Part Three
It had been a week since the last time I'd seen him. I almost couldn't wait for him to come over. I felt like a schoolkid, but God knows that I wasn't thinking about anything so innocent. I'd only called him to tell him that I did want him to come over, but not to show up until after I got home from work, which wouldn't be until after ten. I asked Cynthia if she'd keep Selina until the morning, since "I don't think it'll be cool for me to be driving after workig all day", I'd said. She was cool with it; I'd left Selina with her and Kristen, her daughter, many times when I'd been too tired to drive across town to pick her up, and besides, I knew that Selina would want to spend the night over Kris' house.
What I didn't tell Cynthia was that Marcus was coming over, and that I wanted to have the house to myself when he did. I mean, Cynthia is my girl-- we go back a few years, and she's a good friend, but the woman's gota mouth that don't got no kind of control. She'll tell your business before you even get gone good. And she already knew enough about Marcus; I knew that this was gonna be juicy-- no pun intended-- and I didn't want Cynthia sinkin her teeth into my business here, and puttin it out in the street. And considerin the fact that Marcus was twelve years younger than I was, she'd tell everyone that I was robbin the cradle, ignoring the fact, of course, that Marcus is a grown man and that he's just as interested in me as I am in him. Cynthia tells it how she wants to; sometimes the facts be damned.
I didn't need that.
All day long, I could hardly concentrate; all I could think about was Marcus, and that I'd be in the house alone with him tonight; if something was gonna happen-- and after the last couple of times that we'd nearly "connected" and been interrupted, something better had happen-- then we'd be free to do whatever we wanted. I could feel his hands running up and down my back, stroking across the surface of my skin, and I could feel my body tingling. Twice I had to go to the bathroom and get myself under control, I was so excited. By the end of the day, my panties were so wet I would have sworn I'd peed on myself, if I hadn't known better.
I was nearly eleven by the time I got home-- lucky me, I get stuck training a new person today, and the girl-- only 19-- could barely tell the difference between a bedpan and a dishpan; I think that she must've forgotten whatever training that she'd gotten in nursing school. I had to stay an extra half-hour to make sure that she got passed off to someone who would keep an eye on her. I felt like I'd been babysitting the poor girl. I was glad for the fact that I didn't have to work tomorrow; Sunday, the day of rest. I was planning on needing it.
I parked in front of the house, and turned off the engine. I sat for a moment or two, looking around to see if I could spot Marcus' car anywhere. I didn't see him, or his car, and after another couple of seconds, I hopped out, and walked up the porch to the front door.
I hated my little porch. I was only just big enough to call a porch. On top of that, for some strange reason, the streetlight that lit the way to my door didn't reach across the entire porch, and becasue of the high brick wall next to my apartment house, there were shadows in the corner of my porch deep enough to hide in. I was always a little paranoid that one night, I'd come home and be roobed, right here on my own porch.
I pulled my keys out of my purse, getting them ready to open the door quickly, the thought of being mugged ever-present in my mind at this time of night.
"You're home," a masculine voice spoke out of the darkness.
I nearly leapt off of the porch. My heart hammered in my chest, and I couldn't get enough air into my lungs to scream. Oh, if this guy picked right now to attack me, I wouldn't be able to yell for help. I took a step back as the figure stepped out of the shadows.
Marcus.
I wanted to shoot him.
I wanted to kiss him.
I wanted to hurt him for scaring me-- nothing lasting, nothing permanent, just enough for the moment so that he would know better than to do that in the future.
I wanted to take him in the house and take off his clothes-- I didn't want words-- and touch him and have him touch me, all night.
My desire and my fear were walking hand in hand tonight, but for the moment my fear-- which was just now starting to fade away-- was out in front of everything else.
I let out a breath of relief, then punched him in the chest. I hit him hard.....or, at least, I put a lot into it. Apparently it didn't do much to him; he looked at me as if I'd simply laid my hand there.
"You scared the shit outta me!" I said, still a little breathless. I turned towards the door.
"My apologies," he chuckled, "you didn't know I was there?"
