A/N: Okay...So as Awesome would say...muy caliente! Time to earn that rating, lol. NSFW...just so you know. Sarah wanted him so badly, but was not the least bit prepared for how he was going to make her feel. She's using mindfulness on purpose to not think about it. Sigh.

We were still kissing when he crossed the threshold into the bedroom. My hands were on his face, my lips grazing his jaw, his neck, and nuzzling the skin on his chest right above his open buttons.

So gently it was like landing on a cloud, he laid me down on his bed. The room was dark and all I could see were shadows. Beneath me the comforter was pulled up, the bed made this morning though his apartment was in pieces. Even in the dark I could see the room was neat, though as bare as the room we had been in before. The pillow beneath my head was laden with his scent, fueling my internal fire.

His hands slid out from under me, so he could turn on the light on the nightstand as I soon realized, though the moment he let go, I wanted his arms back around me. The lamplight was warm and soft, the smoldering desire in his eyes seeming to illuminate the dimness on the edges of what I could see.

I laid back as he started to undress and pulled the comforter out from under me to touch the sheets. He shifted out of his suit jacket, turning to place it, folded, on top of his hamper. When he started unbuttoning his shirt, I lifted myself up, kneeling in front of him. He let me take over, slowly opening his shirt, exposing his chest that I kissed gently all the way down, my heart pounding when I heard his contented sighs. He shrugged off the shirt effortlessly and I grabbed his belt and started to unfasten it. He watched me the entire time, helping me once everything was undone as he pushed everything down over his hips.

He was absolutely beautiful, glorious, like a sculpture. He was all lean muscle, his erect manhood enormous to my eyes. I reached for him, aching to touch him. He pulled me forward, reaching behind me and unzipping my dress, moaning softly as my hand caressed him. My dress lay in a puddle around my knees and I wriggled out of the way, tossing the dress onto the floor with his clothes.

My bra and panties were translucent lace, bought this morning to match the dress I wore. His eyes were admiring, even as his chest was heaving with desire as I continued to touch him. He leaned into me, then reached again and unfastened my bra. I rolled my shoulders forward, letting the straps slide down my arms. I released him briefly as I slipped it off.

"You are…so beautiful," he whispered, his breath labored, as he saw my bare chest.

My entire body, all my blood, my breath–everything was on fire. I leaned back, coaxing him back with me. He stretched himself over me, resting on his elbows. The warm rush of his skin all along mine made me gasp, my nipples instantly erect and hard against his chest. Then I was moaning in his mouth as he kissed me, hard, passionately. I could feel his erection against my inner thigh, feverishly warm and tempting. I lifted my hips, needing him so badly it was painful.

His lips never left mine, but he slid his hand down my side, delicately and slowly. His fingers curled into the top of my panties and he tugged them down, just far enough for his hand to slide inside. I was hot and slick, dripping wet, when his fingers touched me.

"Oh my God, Sarah," he exclaimed, lifting his mouth from mine, genuinely surprised at how aroused I was, how badly I wanted him.

"Chuck," I whispered urgently. "Please…" He was gently touching my wet skin, caressing me, but I was so aroused I was trembling.

My plea seemed to wake him up from his amazement. He pulled my panties down further and I wriggled out of them.

He slid one, then another finger inside me. I was so wet it made a sound that I giggled at before I lost my breath at the sensation. He was caressing the inside of me first, exploring. He ran his thumb over my clit, just a few times, massaging me, and the rubber band, the physical tension that had been building all this time, finally let go.

The pleasure exploded, starting under his thumb and spreading to every part of me. My muscles undulated over his fingers and he slowly pumped them in and out of me. I lost control of my voice, moaning and arching my back as I shuddered, wave after wave rushing over me. "Oh Chuck," I breathed, as I finally calmed. It was just his fingers, his hand…and I had never come like that, so hard I could feel myself squeezing against his fingers.

"Do you have any idea how beautiful you really are, Sarah?" he whispered against my ear.

I had closed my eyes during my orgasm, but I opened them when he spoke. He was looking straight into my eyes, and there was more there than just desire and admiration. The intensity of his expression frightened me, if only because I couldn't fathom how he could have feelings like that if he barely knew me. I tried to calm myself, telling myself to just enjoy having sex with him, in complete denial that even this foreplay was so much more than just sex.

