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"It's about how your hips move," the hand that sits on my waist finds my hip, his fingertips trailing lightly along the fabric of my skirt. "When you arch your spine," he continues on, letting that same hand migrate...
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This song. That's it. Thank you.
———
For these past two weeks, I have desired nothing more than to be in control. As of right now, I don't mind relinquishing it.
As our lips meet, my hands seek out his arms, desperate for the stability I need. Just this contact has made me breathless, stolen the strength from me as my knees promise to buckle. He braces me, his hands once more finding either side of my neck, letting his fingers edge their way into my hair.
He tilts my head and I allow, letting him teach me about this new level of intimacy that I am so nervously experiencing. Leading the way, he dominates me, moving his lips against mine in a steady rhythm, a soft pressure that conveys the upmost emotion. He parts us briefly, and I take that opportunity to steal a breath, one staggered between a sigh of adrenaline.
He remains close, letting out noses skim against one another as he waits, waits for me to pursue this or pull away. Except I'm too stunned, completely paralyzed with everything that is whirling throughout my body. This incomparable heat that floods to my extremities, taking with it these prominent tingles that drag a shiver out of me. I swallow thickly, nudging my head upwards slightly, a bold move that brings my lips level with his.
I hope that to be evidence enough, I want to do it again. Just in case it isn't, I squeeze on to the swollen muscles of his biceps, letting my nails dig lightly into his skin, no doubt leaving marks of reminder. His own hands migrate, softly trailing down my neck, over my shoulders and down my arms. When they find my waist, he moves me, closer to him, and our lips meet again.
This, with more passion, more intensity. On his behalf, there is less restraint. He invades my senses, straining every nerve in my body on edge as they all simply crave one thing: him. He is not a gentleman. He pulls my bottom lip between his teeth, dragging a soft moan to pass through my lips, which only encourages him further. His hands clamp hard on to my waist, driving me towards him as I let my own cling to him, reaching further and lacing behind his neck.
There is no space between us, we're tangled with this chemistry that hangs heavy among us. The air heated with desire as it grazes our skin, impossible to breathe. The heat within me rises, upwards from my stomach that is knotted with trepidation, taking claim on my heart before swarming my mind, making me entirely delirious. I know that to be the case when I let my fingers curl into his hair, possessed by some primal urge.
The way his fingers tighten about my waist, dragging themselves towards my rear, it is the only thing that pulls me from this bliss, freeing me from being willing prisoner to his touch. I pull away, gasping in the stagnant air, letting my forehead rest against his all while keeping my eyes closed.
"I think that," I trail off, because I cannot put together a sentence that articulates my thoughts. Frankly, they are too muddled to make sense of.
