bliss. And if ‘no’ is what makes it happen… I arch into him. “Please, Samson, don’t. Stop!”
Like a switch turned, his fingers tighten almost painfully as he leans into a desperate kiss. His hips move into mine fast and I welcome them as high as I can only to be quickly brought down onto the mattress.
I whine into his mouth, beyond words but ready to find another ‘no’ which turns out to be unnecessary. I break free of his lips to sing my release into the world. Half a breath later Samson joins me, disregarding that I bury my hands in his hair, claw at his back to get him close while he angles into me steeply.
When he finally yields, I gather him to me and curl my exhausted limbs around his. Samson slips his arm under me, pressing his exhales into the nape of my neck.
Our bodies seep into one another in the falling stillness, sweaty skin clinging to its counterpart. With each breath our chests encroach, falling back as we exhale. Our muscles hum their exhaustion in unison, the gentle vibration the only movement running through us.
For a soft eternity we simply exist within each other. Echoes of the intercourse rise and sink in my mind.
“What will the restrains be for?” I ask into the quiet because I think things worked out excellently well the way they were.
Samson runs his palms gently over my shoulders and arms that still hum with exertion. “They will teach you to relax.” He raises my right to his lips and presses a kiss into it. “And I will teach you to beg.”
The promise runs through my whole body in a shiver. For a hot moment I wish I still had another round in me. But all I want to do is relish in the warmth of his body and breath. Rake my hands through the thin layer of sweat on his skin. Muss up his hair.
His chuckle reverberates inside my bone. “I know.” He kisses my temple. “I know.”