Playing with Fire

I felt him before I saw him.  I could sense him as he
approached,
a purposeful crawl through the crowd of people that brought him up right behind me.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find you?  Hiding among the grand dames—a peacock amongst the pigeons.”

His voice was as dark as his eyes, and I drew in a breath to settle the butterflies that had taken up residence in my stomach.

“I wasn’t hiding,” I answered.  “I was just watching the people.  They are all so beautiful—so glamorous.  It’s like a movie.”

“You’re the one being watched,” Hades replied as he spun me around in his arms.  “Every man in this room… they can’t keep their eyes off of you.”

I responded to the pressure he was placing against my side and he led me out onto the dance floor.  He was tall and elegant—dark, crisply curling hair and even darker eyes.  His skin was tanned from the Greek Island sun and his hands were large and calloused from sailing.  I breathed in and was swamped with his scent: Cyprus lime and spice and amber, all underlined with the uniquely masculine scent of *him*.

His eyes were hot as they trailed over me, taking in the dress that I’d worn at his request.  Its halter top cut high on my breasts, and the dark blue of the skirt split away at the thigh exposing almost all of my leg as we danced.  I knew that he enjoyed the view—I could feel him hard and hot against my leg already.

“Since you spent all your time hiding in the shadows, I think it’s time for you to be seen, now, don’t you think?” Hades said offhandedly as he led us further out into the throng of dancers.  The lights were dim and the music slow and sultry and I followed him without hesitation.

“I don’t think anyone is actually looking,” I answered. “But I love dancing with you—you make it so easy to follow.”

“Well, then,” he murmured into my ear, his breath sending shivers away down my sides, “we’ll just have to give them something to look at, won’t we?”

With that he raised his arms across my back, and I felt his hand dip inside the halter of my dress.

“Hades!”
I whispered frantically, “What do you think you’re doing?”

His fingers circled my nipple and I could feel my gut tighten in anticipation.

“What do you think I’m doing,” he answered coolly.  His fingers didn’t stop their gentle torment, though.

I took a deep breath only to find that it pressed my breast even more firmly into his grasp and he squeezed it firmly, catching the nipple between two fingers.

“Don’t move,” he ordered.  “I will take care of everything, but you must stop moving.”  His eyes were black and his patrician visage could have been carved in marble and seemed fitting.  His lips were mobile, and his lower lip was full and I was consumed with a desire to take it between my teeth.  Hades wouldn’t allow that, though, so instead I leaned my head forwards a fraction and rested it on his shoulder.

Taking my movement as acquiescence, his hand resumed its journey.  His whole hand was under the top of my dress, the calluses on his fingers dancing against my tender skin, each pass more intense than the last.  I was panting lightly as the excitement built, the electricity coursing through me, crackling under my skin.

I looked up through my lashes and met Hades’ eyes.  He looked enrapt—a man possessed— I closed my eyes against the intensity of his gaze, and I felt a flush spread over my skin as my desire grew.

My body was still gently swaying to the music as he guided us around the floor.  I could feel bodies as they passed and I shivered at the thought of them watching as Hades played with my body, there in the open, for anyone to see.

He finally led me to a quieter space on the edge of the floor, still exposed, but a little darker.  I felt him inhale and his hand returned to my breast, pinching my nipple suddenly. 

I jumped in his arms and my eyes flew open to meet his.  He shook his head minutely and I took a shuddering breath and settled back into his embrace.

“You like that?” he asked quietly as he stroked my nipple again.  A little whine escaped the back of my throat and I nodded.  “Say it,” he demanded, and I raised my eyes to his and licked my lips before answering. “Yes.”

“You like to be watched,” he whispered against my hair as we swayed to the new song playing. “The thrill of possibly being seen, of being caught, it excites you—it makes you wet.”  He chuckled at my gasp, and I felt the wetness that he predicted as it spread.

“Tonight you are mine.  You like being mine,” satisfaction laced his voice. “Perhaps I should let everyone here watch you—watch the flush cover your skin, watch you tremble in my arms, watch as I bring you to your peak again and again.”  His voice had lost its smooth satisfied sound and instead was gravelly with his desire, and I rubbed myself against him to show him how he was affecting me.

His words excited me—they always excited me—and I played Persephone to him as he lured me into the darkness with his power and control.

“Please,” I whispered to him, afraid of wishing and of getting what I wished for.

“Please?” He replied. “I will do as I please.” His hand dropped from my breast and cupped my ass, squeezing it.  Then he trailed his fingers lightly along my bared spine sending shockwaves of goose bumps radiating out from his touch, each contact making me wetter in anticipation. 

