A Game Of Temptation

Now that my heels were gone, the height difference between us became even more pronounced.

He gripped my shoulders and turned me around until we were facing a huge mirror on the wall. One that I hadn’t known was there before, until now. Staring into the mirror, I took in our differences.

Jesus. He was so tall and big, and I was so small and short in comparison. He was standing behind me, his hands on my shoulders as he, too, stared at us in the mirror.

“Look at yourself.” He commanded, his voice caressing my hair and senses.

And I did. Which, again, took me by surprise, because I didn’t react well to being ordered.

The image we produced in the mirror was nothing short of erotic and it didn’t do anything to help the wetness that had pooled between my legs. If anything, it made it worse.

Some of the pins holding my hair had given out, but a few still held strong. It gave my hair a somewhat disheveled and arranged look that was sexy. My nipples pointed skyward, demanding attention, and the black garters were stark against my tan skin.

Seduction.

It was the only word that came to mind. I might as well have been the goddess of Seduction.

His eyes blazed when I looked up at him. “Do you see what you do to me?”

“You don’t know what you do to me either.” I told him.

“Could it possibly be anything near what the sight of your body does to me?” He murmured, and it didn’t seem like he was asking me, more like he was talking to himself.

This was starting to feel less like a hook-up and a lot like something more intimate. But before I could dwell on that, his hands slid down my shoulders, circling my boobs idly before taking firm grip of my nipples. I shuddered, arching my back and pushing my boobs into his hands more. He tugged on them, drew circles on them, twisted them and rolled them between his thumbs, until I thought I was going to lose my mind.

“In all my life,” he lowered his head, his voice drifting into my ears like smoke, “I have never ever seen nipples like yours.”

If I could, I would roll my eyes. But right now, I couldn’t because my eyes were fighting to stay open and watch us in the mirror. So instead, I settled for a sarcastic, “What? Are they smaller than the ones you usually see?”

He chuckled, “No, smart-ass. The colour.”

My eyes popped open as I tried to make sense of what he was saying. Lowering my head, I looked down at my nipples suffering between his fingers, at the dark buds, peeking up at me.

“They’re brown.” He clarified.

Oh.

Oh.

Yeah, that was true. I didn’t have the regular pink nipples every other girl seemed to have. Mine were a dark brown that I had always found sexy and unique. I never questioned it. Down in my ancestry, one of my great grand mothers had been mixed. I probably got it from her.

“And so fucking sexy.” He grunted, tugging on them.

I moaned. I was leaning back on him, fully resting on him at this point and I wasn’t even ashamed that my legs couldn’t hold me up anymore. I might hate the fact that I was losing my grip on control, but I couldn’t deny that I didn’t like what he was doing to my body. How he made me feel. It was divine.

He turned me around and picked me up, and I happily wrapped my legs around his waist. He deposited me on the foot of the bed, and I quickly spread my legs, providing space for him to settle. He lowered himself to a squat before me, his muscles flexing, and the tattoos on his body rippling gloriously as he did.

My mouth watered.

“How do I get you out of these?” He asked, fingering my garters again. Instead of answering, I lifted my ass off the bed, unclipped the garters, then dragged them off, before sitting back down. His eyes didn’t leave me the whole time, watching every movement intently.

I could almost drown in them.

Okay, Atticus, time to tone down the poetic talk. I had to remind myself that I was here to have sex with him, not marry the man. Although it was all his fault that I was having time to think like this. His foreplay game was strong as hell. If only we had gotten to the sex part, then I wouldn’t find the time to think about how great-or not he was.

Impatience fuelled me as I grabbed his face and pulled it to mine for a kiss. That was a wrong move and I quickly regretted it.

His kisses were like a drug, it was impossible to stop and one could easily become an addict. So, to urge him, I slid my hands downward, searching for the fastening of his pants. I undid them, pausing to run my palm along the outline of his cock through his pants, before running his zipper down and freeing it.

He groaned when his cock fell heavily into my hand, his head falling back as his eyes slid shut. It was so fucking hot. I bit my lip as I stroked the long, hard length. I leaned my upper body backwards so that I could have a better view of what I was doing to him, and my eyes almost popped out of my head.

I knew that he was big-it would be impossible not to, considering how long it took my hand to glide up and down his length, and how my fingers couldn’t wrap around it. There was about half an inch of space between my fingers.

I didnt realise I had been staring for a long time until he said, “You’re looking at it.”

I still couldn’t pull my eyes away. I was completely, and utterly fascinated. Already, he was the biggest that I had ever been with, and I had been with quite a lot. I doubted he would easily be topped.

“I’m sorry, you’re just so… big.” I squeezed his dick on the final word and he groaned again, thrusting subtly into my hand. He was long and hard and thick and the veins that ran along his length called to me. I wanted to run my tongue along them.