“Do you want a drink?” I asked, throwing my purse on the couch and walking toward the kitchen. I still had another week before school started, but I had to start my teaching plans and getting my classroom ready in a couple of days, so I was going to enjoy my free time and have a cold beer while I could.
One of the key pieces of advice for any teacher when they first started was to never come to school with a hangover. It wasn’t just the fact you’d lose your job that was a killer, but keeping control of kids and trying to explain things to them when your body was dying and you were trying to keep your stomach contents where they were meant to be? It had to be hell on earth. I’d never tested the theory and never intended to, and sure I had a glass of wine or a beer at night after it, but when school wasn’t in, I enjoyed it that bit more knowing I could have a second one if I wanted to.
Hearing him murmur please, I opened the fridge and pulled out two bottles. Just as I was closing the door again, all the lights went off, and we were plunged into pitch darkness. I was so confused by the fact I couldn’t see suddenly, that I didn’t even realize there weren’t any lights on outside either meaning everyone on my street was affected by it.
Taking a step forward, I hissed when the hip bone on my thankfully non-tattooed leg, hit the edge of the kitchen island. “Shit.”
Figuring walking with glass bottles when you couldn’t see what was in front of you really wasn’t smart, I felt around to make sure I had a decent area of counter to put the bottles on without them falling and shattering on the floor. Broken glass, no lights, walking blind… it was a recipe for disaster, and just for one night it would be nice not to have anything like that happen. I was still riding the high of my new ink, vision or no vision. Just as I was setting them down two large arms wrapped around me, scaring the ever-loving shit out of me and making me scream.
“It’s just me, Tab. You’re ok,” Dave murmured in my ear.
I don’t know if it was the darkness and the fact I couldn’t see him, or if his breathing was more audible thanks to the silence around us, but suddenly I was more aware of him than I’d been before – and I’d been plenty aware of him. As if he was feeling the same thing, he slowly flattened his hands on my stomach and rubbed them at an insanity inducing speed up and down my sides. How was it insanity inducing? Because he took his freaking time, like he didn’t want to miss an inch of what he was feeling.
Leaning my head back onto his chest, I moved my hands off the counter and reached behind him, beginning my own hand journey on his body. It was all hard muscled bumps, something which I knew already, and I realized now why he was taking his time. I really didn’t want to go fast and miss anything. I’d already seen it and felt it, but not like this. When your eyesight’s taken away, you’re left with your other senses which go into overdrive. I could smell his scent, a light sandalwood fragrance, and each breath in gave me more of it. It wasn’t like he’d bathed in the cologne, far from it, but it was that bit stronger than normal. I could also hear his breaths as the frequency of them increased with each movement of both of our hands. And then there was the touching, something that I’d never appreciated more than I did in that moment.
Moving his head, he used his chin to tip my head to the side, and then I felt the rasp of his stubble on the side of my face as he dragged his nose slowly down until he got to my neck. With no air conditioning on, the room was starting to feel a little bit warm and what we were doing wasn’t helping it at all. Was I going to complain or put a stop to it? No way. I was going to embrace my inner tropical goddess, invest in coconuts to make into a bra, and buy bamboo plants.
Why the hell was I thinking about coconut bras and bamboo plants?
“Never,” he husked into my ear, “have I felt anything so beautiful in my life. I never thought I’d want someone so much that even just doing this would be enough for me.” His actions contradicted his words as he reached down for the bottom of my t-shirt, and then lifted it so he could get to the skin underneath. Following the path further up, he spread his fingers so he could cup a breast in each hand. “Your skin is so soft,” he continued as he pressed small kisses down the line of my neck, periodically stopping to suck the skin briefly, but not enough to leave a mark. “And these fit perfectly in my hands,” he said as he gently began to knead the mounds, his crotch grinding into my ass.