5 comments/ 36681 views/ 10 favorites Fine Line Ch. 01 By: raven10101 Eve: I met Michael in elementary. My parents moved me into the school district, and I had no friends and a serious attitude. He tried to play me for a fool in various unimaginative ways, but I was almost always able to avoid the fallout. He only got in trouble about half the time, but he still blamed me. As we grew up, our emerging personalities clashed and the small crimes compounded, until now, at the age of eighteen, we either snarled at the sight of each other or avoided each other entirely. Until the night I went to a dance at another high school, at the beginning of my last semester of high school. I was having a moderate amount of fun, but the guy I went with expected something he just didn't inspire in me. In short, he didn't turn me on, and that's apparently the only criteria I have for fucking a guy. I was trying to squeeze out of the "privacy nook" my date had maneuvered me into, my date having stormed out ahead of me when I told him I wasn't giving it up. Michael decided it would be amusing to block my exit from the narrow walkway under the bleachers. "Well, well," he said with a smarmy grin. "That couldn't have much fun for either of you: you two only went in there a minute ago." "Fuck you, Mike," I said pointedly and moved to go past him. "That's Michael," he corrected, peeved. The nickname was the one thing that never failed to irritate him, so, of course I used it whenever we were forced to interact. "And tsk, tsk, Eve. I would've thought you'd had enough of that for one night." I'd almost managed to slither past him when his arm shot out in front of me. "For your information," I said, trying not to give him the satisfaction of seeing me pissed off, "the phrase 'fuck you' is indicative of 'fuck yourself.' As you are giving someone an order, there is an implied 'you' at the beginning of the sentence. But for the feeble-minded, I'll restate this more clearly: Go fuck—" I was startled when his face abruptly descended towards mine. He paused with his lips centimeters away. "Yourself," I finished breathlessly. Being this close to him made my heart pound, my breath catch in my throat. But not, I was horrified to realize, just because I hated him: it was because I wanted him. "I think not," he murmured, so infuriatingly calm that despite my desire, I wanted to slug him. "Truer words were never spoken," I hissed, some of my breath returning with the ease of the exchange. He leaned forward until he was speaking with his lips against mine. "Now, now. Keep that up and we'll never get this over with." "What?" I asked, distracted by my treacherous body. Our lips had barely brushed and my nipples were hard and my breath was coming faster. The friction from my dress rubbing against my nipples skittered along my nerve endings, shivering along my skin. "This," he explained, and kissed me. Finally. The point was driven home then that hormones are a powerful force, and not to be underestimated. My own were suddenly clamoring, ignoring the fact that he was a conceited asshole. The only message I received was, "Sex. Now." I didn't realize I was so far gone until I let out a whimper at the feel of his tongue caressing my lips. Suddenly they felt swollen, and far more sensitive than before. Then the kiss grew deep, his tongue mimicking sex inside my mouth. I began rocking my hips against him, feeling the growing length of him as he pressed me against the bleachers at my back. I tore my mouth from his, leaving our bodies plastered together. I looked at his eyes, saw they were dilated a bit glassy, and I could feel the effect I was having on his body. Trying to get a little control over myself and the situation, I leaned forward and bit his jaw gently, then whispered, "Where can we go where we can have a little privacy?" "My car," he said, his jaw as tight as his grip on my waist. I nodded, making it slow and casual. He pulled back from me, just until we were side-by-side. His arm stayed around my waist, his fingers digging into my hip as we walked quickly out to his car. When we were out in the dark parking lot, his hand moved down my thigh and around to my butt. "What are you wearing under that innocent-looking dress?" he whispered, rubbing his hand over my posterior. "You'll find out soon enough," I told him honestly and moved my own hand to his shapely ass. He jumped slightly as I squeezed. He pulled out a key chain with a remote and unlocked a nice, roomy SUV. I knew it was his parent's car, and he was driving it because he was hoping to score, but at the moment, I didn't care, as long as we could get somewhere private quickly. I climbed into the passenger side, watched him walk around to get in the driver's seat. I stared through the windshield, disbelieving that I was actually doing this: I was going to fuck one of the people I disliked most in the world. What was wrong with me? Then he reached over from the driver's side and placed his hand on my upper thigh, so his fingers brushed my mound. Even through layers of fabric, the heat and electricity from his touch registered, and I bit my lip, my eyes fluttering slightly. "Keep your eyes on the road," I protested breathlessly. "I don't want to die with you." "Not before I'm inside you, anyway," he muttered. I didn't reply, even when his fingers began to walk my long skirt upward. Before he could reach skin, we