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I raise my shoulders in a defensive shrug. “I never intended to stay this long,” I remind him, “We were only going to talk, remember?”
He gets up from the bed, his eyes glittering as he rises to his feet. “Apparently, it’s not just me you find abhorrent,” he says, “even being here is so unbearable to you that you can’t wait to leave.” He glares at me for a moment. “You should have left yesterday.” He continues, “Why didn’t you?”
I look away from the challenge in his eyes, distracted by his bare chest, the firmly defined muscles still gleaming from his shower. “You were ill, David.” I say, “I couldn’t leave you.”
“Really?” He closes the space between us in one swift movement. “Is that the only reason?”
He is right in front of me, his face less than an inch from mine. I breathe in the scent of him, his warmth. ‘Yes, that’s the only reason.’ I want to lie, but my lips won’t move. I’m still trying to get the words out, when suddenly, his lips are on mine, firm and insistent, and I don’t care about talking any more.
The kiss is deep and demanding, his lips moving over mine as his tongue teases my lips apart. I let him in eagerly, glorying in each stroke of his tongue against mine. In only a few moments, I’m out of breath, my whole body humming with pleasure and shaking uncontrollably.
He guides me towards the bed, still kissing me as he lays me down on top of the covers. Dimly, I register what’s happening, what we’re about to do, but I don’t care. I’ll never get enough of him. I want him, and if he stops now I wouldn’t be able to bear it.
He reaches down for the hem of the dress I rescued from the closet earlier, pulling it up until I’m bared to him except for my bra and panties. There is a queer expression on his face as he bends his heads and starts to kiss my stomach, each touch, light and tender as he moves downwards.
I grip his shoulders, my fingers running over his back, urging him back up to kiss me again. He obliges, his lips capturing mine while he trails his fingers down my body until they’re between my legs, rubbing me through my panties. I can’t bear it. I rub myself against them, eager for more.
How can I live without this? How is it even possible?
“Don’t stop.” I beg, “Don’t stop.”
“Never.” He replies huskily.
I reach for him, running my fingers along the ridge of his arousal through the cotton pajama bottoms. Desperately I pull them down, freeing him. He groans, his eyes closed as I stroke along the length of him.
He reaches behind me and unhooks my bra, and as my breasts spill out, I see his eyes darken. He squeezes both breasts, lowering his head to lick at one nipple, then the other. I gasp at the pleasure, my body tightening, convulsing. I lift my hips and rub against him. I can’t take it much longer.
He looks up into my face and smiles, “Easy,” he says softly, before moving down between my legs to pull my panties off my hips. He doesn’t wait to pull them all the way down before he covers me with his lips, torturing me with his tongue.
I groan loudly, my body thrashing as the first waves of pleasure hit me. He grabs hold of my thighs, spreading my legs wider as he licks, tongues and sucks me until I’m totally wrecked, sobbing and screaming incoherently.
Finally, when my body has stopped shaking, and I’m silent, he comes to lie beside me and pulls me to him, holding me against his body and stroking my hair.
“Don’t leave.” He whispers against my ear.
I don’t say anything. I just lie there in his arms until he starts to breathe deeply.
It feels so good to be lying so close to him, held against his warm male strength, that it only takes a few moments for me to fall asleep, and I don’t wake up until Mrs. Daniels knocks on the door and announces that she’s bringing dinner.
She’s too nice to do anything other than smile knowingly as she carries a tray into the room, placing it on the closest table beside the bed. I look away from her smile, a little embarrassed because I know that she knows that, under the covers, David and I are naked, that we’ve just made love, even though not long ago I told her I was leaving.
I wait for the door to close behind her, before I get off the bed to see what’s in the dishes.
“This looks nice.” I say turning to David, who’s sitting up, and throwing the covers away from his glorious body.
“Yes it does.” He agrees, his eyes never leaving me. “You shouldn’t wear clothes,” he muses, eyes darkening with desire, “Not when you look so much better like this.”
He only has to look at me like that and my heart accelerates.
“Come here.” He says, holding out a hand to me.
“You need to eat.” I tell him, trying to be sensible, ignoring the sudden warm ache between my legs.
“Yes I’m famished.” He grins, and I know he’s not talking about the food.
“Why don’t you let me?” He gets off the bed in a fluid motion. I watch him admiringly as he loads a plate with food and motions for me to sit.
He insists on feeding me morsels with his fingers, which he allows to linger on my lips. It’s so extremely sensual that each time I can’t prevent myself from licking off the little bits of food from his fingers. He does the same to me when I feed him, his tongue teasing the tips of my fingers and sending small shocks up my arms and down my spine.
