A giant thanks to my second pair of eyes from Across the Pond, Irfon.
***
Emily smiled as she heard her bedroom door squeak as it opened under his touch. She couldn't hear, but she imagined the slow light steps as he neared the bed. His breath wasn't ragged, as it had been the first few times he'd secreted into her room late at night. She let out a shaky sigh before the covers were slowly pulled down to uncover her waiting body. It seemed like every nerve ending was screaming to feel his hands. Every night was different. Some nights he started with just his warm breath drifting across her skin. Other times, his fingertips would start at her ankles and work upwards. He knew her feet were far too ticklish to keep up the façade of her being asleep.
She squirmed when warm breath cascaded over her skin a fraction of a second before his tongue found the small of her back. The pillow she'd been cuddling took the brunt of her body's instinctive reaction. She curled intoa ball as she rolled to her side. Her eyes flared open in fear that he'd retreat and their ritual would end. She knew it was an irrational fear. Both of them were well past stopping. His hands moved to uncoil her body from around the pillow. His deep whispering voice was shushing her between kisses to her hip.
"Relax, Em. Just enjoy this dream. It's just a dream."
Achingly slow, her body straightened until she was half on her side and half on her stomach. The pillow tucked against her for support. God his hands, so hot. They drifted over her legs, his fingertips brushing her inner thigh light as a feather. Emily had to fight the deep lustful urge to turn and pull him into her. To feel what was so close. She knew he was naked. His cock hard as always. Inches away from her in the night. His hands. They burned her flesh as he pushed her top leg forward.
His kiss found her shoulder while his leg slid between hers. Those lips so unmistakable. Kissing her as if she'd shatter into pieces. Her head turned to give him her neck. A soft almost inaudible sigh escaped when his fingertips pulled her silken curls to give him no obstruction. With just the light drifting in from the single window of her bedroom, her sandy hair looked almost black. In the night, it matched his. Her fingers tightened around the pillow under her head to prevent her from reaching back to grip his hair and scream for him to stop torturing her and just take her any way his imagination wanted. All night, just like this. Slamming into her with the furious drive to conquer or painfully slow and gently. She didn't care. A month ago she'd realized he was all she wanted.
The first night had just happened. New Year's Eve was the worst day of her life. She'd come home to an empty apartment. There was no midnight kiss, no boyfriend. Just the empty ache of being alone on the one night no one should be alone. He'd come home at two in the morning. Walking a bit wobbly. His movements a bit too deliberate. He'd seen her on the couch curled in a ball with a blizzard of tissues surrounding her.
In a flood of new tears, she related the tale of her cheating boyfriend and how he'd embarrassed her in public. His arms were around her in an instant. Pinning her to his wide chest. His lips brushing against her cheek as he shushed and comforted her. He rocked her like she was a baby. The normal cold and distant man she'd roomed with for over two years had been replaced by something loving and caring. Somewhere between being told how beautiful and warm she was and how love would find her and fill her each day, she fell asleep.
It was like a dream the first night. She was lifted on a cloud as he carried her to her bed. Her dress slid down her body without hurry. His fingers trembled when the sheer fabric fell below her breasts. The sensation of the silk being pulled across her skin burned her flesh and caused her nipples to react instantly.
"My God." His whispered words seemed to have been ripped out of him.
Partially awake from being picked up, his words brought her fully aware of her situation. In the darkness, her eyes opened and found his face. She had no idea why she hadn't just sat up and slapped him. There was just something in the way he was looking at her breasts. The hunger was obvious. His tongue came out to wet his lips and she realized all she wanted was to be his lips. At that moment, she wanted to know the taste of his tongue. The course silkiness of it. And then she did know. His head lowered and licked the beginning swell of her breast. It found the underside of her right breast and traced its gentle curve. Her quiet unstoppable moan caused him to freeze.
His head came up. Endlessly deep eyes explored her face. Hers slammed shut. Praying he'd continue. She wanted his lips and tongue and hands all over her. His breath drifting over her aroused nipple spread goosebumps across her skin.
