"Is it okay if I touch you now?" I asked.
"Isn't that what we're here for?" he replied, a little sarcasm in his voice. This man! I simultaneously wanted to smack him and press my mouth against his.
I felt compelled to point out that if I touched him, we wouldn't be speaking again for quite some time...
We had hashed out the terms of our "relationship" while sitting in a quiet neighborhood bar far from where we both live, and had moved on to the quaint but clean hotel room where we planned to finally, FINALLY make good on an attraction that had been building for months. Though we were single, as prominent members of our community we didn't want to deal with the speculation and news-worthiness of something that was really just a primal physical attraction and not likely to turn into anything romantic anyway. Keeping our sex lives and public lives separate was going to take a little effort. But now, we were done talking. It was time for more. Butterflies churned in my stomach.
"Touch me," he commanded.
"Yes, sir!" I retorted, and slowly reached up and placed my hand against his warm cheek, feeling for the first time his strong jaw, looking into those gorgeous blue-green eyes that simultaneously mocked me and looked into my depths. It felt like forever and no time at all. Suddenly, his mouth was on me. Soft, intense, warm lips pressing into mine. God, how I needed him.
I wrapped my arms around him, feeling his strong shoulders, broad back as he leaned into me. We opened our mouths to each other and his tongue found mine. This was just a kiss and I was already losing my mind. His hands started roaming my body as I raised my hands to run them through his hair. That thick head of hair I had wanted to touch for so long. He traced my jaw gently with his fingertips and pulled my mouth even harder onto his, and I thought I was going to go over the edge.
Standing me up and moving me away from my chair, he dropped his mouth to my neck as I moaned. His warm, strong hands found the bottom edge of my shirt and snuck underneath, caressing my skin, his hands wrapped around my waist - thumbs pressing into my belly, fingertips on my back. Why had we waited so long? I wanted to rip his clothes off but simultaneously make this last as long as possible. His head dipped deeper, seeking the valley at the base of my neck. I was not going to make it. My knees buckled slightly and he wrapped one arm around me to support me.
How many times had I gazed longingly at those strong arms? How many nights had I fantasized about how they would feel wrapped around me? How short I had fallen in imagining what it would be like.
He brought his fingers up to trace the neckline of my shirt as he continued to kiss my neck. His kisses were hot, wet, passionate, but his fingertips were so delicate it almost tickled. They would sneak a little way under the edge of my shirt and then back out, dip in and out again. This was torture. Digging my fingers into his back I quietly whispered "please!" He paused but ignored me, flicking his tongue over my skin as if to taunt me even further. "PLEASE," I moaned. Acquiescing, he began to unbutton my shirt. I began to shower his jaw with kisses, nibbling along the way. My tongue found his ear and I rejoiced in making his knees buckle a little. All's fair...