MissSadie is Offline

Who the hell is this woman?, he thought in a panic.

Ten minutes earlier, he had seen her walk into the bar, watched her over his glass as he threw back another shot. She was impossible not to watch; he knew he hadn't been the only one staring. It wasn't even that she was mind-blowingly attractive, but...there was something about her. About the way she moved--every step causing her hips to sway in a mesmerizing rhythm, coupled with a hint of a lascivious smirk that played over her features any time she noticed the attention being paid her by most of the men present (and a few of the women).

And then, somehow, she had picked him out, pressed him against the bar, and had her hand halfway down his jeans before he could protest.

Not that he would have.

"He barely knows anything about me, but somehow he still knows how to drive me crazy. I catch myself sometimes just thinking about him, remembering our last encounter--his breath warm on my neck, his hands ghosting over my skin..."

"It's probably messed-up, but I love it when he hurts me. The pain makes the pleasure all the more intense. He'll dig his fingernails into my back, bite me, pull my head back by my hair, pin my hands until I can't feel them, hit me. It's a complete surrender of control--and I love it."

"He's alternately gentle and rough—a perfect mix of the two. One moment he'll be slowly running his fingertips over my hips while he kisses me, softly touching my face with one hand; the next moment he'll pin my arms behind me, bite my neck, and push his hips against mine, so I can feel the heat and the pressure of his cock through my jeans. He makes me forget about everything else, makes my back arch and my body shiver and my ***** sing, makes it impossible to think of anything but the present moment."

Sex is a great thing--don't ruin the experience by being rude to me.  I'm ready and willing to do almost anything you ask, but if you're demanding and impatient, it'll kill the mood fast.