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His stubble is sharp and prickly against my cheek.
It feels foreign, yet familiar. I melt against his touch. The flimsy material of his hospital gown did nothing to hide the heat that radiates from our bodies.
My lungs start to scream for air and I pull back.
His dark eyes dance with something…
“I really thought you were going to die…” I snap.
I try to collect myself, knowing he’s in pain, and I am too.
“We’re both injured…” I sighs. “We need to take it easy…”
“Just lay like this a little while with me, then?” He asks.
I shudder and shift even closer to him, needing the warmth of his body.
He wraps his arms around me and holds me close. They seem to fall naturally on my hips..
I can only hope we’re both healed to do this, this time. It’s been so many weeks…
Go years without sex and you’re fine…
But go weeks when you have the world’s sexiest mobster in the next room and it’s like torture.
He kisses me sweetly. I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing my body against his, deepening it. He slides an arm around my waist, his other buries deeper into my hair. He takes a bite of my bottom lip. I moan. Right into his mouth. And he releases an even throatier moan, but it’s muffled by my lips. I pull back.
“You okay?” I ask.
He laughs. “I’m fine…” he whispers. “Don’t worry about breaking me.”
And as soon as he made the comment, I felt a wild lust unleash like a caged beast that had just escaped. I launch against him, my tongue whirling deeply in his. I pull and tug and grasp at his clothes. I’m just glad I made it to my office before assaulting him. No-one else needed to see this.
But my God, I didn’t want to walk up here when my sex was throbbing as anxiously as it was. His face is flush and I knew my lips were swollen from our heated kiss. He pulls away slightly and strokes my face gently, tracing the lines and edges of it, slowing everything down.
Excruciatingly…
“Are you still trying to kill me?” I ask, breathily, brows raised.
He laughs in response but only a part of me is kidding. “I don’t think so…” he trails, still chuckling. “Unless you really piss me off…”
I can tell he’s joking. And somehow, I trust him. But my God, now is not the time.
I go to grab his shirt to pull him to me, but he catches my hand and kisses it. “You smell like honey…” he muses.
“Stop!” I whine. I’m not the type to whine, but I have no other tools in my tool belt. I have no more conflict resolution skills. My needs are far overshadowing everything else; everything rational.
He holds me closely and we meld together like two puzzle pieces.
“So, you’re the best at getting stacked dealers.”
“No,” I reply sharply. “I’ve never had a dealer like that until now…”
“I don’t want to talk about that though.”
“Oh?” He ask, seductively. “What do you want to do then?"
“I can think of a thing or two…”
