*read part one here*
I make room for him on the chair that’s meant for one and he’s sitting entirely too close and I tell him he should be comfortable because it’s his house so he stretches a leg over me. Again, this comfort.
We toast from our mismatched wine glasses and we sip and it’s clearly evident how magnetic this attraction is. He asks me questions and watches my mouth as I answer him and he looks into my eyes and I’m distracted.
He suddenly places his finger in the middle of my spine and starts trailing it up and down, making me sit upright. My head instinctively falls back and my eyes close, an open invitation for more.
He pulls me back towards him and places his finger on my chin. He raises my head to his mouth and kisses me, softly but urgently. I feel his need for me.
I stand up and hold my hand out to him. In an instant he’s by my side, guiding me towards his bed. He pulls my sweater over my head and my hands are on his chest, taking in every last muscle, my fingers not able to get enough of this man. I want him underneath me.
He lays me down gently and turns me over on my belly. His fingers grasp my waistband and my undies are slid over my behind, my legs. He lays directly on me, feeling, wanting, needing. His arousal is evident and I moan loud enough to let him know I’m ready.
He pulls me up and kisses me, his lips and tongue lingering over my back, the curve of my behind, in between my legs and I’m anxious now, wanting this desire to be filled, completed.
“This is mine,” he whispers, barely audible. “I’m going to make you mine.”
In one thrust, he’s inside, sending me over every edge, my body pulsing with every last touch of his. His movements are calculated, rhythmic, smooth and experienced. He’s aiming for my pleasure, my need, my want.
I push up against him, aching to reach mine but he’s a slow lovemaker, lazy almost, making sure I feel every last inch of him and I want to speed him up, I’m close, so close but he’s taking his time and I’m grabbing the bedsheets and holding onto his back and gripping his shoulders and yet he continues his slow and loving motion.
I give in to all the feelings and he senses this and starts moving faster. He looks down into my eyes and smiles and briefly he stops, tenses up and I’m going against him, pushing and pulling and wanting all he’s got to give and together, in seconds, we call out and we’re done; hearts pounding, sweat beading, bodies sticking, spent and content.