"Stars live where hope sparkles."
Her eyes dance closer to him as the words slip from between his lips. Thoughts swirl in the turbid space keeping their bodies from melting together. Without form or meaning, they flare like shooting stars.
Visions of night glinting from her teeth, scenes rich with the feel of her skin, sighs rippling with her laughter. Breath is sultry. Filled with spoken and fervent desire.
"The shine of a haven that draws us forth shows the flickering torch of our fickle heart."
Sounds of warmth enfold them and he feels her pulse spark. Spritzes across the smooth of her arms. He wants to reach his fingers over the span of tension to revel in sensation. Touch her wrist to shoulder and back to fingertips. She will flow willing into his arms if he but wills it, but waits on his voice.
"And the glow of ageless love knows only the blue of a flame too great to climb and too far to see quavering orange blossoms rent the cloth of a world growing past."
She wants to hear it all. Longs for his hands to find her soft light as the poetry washes her soul. His hands send waves of heat crashing into her. Over her. Through her being. He holds her there, rapt, wanting him to wrench her from her plinth and force himself upon her. Take her every nerve and ache and thrust himself up past her boundaries. Instead, he holds her suspended. Knowing he will have her whenever he wants.
"Stars breathe, love. Suckle the muddle of our paltry world and set it ablaze with impassioned dreams."
His touch sends her falling through time. She feels her muscles give way. Even though he's done little more than set fingerprints to her forearm, she feels her knees falter and her thoughts flutter like sheers in a coming storm. She has no windows left to close and she knows she has nowhere to run by the way her insides have slipped beyond her help.
"We are stars, you and I. Close beside you, my heart knows no bounds of time or tide. My soul is flame come alive. Dance with me like firelight shimmering in your eyes. I will settle your fey wandering feet and feckless wanting spirit. Feed you reveries and delight. Our hearts alight, we are comets burning holes through the universe until finding restless coven. Left here in the end as wishes for lovers grasping at wanton bliss."
His hands end at hers. The leisurely exploration of her wrists, arms to shoulders and back leaving trails of seared nerve endings and prickled flesh. The goosebumps unnoticed where the tips of his fingers sent fiery designs. Her gasps floating free in time. And it all comes to rest as he strokes her wrists, her palms, the back of her hands and her long stretched digits. One by one taken in his, separated from the others and brought to life.
He doesn't stop there, but impatience grows in her. A blossoming that makes her pluck at his too slow hands and press in at the warmth of his body. Hear glows around him like an aura and a blaze flares inside her, but he keeps her at bay.
Gentle pressure moves her back into position where he continues to stroke one knuckle at a time. Frustration builds as he finishes all but the last pinky and somehow drags the minutes out until she pushes into him again.
This time, she is forced into a wall she'd somehow gotten moved up against. His body hard and unyielding where it traps her. Back to the solid surface, front to the rock he suddenly becomes, her hair is tugged down, stretching her neck until her lips give invitation. She wonders if he will accept as he pauses hovering close. Then electricity shoots through her. There is a touch, a brush of soft tissue, the barest of nibbles and a sigh that could have come from either or both of them.
Her spine to the wall, his hands slip up her arms to capture her head. His thumbs slide over her cheekbones, his fist curls in her hair. He learns every nudge and tender spot on her scalp. Her legs want to give way yet he keeps her held on edge, exploring her. Knowing her. Her brow, her jaw, her breath.
Her heart burns. Like his poetry whispered in her ear, she is aflame. She wants kisses, but he has her held entranced. His hands still light, but firm, poking now and then, prodding deep in places that send her falling into weakness. Surrender.
"I'm not going to take you until you say please."
"Please." She fires back.
"Oh no." He chuckles. A sound that turns her helpless. "You're going to really mean it." His voice has a steely glint through it that brings her quaking before him.
"Please." She just manages as vulnerability washes over her. Another feeling carries right behind, though. A sense of indignance ripples outward that reminds her how strong she really is. How capable.
He chuckles again as though reading her thoughts. His fingers spread over her face as his lips tingle and tempt hers.
She moans in spite of herself. A low noise muffled by a kiss.