"No," I said, putting my key into the lock, "I couldn't see you."
"You should try to get a light put in, then," he suggested, "so you can see over there." He looked back over into the corner. "I can see how you wouldn't've seen me," he continued, "it's pretty dark over there. Someone could hide over there, and you wouldn't see them until you got on the porch."
I nearly hit him again, this time because he'd spoken out my nighttime fear.
I got the door open,ad walked into the apartment, with Marcus following behind me. He closed and locked the door behind us, as I put my purse and duffle back down on the table.
"Is Selina here?" he asked, asI turned around to face him.
"No," I replied, "she's over at my friend's house, spending the night with her friend." I felt a little guilty telling him that; it seemed almost like I had emptied the house just to seduce him-- and it wasn't far from the truth.
"Oh," he said, unassumingly, as if he understood. He took off his jacket; so did I, and I took his coat and mine, and hung them on the coat rack by the door.
"Can I hug you now?" he said, as I turned back around.
I couldn't help but smile.
Every now and then-- more often, recently-- he would hug me, and I felt a bunch of different things when he wrapped his strong arms around me: desired, safe, warm, surrounded, loved, cherished-- all the things he offered to me with his friendship. Tonight, thought, there was a subtle difference, a nervous bit of tension, that flowed just beneath the surface of him. I could sense it, even before he pulled me to him.
God, I loved the way he felt, and I loved the way it felt to be in his arms. Even if he was only my friend, and we never decided to be lovers, I could stay in his arms forever. He made me feel like no one else had made me feel, no one else except my own father, God rest his soul. And now, I could feel that energy running through him, running into me, mixing with my own restless energies, my own desire flowing with his, and I felt warm all over.
His grasp loosened, just a bit, just enough for him to bring his arm around me. His hand glided up, his fingers caressing my chin, cupping my cheek, as he gently pulled my face to his. His lips closed down on mine, and his tonge probed into my mouth hesitantly, as if unsure. I pushed my tongue past his, my mouth pressing harder against his, my desire finally let loose, unbridled. There wasn't anyone here to stop us this time; nothing short of death would come between me and him tonight, if I had my way. No knocks at the door, no telephone--
I had to unplug the phone.
As if my thoughts had made it happen, the phone began to ring.
"Don't answer it," said Marcus, breathing his words into my mouth. I began to push away from him.
"I'm not," I said, moving away from him, "I'm gonna unplug it. Be right back." I walked into the living room, and over to the phone, which suddenly stopped ringing. The answering machine kicked in. I let it go, simply so I could hear who it was; Cynthia's voice boomed out of the speaker.
"Hey, gurl! How you doin? I just thought--"
I turned down the volume, not wanting to know just what was so important for her to call me at this hour, and waited until she hung up. As soon as she did, I unplugged the phone, and turned off the answering machine.
Having solved that problem, I turned around to walk back to where I'd left Marcus standing, only to find him standing right behind me. He took ahold of my arm, and gently pulled me to him. One arm embraced me, while with the other hand he began to brush his fingers across my arm, up to the shoulder, and down, just barely touching the swell of my breast, further, along my side, past my hips, caressing my thighs, and coming to rest on my behind. Without even thinking about it, I put my arms around him, pulling him even closer to me.
His lips met mine again, this time with the full force of his desire; the intensity of his kiss made me dizzy, and I had to close my eyes. His hand roamed around again; he brought his hand to the crotch of my cotton pants, and pressed his fingers into me, hard. All at once, my knees buckled; if he hadn't been holding me up, if I hadn't been holding onto him, I would have fallen.
All of my nerves were on fire, and I could feel my underwear becoming damp again. A moan escaped me; I couldn't have held it back even if my life had depended on it. I helo ontohim as if for dear life. I couldn't let go, I didn't want to let go, I wouldn't have been able to let go; the sensations that poured through me were so intense that all my muscles froze up, waiting for the storm to pass.
