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Halley’s breathing is heavy, short harsh pants as I use my mouth to drive her to distraction. Her nails are digging into my shoulders as she holds on to me. When her soft pink lips part to drag in some much needed air, I can’t resist any longer and I slam my mouth down on hers, forcing my tongue into her mouth.
Her soft cries are turning me on and the static electricity between us, the way my skin tingles wherever hers brushes along it…. it is too much and I devour her mouth. She tastes like chocolate cake and vanilla icing as I lick the inside of her mouth, feeling her nipples tighten against my chest through the barrier of clothes.
What would it be like to have them in my mouth, hard, as I suck on them, making her mewl under me?
She’s shaking now and I have to release knowing she’s completely overwhelmed now. Looking down at her flushed face and her unfocused eyes, I brush a strand of red hair from her face, tenderly.
How does she manage to keep drawing me into her like this?
One taste of her and I’m addicted.
Is this how it’s supposed to be?
I want to take our relationship slow, at a pace easy for her. But the more time I spend around her and the more I touch her, the more harder it is to rein in my own desires.
And she doesn’t exactly make it easy for me with her breathy sighs and her big eyes when she looks at me, her lips parted, and swollen. How am I supposed to resist that?
I try to step back but her hands tighten in my shirt and she’s pulling me back.
This time it’s her kissing me. It’s a sweet kiss, innocent in its exploration, which makes it all the more hotter. I want nothing more than to start ripping her clothes off and devour her one bite at a time, using only my mouth on that delectable body of hers to make her come over and over again.
My hand tightens in her hair, painfully so, and when her nipples harden even more, I find it intriguing. “Enough, Halley,” I tell her, a hint of command in my tone.
She reluctantly stops.
So obedient.
The thought stirs my blood and I make a mental note to explore this when I finally have her naked before me. I rub my thumb over her soft cheek, wonderingly. “We have to get up early tomorrow. Go inside.”
She clearly doesn’t want to, but after a moment of internal conflict, she finally gives in.
I watch, regretfully, as the door closes behind me with a click.
Just a little more patience.
I prefer my bike to a car any day.
However, in this case, drivin
g all the way to Chesapeake City, a car is the best option, especially considering there are two of us.
Halley sleeps half the way, bags under her eyes, and I wonder why she has so much trouble sleeping. Of course when I ask her, her answer doesn’t exactly surprise me; I have my suspicions.
“Nightmares,” she mumbles before stretching her arms over her head and yawning. Snuggling into her seat, a cross of a sullen and sleepy expression on her face, she mutters, “It’s the same damn thing each time. I could just write a motion picture on it at this point.”
I chuckle. “Why don’t you tell me about it? We still have a while to go.”
Expecting something amusing, my smile slowly drops as she begins describing it, her words painting something that even makes me shudder. It does shock me that it’s the same dream every time. Do nightmares work that way?
I’ve had the occasional bad dream but never on repeat like a broken record.
“Did you ever talk to anyone?” I ask, my eyes on the road.
“Aside from Aunt Ange, nobody. When I first came there, she would listen to it, and after some time, she told me to start writing down the details.”
“Then what happened?”
“Nothing,” she replies, her tone a bit sad. “It helped me get it out of my system, I guess. And after a while, the nightmares ceased—well, not exactly, they became more infrequent. Lately, it’s just been bad. Maybe I should start writing them down again,” she murmurs the last part to herself.
