Well now we get to the juicy parts. It's rated M for a reason, kids, some language and adult situations herein.

This has been edited from the final version to conform with the guidelines. The unedited version will be posted in my journal, soonish.

Sara was too surprised to react so she just sank back into the pillows, usually they were much further along in their lovemaking before Greg spoke so heatedly to her, despite her annoyance she felt a hot jet of excitement fill the hollow of her chest. His eyes swept over her and she shivered, feeling more naked and exposed in the corset than she ever had before, when she was actually nude in front of him. She was achingly aware of the tight fabric binding her torso, the silky slip of it against her skin, the slightly disconcerting press of the garter belt into her thighs and ass, the rough brush of lace across the tops of her breasts.

"I look awful." She protested weakly, hiding behind a hand that wanted to tremble, feeling the heated blood in her face.

He found her hand and moved it so his lips could trace her jaw, her forehead.

"No, you look amazing, like some Italian babe from a Fellini film, all sexy and mussed and angry…" He whispered softly into her ear as his hand stroked the sleek satin covering her ribs possessively. He lingered, delicately tracing the contour of her breast and when his fingers crossed the juncture from satin to skin, she shivered.

"Fellini?" She was slightly breathless now.

"Uh-huh…" His mouth was on her throat, not biting, not quite but just enough that her pulse kicked up in response.

"Never knew you were such a movie buff…" The sentence ended in a groan when his knee slid up between her thighs and pressed deliciously against her. He threaded his fingers with hers and pinned her hands above her head.

"I'm not. I just like watching a woman who looks like she's just aching to get fucked." He tried to sound conversational but need roughened his voice, made it shake.

His crudeness made her eyes widen, the dark pounding feeling that had been building in her broke free and she couldn't hold back the tiny moan. It was out before she had a chance to bite down on it. He heard her, he always did. He leaned in close, eyes fixed on her mouth. She wasn't aware that she'd been licking her lips in anticipation.

"And are you? Just aching? Tell me, Sar'."

She arched against him, grinning sinfully when his lean hips met hers and he pressed her down again. She could feel him, his need was a rude thrust against the rough fabric of his jeans, and she felt herself get even wetter imagining how good it would feel inside her, but instead of pinning her down and just taking her like she knew they both wanted, Greg did the worst thing possible.

He kissed her. No hard press of tongue and lips but rather a slow tease that made her groan when he ended it by nibbling and sucking on her lower lip. He drew back and considered her, grinned lazily at the sight of her pinned hands flexing above the gentle circle of his own, the mottled red splotches that were starting to creep across her neck and down her chest, the need and frustration her knitted brow and sulky pout was conveying.

"No good, Sidle." When she frowned he continued, "Not the kiss…no that was great. You know what I want."

"Please, Greg."

"That's a good start." He settled himself more comfortably between her spread legs, acting as if he was prepared to wait a while.

She bucked under him, getting desperate now and he rode her movement easily, tightening his hold on her wrists slightly.

"Ah-ah, don't be so impatient," he chided.

"Dammit, you want it as bad as I do!"

She started to rock against him, against the hardness that promised so much, she was slippery wet in her soaked panties; the friction felt good and she saw she had begun to make messy wet spots on the front of his jeans. The sight was thrilling and dirty and exciting all mixed up at once. A hot spark of triumph galvanized her when he finally surrendered and joined in; grinding and rubbing against her like they were just two horny teenagers who could barely wait to get off.

Her eyes were challenging as she stared him down; wickedly she smiled and started groaning, the way she knew he liked, naughty little puffs and pants of sound.

"Oh no fair, Sara no fair…" he closed his eyes and rocked against her, "…you…"

"What? What am I, Greg? Tell me."

"So fucking beautiful…"


"Sexy little bitch…"

"That's right. And?"

"Going to fuck you so hard…" His eyes opened and locked on hers, the raw want and need in them dried up the next words in her throat, instead a long wanton moan sang out and like some hussy Sara spread her legs as wide as she could for him, wanting him inside her, needing it, or else she might go mad.

I know. I left you hanging. I'm wicked.

Stay tuned for the next part, gentle readers.