Page 49 of Absinthe Dreams
He met my compassion and desire with a sweetness and kindness I’d never known, and I couldn’t let the moment slip away. I gathered the hem of his tee in my hands and swept it off over his head, letting my hands fall against his hard body in a featherlight touch of a hummingbird’s wings against his heated skin. Before I could even think about talking myself out of having sex with the biker a second time, I leaned in and letallthe intrusive thoughts win.
It was a risk, sure, not knowing how he was going to be receptive to the advances or having any firm idea of what either of us wanted out of this. I couldn’t tell you how grateful I was that for now, his arms slipped around me, and he pulled me into his lap. His big arms twined around me like they were meant for me and me alone to fit against him, and I practically melted into his embrace. When one of his hands found its way into the back of my hair, pressing and kneading at the spot at the base of my skull where it met my neck, working against it to relieve the stress and tension that gathered in a knot, I think I fell a little in love.
I wrapped my arms around him, nails digging into the back of his shoulder, the other buried in the softness of his undercut at the back, the long strands of his ginger hair tangling between my fingers as I pulled myself tighter against his body.
He moaned into my mouth, a satisfied sound, at the bite of my nails in his skin, and that did something to me. Sent a thrill through me that made my legs weak and my pussy ache with a need to be filled again.
I didn’t recall ever feeling so desperate for a man’s touch in my life, and I felt crazed for it. How could I possibly want this man so deeply, so urgently, when we barely knew each other?
Perhaps it was the air of familiarity… maybe it was a secret, deep longing of watching what my father and mother had. How they made it work, loved each other violently and richly, even throughout their separation.
I wanted a love like theirs, even as I was deathly afraid of it – of the separation, of the pining, of the risk involved. I didn’t want to be separated from my partner. I wanted to fall asleep in their arms every night, and wake to their presence beside or behind me every morning. I wanted the chance to actually grow old with them. To watch our hair silver and streak, and the crow's feet and smile lines develop with age.
I didn’t know if I necessarily wanted children, but if that happened, I didn’t want to be a single mother. I’d watched my mother struggle with me and our siblings, and I’d watched it destroy her when my brother drowned. I didn’t know if I could bear it – but in this moment, my own future so clouded and unclear with everything going on? I could feel through Chainsaw’s hold on me that he wanted me in that moment as fiercely as I wanted him. Even though everything and then some was uncertain, I wanted desperately to let it all fall away in the sweat and the pleasure of our bodies coming together.
It was a life-quake, in this moment, but I couldn’t explain to myself, let alone anyone else, how it didn’t matter. I fully knew that the trajectory of my life was about to change with this. How the way his hands moved under the hem of my satin nightshirt, the way his rough fingers caressed over my ribs, and drifted over my skin like I was some porcelain goddess in his arms, bespoke a change so profound in both of us that there weren’t words for it.
I just knew this was right. Probably the rightest thing I’d ever done with myself, my life, my body, my choices, and I wholeheartedly chose him in that moment.
I twisted in his grasp, to get one knee over the other side of him, so I was straddling him, and could press against himmore tightly. He helped me, with his hands, with straightening his body, lifting me by the back of my thighs, pausing just long enough to pull my nightshirt over my head and to drop it to my bedroom floor.
I looked him in the eyes, the pale light from the window barely illuminating the darkened room, leeching the blue from his eyes and turning them to an almost pale, otherworldly silver.
“Goddammit, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he breathed, and I brought my lips back to his, the kiss ignited by passion, the sensation like that of our two independent souls crashing together and mingling, tasting one another, touching in a way far more intimate than our mere bodies could provide.
It was a blur, the rest of our clothing coming off, whispering against our skin, and falling to the floor like leaves fallen from a tree. Our coverings off, warm bodies pressed together, and oh, howwarmhe was. He was like the sun to my pale moon, and I had never felt such heat.
