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A Woman Too Far

Date: 7/28/2015, Categories: BDSM, Author: WannabeWordsmith, Rating: 5, Source: LushStories

travelling a lot." "Two plus two might make seven." She gave a dark laugh. "Maths never was my strong point, but intuition I could write a book about." Fluffing her hair, she added, "Anyway, where're those pitchers?" **** Several drinks and dances later, the pair stepped from the club into the crisp night air, the music dulling behind them as the heavy-set bouncer shut the door and bade them a good evening. The wet pavement from an earlier downpour greeted their nostrils and the world had a faint ringing to it in Ryan's ears. His prey pirouetted a few paces ahead of him and he watched the dress rise, fall and flutter as she glided effortlessly to the beat still in her head. He stopped to watch, the distance increasing until he chased after her. "Emily!" He realised he was shouting and didn't need to any more. "We walking?" She spun to face him, pacing backwards unsteadily. "Yup. Twenty minutes or so." Ryan pulled alongside her and they fell in step. A handful of offices further, she hooked her arm in his. "You're a good dancer." "And you're a good liar." She laughed, an infectious little trill replacing the owl. "Alright, mostly a good dancer, except when you trip over speakers." "It moved! Swear it was stalking me." Emily chuckled again. Ryan was glad of the ensuing silence. It gave him time to think, time to plan. The hard work was done. He'd extracted a tonne of useful information through her body language and many answers to his gentle questioning. It only required a ... little more effort to get her naked, the PlayStation an excellent opportunity for some innocent intimacy. Couldn't have gone any better if he'd suggested Twister. The city blocks gave way to more residential abodes until they turned into her street, a nondescript row of ageing two-up-two-downs. She fumbled the key in the latch alongside a brass number 84 and let him enter the narrow hallway first, warm and neatly wallpapered in a faux William Morris style. Possibly rented. When she shut the door, he turned and adopted a Dalek voice. "Take me to your PS3." She didn't move. Just stood with her back to the front door, eyeing him from head to toe and back again. "Kiss me." "No game?" "Just… kiss me." Ryan stepped into her embrace, tilted her chin upwards and planted his lips against hers. Emily's arms snaked around his body, hugging him tightly as her tongue sought his. All his scheming evaporated. Whatever mojo he had brought with him had worked already and the rest was as certain as the result of a North Korean election. He struggled to recall an easier catch. Trailing his hands down her sides, he found the hem of her dress and lifted. She didn't resist. Taking half a step back he lifted it all the way off and flung it behind him, drinking in the purity of her body. The delicate lace of her spotted bra heaved with each breath, matching boy shorts with a raspberry trim hugging his ultimate prize. The only remaining furniture on her lithe form were the boots, lip and wedding rings. ...