His want for me presses hard into my hip. We groan in unison as our mouths connect. We fall to the bed together.
“I’ve been thinking about this so much,” he says.
“Me too.”
“I want to touch every inch of you.”
“Yes,” I say. “Please.”
His hands trace a path over every inch he can reach. My own hands squeeze at the strong, masculine muscles of his neck, shoulders, and back. Such a solid heat. I want to rub myself against him. And so I do. He groans into my neck, his body trembling. It’s nice to know I’m not the only one losing their mind.
“You feel so amazing,” he says.
“You too.”
His palm cups my breast; his fingers pull lightly on my nipple. Energy shoots to that area. I quickly displace it harmlessly from my fingertips, releasing tiny sparks of light like fireflies.
“Amazing,” he says before lowering his head to take my breast into his mouth.
We fall silent and languidly explore each other. Occasionally, a word of encouragement.
“Slower.”
“Yes, God, yes.”
“Like that?”
“Ohh.”
Everything feels perfect and right. There is no fear, only trust. I let go, trusting that he will be there to catch me. And he trusts that I will do the same for him. Maybe that’s thefallingpart of falling in love.
Soon I don’t have to think about the power flowing through me at all. Deep in my subconscious is the understanding that I could never hurt him.
His hand is lower now, teasing and toying with me.
“Slower there,” I instruct.
He enjoys when I tell him what I like. He needs to understand how my body works and so I share everything I can.
He takes his time to make sure I’m wet, spreading me gently with his large fingers, so I can take him. It’s not long until the heat is building and building. Not the light; this is traditional womanly heat gathering in my core, coming to a crest.
I’m arching off the bed as he murmurs in my ear, encouraging me, watching me. His erection thrusting helplessly against my hip turns me on even more. It’s like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. I like how the air smells like us. I like the occasional spark of energy that flies out from me.
I like everything.
He’s assertive but attentive. He’s as passionate about me as he is about his work and it makes me feel like a goddess. He watches in awe as his fingers work me, splitting his attention between watching them and my face for clues. I can see him taking mental notes of what brings me the most pleasure.
I grab his head and bring him to me. We kiss languidly and passionately.
He beckons me over the edge with a crook of his finger in just the right spot. I break our kiss to go flying. The world whites out, energy shooting through me, but I let it free. It flows through me and out of me. It’s all so circular. Cosmic and microscopic. Energy and the world. Our lives in time. Infinite and not at all.
Man, orgasms make me dopey.
When I open my eyes again the room is filled with dancing lights.
* * *
Nathaniel
