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Perhaps I hear your heart beating beneath. I can sense its throb quickening, or maybe just imagine it. My hand closes under your breast, holding it, feeding it to myself, my tongue flicking the nipple, hardening in response. You moan, louder. Looking up, your eyes closed again, lips parted and wet.You shift beneath me, moving slightly to the side. One hand on your right breast, my mouth dips lower, kissing your ribcage, then lower to your belly button. Your hand replaces my lips on your breast, squeezing and pulling at the pert nipple. I run the tip of my tongue down your stomach, closing my lips over your belly button before tracing down to your trim thatch with light kisses.I move down the bed, my knees level with yours, though I am kneeling up. Bending over, my nostrils catching your scent. My hands flat on your thighs, sliding them up, softly, slowly. Your legs part, your eagerness apparent. A trail of moistness on the top of your thighs, peeling apart as you shift. My hunger. The question tonight was will I or won’t I? It was his birthday. The one thing I wanted to give him most was a selfish gift. Not that he wouldn’t enjoy it. But really, it was something I wanted. Maybe it was something he wanted too but nothing was certain. What’s a girl to do? I would let the moment decide. The Friday night crowd was loud and friendly at the pub yet she saw him almost immediately standing at the bar looking his usual well put together self. Brown blazer over blue jeans. Hands in his pockets pulled his blazer up framing his sweet ass. Her heart sped up just looking at him and she had to remind herself to breathe. There was something about him that drew her in, his presence was warm, heady, sensual. She had been drowning in it for months. Delicious delirium. He turned and looked her way, caught her eyes. It was hard to tell what he was thinking when he recognized her. Was he putting up his defenses? Was he happy that she came? She walked to him, it seemed in slow.
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