were at our destination: a parking lot in a secluded area, surrounded by trees, moonlight and night sky. Perfect. I had my seat belt unfastened and was climbing into the back seat before he had the engine killed. I sprawled over the back seat, my heels planted on the seat, my knees up with my skirt still demurely in place. He followed suit, beginning to unbutton his shirt as he made his way over the console. His hands slowed, started to stumble when I began to slide my skirt up to my waist. The moonlight was pouring through the windows, bright even through the tint, and illuminated my pale skin as it was revealed inch by inch. He moved until he was kneeling between my spread feet. His hands—wonderfully rough-skinned hands that made me shiver—slid up and down my calves for a bit, then slowly slid around my knees, pressing them apart. My skirt fell to my pelvis. What there was of my black thong stood out starkly against my whitewashed skin. He murmured something before leaning over and kissing me again, but I didn't catch what it was. Nor did I care. I immediately arched against him as his tongue entered my mouth, stroking erotically against my tongue. His hands moved to the front of the dress and tugged until the snaps came apart to my waist. This was the perfect tryst dress: loose enough to hide the most provocative lingerie I owned, with snaps for quick access. I lost my train of thought when his hand reached in and rubbed my nipple quickly through my bra. When my back arched, he sat up and slid the open bodice over my shoulders. His palms simultaneously covered my ample—but not oversized—breasts. Then his fingers spread until he felt the front clasp on my bra. Thrilled at the discovery, he unhooked it and bent. I'd been hearing about his oral prowess for about five years, but had always dismissed him as being too selfish to give pleasure that well. I found I was wrong when his mouth latch onto my nipple. Expecting him to either nibble or suck, I was surprised when he just lapped my nipple and areola several times, the friction rasping the pink flesh, sending delicious heat through me. Then he wrapped his tongue around the nipple and tugged. I made a small whining noise in the back of my throat and arched into him, unprepared for the sensations. His hand went to my other breast, and began massaging rhythmically. The he removed his hand and moved both of them to my waist. His mouth detached from my nipple as he made some adjustments in both our positions. Before I could get my eyes open, I found myself lying on my back in the back seat of my enemy's car. For a moment, as I stared at his shadowed face, I wondered what I was doing and why. Then his hands touched me again and I remembered. "Lose the shirt, Michael," I commanded, and he dutifully removed the offending garment. I smiled. "Lose it all," I added. He stripped off his slacks, too. Then the underwear came off, and he was free. He wasn't a stallion, but, clinically speaking, most "stallions" are too long for a human vagina anyway. But he did look damn good at that moment, and I licked my lips. As my skirt was now around my waist and didn't hamper him in the slightest, he didn't mess with it as he reached towards me. His mouth trailed down my thigh from my knee, the tip of his tongue tracing the same path, back and forth a few times. Inches from ground zero he bit my skin. It made me arch up against him, and he wasted no time. His hands moved under me, until he could prop me up. Next, he moved to my thong. I thought he would remove it. Instead, he began to lap at me through it. I was already wet, my juices beginning to seep through the material. I cried out, and after several torturous strokes, I reached down and clawed at his hair. I didn't know whether I wanted him to stop or continue. "Ow, hey," he said against my lower lips. He stopped and studied me for a moment, his eyes narrowed. "Can't have you doing that," he murmured. He reached over my head and before I could do anything, he had the seat belt wrapped around my wrists, holding my arms over my head. "What?" I demanded, and jerked against it. I was thoroughly tangled in the single strip. "Let me go!" I commanded him. My heart was beating thick through my head, through my breasts, my pussy; I could feel the pulse everywhere. "No," he said, though I barely heard him, and began working his way back down my body. "Yes," I said, only it came out more of a moan as his hands resumed the thong torture. I arched into his touch despite myself, sensing the orgasm building. Almost before I noticed, he'd pulled the thong off me and started to feast on me. All the while, I kept pulling, trying to wrench my hands free, and the blood pumped loudly through my body. "Let," I panted, rolling and bucking over the seat, "me go…Michael!" I cried just as he slid his finger inside me. I could smell my juices and our combined sweat in the confines of the car, feel his panting breath against my core, and I could feel the seat belt digging slightly into my wrists. I came hard, shouting nonsense. Then I found him stretched out over me, most of his weight resting on bent elbows, his chest pressing against my breasts. His mouth found mine for a fierce kiss. He shifted his weight and moved one hand downward, until I felt the head of his cock nudging me. Then he was easing inside me, stretching me slightly, but otherwise a perfect fit. We both groaned