Prose?
It’s been a bit since I’ve been inspired to write prose. Or hell, to write at all..
This is not a journal entry, it is just simply prose, based off one of my favourite authors.
Take it as is. Blog entry to come later. Bueno!
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Teasingly, she took the plum from his mouth. Juice ran down his chin. Slowly, deliberately, she leaned over and licked the sweet juice from his chin. He didn’t move. Their faces mere inches apart; she shared his breath, quick and warm. So close was she that her eyes could scarcely focus on his. She had to swallow the wetness in her mouth.
Reason was rapidly evaporating from her mind, being replaced with feelings that tantalised her with promise, gripped her with hot need.
She released the plum, bringing her wet fingers to his lips; watching, her own tongue on her upper lip, as he let each finger slider into his mouth, slowly sucking the juice from them one at a time as she offered them. The feeling of the inside of his mouth sultry, wet, and warm; sending shivers throughout her being.
A small sound escaped her lips. Her heart pounded in her ears. Her chest heaved. She ran her wet fingers down his chin, his neck, to his chest, lightly gliding them over the imagery painted on his skin, tracing it with her fingers, feeling the hills and valleys of him.
Coming to her knees above him, she circled a fingertip around the hardness of one of his nipples, firmly caressing his chest as she let her eyes slide closed for a moment whilst gritting her teeth. Gently, but forcefully, she pushed him down on his back. He went easily, without protest. She leaned over him with her hand still on his chest for support. The feeling of him surprised her, the rigid hardness of his muscles, sheathed with yielding, velvety soft skin, the wetness of his sweat, the coarseness of his hairs, the heat. His chest rose and fell with heavy breathing, pulsing with the life in him.
Leaving one knee next to his hip, she put the other between his legs as she looked down into his eyes, her thick hair cascading down around his face as she continued to support herself with the hand on his chest, not wanting to move it, to lose the connection with moist flesh. A connection that was igniting her with its desire.
Between her knees, the muscles of his thigh flexed, sending her pulse racing even faster. She had to open her mouth to get her breath. She lost herself in his eyes, eyes that felt as if they were probing her soul, stripping it bare. They sent fire raging through her.
With her other hand, she smoothly unbuttoned her shirt and pulled out the tails.
She put her hand behind his strong neck, still holding herself up, away from him, with the other on his chest. Her fingers slid into his damp hair, tightened int a fist, held his head to the ground.
A powerful hand slipped under her shirt, to the small of her back, stroking in little circles, the slowly sliding up the line of her spine, sending shivers resonating through her, before coming to a stop between her shoulder blades. Her eyes half-closed as she flexed her back against his hand, wanting him to draw her against him. Her breathing was so fast, she was almost panting.
She drew her knee up his leg until it wouldn’t go any further. Little sounds escaped with some of her breaths. His chest heaved against her hand. As he lay under her, she thought he had never seemed so big to her before.
“I want you,” she panted in a breathless whisper.
Her head lowered. Her lips brushed against his.
A darting look of pain seemed to cross his eyes. “Only if you first tell me what you are.”
Reason floded back in to her mind, washing coldly through her, drowning her passion. She had never cared for anyone like this. How could she touch him without restraint? How could she do this to him? She pushed back. What was she doing? What was she thinking?
She sat back on her heels, taking her hand from his chest, putting it over her own mouth. The world came crashing in around her. How could she tell him? He would hate her; she would lose him. She would lose everything held dear. Her head spun sickeningly.
He sat up, placing his hand gently on her shoulder. “Shush,” he said softly, drawing her panicked eyes to his own, “you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Only if you want to do this.”
Her eyebrows wrinkled together as she tried to keep from crying. “Please.” She could hardly get the words out. “Just hold me?”
He drew her tenderly to him, held her head to his shoulder. Pain, pain of who she was, reaching its icy fingers into her. His other arm wrapped protectively around her, holding her tight agains him as he rocked her.
“That’s what friend’s are for,” he whispered in her ear…