Confessions of a libra

09.05.25

I walk to his apartment knowing exactly what to expect. Craving what I know he can give me best. The dark coat shields me from the gust of wind, and as a cover for the statement the clothes beneath convey. My heart beats faster with every step, my breathing already uneven. The thoughts are racing; images flash in quick succession. Me being carried into his room, us on the floor, him between my thighs… It’s all too much yet not enough. Never enough. I climb the stairs careful not to trip in the heeled boots. Nothing sexy about that. I know he is watching me. I told him what time I would be here, and I know him. I do. So I don’t look up and ensure everything in me remains calm and poised. The whole game is lost when you so easily show that you need as much as you do. He wants to be the one to lead. He wants me to hold out for his coaxing. He wants to witness me melt in his arms, at his feet or at his touch. I press the button to his intercom. It only takes a second, then he wordlessly unlocks the front door. We take the elevator, I refused to take anymore stairs. I will myself to calm down by taking a few deep breaths during the short ride up.

He walks ahead of me out of the elevator to his front door. He opens the door and as he closes it, a smirk appears on his face as though he is proud to have me back. As though he knows I will always return to him. I return the smile and immediately I am struck by how warm and cosy his place feels. As it has always felt. A far cry from the chill outside. He watches me set my bag down and unzip each boot without any hurry. He may never say it, but I know he likes this part. He never knows what I have in store for him, and he is ever curious. Each boot is tossed away revealing feet encased in fishnet stockings. That was his first clue. With boots off, I walk up to him, waiting expectantly. His arms snake around me while I grab him for leverage, reaching to the tips of my toes to meet his lips. He bends down to meet me too and I feel the heat of his mouth as his lips devour mine. I open my lips allowing him access. Our tongues dance with each other teasing, tasting. I find myself biting him unable to withhold my brattiness. I elicit a groan and earn myself a hand smacking my butt and his body pushes even more against mine.

Soon enough his lips move down my throat. I gasp with each kiss, unable to savour each experience before he moves spots. Fingers curl against his shoulders scratching his skin but he doesn’t seem to notice or care. The kiss returns to my lips and it’s clear today he needs me more than I need him. Who am I to deny him? I yield to the strokes of his tongue, each movement making my thighs tense with need. One hand comes up and cups my breast. My brain is quiet for once while I operate instinctively, senses flooded. A hand grips the short hair on his head rousing a deep growl in his throat.

“You know exactly what you do to me,” his words are sure and husky. My heart quickens in response. I feel a sharp twinge of arousal in the depths of me.

I’m breathless and keep my eyes on him as I take small steps back to slowly remove the coat from me, leaving it strewn on the ground. Beneath it I am wearing a black lacey bodysuit, with the fishnet stockings garter-strapped on. His eyes penetrate deeper than I can stand. He stalks toward me and without warning he lifts me up off the ground hands on both arse cheeks. Forcing my legs to wrap around him as a squeal escapes me in shock.

“I’ll show you what I do to naughty girls like you.”

This is the most delicious threat to me, and I hold back a shiver. “Aaahh Noah!” I giggle, loving the feel of his strong arms.

I know he loves it when I use his name. He grunts and strides purposefully to his room. He enters, closes the door behind him to ensure privacy. It boggles the mind since he lives alone but I don’t question him. All I can focus on is staying glued to him as he moves – letting my thoughts run wild as to what he might want to do to me – with me. His bedroom is a dark oasis; neat, controlled, measured and masculine. He walks me to the bed, placing me on it softly and with care. It causes little tugs at my heartstrings, but I ignore it because it’s not allowed. I’m not allowed to fall…

[ And the story isn’t over… comment for part 2! ]