“I don’t want you to wear any panties today,” the voicemail said.

Sammi looked to her phone in disbelief. She presses play and listens again. The smooth, low tone of her husband plays once more. “I don’t want you to wear any panties today.” And that was all. No instructions, no I love you. Nothing to take away. She considers for a moment, then biting her lip calls his number.

No answer.

The dials again. Waits for his voice mail and tells him to call her back before putting the phone down and watching it, like water set to boil. After a moment she walks to her full-length mirror and surveys the simple, mid-thigh black skirt and bites her lip. Then, one last time, glances back to the phone in hopes that it would ring. When it doesn’t she takes a deep breath, pulls the skirt up just enough to move her hands to her beautiful, black lace panties and take them off. She discards them with a a disdainful grunt before taking a few steps back and forth in front of the mirror.

No, she thinks. This is obscene. I can’t go with something this short.

Then she’s flinging things around in the closet, searching for that one piece that she can never find when she wants it. When she does find the longer, black skirt that will meld and accentuate the blue of her top.

Stepping back in front of the mirror she surveys herself directly and in profile, the new skirt reaching just beneath her knees. She sits, crosses her legs and even leans back under the gaze of the mirror before accepting his command. And with confidence comes resentment, being asked to do such a silly thing from a man she knows so well. Sammi picks up her phone, switches it to off and makes her way to their brunch date.

The cafe is busy, though due to the unseasonably cold, the terrace is empty save for one man wearing a sports jacket that almost melds into his chocolate skin. He sits still, easy, as though the weather isn’t a factor. Like a statue in a way. As she approaches from behind she can see his head tilt in such a way that he hears the clack of her two inch heels and seems to know it was her.

They look at one another as she steps in front of him, pulls out her chair and sits down.

“I ordered you hot chocolate,” he says with a wink. A joke he never seemed to get tired of.

“Oh good. I wonder if it’ll actually be hot this time.”

His facade cracks and his smile fades. He stops looking into her with eyes like warm secrets and instead looks to the still steaming tea which he stirs with a spoon.

Sammi wonders why she said it all. Why she couldn’t just let the past be. She trusted the man, she did, but with the recent developments she couldn’t help but be hurt. “I’m sorry,” she says.

“It’s alright.” He forces a smile and looks back to her again before the waitress arrives with her hot chocolate. She is about to order before he raises a finger. “We actually need a few minutes.”

The waitress nods and goes back into the warm embrace inside as Sammi looks to him with confusion.

“What are you doing? We’re not eating?” Sammi blows on her hot chocolate more out of habit than anything.

“I wanted to talk.”

“I told you,” Sammi says into her cup, “I’m not ready yet.”

“I know.” And in that moment she is entirely the man she loved. Soft and strong all at once. Open and listening. Ready for anything she might do and always pushing her to the next step. But still, it wasn’t enough.

“I think, maybe I should-” She places the cup down and starts to shift in her seat to push it back but his wrist snares her. He holds her tightly, a reminder that he is so massive compared to her.

“Just sit. Just a minute.”

Sammi nods before she agrees, then pulls back up to the table, picks up her chocolate and sips it in order to seem less nervous, to avoid his gaze. It doesn’t seem to work though, because every time she looks at him he’s either processing what he’s going to say or looking deeply into her.

“I should have told you I was going to see my her.” He takes a breath. He draws it in fully. “If I had to do it all over again, I wouldn’t. But I promise you, nothing happened.”

She nods but her eyes are buried in her drink.

“Do you believe me?” He asks.

She nods again. She’s looking at every ripple, every bit of steam in her cup until she feels his hand on hers. Then she looks to it. The manicured nails that he must have done this morning. The cuff of the nice shirt she always xslot likes him in. Then up the jacket that was clearly pressed before it was last warn. Then to his shoulders, broad like they can hold her burdens. And finally to his very beautiful face.

“Do you believe me?” He says it with a lower register this time. His more natural tone.


His hand slides up her arm like a warm intruder, until his thumb brushes over her skin. “I promise,” he says as he strokes her. “I will never do that again. All I was trying to do is-“

“Stop while you’re ahead.”

There’s a moment where they look at one another, his thumb dead and her gaze hard. Time is still in it and the world is dead around them in the cold. Somewhere, a coin is being flipped and if it comes up heads she forgives him then and there. Tails, she doesn’t and the story goes on in another dozen ways. Here, something deep within becomes warm and open as the coin lands.

She smiles, then he laughs, then she laughs. Then she embraces his touch. She kisses his hand and he moves it further into her skin, covering more of her face.

They hold each other like this, in a single gaze, for a longer moment—though neither would ever think that was the case.

Then, after sipping their drinks for warmth he asks it in such a way that causes Sammi to sit back. “Did you do what I asked?”

