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She's sitting on the comfortable bed, staring out of the window, watching how the sun is departing, colouring the sky in a beautiful orange colour. She's watching how the leaves are falling from the trees as a soft wind blows. She's sitting in darkness, waiting. Waiting for him to enter her room like he does almost every night. 

She's not disappointed when soon after, she hears the all too familiar sound of the door opening and closing. Slow steps coming closer. The clink of a metal as he unfastens his belt. The shift of the bed when he climbs on it. 

He comes behind her, slowly, quietly, not saying a word. She keeps looking at the clear sky, changing its colour before her eyes. 

"What are you doing, sitting in the dark?" he asks her quietly, close to her ear, his hands already touching the skin on her arms. He often tells her how addicted he is to touching her. How obsessed he is with putting his hands on her skin.

She turns her head just a bit. I was waiting for you, she wants to say. Just like every night so far. "Thinking," she replies instead, her answer quiet on her lips. 

She feels his body heat against her back, his hands sneaking under her nightgown now, groping her breasts. He puts his mouth on her temple, his lips like a feather on hot skin. She's yearning for him already and he barely even put his hands on her.

"I love touching your breasts so much. They fit perfectly in my palm." He squeezes her breast to confirm his statement and she arches her back, his name leaving her mouth in a soft moan. "You were waiting, weren't you? You were waiting for this?" She didn't have to answer. He already knew. Of course he did. "Mmm. I was waiting for this, too," he breathes his confession. 

She turns her head just enough so his lips find her. He's a possessive man, showing this with his kisses and his touches. He takes all that she offers, every single bit, without any regret. And she gives it to him willingly. Every time. 

"You've been drinking," she states when she tastes the bitter taste of whisky on him. 

"I have," he doesn't deny. His soft, full pink lips slowly curve a smile. "A glass after glass I drank that bitter drink." His hand comes to her shoulder and he slowly starts pulling the strap of her nightgown down her hand while staring deep into her eyes. "But now I want something sweeter. Something to erase that taste from my mouth." 

He trails his lips down her cheek, giving her just a touch, before finding the curve of her neck and pressing an open-mouthed kiss there. She closes her eyes at the sensation, her head softly falling back a bit, exposing her skin to him. 

"And you're the sweetest of them all," he says into her neck, her lips coming back up. He roughly grips her hair then and takes her mouth as he desires. She submits to him, the bed the only place where she does it. 

And he rewards her, telling her how her body is a blank canvas, waiting to be painted with his kisses. And he paints it damn well. 

- This is a story from radish, it got deleted because of radish's new policy and rules. I'm sorry about that, that's why I'm posting it here.

- Warning; this story has A LOT of smut in it. Like. A lot. 

- Be kind, please. I always feel like I ask you this on any story and it basically never happens because there are people who just love to ruin the fun for others, but you always have an option to stop reading it.

- I'll try and update it twice a week to get all the chapters on as soon as possible. 

- follow me on other social media:
twitter: patriciakauthor
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Thank you and I'm really sorry again! 

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