and he began to move, slow at first, and then speeding up until we crashed into each other on every down stroke. It was a raw fuck, no fluff, no romance. After a while, he stopped, in me to the hilt, his pelvis grinding against my clit. I was about to speak when he started rocking, and I cried out as waves of pleasure washed over me. Soon he was alternating deep strokes with the rocking, and I came again. I felt him coming, too, shooting deep inside me. I think I fell asleep, because the next time I came to, my hands were numb. He was half lying on top of me, his breathing slow and even. I thought he was asleep. Then I caught the glow in his open eyes in the moonlight. "Michael," I said, testing the waters. He sighed and, without my asking him to, levered himself up and freed my hands. I rubbed some feeling back into my wrists, then propped myself up against the door, studying him. He got dressed, so I did, too, holding out my hand for my thong. He shrugged, indicating he didn't have it. I made a disgusted noise and re-fastened my bra, then began on the snaps of my dress. Wordlessly, we both climbed back into the front seat. He opened the windows as we drove to help dispel the smell of sex. I pointed the way to my house, waiting for him to speak first, since this whole thing was really his doing. "So," he finally said, breaking the oppressive silence as he stopped in front of my house. "I'll see you at school?" "You're not going to tell anyone, are you?" I demanded. "Why would I?" he asked, sounding a bit defensive. "I don't know," I grumbled, unbuckling my seat belt. "Locker room talk. Tallying up scores. How should I know what guys talk about?" "Look, I've got just as much to lose as you if word got out that we had sex." I breathed a sigh of relief, because I knew it was true, that we would put this behind us. "And this changes nothing between us?" I asked evenly, almost rhetorically. He snorted in response and we left it at that. Fine Line Ch. 02 I just want you guys to know a few things. 1: I don't have this all written yet, so the updates might be a bit sporadic. 2: I have read all your responses, and deeply appreciate each and every one, even if I don't respond. 3: Eve is on the pill. There will be no pregnancies in this story. ***** Michael: I didn't follow her. I was at the track for my own workout. I'd never seen her there before, at least, not after we were out of junior high. I watched her running slow and steady around the track, and got hard remembering our sexual encounter. I didn't understand why she could affect me like she did. But ever since that night two weeks ago I wanted to make her mine. Make her obey and understand that I owned her body, that what she thought about me made no difference in the way I could make her feel. It made no sense. I didn't even like her: too damn smart and stuck-up about it. But she wasn't too smart to get taken over by hormones like the rest of us mortals. When the sprinklers on the field came on, I expected her to bolt, cover up her hair, something typical of girls. Instead, she laughed and just stood under the arches of water, getting soaked, her face up and her arms open to the sky. I watched the water mold her clothes to her body, not difficult considering she wasn't wearing much; a sports bra and shorts. Her hair was up in a bouncy ponytail, making me think of holding onto it as I entered her from behind. She would take all of me, would whimper for more. I wanted her, and I was going to take her. After a few minutes standing in the water, she began to make her way back towards her car. The way the place was set up, you had to walk through the playground to get from the parking lot to the track. I stood hidden by one of the few trees in the playground, waiting for her to approach me. As she moved closer, I saw her nipples were hard against the bra. She gasped and stopped in her tracks when she spotted me, but recovered quickly. "Hello, Mike," she said, mock sweetly, sneering at me. She was dripping wet and beginning to shiver as night fell. And despite her appearance, I wanted to make her my property, to brand her somehow. She stepped back as I moved forward. Something in my expression must have given away my intentions, because she kept retreating until she backed into the monkey bars, the structure towering over her head and to both sides. Her eyes finally broke our gaze to glance around. I caged her in, and could hear her breath coming fast. I lowered my mouth to hers for a wet, hungry kiss. She groaned slightly, struggled briefly in protest, but was soon kissing me back, her fingers digging into my shoulders. I pulled away, caught her hands and brought them over her head. I held both her wrists in one hand while I fumbled with her workout shorts with the other. I finally got the drawstring out, and I set to work tying her up properly. "You're kinky," she said, smirking, then protested when I drew one hand down her back until her elbow pointed straight up and her back was arched. She tried to pull her other arm away, but I simply overpowered her and finished. Satisfied that she was completely at my mercy, I stepped back, taking in the whole picture: her panting breaths did interesting things to her breasts, and water droplets glistened on her exposed stomach. Her head rolled back and forth, looking for anyone who might be around. I moved closer until I could reach her