Choosing Her Lover

‘Mine’…?

Am I his…?

I think I am….

He waits, saying nothing.

Waiting for my reaction?

Yes, I think so.

Biting my lower lip, I cup my breasts in my hands, lifting them, thumbing my nipples, pressing them together to exhibit my cleavage.

His eyes follow my movements. He’s keeping his cool, but I think I see the press of his erection showing. As I circle the darker halos of the areolae, the skin crinkles tighter and his pupils, widening, turn his already shadowed eyes all but black.

“Enough,” he says. My hands freeze in mid-movement.

His eyes lock with mine, then indicate down.

“You want me to….?”

“Show me.”

tracking the movement. “Take them off,” he says. “I want

are hideously uncomfortable. I strip them away to reveal my dark curls, glistening wet. Uncertainly, I run my fingers

of course, so

leaving my body, he picks up his glass from the side table, tasting the wine, a deep velvet crimson in the dim

than that. Lie back. Open your legs. Show

My breath catches again.

the covers but laid out so flat, I’m not comfortable, and it is not easy to

your head and shoulders,” he says. “I want you to be able to move. And I

the coarse words. They should offend me,

in the eye again. Perspiration runs down my face

he says, his voice with a deep, gravelly edge. “Show me what you want me to do to you;

stands over me, the wine glass still in his hand. He sips

being shy? I want to know you. I want

first one, then the

to watch me, but instead, he sits beside me on the bed, close enough that I scent him. He smells of musk and lust and sex and masculinity and…. I want this man…. I want to give myself to him and

as wide as I am able. His lips don’t move, but

and I’ll give you everything you ask for.

I trace the line of my swollen, almost melting folds with fingers that glide, wet and slippery from

you want me to do, where you

thumb away the hood of

no idea how beautiful you are, aroused like that. I can see that you’re embarrassed,