The echoes of Michael’s moan reverberated through me like a tuned cello, forcing my cells to vibrate to the tune he carried. I barely registered the opulence of the bedroom before he closed the door behind me and moved in a blur, faster than my eyes could follow.
Before I realized what happened, my body was pinned against the solid oak door by his long, muscled body and my toes curled with anticipation as his mouth claimed mine once more.
A moan escaped me, but Michael devoured it like a predator and he growled his appreciation, which did nothing but drive me higher. My chest heaved as my body forgot what it meant to breathe, and it increased the friction against Michael’s heavily muscled chest.
Throbs wracked through me as my nipples ached for his touch. But he still wasn’t touching me. He was only kissing me.
That was when I realized I held his expensive suit jacket in my hands like it was a lifeline. Because it was.
I needed more.
So much more.
And he was driving me crazy with nothing but his mouth.
I cried out in frustration, and I felt him smile against me before the pressure of his body lessened. At first I thought he would step away from me and a breathless whimper escaped me.
But then his cool fingers traveled up my bare arms — when did I take off my coat? — and I shivered. By the time he reached the hem of my blouse, I was clawing at the back of his neck, desperate for more.
Before I could react, he pushed up the thin material and captured my breasts in his hands. The sting of his cool hands against my heated flesh forced me to hiss, but it only drove me higher.
I felt like I was about to combust and his skin was the only thing keeping me from exploding into flames. Before I realized he moved, the door behind me was gone and it was replaced by what felt like a cloud.
Soft, warm sheets enveloped me and Michael pressed against me. His hand traveled to my hip and held me still as he ground his hips tight against mine, letting me feel the long, hard length of him in exactly the right spot.
I cried out into his mouth, still ravaging mine and I barely managed to keep myself from crashing over the edge.
That was when I realized, he was only just beginning.
© Sarah Doughty
This is part 9 of Him. Read part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, and part 8.
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This was also published at UInk.ca.