The Redemption(3)
Licking my lips, the action involuntary, I’m starting to think that maybe I’ve wanted to kiss him longer than I had the right to as well. But I see him. I’ve always seen the real him and not the showman or the manwhore he wants everyone else to see. I see the way the light reflects in his brown eyes, giving them more life than one would expect when labeled just “brown.” The liquid tone of where sand meets the ocean at night might do them more justice. His eyes are lighter than mine, and hold a history completely different. But they draw me in, his body wagering me closer.
When I go, I lift up this time to kiss him. With a tilt of our heads, our mouths open and our tongues meet. I shouldn’t want him like I do. It’s wrong to feel this way, but every physical urge I have overrides my thoughts and deepens as our breaths become each others.
Immersed in a passion that alleviates other burdens I’ve carried for too long, I enjoy the loss of control, my tension slipping away as he maneuvers me back toward the bed. I go willingly in all ways, wanting to grab hold of this feeling of freedom and release it sexually. I sit as he stands in front of me. The expression on his face highlights his handsome structure—a cut jaw, strong when juxtaposed against his soft gaze. I realize he hides behind his sunglasses so much that I’d forgotten how truly striking he is. His hair is shorter than a year ago, but still hits just below his chin in a jagged-style, carefree and uncalculated.
He slips his shirt off, dropping it to his feet before leaning down and popping open the front of my jeans. I let him as I lean back on my elbows. My shoes come off and then my jeans, slowly, but with no doubt. Neither of us are na?ve to what’s happening or what’s to come. I sit up and take my shirt off before lying back down and asking for the drink. When he hands it to me, I finish the amber liquid and take an ice cube into my mouth, finishing the remaining traces.
Standing up, I demand, “Take your jeans off and lay down.” I set the glass back on the dresser across the room and when I return, his lean, muscular body, all six-foot-three of him is on the bed. Crawling up the large mattress, I sit down on his middle, his hardness feeling so good between my legs. I take the ice from my mouth and it drips on his abs, making them twitch. Another drip and another.
“You like to tease,” he says, not a question, just an observation.
I lean down and run my tongue over each drop, my chest pressed to his erection.
Lifting my eyes up to watch him, I drag my tongue lower and slower before hearing him mutter, “Fuck.”
His head falls back and his eyes close. I drag my fingers over the ups and downs of his defined muscles, appreciating every sit up he does for this exact reason. When I blow across his stomach, his reaction is felt everywhere. Sitting up, he pulls me by my arms and flips me under him in one smooth move. Desperate lips are pressed against mine as his hips flex down, his knees maneuvering my legs apart. Ten inches taller than me, but our bodies seem to fit in so many ways. He kisses my neck and I moan unexpectedly, well aware I just made the only sound in the room. Lifting up, he looks at my face as his hand gently squeezes my left breast. “You’re beautiful. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
If I thought the moan was unexpected… that tops it.
Never knowing he thought this about me, I’m not sure what to say, so I lift up and kiss him instead. I let the bourbon take over for a bit and enjoy the other ten inches he has on me. His hips come down again, and my body tingles from the contact, my hips reacting by moving against him.
My chest presses against his as his body weighs down on top of mine. Another moan escapes me as our tongues caress. The slightly rough skin of his hand slides under my bra and he takes me firmly, massaging and peaking my nipples. Rolling onto our sides, our mouths part and our eyes meet again. With a soft whisper between us, he asks, “You sure?”
I reply with a kiss to his cheek before I roll onto my back and unfasten my bra. After dropping it to the floor, I lift my hips up, removing my thong. The moonlight streaks in, accentuating the want found in his eyes as he stares at my body. Boxer briefs are removed and he lies next to me. When I look over at him, the reality of the situation is clear even through the wavy goggles of alcohol. His penis is long, thickly attractive, smooth, but hard. He reaches for a packet from a drawer next to the bed and rolls a condom on before turning to me and staring at me without reservation. His gaze is heavy enough to feel as it envelops me in desire. The way his tongue slides over his bottom lip while looking at me makes me anxious for more. But I remain still, letting his lust linger between us, building, just like my yearning for him.
Patience has no concept of time, but cravings do, so I touch his arms, encouraging him closer… closer… until he’s centered on top of me. He leans down resting on his elbows and kisses me. Pushing in, my body welcomes the stretch and burn, desiring the long lost sensation. Deep inside our bodies, our feelings emulate the intensity of the act. Our pace picks up in a frenzy of kisses and caresses. Heated bodies move together in sync, out of sync, and everything else that feels good and natural. A bite to my neck, a nibble to his earlobe. We cover each other in panting breaths over skin that becomes slick with passion.
Every thrust elicits sounds from our mouths we can’t contain. Guttural. Sensual. Every thrust purposeful and rough, sexy, and caring. Our connection is not casual but filled with an unbridled passion I wasn’t aware lay deep beneath the surface.
Pushing his hair back with my hands, I look up at him as a sheen of sweat starts dotting his forehead. His body moves fluidly, his experience showing. I push him over and readjust on top, slipping down slowly. His three gun tattoos wrap around the muscles of his arm and flex when he steadies me on top of him. Our pace slows. I don’t want this to end too soon, but my insides urge for more. I close my eyes, willing the darkness behind my lids toward the imploding light I know is buried, longing to be seen.