He sighs, his mouth tugging into a smile that he tries valiantly to curb. I have to hit him with the large doses of the reassurance that he still needs. I remember my lax body only having enough energy to turn into his inviting spoon before promptly falling asleep in his arms. He catches my wrist and steps forward while pulling me close. Christian tells me about his trip to Seoul and he seems pleased with the outcome even though the whole ordeal sounds insanely stressful however, you would never say it looking at the fantastically handsome and relaxed man in front of me.
He senses my body start its telling tremble. I started seeing Bastille twice a day, hit the gym over weekends and ran. There was a time when he would refuse to believe that he was worth loving. His eyes linger on them for a moment before he presses me onto his mouth. I hold a sheet to my chest and hunt for my romantic man. I rake my memories while we catch our breaths, his face in my neck with my arms holding him there. With his eyes securely fastened to mine his intent is unwavering and unaffected by my modesty. His hands mirror his lips, plundering every inch of my skin he can reach, rubbing, moulding, scorching. We slip on fluffy white robes and Christian waits while I twist my hair in a towel. It spurs me on and I run my hands all over my chest and breasts, pushing them together before I start on my nipples. He breaks the contact and gently blows on my sensitive, heated flesh, cooling but not calming. Anyone in your life? He laughs out loud at my big, stunned eyes nearly popping out of my head. My bottom sits on his chest, taking my weight which leaves my secret opening utterly gaping and vulnerable, not to mention very close to his sinful mouth. Was it always like this? My sex dazed brain struggles to figure out what it is so I lift my hand for closer inspection and lose my breath. He angles his hips, impatient to feel the length of me. Not sure what toy I want to play with first, greedy to get my hands on as much as possible of his flesh. A beseeching look has replaced the playful one from a second ago and I feel my pulse jumping with unease. It only takes a second for me to grasp the nature of the deeply intimate act he has in mind and I gnaw at my lip, my coyness getting the better of me. He places his hand on my naked behind, softly fondling me, stroking around and around with his flat palm. Dr Shawn was the closest it got and like I said before, I only saw him as a friend. With my head bowed forward, the loose tendrils of my hair spill over my shoulders and cover my breasts; only the hard tips of my nipples are peeking from between the strands. I knead and squeeze and hear his appreciative groan. How did I forget that Christian gave me this last night — or rather early morning?
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