He slowly lifts my shirt up over my head, and I watch as it falls from his fingertips to the floor. Unclasping my bra, he gently hooks his fingers in the straps, and I watch the fabric fall. I stand there, bare in front of him, as he drinks me in, and any flaws I have are now his to accept.
“You're so stunning, Myssa,” he whispers, with hunger in his eyes. His fingertips gently find refuge within the curves of my body, as if to memorize me by touch. When his warm caress cups around my breast, his thumb grazes over my hard peak, and my breath hitches. My core tightens in response.
I need more. I need his warmth, and my hands once again explore him. The sensation of him against my skin is overwhelming, and I slide my hand through his hair as he steps closer, kissing me with a desperation I’ve never felt before.
His hands touch me with a sense of possession I’ve never experienced before as he trails his fingertips across my chest, his tongue exploring my mouth, and this need for more has my hand following the small patch of hair from his navel to his jeans.
I unbutton them, and he lets out a small whimper. So focused on the sensation of what his warm skin feels like under my fingertips, I haven’t even realized he has already unbuttoned and unzipped my pants.
We break our kiss only for a moment, and we both shed our clothing to the floor. I stand there, the delicate small black lace fabric the only barrier. For the first time, I’m not afraid for him to see me. All of me.
Zayne stands in his boxers, his excitement clearly visible. He turns me around, walking me over to a long mirror in the corner of the room.
The light is just enough to illuminate our figures, and I stare at him behind me. One arm stretches across my chest, his fingers caressing and kneading my breasts and pinching my nipples. His hard erection is pressed against my backside. I watch in the mirror as his other hand slides down from the side of my hip and across my stomach. He plays for a short minute, letting his finger slide just at the edge of the fabric, driving me crazy, until he finally slides his fingers past the barrier. He starts to make small, lazy circles on my clit, my heat already on display for him as he starts to work me as if he knows exactly what I need. I let out a small moan and close my eyes for a moment, letting the sensation take over.
“Open your eyes, Myssa,” he says as he brushes my hair back, exposing my neck for him. Tilting my head, I give him better access. Laying kisses across my shoulder, he moves back up, nipping at my neck and leaving small bruises as he lets out a small growl.
“I need you to watch me, Myssa. I want to etch this bliss onto your soul to erase any doubt you ever had of us.” He breathes deeply. “No one will be able to take this away from us. And I promise you will never burn as bright for any other.”
His words, the work of his fingers, and the burning desire in his eyes, pushes me into ecstasy, crying out his name as I hold on to his forearm, and I shudder in his arms. Sensing I’m becoming weak as I ride out my orgasm, he holds me tighter against his body.
I catch my breath as I come back from the stars. After turning me back around, his lips consume me as if he’s been starving, and his tongue dances with mine as he guides me to the bed.
The backs of my legs press against the mattress, and I sit, never breaking the connection, we have as I watch him step back for a moment. I study him as he takes off his boxers, releasing himself fully, looking comfortable in his vulnerability in front of me as he stands there.
He strokes himself from base to tip, smearing his pre-cum in preparation. Seeing him, all of him, pulls a yearning in me I can’t contain anymore. My soul is carnal for him, and he is mine. I need to feel the connection of our bodies becoming one. The desire to have him cement all the confessions and promises he has made is making me feral with need.
As if he feels it too, he slides down the last piece of obstruction, hindering us from becoming one. Pushing myself up on the bed, I lay here, waiting with anticipation. This is a slow, pleasurable torture. My eyes are drawn to his, as if pulled by some magnetic strand between us.
“I vow to worship your body in this world, and every one thereafter,” he confesses.
He starts to trail small kisses, and he licks up my inner thigh till he finally reaches my core, and the embers of ecstasy from moments ago ignite once again. Spreading me slightly, he licks and nips with delicious accuracy, his fingers working me in unison as I buck from the pressure, the sensation already building again so quickly, but he pulls away, and I roll my hips in frustration, searching for the friction.
“Zayne,” I plead.
He doesn’t say anything, but my pleas are drowned out as I feel his tongue trail up my stomach. He cups my breasts, his attention to each sending me in a whirlwind of pleasure that has my chest heaving with primal need.
Making his way up my body, he grazes his lips so delicately up to my collar bone, and his small nips and groans have me aching for him. The expectation of our connection is almost toomuch to bear. His lips are so close to mine, his touch barely a trace, as we breathe each other in. His eyes are wild with desire as he slowly pushes inside of me, the connection consuming me whole.
His breath catches with each pleasurable movement he makes, until he’s fully seated, his thrust achingly slow as he gives my body time to adjust.
“I have endured so many nights of torture, just wanting to feel you, Myssa,” he growls. “But never again. We will forever be one.”
His thrusts quicken, becoming wild as the possessiveness of his words leaves no doubt of this truth.
“Only us,” he says with a breathless satisfaction.
“Only us,” I whisper.
His small moans send shocks of a delectable current throughout my body. His words, his actions, are so intense I can feel the pull in the frequency taking over. I ground myself as my nails dig into his back, which seems to be his undoing. His thrusts becoming more determined. His lips consume my own with so much intensity; I hold on to him as I feel my mind push back in every direction.
At the core of my being, I can feel the frequency pass through us, the existence of us. It’s undeniable that Zayne is my everything. The fiber of his existence starts where mine ends, and mine begins with his. This infinite loop that connects our souls together. With each thrust, the intensity builds stronger.
I moan out, “Zayne.”
“Let go, Myssa,” he commands. “Give yourself to me…give me everything.”
With this permission, I erupt, losing myself in the frequency pulsating around us. As I tighten around him, he groans, following me into bliss.