His fingers contined to press into me, again and again, rubbing gently. The sensations began coming in waves, each one pulsing through my body, each a little stronger than the last. I knew that if he kept this up, I would make a mess of my underwear, but suddenly I didn't care. I wanted to make a mess of my underwear this way; I wanted to lose control like this with him. He hadn't gotten me out of my clothes yet, and already I was nearly coming; God, give me the strength to be able to enjoy everything he coud offer me.
"I love the way you smell," he said, his voice nearly in my ear. He brought his face into the hollow of my neck, and inhaled. "Mmmmm," he growled softly; I could feel the timbre of his voice, of the arousal in his voice, in his chest as he spoke. His fingers never ceased what they were doing.
His fingers pressed into me a little harder this time, and I tensed up. This was it; even the slightest touch would send me over into a world that I hadn't been in for far too long, especially with a man. My body waited, anticipating that final brush, that final little push over the edge.
Instead, he kissed me.
I opened my eyes, and gave him a look filled with frustruation and indignation.
He must have understood the look in my eyes.
"Well, I want you to have something to look forward to," he said, a smile spreading across his face. He brought his fingers up to his face-- and I suddenly noticed that they were the same fingers that he'd touched me with. His fingers were damp and, I realized just then, so were the crotch of my pants. He passed his fingers under his nose and, closing his eyes, inhaled, deeply, sensuously. I could feel myself getting just a little bit wetter from watching the way he took in my scent.
He opened his eyes, and looked at me, lust strong in his gaze.
"God, you smell so good," he said, breathlessly. A smile lit up on his face. "I wonder how you taste," he growled as he gazed at me with an unmistakeable hunger in his eyes, "maybe I should find out," he continued, pulling me to him. I could feel his heart beating in his chest; it was pounding almost as fast as mine was. I could feel the heat of his body, with my hands across his back. I could feel the hardness of his erection, pressing into my tummy.
Gently, he laced his fingers in my hair,and pulled my head back, just a bit. For a crazy moment, I thought of Dracula, and then his mouth came down into the hollow of my neck, and I could think of nothing else except for the dizzying whirl of sensations that threatened to overload my brain.
He moved closer still, pressing up against me, pushing me, gently, guiding me backward. I could do nothing else but move where he led; I was only dimly aware of him moving me, anyway, until I bumped up against a wall. His arms released me; his mouth didn't. I could feel his hands,now moving up to my neck, and then the slight tugging at my blouse telling me that he was trying to take it off. Gently-- always gently-- he unfastened each of my buttons, kissing each inch of new skin that was revealed. A moment later, the blouse was only a memory, as his arms circled around me again, his fingers reaching for the catches of my bra. I could feel his skin against mine, hot and smooth; when had he taken off his shirt?
My bra was gone. Now I could feel him against me, his skin against mine; I could feel twin pricles of almost unbearable pleasure where my nipples touched his skin. I could feel them, hard like pebbles, but so sensitive that I almost couldn't stand it.
Again, suddenly, we were moving, gliding; I felt something hit the back of my calves, and my knees automatically loosened. He pushed me down onto the couch, where he bent before me. His hands went to my feet, as he began pulling off my shoes and socks. He looked up at me for a moment, and looking between my legs, I could only see his eyes and his nose. I shuddered, thinking about what he would be goind in that position when I was naked. And again, almost as if he had read my thought, he smiled at me, then licked his lips.
I felt him pull of my shoes, then my socks. Then, he seemed to be getting up, but he stopped himself just as he was lifting up off of the floor. Before I could blink, his face was in my crotch, and his eyes were closed. I could feel a gentle cool breeze through the light cotton of my pants; I guessed that he was breathing me in again. The cool breeze suddenly turned very warm, and I could feel ripples of cool and hot running through the core of me, shivering up and down my spine.
He stood up after a moment, and pulled me up from the couch. I noticed, but didn't think about for a second, that he was barefoot; a man of many talents, I wondered for a brief second, who could take off his clothes and still keep a lady entertained. My mind raced and my body got hot thinking about the "many talents" of this young man, and just how many of them I would get to enjoy tonight.
