He lets me eat the lion’s share of the popcorn as we sip our Manhattans. Once the bowl is empty, he sets it aside, and we end up snuggled back together. Despite the massive difference in our size, we fit together perfectly, like two pieces of the same puzzle.
Feeling his eyes on me, I turn my head to him, shocked at the way he studies me—eyes lit with pure adoration. I blush and duck my head, not used to feeling beautiful or worshiped.
Butterflies take wing in my too-tight chest. I inhale a shaky breath of familiar tobacco and leather, and the subtle, clean scent of rain that I can only catch at close proximity.
I climb into his lap and stare deep into his amber eyes, losing myself in their mystery.Why are our eyes the same?My focus drifts back and forth between his, as if their amber depths hold the answer to my question.
He threads both hands into my hair and pulls me into him, placing featherlight kisses on my forehead, each closed eye, my nose. Everywhere but my mouth.
Between each kiss he murmurs with heartbreaking sweetness, “?????? ???. ???? ???. ? ?????? ????????, ????? ????? ????, ???? ????? ???????? ???? ????? ? ?????. ????????, ??? ??????, ????????. ??? ???? ?? ????? ?????? ??? ????. ????? ????, ?? ???????? ???? ?? ???? ?????. (Lyubov' moya. Svet moy. Ya preshel vechnost', chtoby nayti tebya, leesh' chtoby poteryat' tebya snova i snova. Ostan'sya, moya lyubov', ostan'sya. Moya dusha ne mozh-et vyzh-eeht' bez tebya. Proshu tebya, ne ostavlyay menya vo t'me snova).”
His foreign words somehow feel familiar, deepening my desire for him, for us, until his touch finally drives all the questions from my mind as together we explore the greatest mystery of all time–how two bodies can fit together so perfectly.
I’m frantic for his lips to meet mine and can’t help but grind down into him, seeking friction. His pecs are cool and hard beneath my hands. After what feels like eternity, his lips find mine and he gently kisses me.
Small kisses turn heated, and as impatient as I am to kiss him deeper, I let him lead our mouths in the slowest dance. The sweetness is killing me. He leisurely increases his passion one single degree at a time. The building tension is almost painful, and when he finally licks the seam of my lips which bloom open for him, I’m lost.
The butterflies from my chest take flight and soar. Suddenly our passion knows no bounds, and we are kissing like there was no yesterday, there is no tomorrow, there is only this moment, here and now. And the only reason for our existence isthiskiss.
I fall into him, our kiss deepening until I don’t know where he begins and I end. This! This is what I had always thought love would feel like. Losing myself, becoming one. Before I know what is happening, my hips are grinding against him of their own volition.
My mouth seems to know every inch of his, my hands recognize each dip and ridge of his hard muscles beneath me, like we’ve mapped each other’s bodies a thousand times before and kissed a thousand times more than that.
Bone deep recognition echoes through my body and I know,I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, this is not the first time our souls have met. I know him. Truly know him. Is this what destiny feels like? Is this what it feels like to have two halves finally become whole?
Recognition amplifies my rising need, and I wantonly thrust against him, seeking purchase in this maelstrom. My hands are fisted in his shirt as I try to absorb him into my very being, rational thought giving way to pure animalistic need.
A claiming. I don't want him. I need him like I need air to breathe and light to see.
I.
Need.
Him.
He snakes one arm around my waist, aiding me in my frantic writhing, and anchors the other hand in my hair, tilting my head where he wants it. He moans into the kiss as he impossibly deepens it.
As my pleasure rises, I’m forced to break away from his intoxicating kiss, gasping in desperately needed oxygen. He sharply pulls my head back further, exposing the long line of my neck only to run his nose over my pulse point, inhaling deeply.
I’m so damn close. I feel pleasure building deep inside my core and fervently wish we didn’t have on all these damn clothes. Despite my desperate movements and our rising passion, I need something to push me over the precipice through our layers of separation.
As frustrated whimpers fall from my mouth, he must know exactly what I need as he traces my pulse point in a heated, open-mouthed kiss. I shiver in delight as his mouth is searing in contrast to the usual chill of his skin.
So.
Damn.
Close.
I chase my orgasm, grinding my pelvis into him, finding the edge of his hardness trapped below me. I let my head tip back, rewarded when his kiss morphs into a sharp sting followed by absolute, exquisite, soul-drenching pleasure.
This. This is what I needed.
My mind flashes back to my dream when we first met, of his vampire’s kiss. With that image in my mind and Bela Lugosi’s voice in the movie playing in the background, I finally ride the wave of pleasure to its peak and crest, grinding out my release against him, my empty pussy clenching in perfect harmony to the flexing of his lips against my neck.
Flashes of the two of us, climaxes superimposed on each other, flip through my mind like a high-speed slide show. Thousands of images, each one like a small spark extending my pleasure until I bite my lip, breathing hard, no longer able to hold back my keening cries as I ride out the last fading spasms.
As I rejoin the land of the living, frantically trying to catch my breath and figure out what the hell just happened to my brain, he whispers sweetly against my neck, “Roza.”
