“Wait. Talk to me about your plan,” she said, breathless between kisses, trying to put her hands on his chest, to stop him.
“Hey, you started this,” he chuckled, then undid the straps around her neck, “Who has the insatiable sexual appetite, anyway?”
“Definitely you,” she smirked, “But I need to know what to expect, what to do. I can’t just sit idle, Tristan. It goes against my grain.”
His mouth found her nipple, “Okay, but later. Right now there’s nothing but this, okay?”
She hooked her legs around his waist and was once again reduced to a bundle of nerves that pulsed and jolted at his electric touch. She couldn’t wait for him to bite her. A few days ago it was the part of the sex that freaked her out. Now, it was essential as part of their dance. She was glad he had self-control because even when she felt lightheaded, like he’d taken a little bit too much, she wasn’t even asking him to stop. Her crotch ached from all the sex but she didn’t care.
And she enjoyed the chemical reaction that happened when he drank from her, the euphoric feeling when she could feel as well as see how he felt about her. She could feel his emotions, his passion, and each time it burned deeper, like she was feeling him transform from angry vampire monster to sweet and loving boyfriend. The way it felt combined with how much he enjoyed it sent her into the ether.
It would be so easy to get lost in a moment and then slip into an endless sleep because she’d let him take every last drop. The best part, even beyond the orgasms, was the way he looked at her. She got so lost in those eyes. Everything else melted away. Her past --- the painful life before him. After 20 years of constantly pushing pain away and keeping people at arms’ length it suddenly wasn’t a struggle to not think about those things anymore because now they just didn’t matter.
For the first time all there was, all that mattered, was right now and was the two of them. She thought about her ex for a fraction of a second. What happened to him would always hurt but what she had with Tristan already trumped whatever she’d had with Jackson --- by miles, by light years even.
Tristan’s dimpled smile, his gorgeous eyes, his strength, his sweetness, his passion --- it was sweeping her off her feet in a big way. He was so attentive and so affectionate. As she laid there in his arms after making love she listened to his heart beating and it occurred to her that this time they spent in one another’s arms was ethereal.
The stark reality wasn’t so pretty and maybe that’s why she kept reveling in the time together in bed because that’s where no one else existed. She knew they were sinking into an abyss of mutual addiction and the harsh reality was that others might be on the cusp of bursting their bubble. She was sure that this little love nest was temporary and that they couldn’t keep the world shut out forever. It’d probably all come to a head at some point, somehow. How could it not?
Tristan’s cell phone let out another text alert. She looked up at him and he was deep in thought and didn’t make a move for the phone. When he caught her glancing at him he flashed dimples and kissed her forehead. He pulled her back closer to him and rubbed her back. She could sense that he needed to just hold her, not talk, not answer any questions. It was obvious that his mind was hard at work, sorting through their predicament. She reached for the remote and flicked on the TV.
He squeezed her tightly, like he appreciated the move. She stayed cuddled up to him with her head on his chest and flicked through the channels until she stopped on a channel with a line of Irish dancers dancing gaily with their upper halves stoic and their bottom halves bouncing and kicking to the music.
She’d left it on for a few minutes, watching it intently while listening to his heartbeat. Finally, she felt his chest jiggle with laughter.
She looked up at him,
“What on earth are you watching?” he asked her.
She shrugged, “River dancing. What?”
He chuckled louder. His cell phone let out another text alert.
“Hey, river dancing is fricking awesome!” she defended.
“You’re crazy. They just move their legs. They look ridiculous.”
“Shup. It’s awesome,” she swatted at his chest and focused intently on the screen.
His phone started ringing. He ignored it, grabbed her, and rolled, pinning her arms above her head, laying on top of her, staring deep into her eyes.
“Hey, you’re making me miss it. Get off!” she laughed.
“Oh, I’ll get off alright…” he had a devious gleam.