I can't help myself, and my hands roam over the cool, naked flesh of his torso. His back is hard and contoured and I love dragging my fingers over the ridges and probing the dips. I run my hands up either side of his spine and bury them in his wet hair.
He's moved from kissing my lips to my neck and I arch my chest to press up more firmly into his. Catching his attention, he moves down to suck on a nipple through the fabric of my tank top, causing me to moan.
This seems to snap something within him and suddenly he's a man possessed. He impatiently pushes up my top, yanking it roughly over my chest and trying to clear my head. In order to avoid decapitation, I take over and he quickly turns to my pants. In my standard yoga pant, he's able to quickly disrobe me. Satisfied with my nudity, he stands up on the bed and yanks off my sweats he's wearing. He's gone commando underneath and his erection bobs a greeting to me.
The sight of his cock has me instantly wet and in that moment there is nothing I can imagine wanting more than feeling him inside me. Sensing a desperation in me that matches his own, he drops to his knees and bending over me, immediately places two fingers inside me.
"Oh, Baby," he says as he leans down demanding a kiss. "You're so fucking wet. I need to be in you, Kel. Please, Baby, tell me you are ready. I need to fuck you. Please, Baby."
"I'm ready. I'm ready. I'm ready." I chant, opening my legs and pulling him towards me with my hands on his ass.
He wastes no time and immediately thrusts into me. I cry out at the penetration; it's been weeks and my body is surprised at the intrusion. He holds himself still and the pain passes quickly. I urge him to movement by lifting my hips to his. He looks down to assess my readiness and there is such love in his eyes that it takes my breath away.
"I love you so much, Kelli. God, I love you so fucking much," he says, closing his eyes and burying his face in my neck. And to my immense satisfaction, he starts to move. He starts slowly, but within minutes his movements are fast and choppy.
It feels as if my entire body is on fire. Each thrust brings a pulse of pleasure and I quickly begin sweating beneath the heat of his body.
Without notice, he flips us and I'm suddenly on top of him. He stops moving and I sit upright, straddling him with my knees on either side of his torso. I look down at him, catching my breath and I slowly begin to grind on top of him, small rocking motions with my hips, arching up his shaft and then pressing down firmly. It feels amazing and I throw my head back and moan.
His hands come up to squeeze my breasts and I look down at him. His gaze is such that I fold over him, kissing him deeply and dragging my nails through his beard, scratching and clawing at him. My slow grind no longer seems adequate and I move to begin riding him again, but he stays me with one hand on my lower back. Then, moving both his hands to my hips, he raises me halfway off his shaft and holds me there as he begins deeply thrusting up into me. The sensation is intense and my head drops to his shoulder. He digs his heels into the mattress and increases the tempo and depth of his strokes.
My body is incredibly tense; his pounding is at the same time jarring and extremely arousing. I can feel my orgasm building, the very center of my body coiling. He's grunting now and I can't help but join him, letting out a small cry each time he pushes up into me. Bracing myself on my elbows, I try to participate, thrusting my hips back each time he rams up into me.
My orgasm is nearing and I suddenly become afraid. What's growing inside me feels too big, too strong. I wonder if I'll be able to withstand the force of it.
"Ian," I gasp, not sure what I'm asking of him.
Looking into his eyes, I can see he's barely hanging on; they are wild and desperate.
"I love you, Kelli. I love you so much," he pants and lifts his head to kiss me. The moment his tongue touches mine, my orgasm explodes, rocking my entire body. My mouth is torn from his as I cry out to the ceiling, all the muscles in my body convulsing in rapid contractions. I lose my breath, and the orgasm continues, the convulsions now turned into quaking as heat and pleasure surge through me.
At last, the orgasm spent, I collapse on him, gasping. I catch my breath and realize he's stopped thrusting. A check of his face indicates he's come too. Assured he's been satisfied, I drop my head back to his shoulder and promptly fall asleep.
I wake up in Ian's arms and even though I've never experienced this particular slice of heaven before, I feel as if I've come home. My body is sated and my soul is at peace.
Sensing I'm awake, he places a kiss to the top of my head and pulls me into his chest. I don't move, not wanting to break the spell. What just transpired between us was thoroughly overpowering, but I feel sensational, and terrifyingly vulnerable. I'm not ready for conversation, especially when I realize that I still need to find out why he's here.
Has he come to his senses and wants to be with me? Not likely. Has he decided to move to Paraguay and he's come to say goodbye? Also not probable. Maybe he's contracted a terminal illness and is dying. Oh God, no. Whatever the reason, I'm not ready to hear it.
He doesn't push and continues to hold me. I soak in the feeling, trying to memorize it in case I never get the opportunity to experience it again.
Before long, the bliss in my body begins to fade, allowing my attention to turn to the insane scenarios my mind is racing through. I can't take my own thoughts any longer and I lift my head and look at him.
He smiles at me. It's a timid smile and I can see he's unsure of himself. Or perhaps he's unsure of me. Smart man.
Uncertain of how to start, I simply say again, "Hi."
His smile grows warmer and he replies, "Hi." After a pause he says, "How are you?" It's a simple question but his eyes belie its importance.
"I'm not sure," I answer.
"How do you feel?" he tries again.
"I don't know," I say. "I suppose it depends on why you're here."
He nods, and looks up at the ceiling. After a beat he looks back at me, fear clear in his eyes. He gently pushes me off him and sits up, scooting back so he's leaning against the headboard. I grab the sheet over my chest and sit up as well, twisting so that I'm facing him.
He clears his throat and looks down at his hands flexed on his legs. It is odd watching him struggle through this discomfort. I'm suddenly terrified. Oh God, he is going to die!
"Are you sick?" I blurt out before I can stop myself. "Are you dying?"
"What?" He looks at me as if I've grown two heads and my fear quickly subsides.
"Nothing," I say hastily, shaking my head.
He's quiet again and sits there studying me. I struggle to remain silent. I want to bombard him with questions, but I refrain and just sit. Impatiently.
"I uh," he starts, before stopping with a sigh.
"Ian, just say it," I say encouragingly, or impatiently, depending on your perspective.
He looks at me again, opening his mouth but not saying anything.
"Oh my god man, would you just -"
"I love you. I want you to give me a second chance. I want to try and be the man you need me to be; the man you deserve. I've been dying these last weeks without you. I thought I was dead before. I thought I died in Iraq, I really did. I didn't think I could feel any hollower, or experience any more pain and shame than what I've been living with for the last ten years. But when you walked out of my life, I fell to a whole new depth." He pauses to take a breath, and quickly continues.
"There is nothing I wouldn't do to change what happened in Iraq. It broke me, and that was alright because I deserved to be broken. But then you come waltzing into my pub and I begin feeling things I hadn't felt for a decade, things I didn't deserve to feel."
"Ian -" I start, reaching out to him. He puts up his hand.
"Let me finish, Babe. I know you think I should be forgiven, that I should forgive myself, but I'm not there yet. I haven't gotten over what I did, and I'm not sure I ever can. But unlike five months ago, I want to try. I want to try for you.
But Kel, you have to be alright with the fact that I may never succeed. If you really want to do this with me, you have to know that I may not ever get over this. Iraq has changed me forever and I can never be the man I was before."
"I don't want the man you were before!" I exclaim, unable to stay quiet any longer. "I don't know him; I don't need him. I need you, Ian - just as you are today. You need to let me in, that's all. I don't need you to be different, I just need you to be with me."