Part 9 (1/2)
He steps back, his eyes slowly traveling up my legs, to my panties, to my exposed b.r.e.a.s.t.s, to my neck and my lips, and finally my eyes before they reverse their journey on the way down.
”Do you see who I am?” I ask. ”Or do you just see what you want?”
I see a flash of understanding as he brings his gaze back up to meet mine. ”I see a woman who can be incredibly authoritative and a woman who is exposed. I see that you are as forceful as you are tender, absolutely brilliant, and just a little bit nave.”
”What else?”
”I see . . . I see that you have the courage to face your fears. You're a little bit scared right now, aren't you?”
I answer with only the slightest nod.
”What are you scared of, Kasie?”
I tremble even as I smile. ”You tell me.”
”All right.” He takes a step forward and caresses my body with his stare one more time. ”You're scared of the part of yourself you have begun to unleash.”
”Partly.”
”You're scared of how much you want me. Maybe you're scared because right now I can do almost anything I want to you without your issuing a single protest because you know that the things I want to do are the things you want to happen.”
I swallow, hard. But I won't look away from him. He takes another step and runs his hand up my inner thigh until he presses against my panties, only the thinnest fabric between his fingers and my c.l.i.t. I know this dance now but I still gasp as his fingers begin to move.
”I see who you are, Kasie,” he says. ”And it's the only thing I want to see.”
My legs are shaking and I reach forward and grab his s.h.i.+rt, holding on to him out of both necessity and pa.s.sion.
”Take me to your bedroom,” I whisper as the s.h.i.+vers take over every part of my body. ”I want to make love to you on your flame-colored bed.”
His hand moves away and in a moment I'm up in his arms, being carried like a princess down a discreetly placed flight of stairs. The room he leads me to is ma.s.sive, easily as big as the living room above us. I see his desk with his computer. I see the expensive chair.
In the center of it all is the bed, which I feel as he lowers me onto it. I feel it against my skin as he removes my panties. But when he takes off his s.h.i.+rt, his jeans, and all the rest . . . well then I can only feel him . . . the pressure of his muscles as they press down on top of me. His lips as they devour my neck. I pull off the sheer top. Every inch of my skin must touch his. The flames are not coming from the bed but from inside me. My hand goes to his erection and I feel my own potency as it twitches in my hand. Every ridge is familiar to me now. I know how to touch it to make him go crazy and I toy with him, enjoying the staccato nature of each breath he takes. But I don't object when he pulls away, lowering his mouth to my very core. I shake as his tongue plunges deep inside of me, tickling me, making me wetter than I have ever been before. I can't keep quiet. I moan and cry out as I grab on to the comforter beneath my arching my back, almost pulling away, almost afraid of the intensity of what he's making me feel. But he holds my hips still, refusing to let me go, using his thumb to pull my skin taught around my c.l.i.t so he can lick and taste every hidden corner, forcing me to experience what I'm afraid of and what I long for.
The o.r.g.a.s.m is so strong, I think it's going to split me apart. I have no control. I don't even have the ability to want the control I've lost. I don't recognize the guttural sounds that are coming out of my mouth. I have no power to resist when he comes back up, hovering over me, taking a long, hard look at my trembling naked body before kissing me, his taste mingling with my own. I feel his erection pressing up against me but he won't enter. He's teasing me and my desire is driving me absolutely wild. I struggle to push myself down, struggle to force him inside but he grabs me by the arms and holds me in place. I have to wait, and the wanting, the l.u.s.t, the impatience . . . it's bringing the intensity to heights I hadn't even known it could reach.
”Please,” I say, arching my back, trying to touch my b.r.e.a.s.t.s to his chest. ”Please.”
”You are the only woman I know who is as s.e.xy when she unapologetically takes what she wants as she is when she pleads for release.”
I can't engage in conversation right now. Can't remark on the peculiar compliment. All I can do is listen to my body. The flames are consuming me.
”Please,” I say again. ”I need you.”
And now he's the one who groans and in an instant he pushes into me. I cry out, unable to do anything but experience what he's giving me. Every thrust brings on new sensations. He releases my arms, and my hands run up and down his back, around his neck, through his hair then down to his a.s.s. I have all of him but I want more.
And he can do what he wants to me because what he wants to do is what I want to be done.
And as he presses deeper and deeper inside of me, another o.r.g.a.s.m comes. And this time he comes with me. Our cries intermingle into one primal chorus.
And as he relaxes, as I feel the complete weight of him on top of me, I think of the yin and the yang.
And in that moment I truly feel whole.
CHAPTER 12.
TEN, FIFTEEN, PERHAPS even twenty minutes pa.s.s. Or is it years? It's hard to tell. I've lost all sense of time and s.p.a.ce. Reality was left tucked away somewhere in my office. This moment, lying in Robert's bed, is not part of the s.p.a.ce-time continuum. He's beside me; his eyelids are half-mast as he stares up at nothing. Our breathing has only now become steady. He seems mellow, even peaceful, nothing like the man who held me down as he pushed inside of me, his desire as fierce and unrestrained as my own. No, the man by my side is quiet, tender, and maybe a little vulnerable.
Tentatively I let my hand move across his chest. It's a subdued gesture that speaks of a different kind of intimacy.
He smiles a lazy smile, his eyes still staring up toward the high ceiling. ”I'm actually craving a cigarette right now,” he says.
The comment takes me off guard. ”You smoke?”
”A long time ago, yes. I haven't thought about smoking for ages but . . . a cigarette after s.e.x is calming, it brings you back to earth, and after that, I don't know if I'll be able to find my way to earth again without at least one to navigate me.”
”I hate cigarettes. I hate how the scent of the smoke lingers in people's hair and clings to their clothes for days. My first lover was a smoker. I'll never be with a man who smokes again.”
”d.a.m.n, okay,” he says, the mischievous twinkle returning to his eyes. ”How do you feel about cigars?”
I take my pillow and hit him over the head with it. He laughs and tries to fend me off but I straddle him and hit him again and again as he playfully begs for mercy. Finally I toss aside the pillow and grin down at him. His hair is ruffled and he looks so young despite his salt-and-pepper hair . . . almost innocent.
He's observing me, too, drinking me in. ”You're so free right now. You're beautiful when you're free.”
I feel a twinge. I'm not free. Not yet. I haven't officially ended things with Dave.
But I don't want to think about that right now. I want to think about this man underneath me with his mussed hair and easy smile.
I lean over and kiss his lips. ”You see, if you smoked, I wouldn't be doing this.”
”That is the best antismoking campaign message I've ever heard in my life,” he replies.
”Yes, well the American Cancer Society can have their tactics of fear and guilt. Me?” I lean over and kiss him again, letting it last a little longer, making it just a little more intimate. ”I believe in positive reinforcement.”
Robert's hands move up to my waist as I continue to kiss him, his mouth, his chin, his neck. The sweat from our most recent lovemaking still clings to our skin but I feel him harden against me as my path of kisses continues south.
What I'm feeling . . . it's unfamiliar-carefree, playful, light. . . . I feel light.
G.o.d, have I ever felt light before?
My mouth reaches his hips and I feel his hands in my hair, I feel the radiance of his antic.i.p.ation.
He said he saw who I was. He said that's the only thing he wants to see.