The Rooftop #2
Because my lips find his again.
This time, the kiss is softer, slower, because I’m savoring the moment, letting it seep into every corner of my being, because the first one was too good to be true.
And although he hesitates at first, his hands cradle my face again, his thumbs gently brushing against my cheeks, and I feel like I’m being held like something priceless, something fragile.
It makes my chest ache in the best way.
His hands end up sliding up and down my waist, eventually settling there as if they belong, and I don’t stop him. Instead, I lean into him more, my fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer, needing him closer.
When he pulls back again, he doesn’t move far.
His lips trail to my forehead, pressing a lingering kiss there that feels like a promise. Then he moves lower, kissing each of my closed eyelids, moving to brush against the tip of my nose, then my cheeks.
Each and every touch is more deliberate and sweet than the other, almost like he’s memorizing me piece by piece.
I’m trembling now, my hands gripping his shoulders as if letting go would ruin me.
My heart races, every beat echoing the colossal emotions surging through me. When his mouth finds mine again, it’s even more intense, filled with a hunger that matches my own.
I lose myself in the sensation of him, in the way he feels like both an inferno and a safe heaven.
He then moves to my jaw, then to the curve of my neck, where he lingers, making it impossible to think straight.
My toes curl, and I tilt my head slightly, giving him more access.
He takes it, exploring the sensitive skin before trailing back up, brushing over my ear, then the temple, before finding my lips again.
“Fuck,” he murmurs, his voice low and raw, and the words send a fresh wave of warmth through me. His hands tighten on my skin, pulling me impossibly closer, and I feel like I’m melting into him.
“I can’t get enough of you.”
“So don’t…”
He looks at me, and his hands, which were gripping my waist, are now touching my skin under my dress. His fingers trace over the curve of my hips, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
“Tell me to stop, love,” he whispers, his breath hot against my lips, his voice trembling with restraint.
“Don’t stop,” I whisper back, my voice shaky but sure.
“I don’t have anything on me.” And I understand immediately what he’s saying.
“I’m clean,” I confirm, hoping with all my might that he also is and judging myself immediately for being so easy on this topic, but… I can’t stop this.
It actually stings only thinking about it.
“I’m also clean… but….”
“I’m on the pill,” I reveal, and at this point, the tension in the air between us is almost unbearable, and I can feel every fiber of his being painfully holding back.
He breathes hard against my chest, his forehead pressing against mine as though he’s trying to keep himself stranded.
Just the idea of him pulling away even slightly makes me want to burn the world just to keep him close.
“Please,” I add, my voice breaking on the word. “I need you.”
That plea seems to shatter whatever control he was clinging to because, releasing a groan, he kisses me again, and before I know it, he shifts, turning us over so that I’m lying beneath him.
His movements are careful but deliberate, his weight pressing into me just enough to make my heart thump faster.
His hands slide up to my neck, his touch firm but gentle as his fingers curve around my throat. He tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. The look in them is intense, searching, as if he’s asking a thousand questions all at once.
I swallow hard, my chest rising and falling as I struggle to find the words.
Finally, I manage to whisper, “I want you, K. Let me have you, baby.”
That’s all it takes.
The tension in his body dissolves, replaced by something deeper, more primal.
His lips trail down over my jawline and to my chest, where his hands cup my breasts with a tenderness that contrasts with the fire in his kisses, his mouth moving over my skin as if he’s savoring every inch of me, reverent and insatiable.
I gasp softly as his lips continue their exploration, claiming and igniting.
And yet, even in his urgency, there’s a care in his touch, a deliberate slowness that makes every movement feel purposeful, as though he’s handling something sacred.
His hands slide down my waist, steadying me as his mouth ventures lower, leaving a trail of heat that makes my breath hitch with every inch he claims. I thread my fingers through his blonde hair, my grip tightening instinctively as I feel the warmth of his breath against the skin in my belly.
His mouth continues its descent, his lips pressing slow, deliberate kisses against my stomach, the reverence in his movements making me feel both cherished and undone. My body arches instinctively toward him, but his hands hold me steady, anchoring me.
His touch is devastating and devouring, but I can’t stop wanting it.
