Checkmate.

The marble board laid in front of me. Pieces lined up as they should. Pawns, rooks, knights, the queen and king. Each in their designated place.

It’s your turn.

You sit on the wicker chair across from me, your ocean blues baring holes into mine. I can see the wheels of your beautiful mind turning. Turning, spinning, working.

I know I’m going to lose.

It’s just a matter of when.

Without blinking you point to the floor.

The silent command speaks volumes. Without hesitation I slid off the bench and crawl to the spot beside you; resting my head in your lap.

“Good girl.”

I purr. Your words of praise cascading over me as though they were the mist of a Hawaiian waterfall.

You run your fingers through my hair, scratching my scalp in the most pleasurable of ways.

You run your hand down my back. Under my jeans.

My head snaps up. Cheeks aflame as I look around the heavily windowed sunroom. There’s not a soul outside. But this room is freely available to anyone staying in the resort…someone could potentially walk in at any given time.

You glide a hand under my chin, tilting my head up so your eyes can gaze into mine,

“Trust me. You’re safe.”

Your words melt my worries; grinding and sprinkling them upon the glittering, sparkling snow outside.

You spread your knees, silently guiding me between them. Further your hand glides down my body. Slipping underneath the gstring to find a hole to play with.

Eureka.

Gently your fingers tease the sensitive edges of my tight little rosebud. Your other hand wrapping my hair around your clenched fist.

You pull my head up, planting your lips on mine. Your tongue batting with mine. The passion on your every breath shares itself with me. The waves of your ardor emanate in waves of heat off your body, wrapping itself around me with its silky fingers.

Ensconced. Completely and utterly.

A breathy moan puffs from my lips, the vibrations tickling your own. Your finger pushes inside me and I am enraptured. You’re so gentle. So careful. Ensuring the only sensation my body feels is undulated pleasure.

Releasing my lips you tilt my head. The gravel in your voice smoothly rumbling through my head,

“Climb onto my lap.”

Hurriedly I obey. My eyes are glazed over how they do when we play. Glazed over in raw submission; pure. Undiluted.

With your finger still inside me, I raise myself onto you. Straddling your waist. Making my jeans stretch, causing your actions to become infinitely more difficult.

“Unbutton them.”

Not a stitch of hesitation.

The material loosens, and you continue. Pulling the waistband down, you reach over with your free digits and brush against my wet, throbbing, slit.

You pull back my hair once more, forcing me to meet your eyes,

“You’re fucking soaked babe. Does it turn you on thinking someone could walk by at any time? My little exhibitionist whore?”

My body trembles in arousal. The shy smile stretching my lips giving you the answer to your rhetorical question.

“Mmm, what a good girl.”

Two fingers push inside me, making my head crash into the nape of your neck. I bite your skin, my non-bitten nails sinking into your arms as you start to pump.

Hair falls freely onto my face as you reposition. Your grip tightens around my neck, holding me in place. The squirming is inevitable. You know my every reaction. You know precisely when I’ll start to buck, start to flail.

It’ll be seconds from when you start to make me c-

You stop abruptly. Pulling your fingers out, releasing my neck, pulling up my jeans.

I whimper. Mewing in desperation. Roiling in the hanging state you have left me in.

But then I hear it. Voices.

My neck snaps up. I swing my legs off you and scramble to my seat, adjusting myself to appear as though I was not a mere sixty seconds away from an orgasm.

You watch in mild amusement as I try to catch my breath.

“Button up your jeans my love.”

Blushing, I fumble to cover up. My pulse spikes as the voices near. Closer. Closer.

Sitting up, I give you a shaky smile. The adrenaline soaring through my veins. I bite my lip, roll my eyes, and suck in a breath.

“I believe it was your turn.”

“Ahh yes. Indeed it was.”

You take a look at the board. Your eyes darting between your pieces and mine. Inevitably finding the path to my demise.

Which turns out to be an easy one.

You shoot me a devils grin as you move your queen. A devils grin holding the promise of a continuation of the events that had just unraveled. A devils grin revealing just enough to know the depravity of what you have planned.

“Checkmate.”