Page 31 of Spit Screen

“I knew it was an Olivia—de Havilland, Newton-John?—”

“You suck at trivia, Addy.”

I chuckle and shift my weight, gently pinning her beneath me. Being with Emma isn’t like a carefully coordinated andflawless movie scene; it’s about the messy, silly, beautiful reality of us.

I gently press my lips against her forehead, the tip of her nose, and then her mouth before letting them wander slowly down to her shoulder. My mouth skates across her body faintly, my breath washing across her skin until I reach her breasts. I glance at her before lowering my mouth to surround her nipple.

As Emma’s body tenses in anticipation, she arches her back, playfully requesting me to tease her. I comply, my tongue drawing circles until she sighs with pleasure. My hands glide down her sides, tracing the contours of her hips before finding their place on her thighs. Emma’s fingers wind in the curls of my hair, urging me closer, guiding my movements as if she were scripting our intimate dance.

The soft rustle of fabric and the whisper of skin against skin fills the room. I navigate the landscape of her body with a tender curiosity, rediscovering her every curve and hollow as if it were both the first and the thousandth time. Emma’s breathing becomes shallow, her chest heaving as I continue my exploration.

I look up at her; her eyes are closed, her lips parted slightly, and a flush spreads across her cheeks. The sight fuels my desire to give pleasure as much as to receive it. I tenderly trail kisses across her stomach, each one a wordless declaration of my love and adoration. Emma’s hands reach my shoulders, steadying herself as she rides the waves of sensations I evoke.

Our bodies move in perfect synchrony, a wordless language shared between lovers who know each other’s desires and boundaries. There is a profound trust here, built through years of loving each other wholly and selflessly. Each kiss and every touch are imbued with our shared history.

As my lips reach the crest of her hip, I glance up again. Emma meets my gaze, and in her eyes, I see mirrored back all my lovefor her—intense and soft in equal measure. I dip my head and place a line of kisses to her center, allowing the warmth of my breath to heighten her arousal.

Emma’s response is instantaneous. A soft moan escapes her lips, encouraging me to explore further. I take my time, savoring the sweetness of her skin and the quiver coursing through her as I continue to explore her softness. Her hands tighten in my hair, a gentle pull that guides and pleads. Slowly, deliberately, I increase the pressure of my tongue, guided by Emma’s subtle movements and the deepening breaths filling the silence between us. Her hips arch, and I raise myself to follow. I hold on to her hips, pulling her to me.

“Addy. Jesus. I need you.”

Emma breaks away with a labored breath, and her gaze locks onto mine with an intensity that both challenges and invites me. She pulls me up and flips us over with surprising quickness. Her body now hovers above mine, a playful smirk playing on her lips as she traces a finger down my chest.

“My turn,” she whispers huskily into my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

Her movements are confident as she maps the terrain she knows so well; each touch is deliberate and assured. She worships every inch of me with her mouth, her fingertips, her body—each touch igniting a fire inside me that makes me writhe beneath her.

Emma’s touch is electrifying. She captures my lips in a kiss so deep and consuming that the world around us fades into oblivion. Her lips move from mine, trailing fiery kisses down my neck and collarbone, each sending pulses of heat radiating through my veins.

“Em,” I plead for something—I’m unsure what. I want to touch her again. I want her to take me to the brink of insanity.I want to be held and released all at once. It’s dizzying and intoxicating.

“What do you want, Addy?”

Before I can think of an answer, she descends my body, her hands framing my waist as her lips find their way across my abdomen, planting kisses that stir a storm within me.

“Addy? It’s not a trivia question.”

I can hear the delight in Emma’s voice at my frustration and desperation.

“There’s no wrong answer,” she says as her head dips lower.

She pauses to look up at me with those piercing eyes that seem to see right into my soul. With a mischievous grin, she continues her descent, her tongue painting strokes of pleasure across my center.

I feel Emma’s hum of satisfaction reverberate through me, sending a series of soft shudders through my core.

“Yes,” she hisses.

“God, Em. Please. I need you.”

“What do you need?”

“You, Em. I need you. I need to touch you. Please.”

A grin spreads across Emma’s face as she rises to press her lips to mine again. Her nipples brush against mine, and she deliberately teases me with the warmth of her body, pressing us together, deepening our kiss, and pulling away just when the friction builds.

“Fuck, Em.”

Emma chuckles faintly, takes my hand, and places it between her legs.

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