Distance makes me ache with want
His fingers trace the zig zagging of my hairline. There are moments when he brushes my hair up and away. He watches it fall back into my oval face. My hazel eyes stare directly into his wide, brown depths. His head tilts with a sudden realization. It flashes across his bearded features, like a light bulb turning on. He lifts up my locks with a smile.
“You’re sunburned. From your trip.”
“No I’m not. It’s called blusher. What are you up to with my hair?”
“Just playing with your hairline, the little trek it makes. Why? Do you want me to stop?”
He pauses his movements. I push my face closer to where he sits at the table. My eyes close with my request to keep going.
“No, no. I love it when people play with my hair. But only the people I trust to touch me, of course,” I say with a purr.
My chin slides onto my palm. I lean forward into his space. His lips curl up into a playful, teasing smile. He’s looking at me intensely. Like he’s trying to silently memorize the curves of my face. The red edges near my pupils. How my eye color changes with my emotions. Like one of those strange, mood-change rings from the 90s.
“So, you missed me, huh?”
“Oh fuck yeah I did. That’s why I was like how’s your trip? What’s going on?” he replies.
“I missed you too,” I admit with a sigh.
We’re both the same coin flipped over. These two human beings that wear our jester outfits so well. In this moment we’re soft, admitting that our distance was felt. He tells me that we should go out to eat since I just returned from a trip.
I bounce up from my seat. I want his help with something before we leave. My fingers grip my favorite, white and pink striped Victoria’s Secret robe, that’s trapped in my washer. The wet, silky material greets my fingertips.
“Hey, big strong man with muscles, come over here,” I call out.
NY lifts his head up from the table. I yank at the trapped robe. All I want is to pull the hell out of it. I can see the silky edges tearing. I make way for him as he squeezes past me. He pulls and struggles with the piece of fabric. I think about the logistics of going out and getting parking at my apartment complex afterwards.
“Come on you, it’s a lost cause. We’re gonna come back and have no parking.”
He turns to me with a stubborn look on his face. His lower lip pokes out. There’s this pout on his face. It’s fucking adorable right now. I giggle at him.
“What’s so funny?”
“You. You are so funny, I can’t help it.”
He grunts at me. I wrap my arms around his broad shoulders. We’re in my small utility room. I lean into his body fully. He embraces me with a delicious tightness. When I hug him it’s like holding onto the sun. His body radiates unending heat like the sun’s rays on a summer day.
My teeth playfully graze against his shoulder. The cotton shirt he’s wearing rubs against my tongue. His amber and teakwood aroma covers me completely.
We part and he makes a noise of speculation. Our gazes have this rawness. There’s a question he asks me. I know I’ve flipped a switch between us. He stares at me unabashedly. His brows furrow together causing a crinkle to appear between his eyes.
My breath catches with how we both must have this look. My arms slide from his waist up to his shoulders. I’m sure micro expressions of mine give him the silent answer of, ‘yes, fucking kiss me already.’
He leans into my curvy body. His full lips press into my bow-shaped ones. I release an immediate moan at the first kiss we’ve shared since he came over.
We build up into impassioned meeting of our lips. He positions me so that my back presses against the washer. I’m acutely aware of how I’m cornered. My breathing speeds up. I open my mouth to the exploration of his tongue inside. He tastes delectable. The flavor is like home, that inherent, inexplicable sweetness.
My palms cup his face gently. His curly, scruffy beard caresses my soft skin. We make out in the laundry room. He presses me harder against the cold plastic of the washing machine. There’s this contrast of the cold appliance and his hot body. When we part from each other I draw in a deep breath.
“Okay, that decides things, we aren’t going out. We’re fucking, come on.”
“But… the washing machine. What about your robe?” he asks.
There’s this teasing edge to his voice. I grab his hand and drag him forward.
“Fuck it, come on, in my bedroom.”
We enter the space and the lights are fully on. I normally turn them off and set everything within a pink glow. He kisses me again and picks me up. We make out passionately and he carries me to my bed.
Our lips press deeper with a desperation. I’m moaning at the sensation of him carrying me to my mattress. He sets me down on it. There’s this moment where I watch him approaching my surrendered form. He looks like a lion stalking his prey. I grin as he hovers above me and kisses me again.
His lips brush against my neck. I’m writhing, pumping into his body helplessly. I want him inside me. He yanks at my short, clingy dress that poofs out at the edges of my ass.
“You’re way too clothed right now.”
“Oh, talking about that I have a new bra on.”
NY pulls my dress over my head. My hot pink bra with black lace peeks out. It has a cut-out, kinky design to it. He pulls the bra cup down. I know he’s going to suck my tits. I roll my head backwards in sweet submission.
His lips grasp my nipple. He cups my left breast and scoops it up. The flesh is pushed into his mouth to fully suck on it. There’s the sensation of his teeth biting down. I shudder and groan. He transitions to my right tit and pushes the bra down. His hand forces my large breast into his willing mouth. I love how he sucks on it devotedly.
My eyes dare to open to look at him suckling at my right nipple. Our gazes meet. There’s this grin on his bearded face. The bra is removed and tossed unceremoniously to the side. He pulls at my yoga pants. They cling to my muscular calves and substantial thighs. I’m aware of being in nothing but my sexy black underwear.
“If my clothes are coming off then you get to work taking yours off. Because you are way too damn clothed.”
NY flashes me a toothy grin and raises his eyebrow. He pushes down his jeans. A pair of maroon boxers are exposed. His shirt clings to his head and he gives it a strong pull to remove it. The clothes go flying in random directions. He joins me back on the bed.
There’s this hooking of his finger into my panties. They go in the opposite direction. His finger traces my clit first with a dance around it. Like he’s courting the engorged bud before he plunders inside me. I arch my back, my lips parted.
He pushes inside me tentatively at first. I think he is reading my mind to finger fuck me harder. His pace quickens and my body builds up a G-spot orgasm. An arm slides underneath my thigh and pries it further open. His bearded face moves incredibly close to my pussy. I feel a tongue pushing against my clit. He eats me out expertly while I squirm.
“Where you going, MD?” NY implores with a sing-song voice.
I can’t quite think. Maybe I tease him in return. He increases his tempo and depth. I’m sure I’m drenching him in my wetness, and he’s loving every second of it.
My body crescendos and explodes like a burst of light. I back away into my headboard trying to escape my orgasm’s vengeance. He chases after me and finally removes his finger.
NY pulls down his boxers and tosses them away. I admire the view with a grin. He pries my legs open. His dick sits poised at my pussy. I’m desperate for him to break me open around his length. That slow, deliberate yawning of my pussy to accommodate this essential part of him.
“Fuck me,” I growl out.
He thrusts inside me. There’s this restriction where my pussy grips his dick too tightly. I’m soaking wet and it hugs every inch of his length.
His thickness stretches me. I cry out to the ceiling. My nails drag against my sheets. I release all sorts of noises. Grunts, moans, and ecstasy filled screams. My pussy still pulses from my recent orgasm. He pushes my legs toward my ears. I bend to his will and beg him not to stop.