He reaches the line of my white underwear, below my dress, his lips pressing slow, reverent kisses against the fabric, and the proximity sending shock waves through my entire body.
The softness of his touch contrasts with the heat radiating between us, making my breath hitch.
My body arches instinctively toward him again, but he just lingers there, his lips tracing the edge of my underwear, teasing me with every slow, deliberate motion.
My breath catches, my hands now trying to grip the floor beneath me as I lose myself in the sensation.
The heat builds with every second, and I know I’m unraveling beneath him, piece by piece, but I don’t care.
I want him to see me like this.
I want him to take all of me.
I want him so fucking much.
Everything blurs, out of focus, but I notice him wetting his lips, his gaze locked on me like I’m something he’s craved for eternity.
Leaning forward, he breathed hot against my exposed thigh, and he finally removes the last barrier between us.
His intention is obvious, just as my need is undeniable.
Queasiness burns deep in my stomach, and the room spins.
Butterflies flutter inside me, wild and chaotic, making every inch of me hum with anticipation and the need, love, and attraction I feel for this man, burning every single part of me.
“As soon as I taste you, I’m pretty sure I’ll never be able to stop,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.
“Just as I was never able to stop replying to you, talking to you, thinking about you. You’re everything I thought you would be, and more.
And you’re beautiful, love. But most importantly, you’re mine and trust me when I tell you that I’m yours too.
” And so he finally sinks into me, his tongue brushing against my clit with a deliberate stroke that makes my back arch.
He devours me like I’m his last meal.
I explode into a frenzy.
He looks up at me, his eyes burning with need. There’s no laughter in his gaze, no hesitation, just pure, unadulterated desire.
“Yes,” I breathe out on dry lips, before I lose my last nerve, “Fuck, K. Don’t… don’t stop. Don’t stop.” My plea is breathless, desperate, because everything is too much, yet not enough.
He groans against me, the vibration sending shock waves through my body as his tongue moves with precision and hunger. When he adds a finger, pressing deeper, and blows softly against my bud, I scream into the sky, the stars above spinning in my vision.
But just as I teeter on the edge, he pulls back slightly, his tongue torturing me with teasing strokes, bringing me to the brink of ecstasy only to hold me there.
“What the hell?” I manage to say, my voice trembling with frustration. “Don’t you dare leave me like this.”
“I wouldn’t even dream of it, love,” he replies, his smirk sinful as he moves back up my body, capturing my lips with his. The taste of me lingers on his tongue, the sensation intoxicating and setting me alight all over again.
“You’re making me lose my mind here,” I whisper against his mouth, my fingers digging into his shoulders as I pull him closer.
“Good,” he replies, his voice low and rough, filled with promise. “Because I’m already lost to you.”
He pulls back slightly, and then, slowly, deliberately, he sits up and tugs his shirt over his head.
My breath catches.
My eyes trace the lines of his torso, the lean strength of his chest and arms, but it’s the tattoos that hold me captive.
They cover him in intricate, dark patterns, chaotic yet deliberate, ink woven into his skin like a language I don’t yet understand.
The dim light obscures the details, turning words into shadows, sentences into whispers I can’t quite grasp. Some are just vague outlines, others are sharp enough to hint at meaning, but all of them call to me.
I want to explore them, to follow every letter, every mark with my fingertips, to decode the story his body tells.
But for now, I can only hope there will be time for that later.
He doesn’t rush, and the deliberate nature of his movements makes my pulse race. I watch, captivated, as he stands briefly to push off the rest of his clothes, leaving him bare before me. My gaze dips lower, catching a glint of metal that makes my breath hitch. He notices it and chuckles.
“Surprise?” He jokes kind of nervously, but I’m just fascinated, not just because of the dydoe piercing, but because of the beauty of his body.
All of it.
He moves back to the hard concrete floor, guiding me gently as he settles back into the position we started in, his legs stretched out, and me straddling him.
There’s no softness beneath us, only the rough surface of the rooftop, but it doesn’t matter.
In this moment, nothing else matters.
My thighs press against his hips, and I feel him, all of him, against me, hard and ready. The sensation sends a shiver through my entire body, my hands instinctively resting on his shoulders to steady myself.
