It happens fast.
So fast he forgets to think.
He’s standing there, half distracted, half unsure of what she’s about to do—when her fingers hook into his belt loop with a confidence that steals the air out of his chest.
Not tugging.
Not yanking.
Just a simple, decisive pull that brings him closer than he expected… closer than he thought she’d dare.
Her eyes lift to meet his, steady and unblinking, the kind of look that makes a man understand he’s not being invited—he’s being positioned.
“You’re too far,” she says quietly.
He wasn’t.
But she wants him closer, and that’s all that matters.
His knees brush hers.
His breath touches her cheek.
Every inch between them feels claimed by her decision.
She steps closer again, closing the last fragments of space until her body lines up with his.
Her fingers stay curled in his belt loop, a small, effortless hold that somehow controls all of him.
“You didn’t move until I pulled you,” she murmurs.
“Good.”
That praise drops into him warmer than her breath.
She lets her other hand slide slowly up his torso, not in a hurry, tracing the center line of his body like she’s checking his reactions one by one.
He stiffens—she notices.
He tries to steady his breathing—she notices that too.
Older women always notice.
Her thumb drags lightly across the buckle of his belt, not undoing anything, just hovering there, controlling the air around it.
She enjoys the tension she creates.
Then she tugs the belt loop again, just a little.
“Closer.”
He moves this time before she even pulls, and the corner of her mouth lifts—she likes obedience without requiring the command twice.
Her body presses lightly into his, not pushing, not grinding—just aligning.
Her thigh brushes his, deliberate and slow.
His breath catches again.
She leans in, her lips near his jaw:
“You see? You follow better than you think.”
Her fingers release the belt loop only to slide up his shirt, flattening against his chest with a calm, claiming pressure.
Her voice drops even lower.
“I pull…
you come to me.
Remember that.”
And he knows he will—
because once a woman like her has pulled you close,
you never quite go back to standing on your own terms again.