He drew me closer to him, his arms wrapping around me, my arms around him, pulling me closer. And, for a few moments, he simply held me to him. It felt different, felt good. There was something extremely arousing, and yet extremely relaxing, about holding him, about him holding me.
We stood there for a few minutes. Then, suddenly, without warning me, he pulled away, and swept me up into his arms. I squealed, just a bit afraid, but very excited, as he lifted me into the air. He carried me into the bedroom where he laid me down on the bed. He left me there, on the bed, long enough to close the door, and to turn on-- then turn down-- the light on my halogen lamp; he seemed to glide back to the bed. I sat up, already reaching for him; I could barely contain myself; he had been teasing me for weeks now, his every touch making me want more, making me want him more, and tonight, if I had my way, I wasn't going to be denied any longer.
He caught my arms in his hands.
"Let me take care of you, tonight," he said, his voice thick with lust.
Oh, how I had waited to hear words like that come from a black man, how long I'd wanted to be thought of first.....except for tonight, when I simply wanted him to take me like a lion with its prey, to ravish him and be ravished by him, to give in to the lust that was clouding my thoughts and be swept away in orgasmic bliss. Who knew if I would ever get a chance to have him in my bed again?
He must have seen the frustruation on my face.
"Tonight," he whispered, "I get to please you. And next time, it'll be your turn." He smiled at me, mischeviously, as he reached for the button of my work slacks. I pushed myself up off of the bed, so he could pull my pants off. He took them over to the corner, adn tossed them into my laundry hamper. Then he turned back to me.
I laid there, in my soaking wet underwear. I reached down to push them off, but he stopped me.
"No...leave them on, for now," he said, "just lay there, relax, and enjoy what I can do for you." He smiled.
"What about you?" I asked softly.
"My dear," he chuckled, "I get my pleasure from pleasing you. So, by all means, do enjoy yourself." His smile widened.
He stood up, took off his pants-- and leaving onhis shorts, unfortunately-- and then climbed back onto the bed next to me. I thought again, just how good those biker shorts looked on him; I could also tell that they were the only thing he was wearing, and in the semi-darkness of the room, I could just see the appreciable bulge there.
He leaned up over me, his body cutting off the soft glow of the lamp. I could just see his eyes; I watched him as his eyes roamed over my body, as if seeing me for the first time, before his gaze locked for a moment with mine. Then, he closed his eyes, and moved closer to me, lowering himself down towards me.
He stopped just before his skin could touch mine; the fact that I could feel his body heat, but not his body, told me just how much control he was exerting for my benefit, just how much effort he was giving to me.
I felt his lips on my forehead; the were soft, warm, and moist. for a moment, I wondered just what in the world he was doing; before I could complete my thought, he kissed me on the lips. I opened my mouth, expecting him to push his lips against mine; instead, his kiss was quick, simple, chaste.
Before I could protest, his lips caressed my neck, across my throat, and I suddenly understood what he was doing. I smiled, thinking about how often I'd dreamt of having a man drive me out of my mind with ecstacy, and it seemed that Marcus was going to try and make my dream come true.
Then that thought was wiped out of my mind, as he kissed my breasts, then my nipples; I could feel them knotting up, even tighter than before, and the beginning tingles of my nerves going into overdrive. His kisses rained down upon my skin; my sides; my tummy; at my hips; at the places where my legs met my body; just at the top of my patch of pubic hair; my thighs, outsides, on the tops, and the insides; my kneecaps; my shins; my feet, the tops my toes, and my heel.
By the time he was finished, I wanted to scream. No man had ever done that to me before, had ever taken the time to just touch me like that. My skin was on fire.
And then I found out that he wasn't finished.
"Turn over," he whispered, his voice ghostly and almost dreamy, and yet solid in its commandment-like request.
I turned over, and was treated to more of the same; his kisses began at my calves; then the backs of my knees; the backs of my thighs, and again on the insides; the creases where my ass and my legs joined; he pulled down my panties, and kissed each of my buttocks, and at the very top of the valley that parted them, as he pulled my underwear back up; the small of my back, all up the sides and through the middle; across each of my shoulder blades; his very last kiss landed on the nape of my neck, just below my hairline.
