A Night With The Boss

Sit there," came his voice.

I watched his contorted reflection in the panes of the glass as he got rid of his shirt, letting it fall to the floor.

"Have there been others?"

"No others," I responded, “Only you..."

He kissed me all over, tracing the ribbons of fire's glow with his tongue until my timidity was replaced by passion and the need to give myself to him.

He touched the loose strands of my hair, finding pleasure in the way the black curls coiled around his fingers. He then took those curls and brushed them ever so lightly over my breasts until they grew full and ripe. The points were hard and rosy, aching for his mouth to claim them. And he did, molding them with his fingers and his tongue, pulling gently with his teeth, and suckling like a hungry child. 

A strange delight rippled through me, bringing a warm fullness to my loins. As if he sensed it, he slowly ran his hand low over my abdomen, touching me at the apex of my legs and slipping between my thighs. I shivered, though not with cold, for suddenly my body was aflame, burning with the sweet heat of desire and love. I trembled with the need to be a part of him, to make him a part of me, inseparable in mind, heart, and soul. To cleave his body into mine so that the joining would make us as one.

His fingers explored me so gently, sliding inside me until they met my unbreached maidenhead. I gasped, and he went still. He kissed me softly as if in apology, then slid his body over me and against me, spreading my legs with his knees while his mouth went on tantalizing me beyond my control until I wept with desperate, desperate need…

As his strong, dark hands caught my wrists and pressed them into the bed above my head, he whispered almost regrettably,

"I will hurt you only this once, my love. Forgive me."

His entry was swift, completely drawing from me a sudden cry of pain that was ousted the moment he began moving against me. Tears rose unsolicited to my eyes, tears of joy and ecstasy, and yes! Tears of distress. For even though he belonged to another, the thought of him loving someone else as intimately as he was loving me tore at my heart. I hoped and prayed that I would die in his arms.

How would I continue without him now? 

I opened my eyes to find him watching me. I turned my head away toward the fire, but tenderly, he caught my face in his palm and forced it back toward his own. Sliding his thumb over my damp cheeks, he said softly with a hint of regret,

“Did I hurt you?"

I shook my head, unable to speak.

"Oh!" he said. "I hurt you, and I’m sorry."