I’m pinned under the weight of Neil’s body. He’s entirely on the bed now, his legs slotted between my thighs, forcing me to stretch my legs open wide.
I haven’t moved my hands since he told me not to, other than to curl them around to grip at my pillow with claw like fingers.
His mouth is dominating mine, with his tongue licking deeply and his lips demanding, bruising. Overpowering.
One of his hands is still at the base of my neck. It rests there, but he doesn’t squeeze. It’s a power move. It’s control. It makes me f*****g wet.
His other hand has moved into my hair, where he’s gripping tightly, urging my head back. Like this, more of my neck is exposed, and I can’t quite close my mouth, even without his tongue in the way, because I keep gasping.
Everything in his body language demands
