As I announced earlier, I had to changed the rating to M now. If you are not interested in reading about Lisbon and Jane's sex life, now is the point to stop reading.
Lisbon feels Jane's slight stubble scrape her cheek when he leans his face against hers while unzipping her pants.
The rough, wet texture of his tongue slides over her neck while his fingers stroke her through the thin material of her panties.
She presses into him.
Feels the muscles of his arms under her hands.
She takes the delicate flesh of his earlobe into her mouth to suck on it.
The intensity of her arousal overwhelms her.
She feels herself losing control.
Losing the good sense for which she is known.
She pulls back.
Stumbles backwards to sit down on the bed.
Takes a moment to calm down.
To breathe.
He apparently doesn't share her insecurities.
Standing in front of her, he strips down.
Completely.
He looks at her.
Provocatively.
Teasingly.
She was never one to resist a good challenge.
She stands up and slips out of her jeans.
Looking down at her flushed skin, she wishes she'd chosen more exiting underwear today.
She takes off her simple white bra, tosses it carelessly away.
His eyes widen.
He instinctively licks his lips.
The breath catches in her throat as she realizes the inevitability of what they are about to do.
She tiptoes to capture his lips with hers.
Pulls him closer to feel the warmth of his bare skin against hers.
In response, he hardens against her abdomen.
Suddenly the silent exploration of each other's bodies gets interrupted.
Her cell phone rings.
She stiffens in his arms.
He stops stroking her back.
She curses the phone for ringing.
Wishes it had rung before she took him up to her room.
"Are you going to answer this?" He asks after the fourth ringing.
He sounds amused.
But also scared to death.
She shakes her head.
Frees herself from his embrace.
The intruding noise finally stops.
She walks over to look for the phone in the pocket of her jacket on the floor.
She doesn't check who called.
She doesn't have to.
She shuts the damn thing off.
Don't ask who it was, she silently pleads when she faces Jane again.
He doesn't.
He only reaches for the waistband of her panties to help her out of them with unhurried hands.
As he twirls her sensitive nipple between his thumb and index finger, she feels the telltale wetness spreading out between her legs.
She tentatively reaches out to touch his penis.
Sliding her fingers from root to tip and back again, she revels in her ability to make him moan.
She gets braver.
Cups and strokes his balls.
He throws back his head and lets out a surprised noise.
She grins at him.
Climbs onto the bed.
Lays down.
Invites him with one venturous look to join her.
She feels aroused and insecure at once under his intense gaze.
She successfully fights the urge to pull back the comforter and slip under the covers to hide from him.
He picks up his jacket from the floor and conjures up a box of condoms.
It is obvious that he planned ahead.
That this wasn't a spontaneous idea during their chat in the hotel lobby.
That he hoped - knew - she'd agree to this.
She isn't angry.
Nor irritated.
She only feels more desirable than ever.
And less able to resist him.
But she doesn't like the idea of an artificial barrier between them.
According to her doctor she is completely healthy.
She suppresses the thought of all the tests she willingly endured just ten days ago.
She refuses to rationalize things tonight.
She looks at the condoms in his hands.
Looks into his eyes.
Shakes her head.
"I didn't sleep with anyone since that night with you," he states, answering her unspoken question.
She simply stares at him.
Closes her eyes.
Opens them again.
Blinks.
Inhales deeply.
Regrets that she couldn't be a woman so engrossed in her mourning for a lost love that no other man had the chance to lure her into his bed.
She wishes she would be able to honestly tell him that all the time she was only waiting for him to return.
Instead, "I'm on the pill."
He wavers for three seconds, then the box lands on the floor by the door.
His eyes are full of conflicting emotions.
He has that look.
The look that makes her believe he sees right through her, knows all of her innermost secrets.
Maybe he does.
A part of her hopes that he is strong enough to do what she can't and end this before it even really begins.
But no, suddenly he is looming over her.
His tongue circles around her right nipple.
Evokes old memories.
Creates new ones.
Leaves a trail of saliva between her breasts.
On her stomach.
Slips subtly between her labia.
Teases her.
Causes her to bury her hands in his hair.
Drives waves of electricity through her whole body.
Elicits hoarse moans from her throat.
Lets her fall into a black hole of lasciviousness.
Causes her to tremble uncontrollably.
Suddenly the oral stimulation becomes more than she can bear.
