Page 5 of All the Promises We Break

The tension that’s been radiating out of her as fear morphs into sexual tension that has magnetized between us since our first glance. I haven’t been given the green light to be with her again, but I have to trust my body. What my body is telling me I need right now is her.

We’re usually expressive in a wild intensity that would rival an active volcano. My being wants to give her that, but I also know I’m not physically ready for it. We need a new subtle boil for the moment that will evaporate the need we have for each other right now.

My body casts a shadow over her. I feel like I dwarf Dylan for the first time ever in our relationship. She’s always been bolder, braver. I like that. I crave it in fact. When she’s at her strongestis when I’m happiest. My lips mold and blend with hers. There’s the slightest tremble from them.

My feather kisses begin to take a marked turn. I want her to feel in control. I want her to take control back. I push her toward the flames.Respond, Viper. Strike.

Her breathing stops for just a second. I can feel the internal struggle she’s battling. “For the second time today, don’t let fear win, Dylan.”

I hear her inhale and as she does, she rises to her knees. Her delicate hands wrap my jawline. She pulls me in closer to her. Our bodies meet. I can feel the heat from my girl begin to rise, even through my T-shirt she’s now claimed as hers.

As our lips wage war with each other, my hands slip to her hips. They splay out over her hip bones. Dylan moans softly as my hands possess her skin in a way it’s been too long since the last time. The last time was at the gala. We were in hiding then. Now she’s officially mine.

Her hands move to trail over every bump of my spine. The lower she goes the more my need grows. Dylan knows this. She slides her fingers around the waistband on my sleep pants. Every muscle in my torso contracts. She gives me a gentle shove. I know exactly what she wants.

My back lowers to the opposite end of the couch. I pile the pillows beneath my head and neck so I have an easier time watching her. She pulls the remote for the sound system from a secret location and presses the power button. The soft yet powerful voice of Bono fills the room. “One” has long been a favorite of mine, not only for the music but the lyrics. It’s about to have a whole new beat beneath it.

Dylan gives me a smile unlike any I’ve seen lately. The woman who woke in fear is now looking at me fearlessly. That look is wholly erotic and one I will never get enough of. She wraps thehem of the cotton T-shirt coating her body with her hands, lifts it over her head, triumphantly tossing it to the ground.

Her hair lies like bands of blonde silk over her shoulders and down her back. Dylan’s body gravitates toward mine with a kiss just above my navel. She winds her fingers into the drawstrings on my pants and tugs. “A little help, please.”

My heels press into the cushions on either side of my beautiful fiancée and my backside rises just enough so she can tug the fabric around my waist free. The bite of the elastic over my skin only enhances my need for her. I watch Dylan as she seems to be in a glorious slow motion. Over my right foot first, then the left, is only a precursor to the floor next to my, or should I say her, T-shirt.

She slides her hand under my right thigh, placing it with gentle desire away from the pillows along the back edge of the couch so she can slither farther up my body. The weight of her straddles my hips. I want to touch her. Ineedto touch her. As I reach up to feel the softness of her skin, she wraps her fingers around my wrists and presses them above my head. “Not fair, Viper,” I whisper in protest.

“I will let you at a time I choose. Remember my toenail painting party?”

The memory from our trip to Vermont washes back in various shades of pink: the one I painted on her toes, the one on her parted lips as mine feasted on her body, and especially the one that brushed up against her skin. “Vividly.”

“Let me give it to you like that in return.”

“I’m more of a pale purple than pink.”

She smacks my hip but more of her hand vibrates off the portion of my left ass cheek, peeking out from just beyond my sight. I inhale deep. That wasn’t something I expected or expected to like, but I did. “Did I hurt you?” she asks.

“Not in a way I minded. I’ve missed Viper in technicolor.”

“Good.”

She rises up off my thighs. Her eyes never leave mine. I see a slight moment of hesitation before she slides down, taking me all the way to my root. We both exhale in unison at the feeling of our connection. We’ve been through so much individually, and together, that this intimate act is one of releasing fear and recommitting to each other in a way that brought us together in the first place.

With the first roll of her hips, my hands clench into fists. She rests her right hand in the center of my chest as her left arm drapes over the pillows beside us. Each slow wave of her body makes me only want to touch her more. She doesn’t ask for much ever. She’s asked I don’t touch her until she says I should. I didn’t realize how hard that would become.

I twist bundled strands of my own hair with my fingers. I’m praying that these tethers will hold strong until I’m given the words to set me free. My groans stay quiet. The only thing I really want to hear is her. I want to remember every bit of motion, every breath, every single noise she makes.

This is the best bit of choreography she’s ever crafted. Her fingers rise and fall over my skin. She pulls her weight back and then lets it ride forward. I can feel myself shake from the inside out. Dylan has a way of possessing me that I didn’t know was possible.

She reaches up with her left hand, holding my wrists still. The perfect pink of her nipples drag across my chest. Dylan drives me so deep inside her we’re no longer two bodies. We’re one.

My lips drag across her cheek. I drink in the taste. “Let me touch you, Viper. Don’t make me beg.”

The most wicked of smiles crosses her mouth. She slides her hand from my chest and grips my chin in its palm. After giving it a biting squeeze, she teases me with a nibble of my ear as her hand joins the other, weaving our fingers together.

That small touch gives me a bit of leverage. I rotate her arms behind her back in my own personal handcuffs. Her core is her strength. She battles my will with every roll of her hips. She owns me. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I open my fingers enough to have her show me her next trick. She flattens my hands over her lower back as she straightens up. Instantly, I grip her hips and arch my body skyward. The slight lift rates a sexy whimper. “More,” she begs. I will never say no to her.

Our souls have been crying out for this connection and there is no way we will give in until we’ve reached a pinnacle. Like all the great duets in music and dance, we give each other the space to lead but also to battle. We began in a race to tease. Now we’re in a race to finish.

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