Blindsided

21

Surely this wasn't human; surely life hadn't robbed me of this exact moment until now. Because it was just too perfect to have been missing from my life until now.

His strong hand was on the back of my neck, pulling me down towards him so that there was not even a breath between our lips. He kissed me gently, carefully. But after experiencing these kind of fireworks, it wasn't the gentle kiss that I needed. I spread my fingers wide, running them along his skin all the way to his shoulders, feeling as much of him as I could. I pulled him harder against me, a soft groan erupting from the depths of his throat, his arms gathering me so that when he rolled over, our bodies were still tangled together.

It couldn't have been more that a few seconds, but it felt like years. Years of learning what kind of kiss I truly deserved. Learning what kind of kiss had the power to break open the sky.

It was driving me crazy, not being able to touch more of him. But he was nearly naked; I was the one with too many layers stopping me from getting the contact that I craved. His lips read my mind, pulling the long shirt from my body without a second thought. My entire top half was exposed, my bottom still covered in a thin layer of cotton.

He caressed me, his hands moving down my bare skin, pulling away from my lips. I moaned, begging to be beneath him once more, but when I saw that he was scanning me with his eyes as a predator would eye his prey, I didn't dare move. I couldn't move. I felt captured beneath him as he took in every detail about me, and I him.

I started at his hair; it was messy, where my hands had found their way to pull at the soft strands. Then his tender eyes that darted back and forth as they too found new details in my body. His lips, the lips that had just been busy setting my entire body on fire. To his shoulders, and the muscles that rippled there. The muscles on his chest that told me just how often he worked out. The washboard that made up his torso—he looked so physically perfect that it was a constant struggle not to reach out and touch him. So I stopped fighting it.

"You. Are. Beautiful," he breathed. I might have felt guarded, being so plainly judged. But with Simon, it was like my body belonged to him. He could see me in my worst, ugliest moment, and I would still feel beautiful because it was him.

He used his hands to gently ease my legs apart, slipping his hands over the soft skin of my thighs. My back arched as he stretched one hand to tweak the sensitive skin of my breast, his other still exploring. I was short of breath as he lowered his head to press a kiss to the inside of my thigh, slowly running his tongue to the edge of the shorts covering my core.

I get only the slightest glimpse at the growing bulge in his briefs before my back is forced off of the bed once again, ever nerve in my body on end. While he continues his torture on me with one hand caressing my chest, a soft moan escapes and my stomach clenches beneath the heat of his mouth. He was using his free hand to pull the final layer of modesty from my body, revealing all of me to him.

But instead of giving in, instead of giving me what I was living for in this moment, he kissed a line from my mid-thigh up to the bone at my hip, to the corner of my navel, all the way to the valley between my breasts. And then he chuckled, seeing the reaction that he could bring out in me.

"Do not laugh when you have a naked girl in your hands," I demanded, craving more. So he gave it to me. Another moan escaped me as my stomach tightened in anticipation; his wandering hands had found their way to grip both of my legs, bringing them towards my chest so that I lay vulnerable to his touch. The rush of arousal between my legs was unbearable—I had never felt it like this before, never this strong. This uncontrollable lust for someone had never taken me. This desire for him to take me hard and swift.