“Tell me what you feel,” he demands.
My mouth’s gone completely dry, so I have to swallow hard and wet my lips before I can speak. Even then, I don’t know how I manage, “I feel … good.”
“Good?” The smile in his voice burns so bright I can see it through my blindfold. “You can do better than … good.”
I search my feeble mind, grasping at words that will please him. I am nothing if I can’t please him. He’s made damn sure of it. “Your voice scratches across my skin like charcoal, and I am only what you sketch me to be. Your scent wraps around me like a winter’s night, making me long for the blanket of your skin, yet my body blazes from your withheld touch.”
“Very good,” he praises.
I imagine him standing over me, gazing down on me like he owns me because he does. He’s shirtless in only his faded button fly Wranglers. His dark skin glistening from the sweat of exertion, excitement dancing in his eyes like rays of sunlight on the sea, and his full lips beckoning me to kiss him. I squirm as much as I’m able. “I wish I could see you.”
“All in good time, little fighter,” he soothes. “You’re doing so well.”
Suddenly, his lips hover over mine, but I know better than to close the distance. “Kiss me,” he commands.
Hmm … my pleasure …
Copyright 2014 by Lynetta Halat. All rights reserved.