Before I knew what he was intending he had led us outside and onto a wide walk that ran along the ballroom.  French doors lined the walk and people were milling in and out as he led me towards the balustrade.

He didn’t speak.  My skirt brushed against the stone and the split was held wide.  Hades took the opportunity and slid his hand up along my thigh, high under the material.  He’d chosen silk stockings and a hosiery belt, and now I understood why.  His fingers traced along their edge and then up until he dragged his thumbnail across the crotch of my panties.

My legs were shaking and I was breathless.  I held tightly to his upper arm, afraid that if I let go I’d melt to the ground in a boneless heap.

Hades had raised his other hand and had pulled my halter aside.  His body shielded me mostly from view, but as the night air drifted across my exposed skin I felt my nipples harden to adamantine and I groaned.

“You have beautiful breasts—just tempting me to taste and touch.  Just look at how hard your nipples are!  See that man by the cedar?”  Hades
asked,
his voice even and matter-of-fact. My eyes flew towards one of the French doors.  A man was standing in the shadow, his eyes locked on us.

“He’s looking at you—looking at those beautiful breasts—not entirely certain of what
he’s
seeing.  But he’s hard. 
From looking at
you
.
  His voice dipped and he lowered his mouth to the juncture of my shoulder and my throat where he gently lapped at the skin.

“He wishes he could
be touching you, tasting
you,” Hades whispered, “but he’ll have to settle for the fantasy, because no one will ever touch you the way I do.”

As he spoke he tugged on my bare nipple and I felt another gush of wetness spread between my legs.

“Hades… we can’t,” I began, only to be cut off.

“We can, and we will,” he growled softly. “I am going to make you come. Right here, right now, with everyone around. I’m going to raise this skirt and thrust my fingers inside your wet pussy until you’re shuddering and whimpering for more.”

He had pulled aside the fabric of my panties and had been stroking gently across my slippery skin, but as he finished speaking he thrust two fingers inside and I bucked against his hand.

I tossed my curls aside and caught a glimpse of our watcher. He was stroking himself through his tuxedo pants and it made me shudder again.  Hades’ eyes followed mine and he leaned in to my ear.

“Do you want me to call him over here?” He asked as his fingers circled my clit.  “Let him put his hands on you?  Or do you want more of this?” He slid back between my soaked pussy lips, fucking
me with his long, elegant fingers.  I let out a little cry as I rocked against the edge of the stone wall pushing against his fingers.  He thrust deeper and I felt his knuckle rub against my clit and my orgasm crashed into me.

“You are amazing when you come for me—taking the pleasure that only I can give you,” Hades’ voice was thick with desire.  “And now, it is time for you to take
all
the pleasure I can give you.”

He quickly turned me towards the garden and I leaned against the balustrade, still shuddering with aftershocks.  I felt his hand warm against the back of my thigh as he pulled against the fragile fabric of my panties until the elastic snapped against my skin leaving a stinging trail that was immediately stroked and soothed.  He raised my skirt—not enough to expose me, but enough that it would be clear to any observer exactly what was happening—and with a rustle of fabric I felt his cock, hot and hard against my entrance.

It felt so good that I didn’t care who was watching anymore.  “Please, Hades!  Please!”  I begged him.  He stroked his cock across my wet lips several times before angling his hips and plunging into me with one deep thrust.

“Don’t move,” he growled, “Be still, and be silent, and I will give you
everything
.”

I bit my lip until I tasted blood, but I reined in my cries and as a reward Hades reached around in front of me and thrummed my clit with his thumb in time with his strokes.  He growled quietly and muttered in Greek as he gripped my hip and thrust again and again, hitting as deeply as possible until finally I couldn’t hold back any longer and I shuddered and whimpered and jerked in his hands, the muscles of my pussy milking him as he continued to thrust, drawing out my orgasm until I thought I would faint from pleasure.  Only then did he find his own release, panting and groaning as he kept moving until he was completely spent.

“You see,” he said when we had finally gathered ourselves. “I will take care of everything—give you everything—if you trust enough to let me.”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Tacie Graves isn’t schizophrenic; she just writes what the voices in her head tell her to. Living in the middle of the Midwest with her husband and two children, her days are spent in a whirlwind of activities that always somehow lead back to her writing desk and the sexy stories that come alive there (which can be difficult sometimes when she has to explain why she’s looking at the pool guy just
 
so
.)
 
 
She writes erotica for every woman because we can all use a little extra spice in our lives sometimes.
 
 
Oh, and because the voices told her to.

Playing with Fire
.
 
 
Copyright
 
© 2012 by Tacie Graves.
 
 
All rights reserved.