There you were on the other side of the door. Smiling widely at first sight. Your top shirt buttons undone, relaxed you walked in. The light was on, yet dim near the door. I was barefoot, boy shorts peeking from under my satin cami. You lightly grasped the hair framing my face, twirling your fingers through the strands. Leaning in, your lips brushed my cheek in shy greeting. Visibly arrested my skin pebbled at the moment of contact.
I ran my fingers along the collar of your shirt, then down to the first confined button. They deftly worked each button open, memorizing the feel of your body on my way down. Tugging your shirt out of your pants. The smooth leather of your belt sliding free of each notch. As I got your pants undone, your fingers trailed my neck down to the satin covering my breast, my nipple already hard as your finger found it over the tank. We stood for a moment just staring, your pants gone, shirt open.
You reached for the back of my neck, pulling me to you, lips finding. Mouths open, hot and scorching. You kissed me thirsty with need. Our bodies pressed together, you found the bottom curve of my ass, your thumb stroking, hand grabbing. I strained against you, the evidence of your desire apparent. My body shook, ready, wanting. You pulled my shorts off, and knelt to kiss my nipple over the tank. Leaving a wet mark, and my mouth sighing.
Unable to take any more, the rest of our clothes discarded. The city lights were twinkling outside the huge window. You turned me around to look out, standing behind me. Your body curved into mine, mouth close to my ear, “How many people do you suppose are watching?”
I couldn’t answer, my ass grinding against you, wanting you to know, I was ready. You moved in me with ease, hard and silky. My hand found balance, open flat pressed to the window pane. I could barely catch my breath as your hands gripped my hips, then my breasts. I reveled in the feel of your body, hot with lust, meeting mine with each thrust.
The other people in the room were slipping out the door, after thirty minutes of torment and months of control, I finally lost myself. Looking him straight in the eye, the words dropped out before I could stop myself, “I want..”
Pausing from fear, unsure. He looked at me, curious of what I was trying to say. I licked my lips and tried again, “I want, to tell you something. Though maybe I shouldn’t.”
His head made a slight nod, “You can tell me.”
In the space of that sentence he had moved towards me. My fingers fidgeted, heart thumping, stomach clenching. “I dreamt of you last night.”
“What was I doing?”
“I barely remember, just that you and I were in your truck.”
Certain there was more than that, his fingertips brushed my cheek, sliding to tuck the hair behind my ear. He bent slightly, his mouth close to my ear. “I have a secret. Can I trust you?”
“Yes.” The words coming out on a whisper, ruffling his hair with my breath. A strong hand settled above my hip, our bodies almost touching. I stood boneless and still, anticipating his words, imagining that his eyes were flecked with fire.
“I want you. Badly. Underneath me, face to face. Heated skin, losing your breath.”
Pangs of desire flowed throughout my body, my hands gripping his shoulders. Wanting to respond and not able to find the words. His thumb stroked my side, the rest of his fingers digging in. His lips pressed just below my ear, onto my jaw, until we were looking right at each other.
“But we don’t have time for that today do we? We will.” With that promise he pulled me against him, lips searing mine, tongues searching, bodies aching.
As I sat there, holding a conversation, my eyes were drawn to the bottom of a tattoo. Slightly peaking out beneath short shirt sleeves. Trying to focus, I bounced my eyes back to his, stormy and always squinting with a smile. How I want to remove his shirt, and see what’s underneath. Touch my fingers to his taut nipples. Gaze upon that which I have desired for so long.. I want to see the shock envelope his face when he realizes I have finally crossed the line. To hold him down and make him admit what he wants. Maybe then those smiling eyes might waver.