He reached for the nightstand drawer with his left hand.

I grabbed his arm, holding his bicep. "Chuck, you don't need that," I whispered.

His eyes flared open in surprise, and he tilted his head, looking at me out of the corner of his eyes. That needed an explanation, it seemed.

"I've been on birth control since I was 17," I confessed. It was for hormonal balance, but somehow that full explanation was out of place for this moment.

I could feel the heat from his blush against my face. He didn't know how to ask or say the rest.

"It's been three years for me," I told him. I hoped that was enough explanation, without me having to say more.

He was surprised, but he recovered quickly. It made me wonder why—had he imagined me with lots of different men, or was he surprised even at that distant dalliance, considering how isolated he knew I was? He obviously saw my mind's inner workings show on my face, because he recovered quickly.

"Considering they're probably expired, that's a good thing," he deadpanned.

He burst out laughing and soon so did I. It was a perfect break in the tension, and it was such a relief that he was calm, laughing, instead of nervous. I realized then that I thought the nicest piece of music I had ever heard was his laughter, especially knowing how little of it he seemed to have in his life. I curled against him, giggling like I almost couldn't remember doing before. Laughing with him was a beautiful experience.

He settled beside me, our bodies touching, and caressed my cheek. The smile was still there, the laughter slowly subsiding. It was then that I saw it, on his face…what he felt. There was no mistaking it, even though in 34 years of my life, I'd never seen it before. I was in shocked disbelief. I couldn't say the word, even to myself, but it was so real, deep.

It absolutely terrified me.

The fear was all about me, not anything about him. I didn't think there was anything wrong with him for feeling the way he did. He had shared a huge part of himself with me, trusting me with his story. I knew that set me apart somehow. Perhaps I minimized its importance, but I couldn't imagine how that look could be what I thought it was. Sadly, there was definitely something wrong with me—he just hadn't seen it yet. He thought he knew me, but he didn't. He couldn't. We had only known each other for less than 12 hours.

How is that any different from how you feel right now?

It was my own voice, inside my head, but it was like someone else had spoken.

I forced it all deep inside me, the fear and the wonder, that unmistakable burning that had no name…but didn't really need one. That couldn't be what I was feeling, I told myself. It was just lust, desire, need. We were together, here in his bed, to have sex. It never occurred to me that it was also because something unusual, once in a lifetime, had happened.

Mindfulness taught me—be here now. The past, the future did not exist when it was just this moment, this breath. And all I wanted at this precise moment was him—inside me, surrounding me.

I elaborated on what I meant before. "I don't want anything between us. Clothes, a condom, anyone or anything else." The risk was minimal, but I was so far gone it wasn't even on my mind, the risks. I just wanted to feel him, like I never had desired before.

"As you wish," he whispered. Whatever I had said had convinced him.

He stretched himself on top of me. He took his time, touching me, kissing me, suckling each breast until I thought I was going to explode. I kept arching my hips upward, colliding with him, feeling his erection pressed against my pubic bone. I was moaning, almost unaware of my noises.

He bent forward, kissing me hard. I ran my hands down his bare chest, raking my fingers through his chest hair. His skin touched mine, his chest grazing the sensitive, hyper-stimulated skin on my breasts. My hands trailed up and down, over the gentle slopes of his lean muscles in his chest and his stomach.

I reached for him again, sliding over on the bed to give him room beside me. He climbed over me, raised up on his palms. He kissed the space between my breasts, then slowly started to trace a line with his kisses, down my stomach. Down, down…his lips paused at the crest of my vulva. He knelt between my legs. I almost lost control of myself.

My high school boyfriend had performed oral sex on me when I was 17 and still a virgin, but it was messy and uncomfortable, not the least bit pleasurable. No one had done it since.

Suddenly the thought of Chuck doing that overwhelmed me. "Please, Chuck," I whispered, almost begging him to put his mouth on me. I felt his breath on my vulva, and then his lips covered me. He kissed me up and down, soft butterfly kisses, while I squealed, moaned, gushed with the exquisite sensation of it. His tongue fluttered, then pressed inside me before he licked forward and then pulsated his tongue against my clit until I was screaming, an orgasm exploding against his lips. I felt the muscle contractions deep inside me.