I was shaking all over; little tremors raced through me; I had never felt this way before, my body so aware of what was being done to me. It made me breathless.
Then he took my breath away again; his fingertips began tracing across my skin the same path that his kisses had taken, only in reverse. His fingers crossed the cheeks of my behind, and they tensed up-- I had no control over my muscles anymore-- his touch was like a feather, so light and almost not-there; the sensation was beyond ticklish; it was becoming something that I couldn't yet name.
When his caresses got to my feet, I almost lost it; it was like someone inside me had flipped the switch back to "ticklish' again, and I almost burst out laughing. But I didn't; it still felt too good for me to really want to laugh. Again, his voice whispered, asking me to turn over, and his fingers continued to fan the flames of my arousal.
His fingers on my thighs reminded me of how I'd felt that night, nearly two weeks ago, when he'd touched me like this, that night when I had only wondered what it would feel like for him to touch me like this, for his hands to caress my naked skin. If I had only known then what I was finding out now, I don't think that I would have let him go that night.
The tips of his fingers raced up my inner thighs, and around the tops, and through my furry mound. The continued up, along my sides, across my tummy, and around my breasts, his fingers swirling from the outside swells, to the nipple in the center. He gave a slight pinch to each of them, and dropped his hands to the bed at my side.
And even then, he wasn't done.
He leaned in close to me, and I could feel his breath on my skin, hot and wet; I was waiting for him to press his mouth against me, swirling on that spot against my throat, making me go nuts with wanting him, wanting to feel him naked against me.
His hot breath slowly marched its way down toward my breasts, toward my nipples, and I let out a soft whimper. Oh, this was better than the kisses, better than his fingers, and soo much worse. It was like giving me a preview of things to come, like telling me the highlights of what had already happened; it was taking me to new heights of pleasure, higher than I'd ever been with a man, with anyone, and then when I'd thought I'd reached the top, taking me higher still; it was the worst kind of teasing, the kind of teasing that asks you just how much more you could take, and promises in the same breath to give you even more, if you can stand the pleasure.
He kept moving, relentlessly, as if he were oblivious to the torture/pleasure that he was causing me, or, even worse, as if he knew just what he was doing to me. He moved down, lower, his face hovering above my pelvis. Then, he moved, his breath blowing gently down onto my thigh. I almost cried; he was being cruel, teasing me, knowing what he was doing to me. He was playing with me; he would push my thight apart, and touch me, kiss me, caress me, all around my legs and behind and pelvis, but he wouldn't touch me where he knew I wanted him to. All of his attention was focused there, but he wasn't focusing any of his attention there. He was driving me crazy. And he knew it. He knew how aroused he was making me, how wet I was getting. And if he didn't take these underwear off of me soon, I was going to rip them off myself; I was that horny. I wanted him in the worst way possible, and I'd've been damned if he didn't know it.
He continued down one side of my thigh, around my foot and up inside my leg, almost coming to my groin, and then veering away, down the inside of the other thigh. Then his whispered command again, and I was on my stomach, as he blew gentle heat across my calves, then across and through the valley of my buttocks, and up the middle of my back. I almost let out another whimper there; I had had no idea that my back could be so sensitive, and I had to cover my mouth in order not to let out a sound.
Then his tongue began to glide, hot and wet, down the middle of my back, and I did let out a whimper; my body began to tremble more, and I arched my back, my body trying simultaneously to get away from and stay next to the cause of these overwhelming sensations. His tongue trailed down into the small of my back, then further, coming to a stop at the top of the cleft of my behind. In an instant flash of intuition, I knew, somehow, that he was going to pry my cheeks apart, and then..... My brain refused to allow me to imagine what he wold do, how he would make me feel.
And then he did push my buttocks apart, and his tongue traveled there, and God, the sensations! I was going to loose it right there; I was whimpering and moaning now, and I couldn't hold back the wave I felt was coming. I was going to come, and he hadn't even done the things that it would have taken normally to get me there. A man of many talents? Truly, I hadn't had a clue.
