Kiss
I'm dreaming. I know I'm dreaming because that's the only time he ever kisses me.
He's kissed me in real life as well, several oddly timed smooches like my engagement party that...no, I will not dwell on that. I told myself I would stop thinking about that night and the combination of pain and pleasure when tasting forbidden fruit.
This time though it feels real, his arms that snaked around my body. His soft lips which danced tenderly over my own then added a little more pressure. I open my mouth to his and the jolt that passes through me makes even my toes tingle when his tongue touches the tip of mine.
Good God the man can kiss!
A moan escapes the back of my throat and somehow he manages to turn us both around, close my door and pin me against it. A willing captive, I surrender to the feel of his mouth on me moving from my lips downwards to the side of my neck. His teeth scrape over the sensitive skin eliciting another involuntary moan from me.
I'm grabbing onto his shoulders to remain upright, fingertips digging into the muscles while his mouth continues its assault on me.
"Sarah." It's the first thing he says since arriving at my doorstep and I find an ache settle between my thighs at the sound of his voice. Silk and gravel all at once, lustful. "Oh God, Sarah. I want you." He says before claiming my lips once again with his.
I'm left breathless from his teasing temptation and its when his hand slips under my sweater that I reach the conclusion that this is real. The shock has me pushing against his chest, trying to wedge a little space between myself and the hot, hard body that's trapping mine.
"Mac?" He seems confused but then, so am I because I know him too damned well. Any moment he'll snap out of this trance and backpedal himself out if my life. We've made too much headway this past year for me to lose him again.
"We need to stop." I hear myself say in a feeble attempt to deny the inevitable.
"What? Why?"
Great, now he's looking at me as if I've lost my mind. "You don't want this. Not really." He's had many chances, the same as I have to push this into something much more intimate. With each failure, each miscommunication I decided having him as a friend was better than nothing.
"I think I know what I want." But, he doesn't pull away. The hand that was under my sweater slips out and his warm palm presses against my cheek. He's staring at me...lovingly? God, how can that be...why now? My want to push him away again stops and the hands on his chest drop away to encircle his waist. Damnit, he feels so good, smells so good and I'm drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
And then we're kissing again, slow and passionate like our mouths are making love. He pulls me up, urges my legs to wrap around his waist and then he's moving across the apartment to the open door of my bedroom.
I've never been loved like that. Like every sinew of my body was attuned to his as we made love. Hard, passionate, sweet, tender, we checked off all of the boxes and perhaps defined a few of our own.
Hours later we lay amongst tangled sheets, on a mattress that is slightly askew due to my, now broken, bedframe. (Yeah, it was that good.) I raise my head off his shoulder and turn to the side in order to see into my flyboy's sea green eyes. "What got into you?"
"Huh?" His eyes are heavy, nearly drifting shut and I giggle when they pop open with interest when my hand casually travels down his body.
"This. Us. Why now?"
I yelp as he suddenly rolls us over, pinning me beneath him and effectively breaking what was left of the bed frame. It slams onto the floor and leaves us both laughing at our predicament. Seconds later, he kissed me again, only stopping for a moment. The simplicity of his explination touches something inside of me. "I woke up wanting to kiss you."