"Please don't stop," I moaned as I came down from that high.

He chuckled, the vibrations from his breath intensifying the sensation. I looked down, over my raised thigh. We locked eyes while he suckled me, the intensity in his eyes almost unbearable. I couldn't look away. I only closed my eyes when I came again, so lost in him I was grinding myself against his lips, his mouth. I was vigorous; he hummed like he was tasting something delicious, my fervency only urging him on. He was so sexy he was driving me out of my mind.

I lost track of how many times he made me come, sure he was hurting his neck after so long a time crouching between my legs like that. I was shuddering, sweaty, almost outside myself when he finally stopped, sliding up my body, pressing himself over me. My scent permeated the skin on his face like aftershave. Oh God, it was so sexy.

He kissed me, my juices still making his lips dewy. I tasted Chuck, but also myself. I wasn't prepared for how much that turned me on.

I arched my back, lifting my body to touch him, closing the gap between us. I could feel him, hot and hard, against my thigh. I shifted my legs and he nestled between them, flush against me. He never stopped kissing me–wet, hungry kisses that I returned with fervor.

Every other time I'd had sex, there was always a stop, a pause, where foreplay stopped and penetration began, as we worked towards completion. It consisted of me guiding or holding, waiting as I was penetrated, sometimes too quickly, or like the very first time, too slowly.

With Chuck, every second of our amorous encounter was different. His mouth stayed pressed over mine, his hands braced on either side of me. I felt his cock, pressing against the outside of me, rubbing up and down on my vulva, my wetness lubricating him. Effortlessly, I felt him slide into me, luxuriously slowly, until I was full of him.

He came up for air, lifting his face. His eyes were wide, adoring, on fire with a passion that overwhelmed me. He looked into my eyes, holding my gaze as he started moving gently. It felt absolutely sublime.

He lifted enough that I could see him penetrating me, my natural arousal making his cock wet and shiny. Watching it disappear as he plunged himself inside me–that was probably the most erotic experience of my life.

I didn't understand it while it was happening, but what was driving me wild while we were having sex wasn't the orgasm, or the craving of orgasm like I had experienced when I was with Bryce. It was how he felt inside me. Smooth, hot, hard, stretching me pleasantly, and he was savoring how it felt to be inside me.

My hunger, the burning ache inside me…was satisfied merely by his entry, the warm pressure I felt inside me. It was new, and frighteningly unexpected.

"This feels…amazing," he breathed, straining like he was out of breath, though going so slowly.

"Oh, God, yes," I moaned, agreeing eagerly. Because it was more than just the physical sensation. He smiled, so beautifully I felt my heart soar in my chest. I adored his smile, and relished the fact that he was happy, because we were here, together, like this.

Gradually, he increased his speed, expertly thrusting in and out of me. He had amazing control, at least compared to my past experience. The heat of the friction of us moving filled me with warmth. The heat slowly changed to pressure, every nerve alive and tingling.

"Chuck!" I called out, throwing my head back as the tingling intensified, crescendoed, and the pleasure washed over me. My muscles contracted around him, the most amazing feeling I had ever felt.

"Sarah…" he whispered, leaning forward, closer to me.

My legs were wrapped around him and I was meeting his thrusts, matching him perfectly. He maintained his rhythm, but grabbed both of my knees and pushed my legs back, up, changing the angle he could achieve as he pounded away at me.

He hit my G spot, although I didn't know that was what he did, what he was trying to do. I had never experienced the sensation, but it amplified my sensitivity. I orgasmed again, moaning loudly as the edges of my vision darkened at the intensity of the contractions, everything inside my pelvis clamping around him.

He let me calm, let me recover from it, steadying himself, kissing me softly. I could taste the sweat on his lips as it ran down from the skin under his nose.

I wanted to feel him come inside me.

I wasn't wishing for it to finish now that I was sated. I wasn't tired of having sex with him, as had been the case sometimes with my others. This feeling was brand new.

I wanted to feel his pleasure, share it with him, know he felt as good as he made me feel.

"Come inside me," I whispered, encouraging him, letting him know he had given me enough and I wanted to give it back.

"Almost," he breathed as he thrusted faster, harder, without compromising the rhythm of our mutual motion.