I craved it. I craved him with a desire I’d never felt before, and I didn’t want to analyze it too much in this moment. It was almost spiritual in a way, just knowing that this was right and that we justfit.
“Please,” I begged when he’d tortured me with the promise of his cock inside me for too long, sliding his hard, hot length against my pussy but not penetrating, not yet. God, how I wanted him to! How I wanted him to slide inside of me. I was slick between my legs, had never been so wet for anyone, never been so feverishly in need of anyone, and Chainsaw didnotdisappoint.
He pressed against my opening, my body stretching and eagerly flexing, trying to pull him in deeper, as he grunted and held back just a little.
“Keep that up, baby, an’ I’m gonna come.”
Fuckthat was hot, that wasexceptionallyhot, that he could and would fully admit that little ol’ me held that much sway over his body even as mine screamed and begged and nearly wept with the need for my own release.
I concentrated, got myself to slow down just enough. I didn’t want to rush even as my body disagreed with me wholeheartedly on that point. My pulse pounding, my nerve endings awash in sensations that swept over and through me, that I had no name for, I struggled to calm myself, and to slow down. Almost as soon as I’d regained some semblance of composure and had managed to rein in my feral need for him, he slid inside of me to the root, my body trembling, stretching to accommodate his width, which was surprising the deeper he went. Just as I was going to hit that moment of panic that he couldn’t possibly go any further, any deeper, any harder, or I would spontaneously combust… He reached the end of his length and startedmoving.
His arms delved far beneath me, coming up my back, one hand curling beneath and hooking over my shoulder so that he could pull me down on top of him, even from beneath him, the other cradling the back of my head, thumb stroking along the sweet spot on the side of my neck, tucked just below and behind my ear.
He rolled his hips, the head of his cock or part of his shaft sliding sideways, back and forth over the pleasure center just inside and along the roof of my cunt, and it was pure magic. I panted, kissing and nipping at the cap of his shoulder and the side of his neck as he expertly plowed me into my bed. He kept at me, the euphoria stirring within me, a gentle wave of pleasure rising within me, and I closed my eyes and let him do whatever he wished with me.
He somehow instinctively knew the magic combination of depth and motion to unlock the pleasure held deep inside me, and it effectively scrambled my brain. I had no desire to pickthings apart or overthink them. My mind fell quiet, silent, as if holding its breath in marvel and waiting just as much as my heart to see what would happen next.
I’d never felt anything like it. I’d never even considered it possible – this much pleasure from simply having someone inside of me and the way he moved. This was different. I’d never achieved any orgasm without some crazy contortionist on mine or my partner’s part to fumble at my clitoris to get the sparks flying.
This wasn’t that at all. This wasn’t a flick of a lighter and the sudden burst and frazzling frizzle of light from a sparkler.
This was something gentler, more organic, like fireflies lifting and sparking in the night over an open field, gentle sparkles of light, sweeping in odd formations and flashes in the dark. Nerves lighting inside me with a soft glow, easing brighter and slowly diminishing, before the next burst came slowly to life like a time-lapse photo of a flower bursting into bloom.
That was how this orgasm built. Slowly, surely, with an ebb and flow to it, mounting and mounting slowly, so slowly, building into a tingling rush that swept through my heated veins like a gently cooling rush of wind sweeping off the bayou or waterways on a hot, humid, and otherwise unbearable day.
It made me gasp and shudder, holding onto Chainsaw even tighter as he whispered low, sexy, and in tones of cherished pride and encouragement to let go, let myself feel it, and let myself ride that wave of pleasure as long as I could.
This was something profound and wholly different. This wasn’t quick. This wasn’t a frenzied fuck in the doctor’s lounge to get our needs met before getting back on the floor.
This was something deeper, nicer, and more genuine, and felt like nothing I had ever shared with anyone. As I described earlier, this was alife-quake. An event so profound that it sent shockwaves throughout my entire being, my entire life, changingits trajectory forever, and I didn’t know if that scared me, excited me, or did some strange combination of both.
