I play a game with Diane called 'word of the day' she gives me a word and i write her a quick short story.

Todays word was Precipice!

i may continue with some of the other words, let me know what you think.

She was teetering on the brink of a very large, beautiful, precipice. He always made claims that were on the large side, but this one...this one would blow her mind, shatter her heart and tip her into oblivion.

If she could just fall...or leap…or fly, but he wouldn't let her. He held her still, trapped and unmoving, their bodies joined, no, fused together! Touching, every inch, but so very still, and he refused to let her fall.

His eyes burning into hers, as she skimmed the edge of ecstasy, her toes on the brink, curled across the tip of the cliff face, hanging on as she screamed at them to let her fall!

She wanted to dive into the abyss.

One flick of his hand, one shift of his body and she would soar, and still he wouldn't let her, his eyes burned into hers, hands clamped over her arms, pinning them to her sides, his entire body holding her flat.

Unmoving!

She wanted to move. Needed to!

To free fall and drag him with her, cresting waves of endless, golden, sunshine. Peeking and flowing through rainbow cascades of joy and desire.

She groaned.

Looking up and watching as his eyes darkened, he shifted and a smile touched the edge of his lips.

How did he maintain control?

Lost in the need to move, to love, to be loved, to surge forward and ride backward. She yearned to rake her fingers across his skin, sink her teeth into it, into his neck muscle, the soft skin at the underside of his jaw, anywhere she could reach, she wanted to bite and leave her mark, but he stayed motionless.

He kept her trapped, swaying on the edge of her own private hell, his hands binding her wrists, holding them to the bed, to his sides. No escape.

Then he moved.

Not where she wanted him to, not how she needed him to, but movement was movement, and movement meant soon.

He pressed his finger past the join of her thumb, softly but insistently, through the gap between her thumb and first finger and made a circle with the slightly rough pad against her palm, before he with drew it out, watching her eyes all the while, before he repeated the action.

Again, and again and again.

Watching her, as the ancient rhythm of his suggestive action took root in her mind, she inhaled deeply, opened her mouth to speak his name, to cry out, to beg...but his gaze stopped her.

The smile widened now, still watching her, as he moved his fingers higher, to her wrist, shifting slightly, movement again, sending glorious quivers through her, tipping her forward, ready to fall, but not all the way, his movement so slight and frustrating, she groaned again, and the grin on his face grew wider still.

He pulled her hands, one at a time, slowly, tenderly, above her head. Pinning them, holding tight to her with one of his scalding hot hands, gripping at her wrists.

He stayed that way, looking down at her, waiting for the shifting of their bodies to settle before he began to torture her anew.

He gently ghosted his free hand over her hair, tucking a strand behind her ear, tweaking the lobe in his fingers, and smiling as she let out a heavy breath.

Lower, he skimmed it over her face, tantalisingly slowly, drawing his fingers across her eyelids, her cheek, her lips.

He brushed the pad of his thumb across her full bottom lip, dipping it lightly into the corner of her mouth, pulling her lip down and running it along on the moist skin inside.

She sighed against him, a sudden burst of air she couldn't contain, expelled across his face. He inhaled deeply just as she did, both lost in the other, she blinked rapidly as she watched him, finally, struggle to pull himself back from the brink.

He did it faster than she could. Two deeply inhaled breaths and a look, and he was back in control.

He dragged his hand back, and moved it lower, over her neck, her shoulder, her collar bone, he trailed it down the centre of her chest deliberately missing her breasts but skirting the edge of both.

He felt her arch up, try to press forward, regain command and set the pace, so he stopped, waited for her to shift away.

She took a few...several hundred...a million shuddering breaths before she could lower her body from his. She let it drop back, slowly, against the mattress, frustration boiling through her. Even her bodies uncontrollable reaction to his touch hadn't forced him into action.

The need within her like a magnet that wanted to stick itself to him and never pull back.

She watched him through glazed eyes, so in command, so deliberate and determined, so unbelievably hot and she smiled.

Wide and delirious, she smiled.

He answered with a softer, more in control, smile, one that said 'are you ready to fly, to fall, to soar and dip and crash and cry out my name…?'

"Well are you Kate?" he asked again.

She had been so lost in watching him and feeling, just feeling, that she didn't realise he was actually talking.

"Are you ready to say my name?"

His fingers trailed the soft skin of her stomach as he spoke, she smiled again as his hand hovered, his body hovered, their bodies still joined together, unmoving.

"I'm not ready to say it," she said, her voice surprising her as it rushed free, deep and dark, full of need. He gripped her tighter "I'm ready to scream it…"

She was teetering on the edge of a beautiful precipice and with one joint bodily surge she fell, and reaching for him, they soared together!