From Ashes To Ashes

Chapter 12: Heating Up

She could feel the press of intimate lips on the back of her neck, and turned her head towards the side to allow him better access. This time when his full lips grazed the surface of her skin, he growled low in his throat, sending vibrations through porcelain skin. She turned in his failing grasp and pressed against the hard, muscular form of his chest. And then he was kissing her properly, and she was flying apart.

Gradually she managed to worm one of her thin legs around his waist, pulling him closer to her. One of her slender, long fingered hands tousled his hair, pulling him closer and closer…never quite close enough. He pulled away, panting slightly and resting their foreheads together. Bypassing the cherry red of her swollen lips, he kissed up her delicate jaw line, sending shivers up her spine.

She leaned down to devour his lips yet again, but he ducked away, grinning slyly, eyes dancing with deserved mischief. She was pouting, she knew. He seemed to enjoy the sight for a few seconds before kissing her softly, intimately, distractingly.

The hand that had been occupied with pushing her soft shirt further upwards had slipped around to rest against the silk-smooth skin of her back, slipping underneath her bra strap and rubbing gentle circles with two fingers. Unconsciously-or perhaps not-she arched upwards, deepening contact and allowing him access all at once.

Perhaps using a little more skill than she would have cared to admit, he used his one hand and slid  her top off, discarding it on the floor. When finally he broke their unhurried kiss to lean once again against her forehead, she was smiling that disarming, lighthearted smile that she knew would drive him crazy.

His hands ceased their roaming and cupped her face tenderly, catching in masses of light-brown waves as, once again, pink sought out red and they were kissing. Her hands, however, were elsewhere. One had fingers splayed wide on the bare skin of his lower back, the other dragging through his hair.

Later he had no recollection of her pulling his shirt off as he knew she had, only suddenly the feeling he'd felt before had intensified. Now he could feel her body responding with his own, as opposed to being interrupted with cotton. No hidden meaning was behind the kissing that was taking place now; it was languid and full French in a way neither of them had known before each other.

Especially when his hands strayed beneath the waistband of her  jeans, and skimmed across the second waistband of her underwear, kneading softly. Skilled, controlled fingers popped the button and made quick work of the zipper, and before either of them knew it, those jeans had joined the growing pile of clothing on the floor.

Bela had used her strength and managed to roll them over so she was on top of Dean. Coy smile still fixed in place, she tugged his shirt off and discarded it. She leaned down and kissed at his neck which made him groan out.

Reaching for the zipper of his jeans, she pulled them off and tossed them somewhere. Unconsciously his hands twined in her hair, pulling her into a hurried kiss. When he rolled them over so he was pressed on top of her again, she went without protest, nipping at the expanse of one of his freckled shoulders.

Her leg wrapped around his waist and he gave up, pushing inside in one long thrust. The blissfulness  left his head falling onto her shoulder, mouthing at her collar bone. Her heaving chest was pressed against his in a way that he was sure was obscenely arousing.

All too soon he could feel that familiar tingle in his spine, which only intensified when her muscles tightened around him, and her head fell back onto the pillow. Two more thrusts and he couldn't stand it any more.

They both reached their peaks with Dean whispering her name like a promise, and she just held on.