“What do you mean?” She asks it not to deflect the question or to be coy because something in her won’t allow her to say yes or not. She’s no vixen. She’s no concept. She can’t just turn the “fun” on and off like a toy. There is a lifetime of experience and doubt and fear between her ears and none of it says that it’s okay to admit to not wearing panties when you’re trying to reconcile with your husband.

“Did you do what I asked?” He says it again but his posture and tone has shifted. He’s more confident now, sitting back in his chair as he sips his drink.

She considers, yes and no, lying and being honest—the irony not lost on her. Finally she takes a long pull of her hot chocolate and leans forward as she places it down. “What do you think?”

“Yes.” He says it nearly without pause. “Now hike up your skirt and show me.”

Sammi blinks, registering the words, allowing them to come into focus. As she does he moves his eyes to her knees and she looks at him looking over her until their eyes are back on one another again.

“Do I have to repeat myself?” He says before looking at her knees again.

She takes a deep breath, grabs the fabric by her fingernails and, after a steadying breath, pulls the first centimeter up. She hopes he’ll relent. That it’s all a big joke. That it all means nothing. But he is as still and silent as a statue. Like a predator.

A deep breath to focus. Then she pulls the fabric up until it reveals the whole of knees, the light skin above them, the outside of her thighs and, finally, her chill-kissed pussy. She watches him stare at it, lean forward only the slightest of amounts before his eyes flicker over to the door and his hand motions at her to bring the skirt back down.

The waitress reappears and he says that they need just one more moment before she vanishes again and Sammi feels alive. She is frustrated, aghast that this almost happened, unsure of her emotions but most of all—alive. And whatever she felt, she was still at the table.

He pulls out his wallet, a gift from her long before he had enough money to pay for such a thing, and places a single bill, much larger than the two drinks, on top of the table. Then he rises, offers her his hand.

“I don’t know where-“

“And I don’t want you to ask any more questions.”

She looks at him for a single, stunned moment before taking his hand and being easily hoisted up. There he guides her into the warmth of the body of the restaurant.

There’s noise from the chatter and the clang of plates, but mostly for Sammi it’s a daze. It’s just following him as he guides her through the singular glances and a world that feels very distant.

Until the takes her to the men’s bathroom, pushes her against the wall and growls lowly in her ear, “stay there.”

She holds a moment, heart beating so fast it could jump out of her throat and vision almost fuzzy. She wants to object as he slides over to the door and locks it before pulling a small, metal bar out from somewhere within his sports jacket.

It glints, and for a moment she xslot Giriş cannot make out what it is. He catches her eyes following it and grins, “are you afraid? You could always scream.” He takes a step towards her, flicks it in a circle and then brings it up to her neck before pushing it into her skin.

She closes her eyes and whimpers, ready for the cut.

But it never comes. The metal is cool, soft and not at all sharp. She opens her eyes to look at it in greater detail ignoring the diabolic grin he has on his face.

It’s just a metal bar. No weapon, no threat to it at all. No more dangerous than his massive fist. “It’s a good thing I was just in trouble, or else you would be.” He slides over to the door, latches the bar in the handle and wedges it in such a way that nobody could push or pull the door open without taking it off its hinges.

When he turns the smirk on his face is gone. His eyes are strong and have a singular purpose, but they are his eyes again, not that of anyone or anything she has to bear. “Now come over here and take off my jacket.”

Sammi moves over with a bowed head and lips sealed together tight enough to keep her smile from showing. She waits until his arms raise, like a bird about to take flight, before beginning to take the sports jacket off him. She hangs it tenderly on a combination hook/doorstop screwed into the door and turns around—immediately grateful that he is not wearing a vest today.

She begins to unbutton his shirt before the palm of his hand strokes her face. “Kiss it,” he says-and she does. She continues to suck on his fingertips and knuckles while she undoes his buttons. Her attention wains on the ask as his hand as the salt of his skin, the smell of him, begins to overwhelm her senses.

Finally the work of undoing every button on his shirt is complete and it opens up. His hands move to the back of her head and guide her down, in against his chest. “Smell me. Drink me in.” But here, she’s finally a step ahead of him. She tries to devour him with her lips, take in all of his scent so no woman could ever smell him again and run her hands over the strength of his chest, his back, his shoulders.

She’s moves her hands beneath the waistband of his slacks and slides her fingers towards his crotch from both directions before his hands seize her wrists.

Then he’s pushing her, hands trapped, until she’s against the wall and his frame is easily holding her places. He moves her head out of the way with his and kisses her neck, her cheek, her ear. Then he whispers with thick, amazing lips, “I need you too badly to wait. Are you going to make me?”

Sammi shakes her head before he pins her against the wall with his lips on hers.

They kiss in way that only lovers reuniting can.

They kiss like partners hurt from the pain of separation.

They kiss like old friends in new love.

Then he spins her around, grabs her by her hair and bends her over the sink. He skirt flies up in such a way that she’s sure it’s ripped but she can’t begin to care. His hands are on her ass and the moan she makes into the sink fills the room.