bra. "Hmm," I said conversationally. "I've never seen a sports bra with a front clasp before." She gasped as I freed the first two hooks. "You're...you're not going to..." she stammered, then trailed off as I flipped the last catches open and spread the material wide, exposing her breasts to the world. "Wait, Mike," she said, biting her lip and searching the growing darkness for voyeurs. I leaned down until I could reach her mouth again, prying her bottom lip from between her teeth. "Michael," I said, then bit her myself, delving into her mouth to kiss her deeply. While she groaned and kissed me back, I rubbed my hands together, warming them with the friction. When they were hot, I placed them over her damp, chilled breasts. She arched into my palms as high mewling noises escaped her throat. She snaked one of her legs around me and tried to pull me closer. I pushed her knee away, but she just raised the other one. "No," I told her sternly, pushing her leg down again. "Why not?" she asked defiantly through her panting breaths. "Because I said so," I growled, then grabbed both her hard, sensitized nipples at the same time and pulled firmly. "And if you don't obey, I'll find something else and tie your feet, spread-eagle against the monkey bars." Her shudder this time was fear, not arousal, and I left it at that. I didn't want her totally immobilized; just those grasping, clawing hands. My mouth traveled downward, bringing the arousal back into her through her breasts. I lapped at her nipples for a while, reveling in the whining, sighing, moaning sounds I coaxed from her, glorying in the wanton restricted moves of her body. I kneeled, dragging her shorts down her legs. "Kick them away," I commanded her. I felt her tense at the order, but she did as I said. "Just think," I murmured against the skin of her belly, playing with the cotton panties she wore. I kept my voice low, careful not to shatter the spell around us, but I knew my voice would float up to her ears. "Just think," I repeated. "Anyone who comes by could see you here. Naked. Tied. Helpless with lust." I began to work her more-than-soaked underwear down over her hips. "Wet. Exposed for the world to see. If they looked." I licked one finger and slid it inside her, and she whimpered, her hips rocking fast, trying to get more of me in her. I obliged, two more fingers sawing in and out of her, until she was sobbing with pleasure, this close to coming. "What's my name?" I asked, deliberately raking the tips of my fingers over her G-spot as I remove them. Then I leaned forward, lifting one of her sneaker-clad feet to the first rung on the monkey bars, exposing her pussy to me. Even in the slight illumination left she glistened with moisture. I leaned forward and took her clit into my mouth. "Michael!" she nearly screamed my name in orgasm. Nearing the end of my rope, I stood, leaving her barely supporting her own weight, gasping and limp as she came down from the high, from the pleasure I'd forced on her. Before too long, my cock was free from my jeans. I stepped towards her, then into her, pressing her sweaty frame against the cold metal bars at her back. Then I grabbed a cheek in each hand and hiked her up until her legs clutched my waist tightly. I wasted no time before plunging deep inside her. She was tight, but not too tight; almost a perfect fit. I began sliding in and out of her, building the pace until the white light of orgasm griped me and I froze. As I came to, I realized I was still fully clothed except for my cock buried inside her. Her chin was pressed into her chest, and her breathing was slightly quick still sawing in and out of her mouth. I moved off her and noticed she was shivering from the chill in the air, her nipples still puckered. She lifted her head when she heard my pants zipping up. "All right, Michael," she said wearily. "You've proved your point. Now let me go." Obviously I hadn't proved my point: she still thought she could order me around. I had to prove that when it came to her hormones, I owned her. I moved back to her, and kissed her, hard, as erotically as I know how. She was panting and tried to follow my mouth when I pulled away. "No," I said, referring to her order. "You're not going to leave me here, are you?!" she asked frantically. "Someone will see me! I'll freeze to death!" I turned to leave, waving her panties over my shoulder. Panic increasingly laced her voice as she called out to me, growing wilder. I only stopped my lazy pace when I heard her finally whisper, "Please..." I stepped back towards her. "I'll let you go," I whisper in her ear, my fingers trailing over the ropes holding her wrists to the crossbar. She sagged with relief. "If," I added, then paused. "If what?" she demanded warily, and I could feel her heartbeat grow faster. "If you come to me whenever I call you. Give me your cell phone number." "Why?" she asked, gulping in slightly panicked breaths. I braced to push away from her, acting as if I were leaving again. She blurted out her number before I could move more than an inch "I'll call you," I told her. "I want you where I tell you an hour after I hang up. No more than an hour, but you're allowed to be early." "Why should I?" she demanded, sounding a bit like her old self again. I don't really mind that too much; her confidence is kind of sexy. But I don't want her acting superior to me when I can reduce her to an