And just before I could come, he stopped, and moved on. My body hung onthe edge, waiting, it felt like, for an eternity, waiting for him to take me over the mountaintop. My mind snapped back immediately; did he get off on teasing me?
His tongue blazed a trail down my legs, running for my feet. He all but ignored the heels, going instead for my toes. As he wrapped his tongue around my toes, as his mouth closed down on them, I got an erotic charge the likes of which I'd never known. My toes! My God! I didn't know it could feel this good to have someone suck on your toes! I forgot in an instant that he had been teasing me. This was like being on the top of a wave, on the edge all over again, but this wave was too high, this edge looming over a drop that was too far; my body would give out before I could hit this level of ecstacy.
And that's what I continued to think; again, he whispered his request, and then his tongue raced up my legs, past my hips, up my tummy, and straight to my nipples; the nearly overloaded sensations I got from his mouth on my nipples was rivaled only by the sensations that my body could still feel from his rushed assault up my legs and stomach. I circled his head in my arms, pushing him to me, not wanting him to go; his tongue swirled across my nipples, his mouth sucked them in; his body pressed against me, naked; when did he take off his shorts? I could feel his erection against my thigh; he was almost as wet as I was.
Suddenly, he pushed off from me; I reached up, trying to keep him close.
"Don't worry," he whispered, the promise of sex in his voice, "now I'm gonna stop teasing you." He smiled, and for a second, I didn't know to be pleased or afraid of his statement; if he was only teasing me-- and I knew that he was-- how much more could he do to me if he wasn't? I took a very quick glance at the clock on the stand by my bed. It read 1:27am; had he been loving my body for more than two hours now?
Before I could think of an answer to either question, he knelt between my legs, gently pushing them up and apart. He stretched out, and I understood what he was doing; my earlier vision of him between my legs was about to come true.
"Y'know," he said, just before he touched me, "this is what I really like. And I could do this all night."
All I could think was Please, God, give me strength.
His arms moved up under my legs, my thighs resting on his shoulders. His head dipped down, and then I felt his tongue-- long, hot, and very wet-- gliding across the lips of my sex, tasting me.
I almost came right then; his tongue moved away from my sex an instant before I would have come to a crashing orgasm. For a moment, I wondered if he had been lying about not teasing me. I looked down at him, and met his eyes. I broke my gaze long enough to note the smile nearly splitting his face in two, and the wetness of his mouth and chin. Then I met his eyes again. The look of lust, of hunger, of unrestrained primitive sexual need, was back in his eyes, stronger than ever.
He licked his lips. Then he spoke.
"God, I love the way you taste," he said. His words and the need in his voice made me even more aroused. His head bent back down into my crotch again.
I don't remember much else after that; his tongue, and later, together with his hands, worked at giving me pleasure, and time and time again, wen I thought I was surely through, that I couldn't come any more, he showed me another three or four that I had left buried inside of me. I had to push him away, finally to get him to stop using his tongue on me; even fifteen minutes after he'd stopped, I could still feel his mouth between my legs, could still feel the tremors that his touch gave me. As I lay there, my body still on fire from what he'd done to me, he said,
"You should probably get some sleep.....it's nearly four in the morning."
My mind paused just long enough to realize how long he had been giving me pleasure, and then, before I realized it, I was asleep.
I awoke around ten the next morning, feeling amazingly refreshed, and yet I felt contently tired, too; my body wanted nothing more than to sit down and relax, while my mind was working overtime. Marcus appeared to be asleep, still. I decided to get up and take a shower; I debated on whether or not to wake him, and ask him if he wanted to join me, but in the end, I figured that I liked the idea of him in my bed when I returned. I turned around and walked out the door.
His hands came and circled around my waist, just as I got into the kitchen and was going to the bathroom. I was surprised; my body, though, didn't seem to have enough energy to jump at his touch.
"Good morning," he said, no trace of sleep in his voice. I could feel his erection, nestled in the groove of my buttocks, and my body beginning to respond.
