Confused by my dream and quite upset. What had happened to me last night if he wasn't here? Clumsily, I got dressed and started down the trail we walked last night. There were more ferns and brush than I remembered. The morning sun was just barely able to peek through the leaves now. The closer to the clearing I got, the thicker the fog was.
There was a burning in the pit of my stomach. My breathing was labored. Feeling claustrophobic, I began to undo my jacket and take my scarf off. There was a tingling about my head and a metallic blood-like taste in my mouth. What was happening to me?
The clearing was somewhat overgrown and more secluded than I remembered. I wondered if it was even the same place. Stumbling closer now, I could see the blanket I had laid out from before.
Feeling so much gravity pulling down on my body, I crawled to the blanket; collapsing as soon as I got there. Laying on my stomach, almost afraid to look up. I could feel someone or something staring at me. My skin tingled with anticipation. Anxiety had me virtually paralyzed.
Mustering up the courage to open my eyes and there he was; reaching for my hand to help me up. Relief took over. Taking his hand, and shakily pulling myself up. He pulled me close to him; pressing my chest to his.
His hands gently holding my face for a kiss. This was one of the most amazing kisses I had ever had; so much passion in just one kiss making my knees buckle. This man was, in fact, not Dean. This man was not even anyone I knew... more of a presence; a collection of every man I had ever wanted. His kiss tasted of the sweet spiced rum. His eyes were dark that stabbed straight into my soul.
Grabbing onto his arms to help hold myself up and arching my back; hair hanging down. His hand slowly follows my neck to the back of my head, grasping a firm hold of my hair. His warm breath on my neck weakens my knees even more. Steadying me in one arm and undressing me with the other hand, I'm powerless against him. I want him. I want him with every ounce of my being.
Tracing his chest with my fingertips, trying to mentally burn his image into my brain. I was sure to touch him as much as he would let me.
My pants fell to the ground; as if he slid a blade up my leg and cut them off.
The morning sun was pierced through the trees, but the fog was heavy as ever. Lowering us both to the blanket, he brushed my hair from my face. I wanted to see his face, touch it. I struggled to see him better. His eyes were all I could make out. Dark, soul stealing eyes. He laid upon me, pressing heavy. I should've been scared but I wasn't. I couldn't get enough of him. I kept trying to touch him but before I could, my scarf was wrapped about my wrists, holding me. Why didn't he want me to touch him? Who was this...? Or WHAT was this?