The Slip

She knew it was wrong. She knew it was stupid. But she couldn't help it. It felt so good...so right. His touch, his smell, the way his lips felt against her skin. It was intoxicating. She was drunk on the overwhelming passion burning in her. Passion ignited further by his tongue trailing down the column of her throat.

He was her ex. She'd ended it. It'd been months. They'd talked some, but this was the first time they'd seen each other. He was like her drug. Two years was too much time invested, time and emotion, to just quit cold turkey. She couldn't do it. She had to see him...but this wasn't expected. If nothing else, she didn't expect him to instigate it. They'd agreed that nothing like this, sex, would happen. It would only cheapen what they'd shared before.

But all those thoughts left when he kissed her.

It all started with a hug. A simple hug was all it took to shake her to her core. Things began awkwardly; there were guarded sentences, limited eye contact, hesitant touches. What was appropriate? What crossed the line? Where was the line? Neither knew. When he suggested they sit on the couch, rather than the separate chairs they were currently occupying, she looked up and caught his eye. Before she knew it, her eyes filled with tears. She wanted so much to hide in his embrace, like she used to. But she knew she couldn't. It wasn't like that anymore.

He saw her eyes tear up and asked what was wrong. She simply shook her head and rose to get a tissue. He followed. As she wiped her eyes she apologized for losing control. She really hadn't wanted to cry in front of him. He smiled a little and pulled her to him. He told her there was nothing to be sorry for, that he'd always be there for her. As they held each other for that brief moment, they felt it. That electricity that had coursed through them. She hadn't felt it in months. But there it was again, rearing its head. She looked up into his eyes, her breath caught. Their eyes held for a moment. He pulled back. He knew that if he kept touching her he'd want to touch all of her. He hadn't realized he'd spoken those words aloud until he saw the look on her face. He immediately regretted it. She looked confused and hurt. He added that he didn't want to do anything that either of them might regret. She looked at him hard and told him that she'd never regret anything with him. Ever. She continued, telling him that he was probably right though. It would be a dumb thing to do. As she was saying this, she'd turned away to get another tissue. She turned back to apologize again, but was cut off as he scooped her into his arms and kissed her with all the passion that had been laying fallow for the past months.

After getting over the initial surprise, she sank into him with a sigh of relief. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed him. As the kiss became more feverish, their arms wrapped around each other, bodies pressed together, she felt him getting hard. Instinctively she moved closer, cuddling him between her thighs. She knew she was getting wet. She could feel the hot knot in her stomach moving lower. He moved to her neck, and, sliding her shirt out of the way, trailed his tongue from the base of her neck to the tip of her shoulder and back. She moaned, long and low. Gawd she'd longed for this so much it ached. She could barely breathe.

He pulled back, warning her that if they were going to stop, now would be a good time to do so. However, looking in her eyes, he knew she didn't want to stop anymore than he did. He kissed her again, harder, more demanding. She returned it.

He stepped away long enough to lead her down the hall to the bedroom. They stepped in and, taking her wrist, he roughly brought her to him. He laid her down on the bed and came down on top of her. Her arms went around his neck. His knee nudged her legs apart. She willingly opened for him. He said once again, now was the time to stop if they were going to. She didn't want to, but she didn't want him to regret anything. Before she finished the sentence he kissed her again. As he moved his lips to her neck, he paused briefly and breathed into her ear, with hot breath that caused every inch of her, inside and out, to quiver in his strong arms, that he, too, would never regret anything with her.

He kissed her neck, and gave her a little nibble. She gasped in pleasure. He then growled that she had too many clothes on. She sat up as he rose to remove his shirt. She ran her hands along his bare sides, the feel of his skin, warm and smooth under her hands, was like an aphrodisiac. She kissed his stomach, sides, and chest. They both reached for his belt, his hands were faster though.

She felt drunk. Her head was foggy with passion. She allowed him to pull her to her feet. He grasped her shirt and had it over her head before she knew it. His hands slid down her sides and he moaned at the sight of her luscious curves. They came to rest on her hips. As he began to pull the last of the material barriers from her, she reached out and wrapped her hand around the long, hard shaft between them. He groaned and growled, his knees nearly buckling at her touch. He pushed her back onto the bed and followed her, like a lion on the prowl, as she scooted back to give him more room. As he stretched out on her, she reached down and continued stroking him. Propping himself up with one arm, his other hand covered her breast and began to gently knead. She sighed and made a small sound in the back of her throat. The feeling was so familiar. He then traced her nipple with his fingers and, taking it between his thumb and index finger, pinched it just enough to cause her to gasp and to make the bud stand erect. His hand moved from one breast to the other, not wanting to leave an inch of her feeling neglected.

As he used his free hand to tease her breasts and nipples, he'd also used his tongue on her neck to cause her to break out into goosebumps. He then bent his head and moved from her neck to her breasts. She arched up so far when his tongue circled her nipple she thought she'd come off the bed. When he took it into his mouth and began to suck, she was sure she did. She was so consumed by his mouth that she didn't notice his hand moving downward until he gently stroked the soft folds covering her heat. She moaned and opened her legs a little wider.

His fingers parted those lips and, feeling how wet she was, he smiled to himself and grew harder with anticipation. He found the bundle of nerves that he knew would drive her crazy. As he rubbed it she began to buck under his hand. He continued rubbing with the pad of his thumb as he slid two fingers into her hot, tight tunnel. She cried out in pleasure. As he increased his speed and pressure, she bucked harder, begging him for more. A third finger entered her, and still she cried for more. She couldn't help it, she couldn't even understand it. All she knew was that whatever she needed, he had it.

As he worked her to a frenzy she continued stroking him, trying to make him feel the desire she did. It didn't take much. Soon she lost the ability to think about motivating him, every thought was gone. She kept crying his name over and over, begging him to enter her. He moved between her legs, lifted them up and entered her in one powerful thrust.

Both let out a shout. It felt better than either remembered. Instinct and memory took over. They knew just how to move to bring the most pleasure to the other. She raised her hips as he thrust forcefully in and out. Their movements became faster, harder, more powerful. All the desire, all the passion, all the feelings they'd felt toward each other that had been building for the last month, poured into the act. They both became demanding, rough. He grabbed her hands, trapping them above her head. As their eyes met, the fire between them grew hotter. She tightened around him, digging her heels into the back of his thighs, urging him to go faster, harder.

Breathless, moaning, gasping each other's name, they released all of their emotions into the movements. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she cried his name over and over, moving closer to peaking. They locked eyes, knowing that both were on the edge. Her screams became louder, higher. They both shouted when they reached climax. She lost all focus, as though she was blind, every other sense heightened. He felt as if he'd been thrown from his body with the force of his orgasm. He kept moving in her as she continued to spasm and clench around him, squeezing every last bit of him. When he finally collapsed on top of her, they were both breathless and exhausted.

When their senses returned several minutes later, he leaned over and kissed her forehead. She looked at him through her tears, left over from the strength of her own orgasm. She asked if he thought that what they just did was a mistake. He shook his head. They agreed that, no matter what, there would be no regrets about what they just shared. It was an act between two close friends, comforting and familiar. This was a new chapter in their lives. They were both in unfamiliar territory. But neither was afraid. They both knew that the other would be there. No matter what.