βI canβt believe you havenβt done this yet,β he said and kissed me, his arm across my shoulders to bring me closer, I couldnβt get a word in edgewise.
Did he think I was going to attack him straight in the door or something, I thought while I still could think clearly. Then I stopped thinking and could only feel the sensations and flooding emotions of having him overwhelmingly close.
Images like pictures in my memory come back to me of his skin and hands and mouth and scent and long lean muscles and the sleekness of his animal self touching me inside and out, physical and spirit selves blending. Waiting so long for culmination, would our desire overcome us or could we gentle this storm between us? Were we feeding on the chaos of this passion or was it consuming us? Did we care what overwhelmed us, I think not. We were suddenly out of time, in between what was real and what we desired.
His clean scent in my lungs, on my mouth, filling me as I stroked his skin, delicious sensation on my skin and hands and cheek as I explored him, learning his contours and the planes and valleys of his body. Kneeling between his knees to press my cheek to his belly, smoothing my hands up his chest to push the cloth of his shirt away and expose his strong chest. I filled my hands and mouth with the texture and taste of his skin, joyful in the pure decadence of the moment.
His hands explored me as well, kissing and stroking my skin, finding sensitive places, making my back arch to fill his mouth with my nipple, then teasing the other with his tongue. His hands sliding in the edge of my jeans to dig fingers into my flesh, pulling me tighter to him to feel his growing arousal. His eyes, when I look into them, growing dark and primitive telegraphing straight to my own arousal his need.