"Do you mind if I shower with you?" he asked, his warm breath caressing my ear. His hands roamed up my naked body, finally resting with my breast cupped in his hands. My nipples were already hard, and I could feel them getting more sensitive as he absentmindedly began stroking them.
In response, I cupped my hands over his, and began walking to the bathroom. He followed, his body never parting from mine. He closed the door behind us, leaving me to turn on the shower. Then he climbed in with me.
And for nearly five minutes, all he did was wash, looking at me occasionally as I scrubbed my body clean.
Then he pounced.
I had my back to him; suddenly, his hands grasped my waist, pulling him to me, molding his body to mine. He was even harder than before, if that was possible, and then his mouth came down in the hollow of my neck, and his fingers caressed my sex. My body shuddered in response, and I reached behind me, pulling his hips closer to mine, pressing myself into him. He thrust back, and his hand dipped lower, caressing my clitoris. I let out a moan. His mouth moved up, to the spot just under my earlobe, and I started to feel a little lightheaded. His fingers went lower still, and thrust inside of me. I could feel my knees threatening to buckle on me. His mouth moved back to the hollow of my neck, and his thumb began flicking back and forth over my clit, as his fingers thrust inside of me.
I was a prisoner to my lust; my hips thrust into his hand, and back into his groin, completely of their own volition; I couldn't have stopped myself even if I had wanted to. He knew just what to do to make me get out of control, to be overcome by my desire, and I was enjoying every minute of it.
He didn't stop until we noticed the water getting cold; then, after making me come one last time, he reached past me, and turned off the water. He spun me around, and held me to him for a while, my body pressed into his, his arms around me and mine around him, his heat warming my body.
He reached up, and tipped my chin, so that I was looking into his eyes. Then he leaned down, and began kissing me.
We kissed like we were teenagers again, making out in the back seat of a car. His mouth roamed all over my face; he kissed my cheeks, my eyelids, my mouth, my chin, my ears, and my neck, while I did the same to him. He thrust up against me, his erection solid and still hard against my tummy, and then his hands reached down, and cupped my buttocks in his hands. He bent his knees a little, and pulled me up, sitting in the cups of his hands. I could feel his erection against the inside of my thigh, very high up, almost touching my sex.
And then he put me down.
"God, I want you so badly," he said--
So why did you stop? Why didn't you take me? I almost said out loud; I wanted him, too, and if he had taken me in the shower, I wouldn't have stopped him at all.
--and took a pause, and then continued, "but I don't want it to be a half-hour quickie. I want it to be an event, something that we'll want to repeat."
My mind took off in two different directions.
A half-hour was a quickie for him?
Did he just say something about a relationship?
He kissed me again, and the questoins I was about to ask were blown away. He stepped out of the shower, and handed me my towel. Still a little dazed, I dried off as he watched me, the naked lust still apparent in his eyes-- and elsewhere, too-- and then took the towel from me, and dried himself off.
I watched him, feeling myself lusting after him the same way he was lusting after me, and wondering what kind of a man he could be, to be soo close to a woman, and still not take advantage of her, even-- or especially-- when she wanted him to.
"Go get dressed," he said, opening the door and letting a chilly blast of air into the warmth of the bathroom, "and I'll fix you something to eat real quick, before we have to leave."
My mind was in a jumble as I got dressed, but I couldn't focus on any one thing.
I came out of the bedroom just as Marcus-- fully dressed; how did he do that?-- was putting breakfast down for me: two scrambled eggs, a couple of sausages, two pancakes, and syrup. I asked him about eating; he responded by grabbing a bowl, and eating some of Selina's Cinnamon Toast Crunch.
We didn't say anything as we ate, then grabbed our coats and walked out the door. At my car, he turned to me and asked,
"So when can I see you again?"
I thought for only a moment. "How 'bout next week? Selina'll spend a few days at her grandmother's, and I'm gonna take a little vacation."
"I'll see you then," he said, smiled, and walked down the street, and around the corner.