11
RAVEN
Chest-clutchingangst rams through my veins.
Everything he’s said resonates with me, although I’ve never had this clear representation in my head of how he regarded this thing.
“Why do you think I feel the way I do about you?” I ask.
“I don’t know…”
He smiles.
“Some things are unexplainable,” he says. “That’s the beauty of life. Our lives would be boring if we’d know everything.”
“You picked me…” I say.
“You helped me pick you. It wasn’t that hard,” he says, cupping my face.
He brings his lips to mine and kisses me slowly, and a wave of heat soars through me.
My muscles relax, and the coldness is gone while his lips talk to mine.
He is intoxicatingly beautiful in ways I can’t explain. The essence of his power escapes me completely…. Now that we’re talking about it.
It’s impossible to compare these three men. Each of them has something unique. A hook. A secret power the other two don’t have. But Kai surprises me the most.
No matter what we do and what happens to us, he comes to me like a conclusion of everything. And then he kisses me, and things make sense again.
Smoothly he runs his hand inside my cami up my back and helps me remove it before pushing my shorts down. I peel both off and let them drop to the floor.
He takes off his shorts before draping his arms around me again. Heaven comes to me with his hug.
His fingers slide into the back of my hair while he holds my head against his lips, and my arms wind around his neck. I hold onto him, and we kiss and kiss…
The kisses of love. Sensual love. Lustful love. Our tongues dancing, entangled, our lips famished, warm, and swollen.
Kissing is no longer foreplay. Kissing is making love. And it’s the second time this evening that I’m making love with one of them, and I begin to think the entire setup only helped us develop feelings for each other.
I lift my thigh and loop my leg around his waist while he cups my butt.
We’re not in a hurry to fuck.
We’re in a hurry to talk to each other through making love. And what a wonderful story it is.
His hands move over my body before one cuffs my neck, and the other kneads my butt, touching the sensitive flesh between my legs.
We’re tearing down walls, establishing our world, and making these moments sacred.
He reveals more of him through his touch.
He is present, claiming me, loving me, needing me, using me, dreaming about me.
‘I’m his,’ every stroke says.
‘I’m perfect for him,’ every thrust into my body says.
‘I’m indispensable to him,’ every warm, shallow breath adds.