to heave as his breathing
becomes heavy. He pushes me down and I land with a little bounce on
the edge of the white couch. He slips his shoes off and I vaguely
hear music playing in the background; a trippy remix of Muse’s Madness. The melody sounds like something straight out of a
Quentin Tarentino movie. I think it’s louder than I perceive, but
I’m not sure, this whole situation is clouding my head.
Ryan starts to move, snaking his body to the
rhythm. Slowly, he slides his shirt down his arms and drops it onto
the floor, exposing his well-defined chest; it’s hard and toned and
looks slick, like he rubbed baby oil all over it. Then he starts
with his pants, undoing the button of his jeans with one deft,
smooth flick. After that, he leisurely slides his fly down, teasing
me with glances of his shiny blue briefs. His body is so agile and
provisioned, like each move is tuned to exhilarate my senses. And
exhilarate them it does. Because now he’s standing in front of me,
one article short of naked. He’s beautiful and seductive and
bewitching; and he knows it.
My heart is racing because all I want to do
is tell him what I want. What I really want. And that’s him, inside
me.
My head is racing because everything I know
is telling me this is taboo. Something frowned upon in my social
circle. In my father ’ s social circle. My rationale
and my desire are slicing me right in two.
Ryan forces my knees apart and then crawls on
top of me as my head and body go to war. He urges me onto my
elbows, all my nerve endings throbbing as his body overtakes mine.
I grab onto his neck with one hand as he grinds and rolls, every
inch of him surging against every inch of me. And it’s So. Fucking.
Hot. I can barely stand it. Then I look up into his eyes and I’m
shocked at what I find; emptiness, nothingness, just a vacant
stare.
He really has given me what I want; he’s
shown me Jack the Stripper.
My heart constricts, because this isn’t the
Ryan I know and definitely not the one that I want.
I hear Emily’s voice inside my head: Don ’ t be scared. Show Ryan who ’ s boss, then let
him break you down. Let him know you can be strong and confident,
and still be vulnerable in his arms.
Well, I guess now is as good a time as any to
take her advice.
I push Ryan off me and onto his back. “Alana,
what the-”
“Shhhh,” I put my finger over his lips to
silence him; his eyes are huge as he looks up at me. I wonder if I
can kiss him? I want to, but I don’t.
Then I stream my fingertip down his jaw, over
his chest, teasing his skin, stroking and caressing until I reach
the line of his shiny blue briefs. He throws his head back and lets
out a little moan. Then I start to move, channeling my inner
Brittney Spears.
No, I can’t believe I’m doing this, but this
is the effect Ryan has on me. He pushes my limits, he always has.
That’s why I love him. Why I’ve always loved him. He makes me feel
alive.
I mimic his moves, rolling my body over his
to the rhythm of the music; bumping and grinding, amplifying the
friction that’s already crackling around us. Then I sit up and
straddle him, shake my hair out and smile temptingly. Ryan runs his
hands up my thighs with his fingers splayed as I circle my waist in
a seductive dance. I stop him with an impish finger wag before he
gets too far. He bites his lip and groans as I place his hands over
his head. He strenuously watches my every move with parted lips,
ragged breath and a spellbound expression.
I start to untie the string of my wrap dress,
a little, white sexy number I thought Ryan could have some fun
with.
Little did I know how much fun we were
going to have.
Slowly, still keeping with the seductive drum
of the music, I unwrap one side of the dress, then the other,
revealing a blush pink mesh bra with a diamond studded front clasp,
and panties that match. Both completely see through.
“Fuck, Alana,” Ryan growls, grabbing my hips
and bringing my body down to his,
becomes heavy. He pushes me down and I land with a little bounce on
the edge of the white couch. He slips his shoes off and I vaguely
hear music playing in the background; a trippy remix of Muse’s Madness. The melody sounds like something straight out of a
Quentin Tarentino movie. I think it’s louder than I perceive, but
I’m not sure, this whole situation is clouding my head.
Ryan starts to move, snaking his body to the
rhythm. Slowly, he slides his shirt down his arms and drops it onto
the floor, exposing his well-defined chest; it’s hard and toned and
looks slick, like he rubbed baby oil all over it. Then he starts
with his pants, undoing the button of his jeans with one deft,
smooth flick. After that, he leisurely slides his fly down, teasing
me with glances of his shiny blue briefs. His body is so agile and
provisioned, like each move is tuned to exhilarate my senses. And
exhilarate them it does. Because now he’s standing in front of me,
one article short of naked. He’s beautiful and seductive and
bewitching; and he knows it.
My heart is racing because all I want to do
is tell him what I want. What I really want. And that’s him, inside
me.
My head is racing because everything I know
is telling me this is taboo. Something frowned upon in my social
circle. In my father ’ s social circle. My rationale
and my desire are slicing me right in two.
Ryan forces my knees apart and then crawls on
top of me as my head and body go to war. He urges me onto my
elbows, all my nerve endings throbbing as his body overtakes mine.
I grab onto his neck with one hand as he grinds and rolls, every
inch of him surging against every inch of me. And it’s So. Fucking.
Hot. I can barely stand it. Then I look up into his eyes and I’m
shocked at what I find; emptiness, nothingness, just a vacant
stare.
He really has given me what I want; he’s
shown me Jack the Stripper.
My heart constricts, because this isn’t the
Ryan I know and definitely not the one that I want.
I hear Emily’s voice inside my head: Don ’ t be scared. Show Ryan who ’ s boss, then let
him break you down. Let him know you can be strong and confident,
and still be vulnerable in his arms.
Well, I guess now is as good a time as any to
take her advice.
I push Ryan off me and onto his back. “Alana,
what the-”
“Shhhh,” I put my finger over his lips to
silence him; his eyes are huge as he looks up at me. I wonder if I
can kiss him? I want to, but I don’t.
Then I stream my fingertip down his jaw, over
his chest, teasing his skin, stroking and caressing until I reach
the line of his shiny blue briefs. He throws his head back and lets
out a little moan. Then I start to move, channeling my inner
Brittney Spears.
No, I can’t believe I’m doing this, but this
is the effect Ryan has on me. He pushes my limits, he always has.
That’s why I love him. Why I’ve always loved him. He makes me feel
alive.
I mimic his moves, rolling my body over his
to the rhythm of the music; bumping and grinding, amplifying the
friction that’s already crackling around us. Then I sit up and
straddle him, shake my hair out and smile temptingly. Ryan runs his
hands up my thighs with his fingers splayed as I circle my waist in
a seductive dance. I stop him with an impish finger wag before he
gets too far. He bites his lip and groans as I place his hands over
his head. He strenuously watches my every move with parted lips,
ragged breath and a spellbound expression.
I start to untie the string of my wrap dress,
a little, white sexy number I thought Ryan could have some fun
with.
Little did I know how much fun we were
going to have.
Slowly, still keeping with the seductive drum
of the music, I unwrap one side of the dress, then the other,
revealing a blush pink mesh bra with a diamond studded front clasp,
and panties that match. Both completely see through.
“Fuck, Alana,” Ryan growls, grabbing my hips
and bringing my body down to his,
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