It was the sound of her contented sigh that woke me.
Sleepily, I opened my eyes to the first faint rays of the morning sunlight attempting to peek through the still drawn curtains. There was just enough light filtering through the top of the window where the curtains failed to cloak the room into darkness, already chasing away the night with a promise of a new day. But a day I neither wanted to begin, nor end.
She was still lying on her side facing towards me. Her eyes closed, still in sleep, perhaps dreaming, hopefully so.
Only then did I notice my hand was still held within hers as I lay on my side facing towards her. Still firmly, yet comfortably entwined, my hand rested snuggly within hers, both trapped between her legs where the warmth of her femininity reminded me of the sweetness of that last explosive encounter.
We'd known one another for years. But in all that time we had never once spent the entire night together. We had spoken of doing so more often than not. But both circumstance and scheduling had never coordinated together allowing us that one precious moment we had so wanted to share together. Late nights yes. But always followed by regret at having to slip from the still warm bed to dress, hurriedly afterwards going our separate ways, back to our separate lives. It was the only mar on the most beautiful, passionate, sensual moments any two people could even begin to imagine experiencing with one another.
And I hated that.
"God RayAnn... you're beautiful," I thought, as I lay on my side, wide awake now, looking towards her.
The room was still warm, comfortably so. As though the heated passion we'd shared that past night had lingered within the room long afterwards, never dissipating, covering us both like a soft warm blanket. Uncovered by any need of sheet or comforter, her nude form stretched languidly atop the bed, still secure in her sleep, resting there like a perfectly sculpted statue that had been chiseled in place, meant to remain as the art she was, as the perfection she'd become.
"I truly do love you," I actually whispered, as I continued glancing towards her. Her soft alluring eyes still tightly closed, though their expression hidden, still appeared to me in thought as I remembered her looking into mine, our eyes making love just as intensely as had our bodies. I painted her portrait a thousand times as I lay looking towards her. I sketched each and every expression of her face that I had seen, her alluring smile, the laugh she'd given me when I had tickled her, and finally the vulnerable surrender when her face grimaced in explosive ecstasy. Each one separate, yet a part of the other. A mosaic of such magnitude that in my own mind at least, I could rival the beauty of Michael Angelo's masterpiece adorning the high vaulted ceiling of the Cisteen Chapel.
As my senses sharpened, awakening to the same degree, as had my thoughts, I could now smell the fragrance of her hair as I looked at it spread lazily upon the pillow. Jasmine, Violets perhaps, and herbal scents too numerous to mention, each one sharp, crisp, assailing my nostrils just as her womanly scent had assailed me earlier, driving me nearly insane with my lust and desire for her.
Once again I heard her sigh, a reminder that time was passing, far too quickly and I found myself wishing for some magical potion that would freeze the moment, freeze time, keeping her asleep. An apple perhaps, though non-poisonous, just enough to keep her contentedly in place, my own Sleeping Beauty.
Still she slept, though I knew that before long she would wake. I looked forward to her morning smile, dreading however that moment when she must rise and finally leave the sanctuary we'd created, the heaven we'd explored and existed within for a brief moment in time's eternity.
I watched the rise and fall of her breathing. And in doing so, taking pleasure in the gentle heaving of her perfectly formed breasts. Though small, they were firm, perfectly molded like twin fawns of pleasure. Each, capped by two of the loveliest pink tipped nipples I had ever seen. The memory, countless memories in fact, of nuzzling that softness of her flesh, taking the hard taut nubbins into my mouth gently sucking, licking each one in turn. The feel of her hand resting lightly against the back of my neck, holding me close, stroking me as I in turn stroked her with lips and tongue, lightly...ever so lightly, ever so wondrously until her ever growing need beckoned to me.
Looking at her, they were hard now, growing even harder while she slept. Perhaps the mere projection of my thoughts, so in tune with one another had we been, had aroused them in anticipation of my kiss, of my touch. I watched delightedly as they stiffened, bathed in the ever-growing light through the window. Yet another brush stroke, another canvas painted with the shapes and shadows of light as they stole across her chest, highlighting her perfections, accentuating her sensuality, awakening her soul.
I felt the moisture gather at the corner of my eye. I had promised her...no tears. With my free hand, I swiped away the single droplet that had formed, betraying my thoughts, and my promise. Gingerly, I reached out, placing the tiny bit of moisture upon the tip of her breast, kissing it with my finger, watching the pink tip respond ever so slightly as it glistened briefly in the approaching light.
I saw her tremble slightly, quiver as though cold, yet knowing in that subtle twitch of her body that she merely had responded to even that, the lightest, briefest of touches, just as she always had, always would.
Her entire body seemed to be one continuous extension of her sex whenever she was aroused. I had never before met a woman, nor felt like I would ever know another, who was more in tune, more harmonic with her spirit and sensuality as RayAnn was. Every nerve ending seemed to connect to one another. The merest of touches sending out waves of goose flesh that exploded across her body in an apocalyptic display of arousal and need.
I closed my eyes briefly remembering. Remembering the countless times I had lay by her side, her back facing towards me. I remembered the lightest of breaths caressing her skin, remembered the waves of goose pimples as they rose in excited anticipation. I remembered counting them in an abstract sort of way, marveling at even their beauty, naming each, as they stood shivering, the finest of hair downy soft and thin, standing up as prickled stems of electricity. And each tiny bump shared the same name...desire.
And I would spend whatever time she gave me, kissing each one. Content to draw from her the rapture of my lips upon her flesh, devouring and savoring each tiny bump as though it were a feast in and of itself.
And as I partook of her flesh, as I devoured that which was so freely offered me, it gave me strength, gave me the stamina, and gave me the determination to pleasure her for as long as it took before the purity of our combined coupling, combined ecstasy, robbed us of our hunger, satiated the thirst and pacified for the moment the longing of our internal souls.
