So apparently four walls and closed curtains are a reassuring thing.
Not that she’d ever thought about it until a few moments ago, but she was coming to the realisation that there were a lot of things she hadn’t thought about until a few moments ago. Like what wind really feels like against your naked nipples. Or how much she liked scarves.
She was also thinking about the tone he’d just used, the way his voice had been ever so slightly out of breath as he took a step back to properly get a good look at her. That single word offered like a joke, but sounding like an order. She wasn’t going to pretend that she didn’t imagine they were coming out into the woods for a reason, but she didn’t think the reason would be this.
“Strip.”
Even the word was vulgar, in its own way. It was erotic, too, frustratingly. And it made her legs feel atrophied, the muscles useless. So she’d done as he said, and just as her thumbs slipped into the waistband of her panties, he’d stopped her. Not with a word, or a hand, but with an embrace. Wrapping her in his coat, holding her shivering form.
There were words whispered against her cheek, but she didn’t know what they were. She didn’t care what they were. The only thing she was thinking about was how incredibly vulnerable she felt, how deliciously naked. It wasn’t that she wasn’t wearing any clothes, it was the exposure of it. There was nothing to hide behind, for miles, nothing to obscure her. Not even the clothes on her back.
That’s how she wanted to be for him, she realised.
That final sentence,— that summarizes everything that means anything. Well done.
(Source: theguccislut)