He bent forward until I could feel his shaft rubbing and pressing against my clit. "Come with me," he gasped.

I was close, and now amazed, one more thing I had never experienced before.

He cried out as I felt him jerk, his seed pelting the inside of me. A split second later, I came again. We finished together and he collapsed on top of me.

He stayed still, pressing me into the bed, nestled between my legs. When he pulled out, I felt like he had removed a part of me that belonged there.

We stayed like that for a long time. Bryce had never stayed in bed with me post coitally. Showering instead to clean me off of him.

He lay beside me, our bodies still touching. I could hear his heavy breathing, gradually slowing as he caught his breath. "You…are…amazing," he breathed.

I giggled, surprised by the irony of what he'd said. By leaps and bounds, Chuck was the best lover I had ever been with, even if perhaps he was technically less experienced. His expertise was not from practice so much as the attention he paid, his desire to examine every emotion on my face.

I would never have qualified my interactions with Bryce as making love. But, as I laid there, touching him, recalling his hands, his mouth, his body…I couldn't internalize it any other way.

Chuck made love to me. It could have frightened me, but I stayed in the moment, just that moment. Even if this was it, forever, he had just changed my life.

The future thoughts frightened me, terrified me—to be with him, to be without him. I couldn't wrap my mind around it.

All I knew at that moment was I wanted more. I wanted to make love to him the way he had to me.

I thought he might still be sensitive, so my touch was gentle, feathery on him. He was hard again in a very short time. I climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. I groaned with satisfaction as I sank down on top of him and he was inside me again.

This position had always satisfied me easily, my favorite when I was tired and was just looking for release and satisfaction. Bryce was quick to flip me over, for he finished more easily hammering away at me in missionary position. None of that was my intention here.

I was in control, yes, and what I wanted more than anything was to witness his pleasure, to see the way he reacted to my thrusts, my bouncing on him.

All the while, he distracted me with his touch–long, luxurious caresses up and down my body. No one had ever touched me the way he did, almost reverently. I lost myself in his eyes, the way he looked at me, like I was the only woman in the world.

I tried not to think too much about what that meant. Enjoy this, I told myself.

I leaned forward, resting my head against his chest, riding him hard, furiously.

"You're close," I heard him whisper breathlessly against my ear.

I was, but I had given no outward sign that anything was changing. How did he know? I thought, even as I felt it begin, my muscles clenching him tightly as I writhed on top of him. He held me gently until the waves of pleasure subsided.

"How…" I breathed, catching my breath as I rested on his chest, moving my hips slowly.

"You hold your breath, just for a second," he said, out of breath, as he slowly ran his fingers down my spine.

It almost brought tears to my eyes, how closely he paid attention to me. It fueled my desire to reciprocate, to give him as much pleasure as I could.

My goal became pleasing him, only him, my movements and my efforts meant only to bring him to orgasm again. I took his hands in mine and then pressed them down by his sides. He knew what I was doing, groaning with pleasure, relaxing and letting me stroke him with my body.

I rode him hard, a thin sheen of perspiration covering my skin. "Sarah…" he groaned, lifting his body up to meet my movements, rocking his hips back and forth. That was for me, I thought, my blood rushing with anticipation at the thought.

My orgasm started, and a second later he came, the squeezing of my muscles coaxing him along. I felt it inside me, three hot spurts accompanied by his gasping and calling my name.

I laid across his chest, hearing his heart beating furiously under my ear. We were drenched in sweat, sticky, the sheets wet underneath us, twisted and knotted above us. I couldn't let go of him.

"Sleep," he whispered against my ear, caressing my jaw with his fingers that still smelled of my natural musk. He was so sexy and he had no idea.

The last time I had shared a bed with a man to sleep had been in college, cramped in a twin bed with my college boyfriend, both of us too drunk to remember the night before.

The idea of sleeping next to him, wrapped in his arms, my skin plastered against his, made me giddy. I was sated, exhausted, my body almost numb from pleasure. I put everything else aside, telling myself to just do what he asked. Sleep. In no time, I was unconscious, the steady sound of his content breathing the perfect relaxing sound to nudge me into slumber.

His face, his voice, his smile…all of him, filled my dreams.

Thoughts of the morning, of facing what we'd done, flitted out of my mind.