"The Windowsill"

By: Serena

        He sits alone with only a sheer covering his lower body. I could watch him all day from the bed, surrounded by his scent. He stares out onto the streets of
Montmartre, as if in a trance. My stirring somehow makes him turn his head and smile at me. God, is he beautiful.
        “Hello, Satine,” he speaks gently.
I let myself smile sleepily at him, and sit up. The rising sun causes me to squint my eyes. But I can’t tear them away from him; the sweet boy who stole my heart. He gestures for me to join him on the windowsill by holding his hand out to me.
I softly move the sheets back and walk over towards him. My waist reaches his hand and he pulls my bare body towards his chest. I sigh and close my eyes as he kisses my breast with pure tenderness. He looks into my eyes, his own shining bright in the sunlight. I tilt my head a little, looking down on the person who changed my life and touched my heart. As if reading my mind, he places his hand over my heart, his soft fingers caressing my skin.
I let that moment linger and then sit down across from him on the windowsill. He takes the sheets covering himself, and leans towards me to wrap them around my waist. I smile, not once looking away from his eyes. He slowly moves closer to me, letting me feel his breath. My hand travels up his arm, sending shivers through us both. As my fingers reach his shoulder, I move even closer to him. He tilts his head ever so slightly, and we blink simultaneously.
Every time we kiss, it feels like the first time. I feel completely right being who I am. His kiss is something unlike anything I’ve ever known. We kiss for a long time, and when we part, I almost wish the moment hadn’t ended. I lean my head against his shoulder, feeling his hand travel softly up and down my spine. My eyes close, letting his presence take over me. His other hand leans against the window behind me, as he stares outside, deep in thought.
I sigh as his hand makes it’s way up my back. Before I realize it, the words escape my mouth.
“What are you thinking about?”
He waits a few seconds and answers me.
“I’m thinking about…how I wish every day of my life started like this.”
I take in what he said, and lift my head to slowly kiss his shoulder.
“I do too, Christian.”

 

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