“You feel incredible,” he murmurs, his voice thick with awe. His hands slide up my sides, his thumbs brushing against my ribs and then pinching my nipples, which makes me moan.
I swallow hard, my pulse pounding in my ears.
The friction makes me draw a soft moan and my body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve humming with anticipation and need. His hands then guide me, encouraging the movement, and the pressure between us builds with every subtle motion.
His right hand moves up, wrapping gently but firmly around my neck.
Fuck.
There’s a possessiveness in the gesture, one that sends a jolt of heat through me, but it’s tempered with sweetness, as if he’s holding me with both control and reverence. His thumb brushes lightly along the side of my neck, and I feel my breath catch.
“Look at me,” he asks softly as his eyes lock onto mine, his voice a command and a plea all at once.
I meet his gaze, and the intensity there makes my chest tighten. It’s not just desire I see, it’s something deeper, something that threatens to undo me completely.
I align my wet center with his hard shaft, and he immediately pushes inside me in one fluid motion.
A gasp escapes my lips, my fingers gripping his shoulders as my body adjusts to him.
Fuck my life.
He’s big.
And having him inside me is overwhelming, a heady mix of pleasure, pain, and intimacy that leaves me breathless.
He groans softly, his forehead pressing against mine as he stills for a moment, his hand tightening on my waist, just as I feel his body trembling against mine.
I shift slightly, adjusting to him, and the movement draws a deep, guttural sound from him that sends another thrill through me. My hands slide up to his face, cradling him, and I kiss him softly, slowly, letting the moment stretch and settle around us.
“You’re perfect,” he murmurs against my lips, his hands beginning to guide my movements.
I want to speak.
To tell him he is perfect for me too, that I feel everything he feels for me, or even more, but it’s too much.
Too much need, too much pleasure, too many emotions.
It’s too much and not enough all at once.
With every movement of mine, the need in both of us burns hotter, my body arching instinctively as I search for more, for release, for him.
My movements quicken, and he follows, meeting my pace with low groans that reverberate through my entire body.
“Fuck,” he murmurs, his voice rough and ragged. “That’s it, love. Take it. Take what you need.”
“You. I need you.”
“I’m yours, baby. Have me.”
His words ignite something primal in me, pushing me closer to the edge.
My fingers dig into his shoulders as I ride him harder, my breath coming in short, desperate gasps while my neck is still between his fingers. The friction, the heat, the way his hand guides me, it’s all-consuming, and I feel myself spiraling toward the climax.
“You’re so close,” he murmurs, “I can feel it.” His lips brushing against my ear now, his voice a mix of command and encouragement. “Come for me. I want to feel it, I want to feel every bit of you.”
The raw need in his voice sends me over the edge, and my body shudders, a wave of pleasure crashing over me so intensely that I cry out, my fingers clutching at him as if he’s the only thing tethering me to the earth.
“That’s my girl,” he whispers, his voice hoarse but full of pride and something deeper, something that makes my chest tighten and my heart race even faster.
His body keeps moving while his lips pressed soft, reverent kisses against my neck and shoulder just before he bites me hard.
As the aftershocks pulse through me, I feel him tense more beneath me, his breath hitching as his hands tighten on my hips. He lets out a low, guttural moan, his head falling back as he surrenders to his release.
The sound of him, the raw vulnerability in that moment, sends another shiver through my spine.
His body trembles against mine, the heat of him filling me for a moment, neither of us moves, the world narrowing to just this, our bodies entwined, our breaths mingling, the warmth of his arms around me as we come down together.
I collapse against him, my forehead resting on his shoulder, and his scent enveloping me.
His arms always wrapped around me, pulled me closer, and we just breathed together, our hearts beating in sync.
“Are you okay?” he asks softly.
I nod, my breath still uneven as I whisper, “Don’t leave me.”
“Never again,” he replies, chuckling softly and pressing a lingering kiss to my temple.
His heat settles over me, wrapping around my heart, and as the night holds us in its quiet embrace, I let myself believe, just for a moment, that this is where I’m meant to be, so I can’t not have him.
Never again.
* * *