Just One Kiss - J. Saman Page 0,46
Her blood is in my veins. A beautiful poison.
I lift her up, setting her down on one of the steel tables. My eyes dance about her face, a slow hypnotic beat courses through me. “You’re the best present.” My lips claim hers, my heart thumping in an uneven pattern as I removed her thin shirt. My fingers wrap around her narrow waist, sending goosebumps across her skin.
There’s something about this moment, about the words I spoke and the almost forbidden way I want her but can’t have her. The air crackles between us, my fingers tracing up the lines of her skin making her shudder. Fire zips down my spine, a bubbling desire building within that is impossible to control.
My lips mold to hers, teasing and taunting her tongue with mine as I kiss her. My hands come up, cupping her breasts, my thumbs skirting her hard nipples, straining through the satin of her bra. I roll them between my fingers, and she moans into my mouth.
All out of words, I kiss her deeper, pressing my body to hers.
My hands squeeze her ass, sliding her close to me as I stand between her spread thighs. Bending down, I bite her nipple through her bra, looking up into her eyes as she jerks and whimpers in pleasure. Pulling back, I rub over the wet spot I just created, loving how her breath comes out choppy and her cheeks flush.
Reaching behind her, I remove her bra, bringing my lips back down on her with another bite.
“Miles,” she cries, her head falling back, her hands encircling my neck, twisting into the ends of my hair. My hand slides back down her waist, tugging off her leggings until she’s naked before me. I’ve never fucked anyone in my studio. This was always my place for work. To escape anything. And in truth, other than my ex, I’ve never had a woman in my home.
But god, the things I want to do to London here.
With her legs spread, I slide two fingers inside her. She bucks against me, a long, languid moan fleeing her swollen lips.
My forehead drops to hers, my eyes open wide, watching as I finger her.
There is nothing more beautiful than the woman you love coming apart beneath your touch.
I pump her faster, but she’s already so ready for me. A point she proves as she goes for my jeans, practically ripping them from my hips and shoving them down my legs. My cock springs free and in the next breath, I’m inside of her.
But instead of fucking her hard or deep or without mercy, I go slow. I stare into her eyes, I kiss her lips, I cup her face, and I love her body. And in doing so, a piece of me splinters off. Falls away. I don’t even know what it is, but I feel something that’s always been tight and restricting loosening.
“London,” I whisper, my mouth attacking hers as I up my speed.
I can’t fully explain what it is about her that’s always drawn me to her. It was more than her popularity or sweet smile or stunning eyes. More than her sass or her brains. Lots of women have all of those, but none held me the way she does.
The way she always has.
My firefly. A bright spark of light in my otherwise dark sky.
My eyes close as everything I’m feeling becomes amplified. The feel of her around me. The sound of her heavy breathing and deep moans. The smell of her skin and taste of her sweat. All of it burned into my memory.
“I’m so close,” she pants, her nails finding purchase in my back as I piston my hips into her, the table the most perfect fucking height in the history of sex.
My hand trails down her stomach, finding her clit and rubbing her. “Come for me, London. Fuck, baby, I want you to come so hard. I want you seeing stars. I want to feel your pussy convulse all over me as I fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.”
A flurry of curses spin past her lips as she does just that. She explodes in my arms, shaking and shuddering, her knees quaking against my hips as I continue to ride into her, until my own orgasm takes hold. Waves of pleasure crash through me, so intense I’m momentarily blinded, yelling her name and squeezing her thighs to the point where I’m afraid I’ll leave marks.
As our breathing slows and I take her in, I’m