Butterflies

Her stomach is full of butterflies, clenched in a nervous knot. She paces back and forth, passing the other anxious people. They are all waiting. She is waiting for him, the one who fills her mind. "What insanity prompted me to do this?" she thought. Yet she knew. Their connection had been instant, and lasting. For years, they had been arranging the clandestine meetings, as they were both unable to stop thinking of the other.

Finally she sees him, walking out from the airport terminal. As always, she runs into his arms, instantly safe and secure through his strength. Yet she is also a touch uncomfortable because he sees right through her into that deepest part of herself. A quick kiss, a touching of lips, yet somehow this simple embrace reminds them both of all the passion that always rises between them. "I'm so glad you're here! How was your flight?" As they walk back towards the baggage claim she peppers him with questions in an attempt to disguise her nervousness. Inwardly she wonders if he likes what he sees, if she is the one who will finally hold this restless warrior's heart.

On the drive home, back to her small first apartment, they lapse into the conversations that have kept them going. No one understands her as well, can talk about so many things, real things, as he can. Once inside she is not sure what to do. The apartment seems cramped when filled with two.

He is not tall, only five foot eight, yet his training shows through in the wide shoulders and tautly muscled arms. His legs are powerful from years of running and long-ago high school athletics. His lightly tanned skin is a testament to the Florida sun where he makes his home. Brown hair, cropped in an adaptation of the classic military crew, is just long enough so she can run her fingers through it. Beginning to be lightly streaked with gray, it sets off his intelligent hazel eyes.

His movements seem scripted, and they very well may be; they have danced to this tune many times before. With smoothness unexpected for all its familiarity, he draws her flush against him. They fit perfectly, so that in her heels, she meets him eye to eye. One thing she loves is how he always touches her, and true to form he lets his hands sweep up and down her back. Long, smooth strokes that both soothe her nerves and awaken her desires.

This close to him she can feel his hot, hard length. It pushes against her, begging to be allowed into the warm depths of her body. With her arms around his neck she is helpless to resist his hands framing her face, drawing her close for a deep, searching kiss. His hand reaches back, into her short blonde hair, as if to anchor her to him, and to reality. His tongue duels with hers, a thrust and retreat that hints of events to come.

Even with his lips on hers, she can still feel his touch. It seems to scorch through her clothing. She can feel every touch as his hands lightly cruise up and down her arms, then over her shoulders and along her collarbone. She is alive, shivering with the sensations that send tingles through her body, down between her legs, where it settles to an aching warmth and liquid pull.

His hands drift lower, down to where they lightly cup her breasts. A perfect handful, he noticed the instant he saw her that she had no bra on. Now, touching her breasts, he can feel every inch of the perky crests, straining towards his attention. He breaks the kiss to set his lips cruising leisurely down her neck, hitting all the sensitive spots he knows so well. Her breath catches, then releases in a rush as he begins to slowly unbutton her white shirt.

Her eyes locked on his, she kicks off her heeled black mules, sending one skittering across the wood floor to land under the sofa. As his hands brush her breasts, her nipples tighten into hard, almost painful points. Finally reaching the last button, his hands part the halves of her shirt, revealing her to him. Her eyes close on a moan of pleasure as he bends to take one sweet nipple into his mouth. Her hands fall limply to her sides as he grabs the curve of her hips. He kisses and licks all over her breasts, drawing ever diminishing circles until finally, oh finally he suckles.

Her breath rushes out on a moan. He suckles her breast lightly at first, then more deeply, trying to draw her further into him. As he repeats the motions on her other breast, then switching between the two, she runs her hands over his shoulders, trying to reach as much of him as possible.

Realizing the temptation of her luscious body can no longer be denied, he effortlessly swings her into his arms for the short walk to the bedroom. Once there, they fall to the bed. His hands, before content to roam the upper half of her body, now glide over her legs in teasing, tantalizing touches. Dexterously, he flips the button on the denim skirt open and slowly eases the zipper down. She lifts her hips to help him take it off. Once free of her legs, it is thrown aside to land on the floor with a soft thud.

Bared to his fully clothed gaze, she feels his every glance over her body. One of his hands comes to rest at her hip, while the other reaches between her legs to her softness. A low groan escapes him as the realization that she is damp, drippingly wet washes over him. Blunt fingertips spread her lips, then stroke up and down the length of her slit, further arousing her passion. One finger lightly probes the entrance to her honeyed depths, and then eases in, a tempting reminder of the fullness to come. Another finger joins the one thrusting into her as his thumb settles over her pearl. His hand works slowly at first, then faster as her hips lift in rhythm. As she climbs the peak towards climax, her alabaster skin takes on a rose glow.

She tightens on his hand and he knows she is oh so close. "Look at me." Her eyes flutter open at his soft command. Her pupils are dilated, unfocused with desire. "Come for me, now." At his words her body trembles as her orgasm overtakes her. He savors her contractions around his fingers, wishing it was another part of his body being so intimately caressed. As she comes down from her peak, he slowly withdraws his fingers.

He leans over her, kissing her again, almost praise for gifting him with her pleasure. He moves off the bed and quickly sheds shirt, shoes, socks, jeans, and finally his boxers. He settles back over her, letting her feel his weight and the strength of his body, yet not crushing her.

She reaches up and runs her hands over him. Over his chest, reveling in the crisp hair and taut muscle, then down, over his stomach, and further still, to where his rod sticks out in jarring contrast to the nest of hair that surrounds it. Almost delicately she touches him. Her hand encircles him, and it is all he can do not to push against her, to thrust into her soft hand. At the wicked gleam in her eye that promises much teasing torture, he decides to take action.

He drives into her, savoring her warmth and wet as she eases, then clasps about him. He begins to thrust, rubbing against her sensitive parts over and over. All too quickly they feel their climax reaching, calling their names. She wraps her legs about his hips, and it proves their undoing. With one final thrust she spasms around him again as he shoots deep inside her hot warmth.

With a groan, he falls to the bed. Curling her against him, he brushes a kiss over her hair. "Thank you." His words and the tender expression on his face make her smile. Maybe, just maybe she has a shot to finally win his heart as much as he has hers.