The scent of rosemary and roasted meat hung in the air as he set the old candlestick holder on the table and lit the three flames. Her hand on his chest, back then three weeks ago, had remained an echo – a gentle tremor that had carved itself into his ribs. Now he stood in the kitchen, the wine breathing in the pitcher, the risotto ready, and everything waiting for her. When the door opened and she entered, she smiled at him – that smile that made his knees go weak.
The Approach
She wore a simple dress, dark blue, that left her shoulders bare. Her hair fell in soft waves over her back, and as she sat down, he felt his breath quicken. “It smells wonderful,” she said, and her hand briefly touched his. A shimmer in her eyes, a hint of something he couldn’t name. They clinked glasses, the first sip of wine unfolding on his tongue. Everything was still flowing, the conversation meandering along – about work, about a movie she had seen. But under the table, invisible, her foot began to brush against his. A light pressure, then a retreat. His pulse hammered.
Their gazes met, lingered. He put down his fork. “I thought about you today,” he said quietly. “All day.” She lowered her eyes, but a smile played around her mouth. “Me too.” It was like a confession, spoken between two courses. He reached across the table, took her hand, felt her warmth. The candles flickered, casting shadows on the wall. He stood up, walked around the table, knelt beside her. She turned on her chair toward him, and he saw the flush on her cheeks. “I want to kiss you,” he whispered. She nodded, and their lips found each other.
The Foreplay
The kiss began tenderly, a probing, an exploration. Her lips were soft, tasting of wine and a bit of salt. His hand settled on her cheek, slid into her hair. She opened her mouth, let his tongue in, and a soft moan escaped her. He pulled her closer, her breasts pressing against his chest, and he felt her heartbeat, fast and wild. His fingers found the zipper of her dress, hesitated. “May I?” he asked. She answered by leaning into him, and the zipper slid down. The dress fell from her shoulders, baring her skin, which shimmered in the candlelight. He kissed her neck, the delicate hollow at her collarbone, and her hands grabbed his shirt, yanking it from his pants.
He helped her to her feet, pulled the dress off completely. She stood before him, only in a simple pair of panties, and he drank in the sight: her breasts, firm with light nipples that stiffened under his gaze; her waist, narrow as it flowed into her hips; the gentle curve of her belly. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, and it was no cliché, it was pure truth. She smiled, stepped toward him, and her hands opened his belt, his pants fell to the floor. His cock pressed against the fabric of his boxers, and she ran her hand over it, a light touch that made him tremble. “I want to feel you,” she whispered.
He pulled her onto the rug in front of the fireplace, which still radiated warm embers. The candles on the table cast long shadows. He kissed her neck, her breasts, took a nipple into his mouth while his hand stroked over her belly. Her breath quickened, her fingers clawed into his shoulders. “Slowly,” she begged, but her hips pressed against him. He obeyed, licked at her breast, circled the nipple with his tongue until she moaned and threw her head back. His hand slid lower, over her panties, felt the moisture gathering under the fabric. He pulled the panties aside, ran his finger over her slit, and she opened to him, a soft “yes” on her lips.
His finger entered her, slowly, inch by inch. She was hot and wet, enveloping him immediately. A sound of satisfaction escaped him. He moved his finger inside her, circling, while his thumb stroked her clit. Her thrusts grew more rhythmic, her hand sought his arm, gripped it. “Don’t stop,” she panted, and he felt her muscles contract, how she tensed and then came with a cry that echoed in the room. Her body twitched, arched up toward him. He let her come, slowing the play of his fingers until she sank exhausted onto the rug.
The Passion Awakens
He straightened up and looked at her, her chest rising and falling, her eyes closed, a smile playing on her lips. He leaned over her and kissed her belly, the soft skin below her navel. She flinched slightly, opened her eyes. “That feels good,” she murmured. He smiled, stroked his hand over her thigh, and bent lower until his face was between her legs. He breathed in her scent, earthy and sweet, and with his tongue he ran over her wet lips. She moaned loudly, grabbed his hair. “Yes, right there,” she whispered. He dove in, licked her with long, slow strokes, circled her clit, sucked gently. Her hips lifted, her breath came in gasps. He dipped a finger into her while he continued with his tongue, and she came immediately, a cry that exploded in the silence of the room. Her body trembled, and he drank her in until she relaxed.
The Union
He pulled off his boxers, his cock standing stiff and glistening with desire. She saw it, reached for it, guided him to her. He leaned over her, and the tip touched her labia. A questioning look, a nod, then he slid into her. A shared moan as she took him in. He was deep inside her, felt her walls that enveloped him, pulsing in the aftermath of her climax. He began to move, slow, deep thrusts that pulled them both into a shared rhythm. Her legs wrapped around his hips, and he felt her heels urging him on, faster, harder.
The pace increased. Her breath came in gasps, his movements grew more demanding. Sweat stood on his forehead, her skin glistened. He reached under her ass, lifted her to penetrate even deeper. She cried out as he hit a spot that made her arch up. “There, right there,” she called, and he focused on that point, thrusting into it again and again while he felt her rhythm change, rise. His balls tightened, the pleasure built irresistibly. She came a second time, louder this time, her body tensing like a bow, and the feeling of her contractions pulled him along. He thrust deep into her as his seed spilled inside her, a wave of warmth flooding through him. He stayed inside her, breathing heavily, her heart beating against his.
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