Rules at Foreplay (She Thinks, Part Two)

As she set the brightly colored Fiestaware on the kitchen counter, the drilling sound startled her, causing her to squeal and jump. Before she could move her feet to see what was going on, his face appeared through the kitchen doorway.

“What was that?,” she asked.

 “Don’t you worry about it, you just finish dinner,” he said, holding up two shiny, metal hooks in front of his wicked grin.

Coyly wiggling his eyebrows, his face disappeared, and he went back to drilling on the other side of the shared wall.

She went back to stirring the soup,  but all she could do was grin. He never ceased to surprise her, and these seemingly small surprises meant so much to her. He kept things fresh, exciting, mysterious. Hot. So freaking hot. And the best part was, she was comfortable enough in their power exchange to be in the moment, not develop any expectations, and feel the excitement. To just feel and be, with him. Happy. Insanely turned on. Joyful in her submission.

When the drilling was complete, he pulled her away from the stove, walked her to the dining room wall, and asked her to lift her arms to meet the eye hooks. He gripped her wrists and held them next to the hooks for a moment, then ran his hands down her sides, the silky fabric of her purple nighty slithering against her skin, causing goosebumps to form. She was acutely aware of her nipples becoming taut against the thin cloth, her body beginning to do the begging she was so desperately feeling on the inside. 

“Perfect,” he said, nodding his head, his eyes saying much more. 

Reaching up to grasp her chin in his hand, and he kissed her, a ferocious, unable-to-breath, toe-curling, oh-God-please-more kiss, then abruptly disjointed his lips from hers. Breathless, she bit her lip, shivering, the anticipation electric between them. 

“Now, get me my dinner,” he lovingly commanded, pulling her away from the wall, spinning her, and smacking her squarely on the ass. Hard.

She did just that, still biting her lip, noticing the cool wetness between her legs as she strode to the stove. 

All she could think was, I love that man, and he fucking rules at foreplay. 

-image via Tumblr, source unknown