What I Miss 2

I miss the smell of him. I miss rolling towards him and holding my face close to his, our foreheads together. I miss the feeling of his beard under my fingertips. He felt like home to me for so long.

I miss his fingers combing gently through my hair and being told to breathe, that everything would be okay. Thumbs brushing tears away from my cheeks. Soft kisses on my forehead, a whisper of comfort. I miss feeling held and cared for. Like I am special.

I miss being kissed. Oh god, I miss that. I want him to take my face in his hands and kiss me softly and then deeply, and keep kissing me while we breathe each other in. I miss feeling that kiss as warmth spreading in my chest and then belly, and then between my legs. I miss the solidity of his body as I move into his arms and press myself against his chest. I miss the soft brush of his beard on my lips and face. I miss the speeding up and desperation as the kiss deepens, tongues finding each other, and then slows down and becomes soft and sweet.

I miss feeling hands under my shirt, on my waist, across my ribs, over the soft skin of my stomach. I miss when he slides my shirt up and over my head, my arms raised, my hair falling down my back. I miss his hand gently gliding up my back, holding me close, undoing my bra. The quiet gasp when my breasts are free of fabric. Lips on my neck and under my ear, along my collarbone.

I miss the pop of my button and his fingers slowly undoing my zipper, his eyes locked on mine. Gentle kisses as he slides my pants over my hips. Fingers between skin on my stomach and my panties, and finding their way into the folds of my pussy. I miss the smile on his face as he realizes how wet I already am for him.

I miss the anticipation, and then the mouth on my nipple, the gentle suck, the tender bite, the sweep of the tongue. I miss the way my hips begin to move, my pelvis finds his of its own accord and we start to move together.

I miss the feel of him, hard and thick, straining against his pants. My hand covering him, my lips on his, his moan into my mouth as I take him out of his pants. I miss the coarseness of his curls as I undo his buttons, his eyes closing as I run my hands over his chest, and the way his head arches back when I bite his nipple.

I miss my tongue finding the smooth taut skin of him, his breath as I take him in my mouth. I miss his hand on the back of my head as I look up into his eyes from my knees. I miss the first gentle touch of his tongue to my clit, soft and slow. The arch of my back to meet his mouth, his tongue, his lips.

I miss our fingers laced together as we make love.

I miss the weight of him on me, hands on the skin of my arm. I miss fingers tracing the scar on my spine. Small kisses on my shoulder blade.

I miss whispers at my cheek about how I'm going to feel so good. I miss being teased, and touched so lightly and reverently until I need the touch to be harder and faster, and then it is.

I miss the sharp intake of breath, my involuntary murmur when he tells me what he's going to do to and with me. I miss being asked how it feels here, and here, and is this good, and do you want more?

I miss him saying my name as he enters me. I miss looking into his eyes while we fuck. The grip at my hips and behind my knees. I miss saying his name when I come. I miss that urge to cry out, the moan, my head thrown back, the noises I make but don't recognize as my own, loud and raw.

I miss the tenderness after, fingers to my face, being told I am beautiful and that was amazing and that I am wanted and loved. A soothing hand on my hip and a soft kiss while our breathing settles. A low, quiet laugh at how good we are together.

I miss rolling to my left side, his chest pressed to my back, an arm under my head, lips at the place where my neck and shoulder meet, whispers in my ear, legs tangled, feeling safe and warm.