Before We Say Goodbye

Ryan barely got through the front door before he and Isabella were ripping at each other's clothes, frustrated by the zippers and buttons that impeded their progress. In less than 24 hours, Isabella was leaving for Geneva, Switzerland, having accepted a four-month internship with an international agency. Their looming separation and all the insecurities it raised gave their lovemaking a frantic, desperate quality.

Isabella wound her legs around Ryan's hips as he carried her to the bedroom. She clung to him, her face nuzzling into the crook of his neck. She knew four months wasn't that long, only a third of a year, the tiniest fraction of time since she and Ryan planned to spend the rest of their lives together. Still, right now, it seemed endless.

They collapsed on the bed, the worn cotton duvet cushioning their knotted arms and legs. Isabella wanted to cram every detail about Ryan into her memory--the way he smelled of anise and licorice, the coarseness of his chest against hers, and how his shoulder-length brown hair sometimes fell across his face, hiding his deep-set blue eyes. She hauled him close now, squeezing one of his thighs between hers, the solid muscle pressing against her crotch. She needed his arms, chest, legs and pelvis to meld with her own. She couldn't remember why she'd thought this whole internship business was a good idea or why she'd even accepted. It seemed so stupid now, so pointless. If she'd just left things alone, she and Ryan wouldn't have to be apart.

His hands framed her face. His teeth gently, playfully nipped at her upper lip before he sucked it into his mouth. A chill ran down her spine, settling at her groin. His mouth travelled down her neck and along her collarbone. Ryan moved to his knees, the bedside lamp casting a soft glow around his head. He reached for her breasts, squeezing the firm lobes together in the centre of her chest. His thumb and forefinger pulled at her nipples. He groaned as he saw them stiffen.

Slowly, never taking his eyes off her, he bent, taking her tits into his mouth, aureole and all. He flicked at the erect buds, first one and then the other with his tongue's pointy tip. His hair fell forward, swaying, tickling her skin. She writhed beneath him, her breath short and choppy. He sucked even harder, using his hands to push her further into his mouth. She offered him a distant smile as her head fell back. She closed her eyes, her eyelashes resting on her cheekbones, lost to the seductive smell of sandalwood incense.

His tongue trailed over her belly and towards her crotch, the air from the ceiling fan cooling where he'd licked, goosebumps lighting her skin. He pushed her legs wide open, taking in her vagina's every nook and cranny, its fleshy, swollen lips and bright red inner walls. He stared for a moment, showing an absolute reference for her body. His finger trailed up one thigh and down the other, his mouth following this path, placing firm kisses on her tender skin. Her body tensed in anticipation, waiting, wanting his mouth on her cunt.

Pushing his head away, Isabella brought her legs together. She raised them over her head to give him complete access. It was the sign he'd been waiting for. He shoved his hands beneath her and dragged her towards him, moaning as he buried his face in her pubic hair. It was a sound so animalistic, so erotic. She was spiralling out of control. She clutched at his head, her fingers pushing their way through his smooth, silky hair. "Fuck me," she pleaded, already imagining the feel of his bulging cock as it slipped inside her. Her body ached.

He blew a swift short breath on her clit, making her gasp. "No," he said, his eyes, which were so often those of a tormented artist, sparkled and shone. "I want to watch you come."

Ryan's tongue traced along her vagina's moist folds and up to her clitoris. He licked it quickly, teasingly, before moving his tongue deep inside her. In and out it went, venturing every now and again to her clit for a quick suck, a swift nip. Every part of her buzzed and tingled. Her head moved from side to side. She smelled her apple shampoo, heard footsteps from the apartment above, felt how wet she was.

She abandoned his head and took her full nipples between her thumb and forefinger. Now she was the one who pinched and pulled, who gathered her breasts together as Ryan's long, thick fingers penetrated her, rubbing her slick vaginal walls. Her mouth hung open. She heard herself whimpering, panting almost, the pressure in her groin growing. She pulled the duvet to her waist, crowding the fabric into her hands, crushing it between her fingers. She was so close, but, selfishly, she wanted the sensations rippling through her brain, spine and genitals to last forever.

Ryan had other ideas. Keeping his finger deep inside her, he took the wide, flat surface of his tongue and lapped at her vagina. Her head shot back. Her eyes closed. Relishing her obvious arousal, he turned his attention to her clit, savaging the sensitive nub. A primal need took over Isabella. It obliterated all rational thought and doubts for the future. Her cunt spasmed over and over again, and with each shudder, each tremor, each contraction, she cried Ryan's name. She offered herself to him completely, thrilling in the pleasure, the bliss only he could bring.