July 21, 2011

Short Story: His Kiss

The warmth of the blanket did nothing to compare with the heat floating in my veins. Tonight had gone better than I'd ever dreamed of. These four walls did nothing to contain my memories of flavor and texture.

Of his kiss.

It was our second date tonight and after walking me to my door. I watched his soot black hair falling into those hazel eyes, the way his casual wear showed off that delicious body. Those mysterious eyes of his which took in everything and gave back promises my body wanted to fulfill.

Yet he held back.

I knew he wanted me. His very gentle caresses during dinner: the brushing of our legs; our hands meeting and holding while awaiting our drinks; the way he would brush my long hair away behind my ears and lingered across my heated skin. It had all be small signals which tickled my insides.

Now as I stood there with my face tilted upwards towards his, he kept simply looking at me. I memorized his subtle wrinkles against the corners of his eyes, the length of those beautiful dark lashes and his expressive lips.

Whomever had declared that men could not be 'beautiful' had never seen this magnificent male standing before me.

Those long thick fingers of his crept upwards and his palm tenderly folded against my cheek. This is it my insides threatened to melt.

My lungs took in his subtle cologne long before my mouth was conquered by his. A sweet, little bite along my bottom lip caused me to gasp and his tongue captured that sound before it was lost to the night. The flavors his lips tasted of was pure intoxication; better than any rum or liquor. His free hand cupped into my derrière and molded us together.

Yes... more... my body pleaded. I could feel him getting aroused right against my body. Seconds evaporated. Minutes converged. Nothing else mattered but him.

But my date pulled back. As if knowing it would be too easy to give into temptation if we continued. A part of me hated his chivalry whilst another secretly enjoyed it.

"For our next date," he promised, before his thumb pad sweetly ran across my bottom lip; before turning and walking back to his car.

Hours later I punched my pillow while smiling. Yes. Our next date. And the promises of more.

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