orgasmic puddle in just a few moments. "Because if you don't," I said menacingly, "I'll write your name, numbers and address on every men's room wall I see. And," I added when she only looked a little convinced, "that you like to be taken rough and in public places." "You are such a fucking bastard," she spat at me, squirming against her ties. "Let me go and I won't call the cops screaming 'rape.' How's that for a deal?" "You were a willing participant." "Willing?" she screeched. "You come out of nowhere, scaring me half to death, tie me up--" "You never said 'No,'" I interrupted her. "If you'd said no I'd've stopped." I pressed closer. "But you liked it," I whispered, bending until my breath fanned over her neck. I watched her breathing speed up, watched the goosebumps rise on her skin. "You enjoyed it when I made you helpless." My fingers moved to the knots in the rope, then trailed lightly down her arms, until my palm covered her breast, her still-hard nipple drilling into my hand. "When I exposed you." I watched her eyes close as she tried to control her breathing, tried to control the pleasure I was giving her. My fingers continued down to her pussy, our combined juices making her very wet. "When I made you come," I whisper, then fasten my mouth onto her skin, just above the top slope of her breast. I sucked, nibbled, and licked at her skin while I continued to play with her drenched quim. I rolled, pinched, rubbed and fucked her core until she nearly came again. I could feel her building to the peak, and stopped. As I pulled my mouth away, I was satisfied to see a hickey forming, with bite marks around the edges. It took all of my control to keep my breath steady as she watched me, her eyes glassy, begging me to finish what I'd started. Her eyes latched onto my tongue and lips as I suckled erotically at her juices coating my fingers. She was breathing too hard to even groan when I slid my hand down her body one last time before pulling back. "You'll do all that," I said, my voice frighteningly calm, "because you like it." I freed her arms. "Of course, this changes nothing about our relationship. We'll act as we always do in school." She frowned, looking nervous for the first time that I could remember. "You-you won't hold anything I say at school against me...well ...here?" I knew people would be really suspicious if she stopped insulting me, so I shook my head. "Nothing you say can be used against you," I joked. She didn't smile, just continued to dress; I hadn't expected her to respond. I headed to the car, but only after one last check that her panties were in my pocket. Another trophy to add to the thong I'd found in the SUV. I wonder how many different kinds of underwear she has. It was another week and a half before I call her with the signal. I'd done the research for this, and was looking forward to it. Only the day before, she'd worn a low-cut shirt for the first time since our tryst at the playground. That meant the hickey I'd given her--what I'd come to think of as my mark--had faded enough to be covered with makeup. I would've given a lot to see her face as I told her explicitly what to do and when. ***** To be continued... Fine Line Ch. 03 Eve: I didn't mind the location he named for our first scheduled meeting. Even the fact that I had to pay the cover didn't rankle nearly as much as the fact that he'd told me what to wear. Or the fact that I'd worn what he told me to. His voice had slithered over the phone, "Wear a short skirt and high heels." I'd asked, a little sarcastically, if there was anything else he wanted. "More sexy underwear," he told me, then hung up. I wore a black skirt I'd inherited from my much shorter aunt. It was so short it revealed the lacy tops of the stockings and the garter belt straps. If I stood up straight, the hemline stopped just short of illegal. I wore a white tube top under a black sheer blouse. I did my hair in that "just-rolled-out-of-bed" look, which took longer than it should have. I finished it with knee-high boots that laced all the way up. I grabbed my long coat to wear over it and left the house. As I drove to the place, my heart beat far too fast. I had to be insane: I was being a puppet, dancing at the puppet master's command. But…I wanted him bad enough to do this. I was a slave to my hormones after all. I showed my ID at the door and paid the entry fee, getting stamped with the "under 21" stamp so the bartenders wouldn't sell me alcohol. As if I needed it: I felt ready to pass out from adrenaline overload as it was. The music was so loud I couldn't hear anything but the bass. I looked around the hazy atmosphere. There were high tables with barstools scattered around, and a few cushy chairs gathered at odd intervals against the walls. The place had nice ambiance; sexy without being obvious. Not like me, I thought as I checked my coat. I saw a lot of guys watching me, their tongues practically hanging out. I was sure they were going to ask me for my hourly rate. I wondered for a small moment what I could get away with charging them. Michael had said he would find me, so I moved into the seating area. Everywhere I moved I felt eyes on me. It was a real rush, knowing that men wanted me, even if I was dressed kind of cheaply. A hand touched my back, smoothed down to my ass as someone fell into step behind me. He put his mouth right up to my ear. Even there, he almost had