But before I even know it, you have stopped and are quietly ordering me to my feet. Awkwardly, I stand before you, feeling your gaze upon me, my face flushed with embarrassment, my eyes unsure where to look. Do you even know what it is you do to me? Do you even know that every time you look at me, I still get that feeling in my head like I’ve just reached the top of the roller coaster, and I know the drop is right there waiting? I think you do know. I think that’s why you choose to push me off, every time.
You take my hand and bring me to kneel before you, my skin hot against burnt terra-cotta, my face almost next to yours now, taking in the scent of coconut shampoo and sticky sunblock, chlorine and wet hair. The sun has brought out the freckles on the bridge of my nose, making the seductive red lipstick look somehow ridiculous in comparison, but you cannot seem to stop looking at me, your eyes drinking in every feature of my face, as if preserving this one little moment in time forever, this one little mental image. My heart is pounding, feeling your closeness, your intensity. I want to kiss you right now more than I have ever wanted anything in my life.
So I do. I lean in, my mouth so close to yours I can inhale your breath, my fingertips against your cheekbone, my lips brushing yours almost shyly as I wait for you to respond. No matter how many times I kiss you, it always makes my stomach drop when you abandon your cool restraint and just pull me into you, when your tongue pushes between my teeth, your fingers twisting in my hair, for once losing a fraction of your control. The intimacy suffocates me as you drown me in your kisses, hungry for me, as if tearing me apart with your lips and tongue and teeth, flooding me with all the desire you keep trapped inside you in your everyday life, your life so hardened by so many years of self-composure.
“Get inside.”
Wordlessly I scurry after you, following your purposeful steps through the wide French doors to our suite, admiring the way your hair falls over your shoulders, the lines of your body beneath your thin cotton sundress. I could spend all day just running my hands across your skin, feeling the softness of your hair between my fingers, kissing your earlobes and eyelids and every single part of you…. The crisp white sheets of our bed are still tangled from this morning’s tryst, pillows haphazardly tossed to the floor in the heat of lust, somehow making your regal beauty stand out even more as you lay yourself back amongst piles of immaculate white cotton. Like a cat I crawl up next to you, pressing my lips against your hot skin, my hands tugging at the fabric of your dress, pulling it away from your body, smiling as you childishly wriggle out of it. My mouth is on yours again instantly, my tongue running along the inside of your teeth, almost wanting to climb inside your mouth and completely lose myself in there. I trail tiny kisses across your cheek, feeling your breathing grow heavy and needy as my lips close around the soft lobe of your ear, sucking it gently, my fingers twisting in your hair, until at last you hoarsely whisper the words you know I love to hear.
“Fuck me.”
I smile at your need, your desire for me, for my hands, for my mouth. The thought of that tiny glimmer of control over you makes my head spin, you who control me so absolutely with just a single word. At times like this, I want to make you wait, like you make me, but I never can. My fingers are inside you before I can even consider anything else, your wetness sucking me in and surrounding me with heat, a low moan escaping your lips as I fill you with feeling. Your eyes close as I rhythmically curl my fingers deeper into you, your hands gripping tightly to the bedsheets as you push yourself up farther and allow me to enter you harder and faster, pounding almost, the way I know you need but you never know how to ask for. I gaze at your delicate features, the sheen of sweat glistening on the stretched tendons of your neck, wishing I could touch you everywhere at once but knowing I can’t. Instinctively my mouth draws toward your clit, enveloping it in my lips, sucking it and kissing it and tracing my tongue in tiny circles around it, feeling your thighs tighten around my upper body, pinning me inescapably into you. But I would never want to escape.
I can feel your body growing rigid and tense, building toward your release, and I cannot help but inwardly smile to myself at how beautiful you are when you surrender like this. With renewed passion I push deeper into you, my tongue dancing on your clit, almost physically experiencing the intensity inside you as you climb higher and higher. Like an animal, you tear my hair with your hands as you fall off the edge, a strangled cry escaping your throat, just for those few, brief seconds completely outside yourself yet completely within yourself at the same time. Tenderly I disentangle my limbs from yours, delicately kissing your agonizingly sensitive clit as I crawl up to lie in your arms, your breathing still pounding in your chest as I lay my head upon you. We stay like that for what seems like forever, wordlessly close, until finally I speak.