Reblogged from rolledtrousers
She’d been sitting on that chair, on the other side of the room, for thirty minutes. She’d been sitting there thinking, and staring. He’d noticed more than once, but her staring at him wasn’t necessarily new. They enjoyed the sight of one another. It was one of the reasons they fucked so well. She’d been sitting there thinking, and willing. Willing herself to move, willing herself to seize the moment and show him exactly how horny she was.
But her limbs were of the leaden variety, and the more she thought about it the more stuck in place she seemed, some wayward spell keeping her in place, unable to act on her desires. Her mind raced with the possibilities, working out the hypotheticals of where exactly this might lead, how he’d take it, whether he’d take it. But it all just remained theory while she sat there, not reading her book.
Her muscles had tensed a few times, the moment before movement, before relaxing back into defeat, resignation writ large across her sinews. But she’d eventually work her confidence back up, bring herself once more to the crux of that moment, and see if maybe this time she might make it up and out of her seat.
She resolved to take herself by surprise. Rely on her own inherent spontaneity to thrust her into the moment, and let it seize her just as she wanted to seize it. Her muscles started to tense, she rose up in her seat and then…
She was up. She was walking over. She was mounting his lap. She was reaching down and pressing a finger against his lips. Then he was kissing her. He was gripping her arms. He was pinning her down. He was taking her. She was grinning through the kisses.