to shout to be heard. "Come and dance," he said, making it clear that it wasn't a request. I spun to face him, and stopped dead in shock, looking him up and down. He looked utterly sexy. He wore tight black jeans, a subtle belt and a white formal shirt, tucked in but unbuttoned almost to his waist. The look sould have been trite, but his sheer arrogance allowed him to pull it off. He grabbed my hand and led me out to the dance floor, where a hip-swinging rhythm had just begun. I'm not a stellar dancer, but my hip movements leave nothing to be desired. I ground and brushed against him with the fast beat. After a while, the beat changed to seductive, and Michael spun me as he pulled me into his arms. I was locked against him, felt his cock nestled between my cheeks, and felt the skirt riding up as he pulled me slightly upward with his grip at my waist. His mouth found my ear again. "I bet every man here wants to do this to you," he said as he made a little grinding movement against me. I gasped, my eyes half-closing, my body bowing. "They want to do more than that. They're watching us, right now." He lapped at my earlobe with the very tip of his tongue. He guided my hands until they were stretched around his neck. "They want to be me," he said. "They want to be the ones grinding into your body. They want to be the ones who can touch your bare skin." His hands slid down my arms, grazing over my breasts, making me shudder and lose the rhythm of the dance for a moment. They continued over my stomach, tracing patterns there. "The men here want to lynch me for touching you in front of them. For showing off what they knew when they first saw us together." "And what's that?" I asked, not really caring what he was talking about, as long as he continued to touch me. "You're mine," he said fiercely. I stopped cold. "I'm yours?" I demanded. His lips sucked the lobe of my ear into his mouth, flicking it for a moment before moving down my neck. One hand slid until he could wrap his fingers around my thigh, physically guiding me back into the rhythm. "You're mine," he said, and began walking us both into a dark, sheltered, secluded corner. His hands slid from my shoulders to my hands, guiding them up to the wall, pressing them against the sweating plaster. One of his hands stayed there, both my wrists locked in his grip. His free hand traced its way down my body, sliding over my breasts, squeezing one gently when he passed. "You have very sensitive nipples, don't you?" he murmured in my ear, feeling the hard peak pressing into his palm. Then his wonderful fingers continued down my thighs to the hem of my skirt. He slid under the hem. "What are these lacy little things?" he asked in my ear, sounding highly amused. Without my answering, he quickly removed them, ordering me to kick my favorite pair of cheeky panties against the wall. "I like those boots," he told me. "The heels make you the perfect height, actually," he added, and ground his hips against me, at the perfect level for penetration. "Michael," I pant, and press my hips back against him. His fingers moved inside me, making me cry out wordlessly as I grew wetter with his ministrations. In one corner of my mind, I thought idly that my hands were almost numb, but the rest of me didn't care. Suddenly, his fingers were gone from me, and I nearly whimpered at the loss of sensation. Then I felt the head of his cock nudging my entrance and I pressed back against him, trying to get him inside me. He plunged hard into me, and I wanted to scream in pleasure, biting my lip and letting me forehead rest against the wall. My eyes were closed tight as he began to move inside me, and I felt his mouth latch onto my shoulder just below and to the right of my neck. His shaft is so hard inside me, sawing in and out, friction against those sensitive nerves, occasionally hitting that one spot, that perfect spot. I don't even notice that I can't move my arms. I'm lost in the pleasure as he continues to fuck me. One of his hands moves down my front to my clit, and begins to pull on it, sliding off it with the amount of moisture I'm generating. Finally, I feel myself coming, feel the white-hot rush break over me, until I can't see, hear, or smell anything. I can only feel: his shaft inside me, my muscles clenching around him. I can almost feel every oversensitized inch of exposed skin, the scrape of the wall against my fingers, the shifting air as it blows against my face. The pleasure of it all. His teeth scrape my shoulder as he comes, his mouth detaching from my skin for a moment. I'm sure I'll have another hickey, and I know I'll have to be creative with my wardrobe again to hide it. But I'm just feeling too good to care, really. My sweat molds me to the wall as he presses against me, breathing hard in my ear. "Hmm," he said, humming directly into my skin. His hands worked, pulling my skirt back down and my blouse back up. "Remember," he said, his voice low, harsh. "You're mine." By the time I get enough energy to turn around he's gone, and when I emerge back into the club, he's nowhere to be seen. I shudder slightly to see the other men leering at me from the shadows, but mostly I feel aroused that I actually had sex in public. And hadn't gotten caught. I was sick. And it was all his fault. And who the hell did he think he was, anyway? I'm his? In his dreams! I flounce over to retrieve my coat, and my