And it isn't necessary.
She is ready.
She wants him.
Inside of her.
Now.
The grip of her hands on his curls tightens.
He is oblivious to the pain her action sure causes him.
"Jane," Lisbon pleads, but her voice is too shaky and low to catch his attention.
"Patrick," she says, more insistently. "Please."
This time he looks up.
His eyes meet hers.
He understands.
Crawls up to crash his lips into hers.
She tastes herself in his kiss.
She doesn't care.
She just breathlessly kisses him back.
Spreads her legs wider to give his body space.
Her hips jerk up when the tip of his penis briefly, accidentally brushes against her aroused clitoris.
She fails to stifle a giggle when he repeats the sensation on purpose.
Her voice sounds strange even to her own ears.
More at ease.
Happier.
She wonders if being with him brings out her true self or makes her lose touch with the woman she believes to be.
She doesn't have time for further analysis.
He enters her unhesitatingly with one swift motion.
Begins to move before she can comprehend the feeling of suddenly, wonderfully having him inside of her.
His thrusts are rapid.
Forceful.
Heavenly.
Almost violent.
Just right.
Her fingernails dig into the skin of his back.
Mark their territory.
His face rests at her neck.
The sound of his agitated breathing drives her wild.
He teasingly pulls out completely.
She protests.
Begs.
He plunges into her again.
Deep.
Repeatedly.
Deeper.
Not deep enough.
She tucks up her legs.
Wraps them around his waist.
Tilts her pelvis higher.
Uses her hands on his buttocks to bring him in deeper.
She gasps when he hits her cervix with the next thrust.
He stops his vigorous rhythm to look at her.
His eyes are brimful of worry.
Love.
They remind her why she never really got over him.
Why she is with him in this room right now.
"Don't stop," she breathes to make him bury his head at her shoulder again.
To make it possible for her to pretend that this is merely physical.
A result of extreme horniness that clouds her judgment.
He doesn't make it that easy for her. "I don't want to hurt you, Teresa."
She bites her lips to choke back her overflowing emotions.
"You don't," she whispers.
She can tell that he doesn't believe her.
But he starts moving again nevertheless.
Soon her insides expand.
Pulsate.
Flow.
Flare up.
She moans.
Loud.
Cries out his name.
Louder.
A burst of heat, light, shoots through her.
Crawls up her spine.
Blinds her.
She doesn't realizes that her eyes are closed until the fierce spasms are replaced by soft aftershocks.
Her eyelids flutter.
Struggle.
When she finally is able to open them, she looks into his stunned face.
She feels bare.
Unprotected.
Amazed that she was able to lose control like this with him.
That she allowed him to see her so intimate.
She can tell that he is holding back his own orgasm, neglected it to watch her climax.
She lets her inner walls clasp his penis tightly, squeeze it.
She encourages him to let go.
To lose control as well.
He takes the invitation, dives into her again.
Hard.
Fast.
Deep.
His back muscles tense under her hands.
Sweat sparkles on his forehead.
Drips onto her chest.
Until he finally explodes inside of her.
Fills her.
He groans.
Quivers.
Smiles.
Looks more content than she ever saw him before.
Finally he nestles to her shoulder and they lay there perfectly still.
Tangled together.
Panting.
Calming down.
Clinging to each other.
Her legs are still tightly wrapped around him.
She refuses to let him slip out of her already.
Dreads to face the aftermath of their lovemaking.
But eventually he withdraws, rolls them over to lie on their sides.
They are facing each other.
He gives her no chance to escape his eyes.
She surprises herself when she doesn't feel the need to avoid his look.
When she even smiles at him.
She reaches out to caress his cheek.
Grins when he kisses her fingertips.
She wants to feel guiltier.
No, she should feel guiltier.
But all she can feel is the perfectness of the moment.
Jane.
She inhales the scent of their lovemaking.
Basks in the intimacy she just shared with him.
Catches herself oversimplifying the situation.
It isn't simple at all.
Isn't all bliss.
But she wants to be oblivious tonight.
There will be time enough later to feel the burn of guilt.
Time to cry.
Time to think about consequences.
To make decisions.
Tonight she just wants to fall asleep in his arms.
Feel safe in his embrace.
She barely notices him pulling out the comforter from underneath her and wrapping it around their bodies as she drifts off to sleep.
TBC...