<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="color: #BF0000">Karra Lee Micheals</span></span></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #BF0000">Captain Micheals</span></div><br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="postlink" href="http://i1343.photobucket.com/albums/o793/Galvin_Fugazi/d8d8d07d-bef1-4b12-bb9c-4a8ccbe576b0_zps6c4f5818.jpg">[ img ]</a></div><br/><br/><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #FF8000"><span style="font-style: italic">"Karra. You are moody, jealous bitch but I love you still..." </span></span><br/><br/>Karra was about to give a biting reply--disliking being called a bitch, but Tom had grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her head back. She let out a surprised hiss, being completely helpless against Tom's strong hands. She was tender headed, but the pain of it felt satisfying and she couldn't help but give a small groan as she bit her bottom lip. Her own arms went behind her to provide balance, though it was unnecessary due to Tom holding onto her. She felt him trailing kisses along her throat and she gave a contented sigh, arching into him. It felt right to be like this with Tom, felt right to be in his arms as she was. <br/><br/>When she had felt his hand slip under her bra, her stomach tightened in anticipation. She felt the fabric of her bra scrape against her nipples as he pushed it up, causing her to let out a small gasp. The sensation felt very pleasant, but she wanted more. She moved her hips some to get in a more comfortable position, grinding against him as she did so. She felt his hand on her right breast and she pushed herself a little closer to him to feel him more firmly. His mouth found its way to her left breast, causing her to quickly bring one hand to his shoulder in surprise, squeezing it in undeniable pleasure. A small moan left her lips, drowned out by Tom's words, <span style="color: #FF8000"><span style="font-style: italic">"You are mine, Karra. Don’t even think that I will allow you to run away...." </span></span><br/><br/>How he was able to speak was beyond her comprehension, but she gave a submissive nod.  Her eyes closed as she took in his touch. How could she run away? How could she run from him? He had been all she had wanted the past two years. She had fantasized about him confessing he wanted her, needed her--had fantasized about him dominating her, making her his--taking her in his kitchen, in her shower, in the cockpit--damn near everywhere a moment presented itself. She was finally beginning to live one of those many fantasies, but she needed more. <br/><br/>With some difficulty she pulled her hair out of Tom's hands, wriggling out of his strong hold--though she remained straddling him. He seemed confused and angry about her escape, but she silenced whatever he had planned on saying by going after his shirt, her mouth finding his as she went. It had to come off, there was no other option. She needed to be able to touch him, to feel him against her, to be able to kiss his body. She pulled off her bra and shirt the rest of the way, tossing them to the side. She began to kiss him once more.<br/><br/>After a minute or two of kissing Tom and fruitlessly trying to remove his clothes, she pulled away glaring down at the uniform Tom was wearing, <span style="color: #BF0000">"Damn it Tom, you have too many clothes on!"</span> she hissed out, fumbling with the many buttons and zippers. She wanted nothing but to feel his skin against her, and the offending articles of clothing on him prevented just that. She was damn near ready to rip them off.</div>