indignation gets me all the way home and into bed before I'm overcome by exhaustion. The next time he called, even his numbers flashing on the display sent a shiver through me. I was playing right into his hands, but I couldn't stop myself from listening attentively to his instructions. Fine Line Ch. 04 Chapter 4: Turnabout Him: I saw her come in, and she'd followed my directions. She was dressed in her normal school outfit: jeans, a tank top and a hooded sweatshirt tied around her waist. Her hair was up in a bun, which would be easy enough to take down and tangle my hands in to guide her mouth... I lost my train of thought as she bounced up the stairs, and I saw for the first time that she wasn't wearing a bra. Easier for me, but naughty-naughty for her. I followed her casually. The library was nearly deserted at that time of night. There were maybe two librarians working in the whole building, and none were on the top floor. A few students were littering the study areas, but they would be absorbed until the library closed, which was in about an hour and a half. Plenty of time for what I was imagining. She gasped, but managed to stifle any other noise she might have made when my arm slipped around her waist. My fingers slipped under the hem of her tank top, tracing her ribs lightly until she shivered. "What are you planning, Michael?" she demanded quietly, casting nervous glances at the college students. "You'll see," I told her, guiding her to the back, very secluded part of the library. Now that it was dark, the blinds were closed over the windows, making a nice cocoon of privacy between the last shelf and the outside wall. Pillars at various intervals maintained structural integrity. "Michael," she began, halting in her tracks as we neared the spot I'd picked out. I pulled her to me hard, kissing her. At least she'd given up calling me Mike. I'd made that much progress. My tongue invaded her mouth, and she groaned slightly, then stiffened. "Shh," I said against her mouth. "Just keep quiet." Then I kissed her again, a little more forcefully this time, and backed her into the corner support. She was held in by three sides, and didn't bother struggling. Her hands roamed all over my chest, then slid under my shirt. Then they slid down and covered my hard on through my jeans, and it was my turn to stifle a moan. With one hand cupped around my privates, and the other on my shoulder, she suddenly pushed me around until I was the one backed into a corner. That was when I realized there was something different about her. There was a glint in her eye, a quirk of her mouth that hadn't been there before. She looked...meaner, somehow. I felt...cowed, as if I wasn't in control. In fact, with her hand putting more and more pressure on my cock and balls, I wasn't. I looked into her face, several inches below mine, and saw her smile wickedly. She raised herself onto her toes and whispered, "My turn," in my ear. I felt a shiver race across my skin from where her lips had grazed my earlobe. I narrowed my eyes, but didn't try to move her. She went back down to her heels, and began to slide her hands up and along my arms and shoulders, down my chest and stomach, until she again cupped my package. I had been at least half-hard just imagining how I would take her in the library, forcing her to be quiet as I made her come over and over until she passed out from it all... Shocked, I stared as she slowly lowered herself to her knees, keeping her eyes on mine as she lifted the hem of my shirt to kiss and lick my stomach. The pose should have been submissive, but I felt immobilized by the way she held my gaze. It hit me then that she was in charge, and I didn't care that much. Peripherally, I saw how low-cut her tank top was; her nipples were practically peeking out from the top. Her eyes had me mesmerized, and I gritted my teeth when her hot mouth trailed down over the jeans I wore, breathing into the material. I didn't notice her hands sliding into the pocket of her sweatshirt until she quickly cuffed my hands behind my back. I wasn't sure whether to protest the cuffs or her taking her mouth and heat away from my now-aching cock. I couldn't say anything though; as her hand snaked into my pants and gripped my cock firmly. The only sound we heard was our breathing, raspy and gasping on my part, her merely breathing normally. She licked me a few times, wetting it enough that her hand could slip up and down the length of it with just the right amount of friction. I bit my lip, trying not to groan. I didn't want to take chances, but she was really good. She kept her fist tight enough to cause pleasure without hurting, seemed to know just what to do as well as I do when jerking off. Suddenly, she drew me into her mouth, and I almost groaned long and loud, managing to stifle it to a low growl before I gave us both away. Her mouth was so hot and wet, with such a talented tongue, swirling around, teasing the vein in my cock, wrapping as far around it as she could get, then swirling again around the head and rim. One hand stayed wrapped around my shaft, while the other reached down to fondle my balls, rolling, tugging them, pressing them gently upwards as they tightened a little more. When she'd decided I'd had enough, she pulled me away from the wall and pushed me down to the floor on my back. I rolled slightly to the side because of my hands, but found that I