Picture this, we are in a kitchen and you and I have had an argument. You have hauled me into your arms telling me you can’t kill feelings like the ones we have for each other and with that your mouth comes down to cover mine with a pressure that is hard and wanting. I find myself returning it without reservation, straining for a greater closeness, needing it. You draw back a little, a hand framing my face, you’re breathing more than a little ragged. Your eyes move over me making me ache. You kiss me again, this time like a manager forcing himself to savour the taste of water after being starved for it.
With the same restraint you hold me to you, your mouth rummaging lightly through my hair. “You taste amazing!” you murmur thickly. “How come I have not seduced you before?” I close my eyes against your words, trembling inside, unable to breathe and hurting because of it, my hands rigid on your waist.
“Don’t” I whisper lightly. You say, “But I must. It’s all I wanted to do since I met you.” A strange and wonderful peace comes over me and I know everything will be all right. I slide my arms around you and you stiffen slightly. “I want you but you deserve more than I can give you.” “Just give me all you can. That will be enough,” I say. A gusty sigh breaks from you as your weight presses me against the counter. You mouth closes onto mine, driving and tonguing in its need. Your hips trapping me against your body. I respond with equal force. You draw back an inch, your heated breath fanning my lips, your body heavy against mine. Your hands tunnel into my hair, caging my head. “I want you, but not here – not like this, not like a couple of teenagers making out in the kitchen. I want you in bed, your hair spread over a pillow. Making a golden frame for your face.” “Yes,” I whisper.
Without preliminaries, you scoop me into the cradle of your arms. I wrap my arms around your neck; run my fingers through your hair while I explore your ear, chewing at its lobe. You carry me into my bedroom, and then kick the door shut behind you.
With the world shut out, you lower my legs to the floor, letting me slide down your muscled thigh, my loose fitting sweater bunching up under your arms, your hands gliding on to my bare skin. Your mouth comes back to claim mine and you taste heat and desire, an addictive combination. While you strip off my sweater, I push at your shirt, forcing it off your wide shoulders. You shrug out of it, then impatiently come back to run your hands over my skin. In minutes we’re twined together on the bed. My hair spills over the pillow the way you dreamed about. Now that dream is coming to life. I am here with you. You gather my hair in your hand, draw it up to expose my neck. You trace the curve of my jaw with your tongue. My hands glide over your chest, then lower, and your stomach muscles quiver under my touch.
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