Page 90 of Sweeper
“I don’t want you to.”
“Daphney.” He says my name like a plea, looking down at our bodies.
“Zander,” I state, tipping his chin up to lock eyes with me. “Look at me.”
His eyes are devastating as he connects with my gaze. My lips part as I expel a silent cry, and both of our bodies freeze as we climax together in perfect harmony, my release milking his drop for drop. It’s the most erotic, soul-changing experience I’ve ever had, and I immediately commit it to memory to hold onto forever.
Finally, Zander collapses on top of me. Our bodies are slick with sweat as they rise and fall in unison, struggling to catch our lost breaths. He softens slightly between my legs, and it’s a heady sensation to feel his release drip out of me.
“Fuck, let me get you a washcloth,” Zander says, pulling out of me and leaving me naked and bereft on the bed without him.
He’s got that adorable, crooked smile when he returns, his cock still showing signs of life as he lowers the cloth and wipes gently between my legs. It’s tender and sweet.
He smiles and shakes his head. “I’ve never done that with anyone before.”
“Me neither,” I giggle, feeling embarrassed and exhilarated all at the same time.
He finishes and holds the cloth up. “Where should I put this?”
“There’s a wash bin in the loo.”
He retreats to the bathroom, and as he’s in there cleaning himself up, a euphoria tingles in my body. Feeling inspired, I pad over to my guitar and grab it off its stand, bringing it back to the bed with me. I sit cross-legged at the foot, holding it in front of my naked breasts. The lacquered wood is cool against my nipples as I begin to play a few chords to a song I haven’t touched in quite some time.
I lose myself for a moment as I familiarize my mind with the melody. I look up when I see Zander walking back toward the bed. His eyes are focused on me as he sits down and props himself up against the headboard, covering himself with the sheet.
“Don’t stop, please,” he urges, his eyes glistening in the dark.
I smile softly and continue, taking in a deep breath before I say, “This is Marisa’s song.”
His eyebrows lift. “Your sister?”
I nod thoughtfully. “It’s called ‘Face in the Breeze.’”
Emotions course through my veins as I begin the first verse.
Was that you just now
Touching my face in the breeze?
Did you hear my call
As I was down on my knees?
It felt just like
The times we fight
But I know you want for me
To be happy
Was that you just now
Touching my face in the breeze?
If you could see me now
Would you like what you see?
