49. Where Desire Rose #2
Her fingers slide beneath my shirt, tracing the lines of my chest. “Every night I couldn’t sleep, it was this I was trying not to think about,” I confess in between soft bites along her neck.
“You can do more than think about it now,” she manages, words breaking into soft moans and sighs against my ear.
The sound breaks me open, calls me by name.
I lift her onto the edge of the piano; she laughs when a few startled notes sound beneath her.
The melody hangs there, unfinished, like the song itself is watching.
“Sorry,” she breathes, smiling.
“Don’t be,” I whisper. “He likes you.”
She laughs again, the sound trembling through both of us as I kiss her, deeper now, hungrier.
The bench scrapes back when I move, one kick sending it aside, chords clinking under the weight of our shifting bodies.
Every sound becomes part of it, the press of her hands, the soft gasp of skin meeting air, the rhythm of the piano beneath us echoing in broken harmony.
She pulls me closer until her words melt against my mouth. A smile along her face, fading into a laugh. “We should move... all the noise.”
I smile against her lips. “Noise? Get used to it. I won't stop until I hear every sound you have to give me.”
Without another thought, everything that stands between us is gone, clothes discarded, stripped and peeled away, thrown across the floor by the piano.
At first we try to stay upright, pressed against the keys, but everything about the angle is wrong.
We laugh in frustration until Kasia glances at the floor.
She pushes me down and I immediately relent, on my knees, looking up at her, my hands trailing up, down, along everything at once.
I kiss her stomach and she trembles. I trail lower and look up at her through the fall of her hair.
“Lay down before I tackle you.” She raises an eyebrow and we both laugh again. I keep my eyes fixed on her, kissing her hips, her stomach, slow enough to make her shiver.
“Tackling sounds like a fun proposition right now,” I grin up at her.
She pulls herself away from me and shoves me, and finally I give in, lying down on the floor, our clothes a scattered mess beneath me.
She straddles me and my breath disappears.
The sight of her above me, the warmth between her thighs, the slow curve of her body moving with focused patience, all of it pressed against the edge of my control.
Every second I’m not inside her feels like I’m losing my mind.
Like I’m splintering off into different pieces of desire, love, form, touch until she brings me back together again, under her body, under her care.
She moves closer and the air between us grows thinner, heady with heat.
I feel it before she speaks, that seductive pull that turns control into worship.
She leans down, slow enough that I can see every breath, every thought flicker behind her eyes, the tremor that makes a fool of me for wanting her this much.
It’s too much and not enough at once. I catch it, the ache, the moment she realizes how easily she can undo me.
One small movement from her and I let out a sound I don’t recognize.
It’s rough and wanting against her ear, my body no longer mine.
A lyric I’d pushed down, discarded in a flurry of ideas and feelings, surfaces without my permission.
It comes out like I’m reciting poetry, choked by the motion of her against me.
“I tremble with the hope of you…” My voice comes broken, tangled. “Just let me watch you. You lead, I’ll follow. Wherever you go.”
“Rafe… what does that mean?”
“You know what it means.”
Her breath catches as I pull her down to me and press against her at once, teasing.
The sound she makes, caught between shock and pleasure, turns me helpless.
I match it without thought, drawn into her rhythm until it feels like instinct.
Then she smiles, sure in her sway over me and the power in it nearly finishes me right then.
I let my hands fall away, open, waiting.
“Go on,” I say, my voice breaking. “Show me what you want from me.”
When she finally does, taking me inside her, moving with a breath-taking certainty, it’s not command, it’s reunion.
Every glance, every breath becomes a conversation.
My body answers hers before I even realize it.
I don’t move until she does first, and every way I respond to her feels right.
Harder, deeper, fuller, then softer again, a dance we match with each movement.
Each shudder, each thrust, each startled gasp is the only language I want to learn.
“Just like that… you’re fucking perfect.
” I whisper as I sweep her hair away from her face to take her in.
“I could watch you forever.” My eyes sweep over her beauty, my hands so in awe they can’t decide where to touch.
She pulls me into her again with a deep roll of her hips and I lose the ability to speak.
Finally, I hold her face in my hands, trying to give depth to a kiss but it dissolves into breath and urgency.
Sounds escaping I can’t control anymore.
Until I manage to give one last gift in a sigh. “You feel… words aren’t enough, Kasia.”
I lean back, giving enough space for her to watch.
I want her to see what she does to me, what I become in her hands.
If only she could see herself the way I do, her lips parted, cheeks flushed, eyes dark with desire.
I wish she could feel what I feel, how she surrounds me, drags me under with every sound that leaves her mouth, every motion making me hers alone.
All I can think is how she makes aggression look gentle, how she makes surrender feel like flight.
There’s no question in her touch, no apology in mine.
Only two people learning the same hymn by heart.
Her pace quickens, moans rising as I cup her breasts in my hands, neither of us able to slow our need for the other.
When she finally leads us over the edge, through that shared escape from the underworld into something bright and infinite, I run my hands along her back, easing her down into me, rising to meet her in the final rush.
Words fail. All that remains are the sounds caught in my throat, the tremor that now moves through both of us.
I feel her hair spill across my face, her shoulders relax into my arms, her heart beating wild against mine.
My body shakes involuntarily with every tiny stutter she makes, taking the last of me with her.
I never want it to end, but eventually it gentles into stillness.
When I finally find my voice again, the words come soft, almost prayerful, an offering.
“You’re more than I deserve.” She looks up at me, flushed and shaking, her eyes unfocused but luminous. I stroke her hair, my voice steadying. “More than I ever thought I’d find.”
She presses her head to my chest and I kiss the crown of her hair.
We lie there in silence, undone and breathing softly, until the chill finally wins and forces us up, to shower, to warmth, to do it all over again and again, until our bodies ache in tenderness and our eyes flutter shut from exhaustion.