Her body was pressed to mine. Her hair was swirled with mine in a mix of raven curls and honey blonde. Her eyes bore into mine, never breaking the contact. Sweat trickled down my face as I gasped for air. Her hands searched every inch of my body, not missing a spot. She brought her head back up and her lips met mine in a hungry kiss.
I stared into her eyes, and then they traveled down her body – from her velvet chocolate eyes, to her unruly raven locks, to her bare chest, her taut abdomen, all the way down to her toes. I tried to mentally photography this; I wanted to remember this for as long as I live. This is the day that my best friend and I admitted our feelings to each other and hurriedly went to my bedroom, leaving a trail of our clothes behind us.
My eyes rolled into the back of my head and I let out a loud, throaty moan as she kissed my stomach and went further down – and then even further. I felt the familiar stickiness and throbbing in between my legs that I often felt just from a brush of shoulders or holding hands when I was with Jane.
With her, it was so much more different than all those one-night stands I had with various men that took me home from the bar. It means something– no, it means everything.
Jane was intoxicating in every way; every aspect of her being was arousing. Her hair, which my hands were currently tangled in. Her eyes, which were currently locked on mine. Her lips, which were going lower and lower, and then back up to meet mine. Her dimpled smile, which she so often wore around me, I noticed. Her arousing biceps and strong triceps. Her back, which my nails were currently dug into. Her hips, her waist, her broad shoulders. Her legs, her feet, her ass. Her smell. Her.
She was in my bloodstream. I was sure of it. I think I might have inhaled her and now she's in my veins; like my own personal brand of heroin.