She gently broke the embrace, wiping her lip with her finger, and took a light step backwards. Her hand glided down his chest until her fingertips found his hand, and she placed them in his palm, grazing his skin with delicate nails, sending pulses up his arms. Her hand planted in his, she softly pulled him with her, deftly pulling out a key from her small purse and planting it in the front door deadbolt, twisting it to release the door.
From the second her heel crossed the threshold into the apartment, Berber carpet instantly muting her footfalls, she could detect a slight waver. The pinky finger of his right hand quivered against her fingers as if to say, “I am just this and nothing more. I might not be enough.” An invisible field of jittery energy hung in the air surrounding them. She released his hand to turn on a muted light, and then ushered him with a motion to enter. He inhaled and took a few tepid steps across the room as she hung up her shawl.
He sat on the broad, modern couch and glanced at her the way a young boy might glance at the mature teacher that he desires, and she caught it in her body, feeling the longing pang in her loin. She walked over to the couch and gracefully dropped her clutch onto a nearby side table, and then with delicate ease she widened her stance in front of him, lowering herself to her knees as she straddled his lap. She placed his right hand on a fleshy thigh, then grabbed his left to do the same. She met his clear blue eyes with her own hazel, and felt her body start to buzz from anticipation.
Her lips moved toward his, brushing them with an almost invisible touch, the urgency and force increasing ever so slightly as he reciprocated. At once, he dived into her mouth, and she felt the familiar knot in her belly that only arises from a realized physical connection. His hands began to run across the flesh of her legs, the pressure gradually increasing as they fell further into their kiss. She could feel his desire for her, and his wanting her made her want him more.
His hands tiptoed from her thighs to her waist, then wrapped around her back, one hand landing on her mid-back, the other immersed in her hair. As their kiss exploded with lust, tongues searching and mapping the mouth of the other, he gradually tightened the grip on the strands of her hair, pulling it enough to create tension and exhilaration. Her hands, resting on his shoulders, dug into his flesh, one hand slipping up to grasp his hair in the same fashion. They sat entwined, pulling each other away, yet inching closer and closer, their bodies almost completely grazing each other.
He broke the intersection, tugging her hair backward to release their mouths, and he took the next ten seconds to drink her in as she hovered above his lap. The hand grasping her back slowly slid around to the front, grazing her breast and lightly brushing her nipple, watching it rise beneath her shirt from the contact. It continued to move southward, landing on the top of her thigh, where he rubbed the flesh just to drink in the feel of her skin, a combination of butter and silk against his palm.
Emboldened, he moved his fingers closer to the hemline of her dress. He searched her eyes, and asked, “May I?” as the tips inched ever closer to the fabric border. Her lips turned up ever so gently at the corners of her mouth before answering with a nod of her head.
His hand pushed upward, under the dress, committing to memory the road map of her thigh, where the muscle curved up and then fell, where it felt tense and soft. His hand ran along her flesh, soaking the softness into his own. He pushed further, his fingers skimming against the lace of her panties, its coiled knit brushing his knuckles gingerly. His index finger hooked itself into the band, curling under the material, rubbing against the flesh of her belly. He ran his finger back and forth across the horizon of her panty line, occasionally brushing the soft tendrils beneath her thighs. She moaned slightly, the small hairs reverberating from his sliding finger generating electricity and desire. Her hand snaked its way up to his hair, and coiled her fingers into his soft, pale strands, pulling them away with fervor, then releasing and pushing him toward her, until they found each other’s mouth, lips greeting, then opening, exchanging moist heat. She felt as though she could smolder in his mouth, wanting him to swallow her whole, turning her to flame, charcoal, then dust.
Reflections of a woman spawned in a cement cocoon...