Regrettably, she pulls away from my kiss to say something. She seems to be gathering her courage.
“Yes, speak to me, beautiful,” I prod.
She closes her eyes.
“What is it?” I ask hurriedly, worried I’ve offended her. “What did I say wrong?”
“I’m just enjoying what you said, letting it wash over me for a second.”
“Surely you’ve been showered with similar praise before.”
Lovely Mal shakes her head. “Never. Not even by Shelby’s dad when I was 16.”
“High crimes and misdemeanors.”
She laughs and I have half a mind to scoop her up and devour every inch of her like a pint of ice cream.
“But did you need to tell me something? Why are we not still kissing?”
“It’s just that this feels so new, I don’t know where to put my hands.”
Without hesitation I answer, “You put them on my heart and feel it thumping for you.”
She grins.
“How are you so perfectly charming?”
“May I continue to kiss you, beautiful Mal?”
When she agrees, I clasp her hand in both of mine and kiss the back of it, surprising her, to my delight.
I kiss all the way up her wrist, savoring the feel of her soft skin and the peachy scent of it.
Her hands on my chest while I claim her mouth again give me goosebumps.
I want her. I want to take her back to her bedroom and make absolute mad love to her. Make up for all the time her body has been neglected, all the pleasure she’s denied herself.
Something has awakened in her. Something primal and ferocious. The soft, shy woman has her arms wrapped around me.
She may say she doesn’t know what to do with her hands. Lies, all lies. She could make me fall to my knees with one brush of her fingers to my chin, my shoulder, my ass, my elbow.
As our lips savor each other, her little pink tongue swipes against the skew of my mouth.
Well, I must oblige. Pulling her close against me, I part my lips and allow our curious tongues to meet.
Her gasps of breath clutch at my heart. To think I’m giving her this much pleasure. I almost feel bad I’m not verbally reciprocating. I’m too much in my head, committing to memory the sweetness of her mouth, the urgency of her soft, searching lips. What does she think she will find with this searching that she hasn’t already found? An image slams into my mind, of those gentle lips wrapped around my cock. It’s too much to hope for, but my hardening length doesn’t care.
She has me figuratively wrapped around not just her finger, but her arm like an adoring snake. She’s Cleopatra and I’m merely an accessory to her royal beauty. I have the overwhelming urge to hold her face as we kiss.
I could write a thousand poems about her lovely cheekbones alone, and it wouldn’t be enough.
“Mal,” I whisper.
“Hmm?” Her eyes flutter open, and my God, those eyelashes. How had I not noticed their golden bronze color before, like her hair?
I can die happy now.
I’ve found my match. I’ve finally found her.