He works his way bit by bit through every nuance of her body. Punctuating each new sensation with a kiss. Light or forced. Nibble or crush. Her collarbones turn to mush., her shoulders limp. Her back droops and her skin sloughs from her with the sighs he pulls from deep in her heart. His fingers sliding the muscles apart and shifting her organs. His fingers move her ribs, slip her hips into a position that makes her flush and numb, delve into the muscles of her thighs and claim her heart, her breasts, her soul.
When he reaches the end, he's touched and worked over every inch of her body head to knees, skipping over only her nipples and her open sex, he relaxes his hold on her. Her breath catches and holds. She waits, expectant. After such delicate maneuvering, there is always a gathering breath before the plunge. She barely stands, weak, ready and throbbing.
He lets her stand. Swaying in gentle motion, a rhythm her body alone knows. A pulse that marks time beyond her counting. She feels the tell tale moisture of her willingness. His hands, however, soothe their way up her curves to her burning face.
The moment when he drives himself into her roils between them. The very air churning with desperation and lust. Her nerves tense with deliberate need, her mouth open in want, lips parted and aching for his touch, she gradually becomes aware that he is releasing her slowly. He massages her neck and shoulders, lightly, making her want more. He leans close to her ear and sighs. "Poor baby. If only it were that easy."
His voice carries waves of promise and threat. She feels a small burst deep inside her and a flood unleashes from her center. He grabs her buttocks tight in his hands, lifts her and sets her on the edge of the bed. Before she can do more than gasp, he yanks her shirt up and over her head, baring her chest. Her nipples harden so fast it hurts and forces a deep moan from her. The shirt stops at her upper arms and holds her tight as his chest brushes against her aching breasts. They feel full and push moans from her with every touch.
He still refuses to do more than skim against her nipples, possibly by accident, maybe not, she can't tell. Every time it happens, though, she practically screams with the jolt of electricity that shoots through her. Her entire body arches and startles even as he works the shirt ever more firmly onto her arms. Leaving them strapped to her sides and back, throwing out her chest and making her little marbles impossible not to bump up against them.
He finishes securing her arms with the shirt and his hands are once again tender as they explore her face. His lips hardly touch hers, sending waves of molten feeling through her. She recognizes the feel of a flushing redness spreading over her front like a spilled coffee. The searing, tingling, quickening sensation makes her groan out load. It's like a wild animal in a snare splitting open the thick night.
Unbidden, the memory of his hands on her bottom as he lifted her flashes in her mind, sending rockets of need bursting in, out and through. She gasps again and sees just a glimpse of what he is talking about making her say please and really mean it. She can barely breathe. Her throat clamps down on each moan and sigh that forces its way up and out of her. Her body quivers with every movement of his hands.
They press the skin flat over her scalp, smooth across her brow, pinch and stroke her lips until they plump into luscious fruits. They follow her jawline, then the back of her neck, down to grasp her vertebrae between forefinger and thumb and follow her spine slow and steady.
When he comes to the place where her arms are bound to one another and the shirt stretches across her back, he pushes her over on her side and rolls her onto her stomach.
Annoyance flares at his treatment of her. Frustration and even a bit of fear bound inside her. She struggles. Her arms bent and helplessly weak, she squirms, trying not to show her growing fear.
His hand presses firm to the spot on her back it last massaged and his lips come close to her ear. "It's unfortunate how much I enjoy your struggles. Your uncertainty and even discomfort. I especially like the way these things war with your excitement and arousal."
His hips bear into her arm and she realizes he is fully hard. Her eyes open wide.
"You're a beautiful woman. I'm going to enjoy every bit of you. There's time for sex. You'll get what you need, but first, I'm going to take what I want."
Shivers wrack her bones. His voice never changes from the low, cool tones he began with, but she feels the excitement blazing from his skin. He finishes the journey down her spine as she lays quiet but quivering. A mass of nerve and fire.
He reaches the top of her jeans and as one palm flattens against the rounding of her buttocks, the other slips underneath her and unbuttons her with such ease that she she wonders if the pants themselves didn't help.
He tugs at them and she lifts her hips to help without a thought. They come off like water sliding down glass. Her panties stay. Soaked and sticking to her bare flesh. She has a feeling he wants it like this and the wetness grows at the thought.