could roll right back without discomfort. Then she straddled my head, facing my feet, and I saw to my shock the crotch of her jeans had been cut out. There wasn't any fabric covering her mound from the hood of her clit to where her cheeks began. I immediately began to tongue her, licking up the juices that had coursed over her while she was giving me the blow job. It must have really turned her on because the denim around her crotch was wet. Being on the edge, and thanks to my skills in cunninlingus, she came. To stifle her cries, she leaned down and bit my shirt, raking her teeth over my ribs as she did. It felt good when she did that, and I had to stifle my own noises. She shuddered over me for a few moments before shifting to align her crotch with my cock. She slipped over me slowly, drawing me in, squeezing harshly against me, rocking her hips erotically. Then she began fondling her own breasts through her tank top, and I struggled against the cuffs. She narrowed her eyes at me and clenched hard against my dick, hard enough that it hurt. "Stop that," she scolded me. She began moving faster, and one hand slipped down and began rubbing her clit hard as she rose up and down over me. It was so weird to see her essentially still clothed but fucking me hard. It was incredible. Her eyes still fixed on my face, and a mean smirk on her lips, she let one strap of her tank top fall, and pushed the fabric down, baring her breast. Her skin was flushed slightly, the nipple rosy from her earlier ministrations. She pinched it delicately, and bit her lip. Now both her hands were on her clit, and she was panting quietly. I sat up and took her freed breast into my mouth. She let me do that for a moment before grabbing my hair and pulling my head upwards until she could kiss me. While we were kissing, she rested against me, and I was penetrating her to the hilt. Her clit was rubbing against my pelvic bone. My knees were bent slightly upward, my stomach muscles beginning to strain from holding this position. Then she wrenched her mouth away from mine and pulled hard on my hair. Pain shot through me, then she brought her mouth to my neck, and began to suck and bite my skin. She's marking me. She's not fucking me, just squeezing me rhythmically, hard, soft, wet, rocking, squeezing.... Her mouth finally moved from my neck, and she shoved me back down onto the floor. Her smile was nasty as she looked down at me. "Stay," she whispered harshly. Then she raised both her hands to her hair and pulled out the sticks holding her hair in a bun...however that works. I watch her hair cascade down her back, coffee-brown curls, and she rakes her hands through it, arching her back, clenching my cock deep inside her. Then she begins to fuck me again, bracing herself against my shoulders, leaning over until her hair falls in my face, her scent surrounding me, blinding me. Finally, she comes, and I can come, gritting my teeth against a shout, digging my nails into the floor as I buck up into her again and again. I hear a whining sound coming from her, and she leans down and again grabs a mouthful of shirt to bite down on. I watch, and see that her eyes are locked on mine as we both come, then hers flutter shut as she collapses on top of me. It takes a while before I'm aware again. What happened here? I thought, and shook my head to help clear it. Something twinged in my neck, and I tried to bring my hand up to feel for it, but they were still cuffed. "Fuck, Eve," I hissed, and rolled over, dumping her on the floor. "Let me go." She snorted. "I don't think so," she said. I raised my eyebrows as she stood up. "What, you're just going to leave me here? I'll be arrested looking like this." "You didn't give me time to finish," she said, pulling her shirt back up and then beginning to twist her hair back into a bun. "I said I'm not going to let you go. Unless." I closed my eyes, trying to rein in my temper. "This is revenge, isn't it?" I demanded. She smiled and nodded firmly. "I'm a vindictive bitch," she told him factually. "And I like my revenge piping hot." With that, she put her feet on either side of me, then crouched down until I should have been able to lick her. But I couldn't reach her. Then she takes my limp cock into her mouth. Eventually, I'm completely hard again, and I can see the moisture beginning to seep through her folds again. "Eve," I growl, ready to dislocate my shoulders if I could just get out of the cuffs. Then she stops sucking me, and turns and nestles my cock in between her lips. She rocks and grinds against me. "Give me your cell phone number," she demands. I kept quiet until she reached down and squeezed my balls, just hard enough to let me know she was in charge, then I recited the number for her. "Now we both can play this game. We'll just see how long we can hold out. And when we can't stand it any more, one of us will call. Whoever calls, loses the control," she says, leaning down until she's speaking against my mouth. Her voice gets quieter and quieter the closer she gets. "And whoever gets the control...well, you get the idea." With that, she moves down, tucks me back in, zips up my jeans, and rolls me over. Then she leaves me, lying there, trying to figure out where I went wrong. I have to resist calling, because I want the control back. But I already have a location in mind, that will open up worlds for us to explore when she breaks.