The Need In Me

I feel inside of me the aching need of it. The desire to push forward to the next level. The need to need and the need to crave and the urgent ache to want.

I feel it rise and I know, from the emptiness in my belly and the thrumming twitching energy that shivers up and down and back up my body, that I don't want to tease any longer.

"Oh god," I mewl, "Why can't I help myself?"

It's a core question for me now, because it truly seems to be the truth. That I cannot help myself. That I can barely control myself. That I am being driven by a need that is beyond me and yet integral to me. Something primal and animalistic and basic in its urges.

Feed and fuck, the two things any human needs to survive. And goddamn was I going into the latter with such a hunger.

My hands tremble as I hover at the edges of myself, about to plunge inside. I can feel the aching thrum within me and rise up, growling with a bestial anger that doesn't want me to delay anymore. That wants and demands satisfaction.

"I need it," I mewl, "Oh god I need to get fucked."

My hips thrust and press in a rhythm against the hand that is caught between my thighs. I buck against it, biting my bottom lip and willing myself to a silence that I cannot maintain.

"Please," I whine, "I need to fucking cum!"

I'm getting so loud. So fucking loud that even the thought of it is more than a little embarassing to me.

But it's all part and parcel of the same thing, it's a pivotal piece of the fact that I absolutely cannot help myself. That I cannot control myself. That my body is at war with my hands and my lips and my voice and that all of it, every part of my being, is fumbling all over itself to get to the pleasure as fast as I can.

I've never been so eager in my whole damn life and I fucking love it. But at the same time I am well aware that I am not alone.

Lucas.

Lucas who lives in this house and who was all over me last night. Who brought me crashing over the edge of my satisfaction and made me cum so good, only to leave me aching and shivering when he decided to be mature and a gentleman and fucking deny me what I needed.

He wouldn't fuck me. He said I wasn't ready. He told me he wasn't comfortable taking that from me.

Being my first.

And while I can respect that for him being the good man that he is at the same time fuck you. Fuck you for being that good when all I wanted was someone to help me be fucking bad. Someone to punish me like the little slut I was, to help push me over the edge and make me embrace it.

Take away the choice and make it easy for me to fall into myself. That was what I needed, but he was too good to give it to me.

Part of me wanted to be loud for him, to show him what he was missing. Maybe to push him forward out of curiosity so that he was standing at the door to my room, ear pressed against it listening as I begged for something thick and hard and long to fill me and make my world explode. Maybe feel it in himself, the aching urge that would make his cock throb with need until he couldn't help himself anymore. Until his whole body tensed and he shouldered open my door with a growl, staring at me with a fire in his eyes and a tension in his frame as he crossed the room and pinned me down and took me.

Rutting into me like we were two animals. Pinning me to the bed beneath his bulk. Taking out all the anger and the aggression in him. Punishing me.

Calling me a tease. Telling me that I deserved it. Making me take every last shuddering inch of him until he filled me and I couldn't take anything more.

And then making me take it all the same.

Oh I loved the thought of that. It thrilled and excited me and made me shiver half with delight and half with fear.

And even though I knew that Lucas was far too good a man to break himself on the bulwark of me... well...

A girl can dream.

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