Held - Sex Stories

Held

... got home. You always take too long. Go in now or we'll be late. I don't want to keep Duncan and Amy waiting. I said we would be there be by half eight.” He pulls himself off the couch, stretches his tired aching back and wanders out of the room. She goes back to talking about work. “The Americans are idiots of course, but at least they pay up, unlike the Arabs. Once we've finalised this Emirates project, I want to move to the States for six months or so. The New York office has been pestering me to go over for a while and it would be a great opportunity. My contacts tell me it's all kicking off there. You can get leave from work, can't you? It doesn't matter if you can't. I'm sure you'll be able to find a job in America.” Just like that, she wants them to pack up and leave for half a year or more. She earns substantially more than him and doesn't consider what he does important. They could easily do without his salary. Her last bright idea was that she wanted a baby, but didn't want it to interfere with her career. He was to quit his job and stay at home with the kid. Luckily he managed to convince her to postpone that for a while. He goes into the kitchen and opens the fridge. A nice cold bottle of Becks. He cracks it open and she appears behind him. “So, you're going to start drinking beer now? Don't you think it'd be a better idea to get ready first? We're going to be late.” He takes a long, satisfying glug, nearly finishing the bottle in one. She leaves the kitchen in a ...

... huff and heads for the bedroom. He burps then follows her. He wants to have a lie down, maybe a nap. She opens the wardrobe door. “You didn't bother to do the light again. Typical. Why can't you ever do anything I ask? Is it so difficult? All I ask of you is a bit ...” Suddenly he is upon her. So quickly she didn't even have time to react to the flash of movement in her peripheral vision. He grabs her shoulders and spins her round to face him. With hardly any effort, he lifts her off her feet and throws her onto the bed. He comes at her again. This time she's ready. She kicks out wildly, but it doesn't bother him. He bats her feet away like he's shooing flies. He's on top of her, mounted high on her torso, just under her bust. Straddling, his knees either side of her body, trapping her, holding her in place. She attacks him with her hands, hammering with closed fists. He takes a wrist in each hand and slams them down either side of her head, then stretches her arms out, crucifix fashion. She isn't going to just take it from him. She isn't going to allow him to manhandle her like that. She is determined to fight back. She strains against him with gritted teeth, trying desperately to bring her hands together and push him away. He holds firm. She bucks her hips to throw him off. He's too heavy for that to be effective. When he puts his weight on her, it's agony and restricts her breathing. She tries to roll, but that gets her nowhere. Her arms are locked down and his legs squeeze ...