I want to play hide and seek in our house with you as the seeker, voice low and raspy as you walk from room to room to room.
The only warning that you’re coming closer being your voice and the soft pad of your feet as you seek me out.
I want you to prowl through the building for me, searching until at last you drag me out of my hiding place by the ankles, your hands grasping and squeezing at my sides, my thighs, my shoulders until at last you hold me flush against your chest with one arm around me.
Me on my hands and knees, my back to your chest, and your hand up my dress to torment me slowly. To drag me to the brink and tease me for hiding from you, for evading you, for trying to escape. You trail kisses and hickeys and bites down my neck and shoulders that I won’t be able to hide.
I want you to touch me until I can hardly stand it, stopping just short of giving me release over and over and over again, until all the fight has gone out of me and I am begging you, please please please to let me come. For you to make me yours, for you to make the whole world know who made me scream and beg for release.
I get a thrill from the slow torment of waiting for you, of hiding, my heart beats loud in my chest, in my ears, threatening to drown out the sound of you.
Knowing I cannot evade you, I cannot escape you, I will be found, and the longer it takes you to find me, the worse it will be.
I lurk in the dark, unable to see how close you come, trying to quiet my breath and the pounding of my heart as you come closer and closer and closer. My breath catches as all the world goes still and I realize, far too late, that you are too close, that you know where I am and you’re waiting to pounce.
Do I try to run, to prolong the chase, to try and fling myself through the room, through the halls to hear the pounding of your feet behind me and the rasp of your breath?
My run a dare for you to chase me, overcome me, overtake me until I am pressed between you and the wall, divine. I squirm to escape as you slide your hands over me, until they dip lower and lower until you grasp the soaking wetness of me in your hand.
My squirming to escape turns into leaning into your touch, grinding into your hands, desperate for more contact as you circle my clit with your fingertips, dragging them over my folds, sliding through the slick of me being utterly, hopelessly aroused and needy because people aren’t made to resist pleasure.
I want to be a panting mess, pinned as I roll into your hand helplessly, begging for more until at last your fingers slide inside and fill me and stroking until you drag an orgasm from me, and then another, and another, until my legs are shaking and I cannot stand.