His hands slide up her body to her hips and when she hears the sound of his zipper opening, her legs spread immediately and even she can tell she’s wet without touching. She pushes herself further over the sink, raises her hips into the air and waggles her ass.

She’s used to him taking his time, being deliberate and opening her like a flower.

Yet It pleases Sammi to no end that this time he’s simply pulling his cock out, sliding it up and down her ass and then pushing the head into her pussy.

She moans but it’s nothing compared to his growl, even with the sound reflecting in the ceramic sink. It overpowers her voice just like his body easily controls hers now. Despite that, she feels one of his hands take her by the hair to hold her in place.

And then, just the tip of his cock isn’t enough.

She tries to push back against him but he’s simply retreats. She whimpers and feels him lowering his torso to her back, engulfing her.

“I know, baby girl, I missed you, too.”

Just when she’s about to beg, plead, he pushes into her. It is slow, but his hot, hard cock begins to fill her. Her lips brush against the sink, push into it like it’s his skin, all so she doesn’t scream out.

“Oh yes. I I love it when you’re so tight for me. When you haven’t cum in days.”

“Weeks.” xslot Güncel Giriş She says.

“Weeks.” He approves, it’s in the tensing of his muscles, the shudder in his cock.

When he’s finally in, all the way in, there is a moment where they both moan. Then he starts.

A single, hard, thrust all the way in after pulling nearly all the way out. Then, a grab of her hair to tug, pull back. “I love you. I own you. You’re mine.”

Sammi wants to return the affection, say she is his, but the animal in her has missed this too much. She only growls and groans, pushes herself back against his thrust.

She feels this please him by the way he pulls on her hair harder, brings his feet closer to her, steps in and pushes into her once more.

Then his hand comes to the sinks edge, just a few inches from her face, just out of reach of her mouth, but she looks to it still, focuses on it. She pushes her tongue out just to lick him, get more of him, as he moves his cock back inside her with a single, hard push.

And just like that, he’s activated.

His nipples rub through the fabric of her blouse and he groans in such a way the room is beginning to fill with his noise. It drowns her out completely and bounces off against the walls. She’s sure the cafe can hear her and, instead of being mortified, she is aroused.

They’re jealous, she says to herself as her cock thumps into her in such a way that her face shakes inside the sink. They’re jealous that they can’t be him. Have him.

So she lets it out. A long, hard moan, louder than she’d ever dare in public.

This spurs him on. His little thrusts become longer, more meaningful. His grip tightens so that she can see the veins in his arms being to struggle. She doesn’t have to see his cock to know that it’s as wide, long and hard as she’s ever made it be.

“This is what you get for telling me no.”

And Sammi deserves it. Thrusts of his cock so hard that her head bounces up and down in the sink with each push.

Then there’s pounding at the door. It’s not just knocking. Someone is speaking in a language that she doesn’t understand because it’s not him speaking it.

Someone tries to open the door but she just pushes her ass against him, begs him for more.

They rattle against it just like he pounds into her.

They yell through the door just like she begins to moan.

They yell louder just as he begins to join her chorus.

Then her world becomes the shaking of the door. The growl of her man. The cock inside her and the feeling of her body edging closer and closer to that amazing edge. The point where he kills her and she begs him to do it again.

The banging stops but he continues to push into her without pause.

Then the strokes begin, the kind she knows all too well. Her man is about is cum and she have to give it her all. She moves herself in such a way that he can push full into her, her legs slide apart as far as they can.

She smiles, beams in knowledge that she doesn’t have to hold out any longer.

He slams into her, no longer pulling in and out all the way, but simply pushing in and out, rapidly, as he begins to clench her hair and the sink with all the strength he has.

Then he growls one last time.

Then he begins to move with all he has and she can’t help but feel him instead of what he’s doing to her. The slide in, the pushing apart of her pussy with his cock. The head of him, the closeness of his skin still far away. The whole of him, giving everything he has to her, in her, for her. For them.

And she cums.

It spurs him on, her moans. Her gasps. He pumps in and out of her in an exquisite torture, each thrust being one more than she would ask for, barely endurable.

And when he cums she is grateful. She drinks him in, does all she can to get more of him.

They cling to one another as the key turns in the lock.

He pulls out of her and Sammi straightens up, pulls her skirt down.

But the door can’t open. The bar keeps it in place.

The employee on the other end threatens,

But they adjust, Sammi and him, and kiss and wait for him to go.

Then they pull the bar out and move out of the cafe as quickly as possible. She’s mortified, but ushered out just like she was in, and soon the door opens with a wail and the cold comforts her skin,

They dance down the street like teenagers. They move back to their place together.

And just inside the door she tries to bring up luggage, logistics. The world at large.

But he just pushes her against the hallway wall, closes the door and says, “I’ll never hurt you like that again.”

And kisses her to make the promise real.

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