The Passion Parameter - Vol. II

【06】Sobering Up

I'd been wanting this so much. Some scraps of his affection, even the tiniest bit of it. I'd needed something, anything, to prove to myself I hadn't imagined it all, that we'd shared something real. Something deep.

Now that it was happening, I didn't know what to do, how to react, or what to think of it.

All I could see was him, the conflict in his eyes, his beautiful face so close to mine. The Superman symbol was peeking through his open shirt, and it was seriously not helping. How, of all the possibilities, had he picked this costume? I'd never told him about my fantasies, about how I'd compared him to Clark Kent in my head. It was the wildest of coincidences.

Ever since the bar, I'd been in a light state of arousal, my skin tingling, wanting to be touched, my intimacy growing wetter, demanding that he took care of it with his amazing skills. The ones I missed so dearly. With the warmth of his fingers heating the skin of my face, my arousal gained in intensity, and it was so much worse.

What I knew for certain was that he was drunk, and he would regret all of this in the morning. Shit, I would regret all of this in the morning.

I opened my mouth to say something, to make him stop, but he spoke before I could. "You're so fucking beautiful," he professed, almost sounding in pain.

The protest I was about to utter got caught in my throat, as I felt his hand brush my hair away, to tuck it behind my ear.

He couldn't say those things to me. I was barely beginning to get over him. He couldn't ruin all the work I'd done until now. But he could. He just had. And I was so fucking weak, so fucking miserable, I didn't care. It didn't matter right now.

I was a total mess. I was wearing a robe, I'd barely done any touch-ups to the makeup I'd put on this morning, my hair was having a bad day... My entire person must have looked like a wreck, but it wasn't what he was seeing right now. He thought I was fucking beautiful.

I was still swallowing this information when his hand slid to my neck and he unexpectedly bent toward me, pulling me to him in the same gesture.

My eyes widened with stupor and my mind went blank, my entire body preparing for the incoming kiss about to wreck me. I want this with everything I had. I wanted to feel his lips on mine once more. One last time.

Some inner strength I didn't know I possessed suddenly took over, and right before his lips touched mine, I turned my face away, denying him what he sought.

His lips met my cheek instead, and my insides melted at this simple contact. I became a useless pile of mush, losing my will to fight him, my resolve to keep my distance.

My rebuff didn't seem to affect him, as his lips glided toward the side of my throat, the warm puffs of his breath feeling like fire on my skin. With one hand holding me firmly in place, his mouth reached the thin skin of my throat, and he dropped open mouth kisses there, his wet, greedy tongue sampling the flesh.

Intense shivers spread from where he was passionately tasting my skin to go through my entire frame. I'd forgotten how intense everything was with him, how perfect it felt to be in his embrace. An embarrassing moan crept up my throat as I clenched my legs together in a desperate attempt to muffle the insistent call of my femininity. Shit, I wanted him. I wanted him so badly it was uncomfortable, my clit pulsating and sensitive.

He reached for my waist to pull me closer as he explored every inch of skin he could access. I tilted my head to the side. To give him the access he needed, eager to have it all, willing to bear the aftermath that would surely come. My weakness knew no bounds, as I reached for his nape, to keep him there, to encourage him to keep going. My fingers tangled with the short hair on the back of his head. I'd even missed this, touching his thick hair, how it felt under my palm.