Granted

Pt 1.

After several shots of Grants, which had started as a confidence booster, for both of them actually, she was feeling a bit flushed, more giggly and definitely more self-assured. She eyed him shyly,and he eyed her back, teasingly. His eyes kept darting towards the tattoo on her thigh and somehow, she sensed what was was translated in them behind those glasses of his.

She had not been sure how this would go when she had shot her shot. She had had her eyes on him for months, and when for the most part she had felt almost invisible to him, she was always glad of any encounter she got to have with him. No matter how brief. Sometimes she liked to build castles in the air, with all kinds of fantasies giving her wings, enabling her to remain for hours on cloud nine. And now he was here.

They had talked about nothing in particular when he had first arrived in her small, cosy house. But now they joked and laughed, with her throwing her head back to chuckle at his playful retorts. The occasional longer than usual, but just brief enough, stares from him sent little shock waves down her center and she shifted her legs in a weak attempt to calm her mind down to good behavior.

“Another shot.”

He said in a ‘no argument about that, please’ tone and she scooted closer to pass her glass to him. She could smell his deodorant and she was take aback by how that seemed to turn her on even more. She had sat close to him in other environments but had never caught a whiff of his scent before. Her nostrils widened a bit more, to inhale his sweetness, which seemed to directly communicate to her little lady who did little nods of her own in approval and appreciation. Damn! How she wanted to lean just an inch more and ravage on his lips; she almost moaned out load with want and need.

They bottom-uped their drinks and she had to twist her face as hers burned down her throat. Just as she was recovering from the horror that is whiskey, she felt his hand on her thigh, which erased all the cussing she had been doing in her head to cope with the burning after taste. She sighed internally with desire fizzing up in her like a shaken bottle of champagne. She wanted to remain calm and casual, but dammit hadn’t she played this in her head more than enough. Every time being so bitter sweet she almost wailed in frustration. Like edging and edging but being interrupted right before the explosion!

She looked at him daringly, seductively, encouragingly. Wanting him to know that she wanted this. Right there, right then. Letting him know that she was no lady who wanted to take things slow. She was a woman. She wanted him beside her, inside her, all flesh and bone. She wanted to feel his hands on her. She wanted to feel his heartbeat against hers. She wanted him then, and she knew she would want him again.

At this exact moment though, she did not want the sex just yet. She wanted the things that would lead up to it. The slow kissing, then the passionate kissing. The pulling closer with his palm on the small of her back. The neck kisses and then the back to her lips fervent kisses. She needed the lip biting and the heavy breathing. The grabbing and the grinding. She wanted to feel his hard body pressed longingly against her delicate female form. She wanted his hand to moved untold along her bare thighs and find their way in her pulsating core. She wanted him to feel every part of her. Little moans escaped her, propelling him to pull her closer, as though there was any space left between them. As if he wanted them to merge into one. As if he needed her to understand him in the way he could not express in words.

Just in perfect sync, they broke off each other, their foreheads and every other part of them still against each other except their lips; pausing to catch their breath. Feeling each other’s unspoken words.