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I’ve never had someone lick water from my chin before, but it sends a pulse straight down my chest which settles between my legs. He takes the almost empty water bottle from my hand and sets it on the counter, looking at me with questioning eyes. I wish I knew what he was thinking, but it’s best I don’t.
With his raspy voice, he starts to ask, “What’s your…” But I stop him from finishing by pressing my lips to his with a kiss that deepens by the second.
I didn’t come here to talk or to get to know him.
I came here for one thing and one thing only.
Feeling his erection press against me, I can’t help but lean further into him, seeking out the delicious ache that’s building inside me. In response, he turns me around quickly and pushes me against the counter. Kissing him is like a slow dance that I never want to end. It’s as if he has all the time in the world to explore my mouth with his tongue.
He doesn’t try to say anything else but he speaks to me with his eyes.And his eyes tell me a story of a man on fire.
He understands the assignment.
No names, only this.
Cupping my ass with his large hands, he lifts me onto the counter, spreading my thighs wide as his body settles between them. The heels of my shoes hit the cabinet beneath me, and it’s the only sound in the room aside from the hum of the air conditioner kicking on.
While kissing him, I use my hands to explore his body, skimming across his waist and making my way up his back to finally settle in his hair. Even wet it feels lush, the perfect length to grip and pull as he causes everything inside of me to light up as if I’ve been plugged into an electric socket. Every so often he pulls away to look at me, gripping the side of my face and breathing me in. Deciding he hasn’t had enough, he kisses me once more before kneeling in front of me to take my wet shoe in his hand, untying the laces. Slipping each one off until my feet are bare, he runs his hands over the top to warm them.
Looking up at me from between my thighs through thick black lashes, I feel my heart bang against my chest, aching for him to run his hands up my legs and thinking about what he will do to me next. Rising before me, I gather the material of his shirt in my hands, lifting it off his body and tossing it to the floor. He allows me to slowly explore the tattoos that span across his chest and down his rib cage, ending at the smooth flatness of his stomach that innocently tightens under my touch. The dim light only gives me a partial view of the black ink that looks like wings or scales, I can’t tell which, but I find them incredibly sexy.
I’m only offered a few moments to explore before his patience runs out and he gathers my hair in his fist, pulling me to him and crashing his mouth against mine. Hot kisses turn into hungry nips as he takes the nubs of my erect nipples between his teeth through the material of my wet shirt. I whimper helplessly as my body vibrates with equal parts nervous energy and excitement. I’ve felt attraction before but never like this, and never in a way that threatens to pull me apart from the inside out.
I wasn’t prepared for tonight.
I wasn’t prepared forhim.
He runs his hands under my shirt, and lifts it effortlessly over my head. Shaking out my hair, I’m acutely aware of the simple black cotton bra I’m wearing as my chest heaves. Not that I should be embarrassed about my bra, because it only seems a nuisance for what he’s really after, and he couldn’t care less if it’s made of silk or cotton. Running his hand over my shoulder, he slips his finger under the strap, he pushes it down my arm, trailing behind it with kisses, and leaving goosebumps in his wake.
While his eyes hold me captive, he reaches behind me, unclasping my bra like a master, letting the material fall away, leaving me bare and vulnerable. He looks into my eyes for a moment longer as if he’s waiting for permission, while his callused fingers follow the length of my spine to the small of my back.
My nipples harden into tight points giving me away, the skin at the base pulling so taut I can feel them ache to be touched. When he runs his thumb over the nub, it leaves me breathless. A pulse shoots down my body and lands directly between my thighs, as if he’s pulled on an invisible thread the moment he takes my nipple between his lips. My fingers sink further into his hair, holding him to me.
My breath hitches, mouth open as if ready to speak, but there are no words meaningful enough to audibly express my emotions. This man knows exactly what he’s doing – and he’s doing itverywell.
The swirl of his tongue is like a narcotic injected deep under my skin and running through my veins like wildfire. Closing my eyes, I can feel an impending storm threatening building inside, threatening to unravel me. It has been way too long since I’ve been touched this, making me raw and extra sensitive. I’m a live wire ready to explode. If I’m already close to the edge with just his mouth on me, I can only imagine how it will feel when he fucks me. Just thinking about it makes me pulse.
“Fuck,” he groans against my breast, and the sound of his voice fills the silent space between us, bringing me ever so closer. I feel everything through his touch, the desperate vibration of his voice and the nervous twitch of his fingers as they dig possessively into my tender flesh.
I don’t have control over my actions in this moment as my body squirms, eager for more contact, chasing that all-consuming friction to satisfy the ache. It’s a feral instinct, something so deeply hidden I don’t recognize it until a moan escapes my lips. This feeling is a high to be chased, and a need that washes over me like a tidal wave.
Capturing his lips, I kiss him with desperate nips and caress him with greedy hands. Sensing what I need, he grabs both my hips and lifts me off the counter, carrying me through the apartment. He smiles against my lips as I tug on his hair until I feel the strands stretch, making him groan.
Strong hands grip my ass while I kiss him deep and needy, not caring in the least if I seem too aggressive because I know exactly what I want. He sets me down on the bed, crawling over me as we kiss. When he pulls away, I writhe as I watch him rise before me.
In the darkened room, all I feel are the soft cool sheets against my bare back as I prop myself up on my elbows to watch him unbutton his jeans. The clank of his belt being freed rings through my chest, settling in the pit of my stomach. Each rise and fall of his chest grabs my attention until I venture to let my eyes travel down to the small pattering of hair on his smooth, flat stomach. The zipper yawns open, giving me a tease of what to expect, seeing the hardness under his boxers. I can feel the wetness pool in my panties.
There’s an energy coursing through my body.
Something foreign… and frightening.
I am past the point of no return when he lowers his head to my stomach, running his tongue along my skin as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of my shorts, gently pulling them down my legs, leaving my panties intact. My heart hammers in my chest, and every breath is drawn like it will be my last. His smile is sexy and captivating, just like it was on stage at the bar, and I’m reminded why I came home with him in the first place. It calms my nerves even though my thighs shake as he slowly crawls up my body, spreading my legs, pressing kisses against my quivering belly, flicking my nipples with his tongue, palming my breast while his cock slides over the material of my panties.
“Ohhh,” I moan, a sigh escaping my lips as my body involuntarily bucks against his. He teases me with a kiss, pulling on my lower lip before he makes his way back down my body.
All that stands between him and I is my white cotton panties that don’t even match the bra that is long forgotten on the floor of his kitchen. He groans his approval as his thumb brushes along the center of my panties, revealing just how wet I am for him.
If I’m being honest, no one has ever made me feel this out of control and spiraling with need. Maybe it’s because I haven’t had sex in nearly eight long years, but I have a feeling that it’s because of him. The way he looked at me when he was on stage, and the way his voice called to me on the street, no one had ever made mefeel.