The dress moved lower. Her flat stomach, she'd spent hours at the gym for, was now bare. She was malleable when he lifted and twisted her to get the dress over her rounded hips. He had to know she was awake. He just had to. As her panties came into view, her body tensed. The realization of wearing transparent satin to make sure there was nothing seen under her dress invaded her brain. Her body temperature seemed to race to her cheeks. He'd be able to see every detail. Even the fact that she was already achingly wet. She looked at him through thick eyelashes, but saw no reaction. He was too focused on stripping her. She let out a heady breath, thankful for the surrounding darkness.
He stood at the foot of her bed for the longest time. Her dress was held in his hands as he simply stared. It felt like an eternity. All she could hear was her own beating heart and the occasional anguished breath from the war he must be fighting with his own desires. Emily couldn't help but smile when her dress was lifted to his face and he inhaled a deep slow breath. She had him now. The way he breathed in her scent was intoxicating. Her head turned as he slowly walked around the bed and draped it on a chair. She had never been treated with such reverence as he treated her dress. His fingertips reached out for it, knowing it had been against her skin. Her sweat. Her perfume. Her nakedness. He was imagining it all. When he turned back to her, his chest was rising and falling in labored breaths. She wanted to scream for him to hurry, but she was frozen.
When he bent over and pulled the covers over her, she felt a tremor start deep within her. He didn't want her. Didn't want to touch her, kiss her, consume her. That's all she wanted. To feel one single connection to someone else. That his need of her was as desperate as hers for him. She accidentally let out a tiny whine. A pathetic little noise. It dropped him to his knees. He shook the bed when his head lowered and his body trembled.
She ached to reach out and run her hand through his hair and tell him it was all right. To pull him into her arms and never let him go. No one would know how weak and pathetic they were. It would be their little secret. Only the night would witness the desperate loneliness that forced their bodies together. Please. Please just crawl into bed and do anything, she thought. Even if it were just to feel a warm body next to her, it would be enough.
He stood. His breath ragged and tortured. She bit her lip when his suit jacket was slipped off and placed on her dress. In slow motion, he rolled up the sleeves of his custom made shirt. His silk tie was loosened and discarded. She imagined it drifting like a feather to the ground. This was a dream. An achingly beautiful dream. Her tongue came out and then her bottom lip was pulled into her mouth when the covers were pulled back. When the bed rocked to accept his weight, she used it as an excuse to spread her legs slightly. He would smell her. He had to. Her entire body screamed to feel him.
"Please don't hate me for this." It was almost inaudible. His voice sounded more like a prayer than a confession. "I need you. You're all I can think about."
She felt something smooth drift over her breast. Hot blasts of air following in its wake. Then his cheek brushing across her nipple sent a surge of electricity down her spine and straight to the uncontrollable throb between her legs. A breathless whine escaped her lips to encourage him. The wet roughness of his tongue sent a violent shiver rippling through her as he circled her areola and then tasted her hardened nipple. It was the slowest softest most sensual kiss she'd ever known. His lips burned her skin. Scalded her very soul.
Her hips flexed with each gentle suckle. God, she could smell her own arousal. Why couldn't he? It was filling the room as her legs widened for him. She needed him. Desperately. His breath burned her more and more. She wondered if her flesh was as hot as his lips. If he could feel the furnace building within her, the growing explosion just beneath the surface. With just the tip of his nose he traced between her breasts and then methodically worked over the other. First his nose and then his lips and then the course silkiness of his tongue.
He pulled every bit of air from her lungs when his tongue traveled down her stomach. She moaned louder as the minutes dragged into forever. Take them off. Please take them off, she screamed in her head when somehow his hot breath found its way under the elastic of her panties and mixed with the thin bit of dark blonde air. His lips skirted her panties. His first deep breath caused a shuddering groan. He could smell her now. How could he not smell her? She was dripping with desire. It felt like she was almost oozing from ever pore.
