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Claire gets into the Story of O.

And then she stopped.

She listened. Was he there?

She heard quiet breathing but in the darkness couldn't be sure if it wasn't her own. In fact, she was almost sure it was: he never gave himself away until he was there.

She tried to slowly work her hands a bit more, but then she felt it.

Not a kiss, not a touch, not lips or hands.

Heat.

Soft, soft, subtle heat, somewhere along her hips.

In the darkness, her peripheral vision was useless, but she knew what it was from long experience. His hand, millimeters from her skin. Far enough not to touch, but close enough for her to feel the heat of his body.

He'd never started so close to her pussy before - "Pussy!" she thought, shocked in realization that she now thought in those "bad words" - always it had been her feet first, or an arm, or her face, if she was lucky. To start so close, so early...

He's hungry, she thought, and before she could process it, she felt the wetness that confirmed her excitement. Her body responded without her now.

She stifled a shudder - did he feel her shake? - and concentrated on her breathing. In and out, like he'd asked of her. In, and out. Not on the hand hovering just above her hip, moving over her, with that delicious quiet heat radiating across her legs, and between -

The tiny heat seemed to roll across her, burning across every inch of naked flesh. Her nipples speared upwards, and deep inside she begged him to touch her.

But still she kept the breathing. In, out, in out, in -

In, in, in, she cried in her mind, as his broad hand made first contact just above her labia, on the flat of her pelvis. He pressed it softly there, but firmly, the flat of his hand almost covering her from hip to hip. In that simple gesture, she felt such a swelling sense of being possessed, of being owned and protected, she almost cried.

His hand was hot, and it burned her deliciously. The teasing touches of the air were gone, as the sum of her entire body seemed focus on the place just under his palm.

Heat again, and now her skin prickled, as she felt hot breath blush over her left nipple. Damn the darkness! She knew he was close, but even a glance might mean this all would stop. She knew his eyes would be locked on hers, watching for a misstep. She held her calm even as her body pulsed and her nipple rushed with sensation, but as his mouth enshrouded it, she almost skipped a breath.

It was warm, so warm against the cool air. His gentle lips held her erect nipple in place with soft suction, and in a moment she felt the electricity begin to burn as his tongue stroked the tip. Back and forth, and around, never the same, but consistent, building the fire in her belly that he stoked with his hand.

She kept her breathing regular, but it was heavier now, she couldn't help that. It came from a place deeper than her lungs, somewhere down inside that begged to be touched as well, to share in the fire.

His hand moved slowly south, and she felt her body tense in anticipation.

Breathe steady breathe steady breathe steady don't stop God don't stop. Her thoughts stopped being words and became needs.

His fingers, sliding along her, reached her pussy and made one long, slow stroke. His clever fingers, one-handed, spread her labia apart, exposing her clitoris, his fingers moving easily against the slickness.

Her clit was hard already, and he took his time, stroking it with a single finger. His mouth on her nipple never lost pace, slowly sucking, as he danced across her clit with circling touches. She could get lost in that feeling, but there was something more she wanted.

She felt his weight add to the bed, and prayed - God how she prayed - that this might be that moment, when she would feel him inside, and let go, let everything go -

His face interrupted her solid view of the ceiling.

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