“Take off your shirt,” he says quietly.
And I do.
There’s nothing stopping me this time. No guilt, no betrayal, no fear. I know what I want. I arch my back, allowing him to remove my bra. My nipples harden as he dabs them with scotch, and I groan as he flicks his tongue over them and grazes them with his teeth, his hands exploring my contours all the while.
He dips into the scotch once more, but this time he slides his finger into my mouth so I can taste the smooth, smoky liquor tinged with the salt of his skin. He draws his finger in and out as I gently suck and lick up the drops. His free hand moves between my legs, pressing up against my sex as I grab the fabric of his shirt. I writhe against the soft comforter beneath me as he strokes me.
He pulls back long enough to yank off his shirt and again I reach for him. This time he acquiesces and I pull him down. I guide him onto his back before climbing on top of him.
“My turn,” I whisper.
I pull off his belt, my eyes never leaving his. He fondles my breasts as I work on the buttons of his pants before pulling them off of him, then come the boxer briefs. I make my hand into a cup and pour in a small pool of scotch, as it drips between my fingers I coat his erection with the cooling liquid before enveloping him with the warmth of my mouth.
This is the taste I want.
He groans, slides his fingers into my hair as I devour him, sliding my lips up and down, my own hands roaming his body. I relish the feeling of my breasts pressing against his muscular thighs.
Robert once tried to make us like gods. But like the ancient Greeks, it’s the human form that I worship. He’s my Olympian and I cannot wait to possess him.
I release him, get up and slowly remove the rest of my clothes while he watches, his desire radiating across the distance that separates us. Just the intensity of his stare sends shivers of pleasure through my body. One look from this man, that’s all it takes to excite me. Is that normal? Really, will we ever be normal?
Maybe, maybe not. But maybe we don’t have to be. Now that we know how to do it, we can just be us.
I stand by the side of on the bed, now naked and oh so ready. Sitting up, again he presses his hand up between my legs, feels how wet I am. Standing, he leans forward and kisses me ever so gently before grabbing me roughly and throwing me back down on the bed. I like this, the enticing mix of tender romance and brutal passion. It’s us.
He lays on top of me, brings his face to mine, and kisses me again. I wrap my arms around him, press myself into him. His body is so familiar . . . it’s home.
Gently he turns me on my stomach and I stretch my arms over my head and open my legs for him, but only a little. I don’t say please this time, I don’t order him to perform. Instead I savor the kisses that are tracing a path across my shoulders, each one a little different, each one fueling my mounting fervor.
And when he finally does press inside of me, I gasp. No memory could ever compare to this feeling. I cross my ankles together, squeezing my walls tighter around his erection so I can feel every ridge, every pulse as we rock together creating our own quiet love song. I feel his tongue toying with my ear as his hands move back to my breasts, stroking them, making my nipples ever harder.
When he whispers my name, the world erupts.
But I want to see him; I want to see the real Robert Dade. The man so very few people have been allowed to see.
As if sensing that, he sits back on his knees, turns me on my side so I can look up at him. I’ve never seen him this open before. The way he’s looking at me . . . he loves me.
He loves me.
With one leg still extended along the bed I raise the other up in the air and rest it against his shoulder. I lift my arm and let my fingers gently touch his chest, coaxing him forward.
And there, kneeling before me on the bed, he enters me.
Looking into his eyes as he thrusts inside me, I feel dizzy with the overwhelming sensations shooting through my body. But even as the room spins I hold his gaze.
He caresses my thighs and as he continues, my happiness builds to indescribable ecstasy. I cry out as he brings me over the edge. My muscles contract around him my body trembles as he growls his approval. This feeling is so much better than any fantasy. This orgasm isn’t just intense . . .
. . . it’s beautiful.
I whisper his name as he calls out mine, coming inside me with intimate force. I feel him fill me, know that in this moment I’m connected to Robert in a way that I’ve never really been before. He throbs inside me as I slowly lower my leg.
As if unable to support himself a moment longer he collapses by my side, quiet, one arm wrapped around my waist.
For a few minutes we don’t say anything.
“If we’re starting over,” he says, quietly, “is it too early to say I love you?”