Luna
Thesparkignites.Wecrash together like it was inevitable. No matter where we started, this was always where we were going to end up. Our lips are first, then the hands follow, his cupping my chin as he draws me in closer. Mine to the back of his head. There’s a frenetic energy to the kiss. Caged for too long, waiting for release.
His lips are bruising, hands a vice grip. I welcome it. Each swipe of his tongue, nip of his teeth stokes the flames higher until we’re both breathless, gasping.
He’s the first to break the connection, pulling back just enough to speak. His words a heated whisper against my lips. “Should we?” he asks. It’s not quite a question. More of a command. He’s asking me to be the one to say no, to be the one to put the brakes on. He always keeps his feelings locked down tight. Until now. And it’s exhilarating.
The answer to his question is no. We shouldn’t. But that’s not going to stop me. Nothing could. I’m too far gone for him.
“It’s way too late to be asking that question. I think we both know this is going to happen.”
He shuts his eyes. As if it’ll be easier to think if he’s not looking at me. As if it will be easier to say stop. He swallows, skin shivering under my touch as I slide my hand down his smooth neck.
“Fuck it.”
He moves back in, reclaiming the kiss. We move against each other a little more slowly this time, taking our time to enjoy the sensation. First kisses are always the best. The ones seared into your memory. I savor the moment, the taste of him, his subtly rich scent, his hands firm against my cheeks.
His lips are soft, moving against mine in a perfect rhythm, like we’re in sync.
My body is in flames, so I tug at the bottom of my shirt, needing to cool down, get the constricting fabric away from my sensitive skin.
His fingers circle mine, stilling the movement. “Wait. Let me take it off. I need to see you.”
He releases my wrists as I let the smooth fabric slip away, then bends, pressing his lips to mine once more, before he breaks away. Takes a small step back. It’s too far. I want him here. I reach out.
He ignores the plea, taking over the job. His movements are agonizingly slow. Like he wants to take his time. As if he’s been waiting for this, too.
A shiver ripples up my spine as he peels the shirt up to reveal my body inch by inch.
When he’s dragged it to my chest, he pauses, ducking his head to place a soft kiss on my bare stomach. My abs flex under the attention, and warmth spreads from the spot he kissed, saturating me.
I watch the top of his golden head as he travels up, leaving a line of kisses behind until he reaches the line of my bra. He straightens, and I raise my arms, giving him access to continue his exploration. The shirt finally pulls free over my head, revealing my black lace bra, nipples straining the fabric.
“Gorgeous,” he says. Leaving his hands on my sides as he leans back. He’s studying me with soft reverence. Another new look. Another facet of him. I wonder how many more sides I’ll get to know.
“Your turn.”
He doesn’t move, still admiring me as I return the favor. I’m a little more impatient, ripping his shirt off. There’s a small wince as I toss it to the side, but he lets it go.
I follow his lead, stepping back to admire him. His body has all the sculpted ridges of an elite athlete. I’ve seen my share of shirtless athletes in my time, but he steals the air from my lungs. Maybe it’s the unexpectedness of it. He’s always so polished, put together, in his designer suits and expensive athletic wear. You almost expect him to be soft underneath the fine clothes. Like he’s never had to work for anything in his life. But this impossible perfection comes from hard work.
In contrast to his sharp edges, his skin is velvety soft under my fingertips as I run my nails lightly down his chest, tracing each curve and dip of muscle. I trace them all the way to the deep ridges that disappear into his fitted track pants. His skin has the golden tone of someone who’s spent his day in the sun. Or maybe his life. Sun-filled vacations to exclusive destinations are probably the norm for him.
He moans under my touch, then reaches behind me. His fingers make quick work of my bra, snapping it open. It’s such a sweet relief as the cups drop.
His fingers splay across my back, pulling me back in for another kiss. The straps slip down my shoulders, and I arch myback to slide them off entirely. I’m eager for his touch there. My nipples are aching for him.
He closes his hands around my waist, then down to cup my ass. The fabric falls to the ground in a heap as he hoists me up into his arms, spinning me around to drop me onto the bed. The mattress dips beneath me. He studies me for a moment, then cups my breasts. His thumbs make small circles in the sensitive flesh, drawing ever closer until he reaches the tips.
Now I’m the one moaning as he teases them with light brushes. He ducks his head. Wet heat and soft pulls of his mouth send electricity through my body and down lower.
I squeeze my thighs together, craving some sort of friction, but he pushes them apart, stepping between them. I’m getting desperate for some sort of contact. His mouth, his tongue, his fingers.
I want to feel all of him, so I reach out, tugging at his waistband. It’s a struggle. His hard length stretching the material.
I gasp as his teeth close on my nipple in a soft bite. It’s a live wire that leaves me squirming and desperate.
He’s impatient, greedy, taking over to tear off his pants and boxers in one swift movement.
