Page 66 of The River in Spring
All I can do is try to take this one step at a time. Don’t live it before it happens. I’ve told myself that all day. So far it hasn’t stuck beyond the time it took to think. Consequently, I die a hundred deaths, like all cowards do. To erase the thought, I kiss the top of her head and hold her closer.
She meets my gaze.
“I’m bad with words right now, Dove. I hope you’re good at reading eyes.”
I don’t wait for the answer. It’s difficult to stop thinking of the real possibility I’m about to lose her. The reality sucks. She doesn’t know how slow the moments go when we are apart. If we end up living in different places permanently, time will stop.
“Kiss me,” she says softly.
We come together gently at first. Her silky skin. Blonde hair falling over my chest and shoulders. The sweet breath and taste of her mouth. The shape of her breasts. I try to memorize it all. To make some facsimile in my mind, that can be called up at will when I don’t have her next to me. When she becomes the world’s pleasure and not mine. But tonight’s for us. I throw off the covers.
“I’m going to give you a massage. Roll on your stomach.”
“Oh, yes please. Want to put a towel down?”
“No. I don’t care if it stains the sheets.”
“Let’s have music,” she says. “Alexa! Play Dove’s playlist.”
The smooth sounds of Chris Botti’s trumpet sets a mood. “What Are You Doing the Rest of Your Life?” Seems weirdly appropriate.
“Now just relax.”
Lifting her long hair she tucks it over a shoulder. Giving me an all access pass. I take the bottle of oil and squeeze it over her back, between her shoulder blades and down her spine. My hands begin a subtly sensuous journey starting at the shoulders and neck. Kneading soft flesh in a slow steady rhythm.
“That feels sooo good,” she says, face to pillow.
I wish she could feel what she does to me. It’s fucking unbelievable.
I move to her beautiful arms, taking a journey up and down the length of them. After a while the tension starts to release and her hands relax. Sliding over the shoulder, then round and around, my fingers reach toward her breast. A little closer each time. I take her wrist and gently bend the arm behind her back at the waist. Now I lift the shoulder and reach for the mound of a perfect breast, letting my hand cup and massage the entire orb.
With each pass I linger longer on the nipple, tickling it at first, flicking the tip. Pinching. It’s hot that she likes it.
“Baby.” Her voice is low and sounds like desire.
My dick responds by standing. I give it a few strokes, even though it makes not mounting her torture.
One beautiful brown eye opens. “Do all your customers get this treatment?”
“You’re my only client. You get all the treatments.”
“You’re going to get a huge tip for that.”
“You’re going to get a huge tip for this,” I say, pulling on an aroused nipple.
She giggles, and it makes me harder. I move to the other shoulder and breast. Nipple. Nipple. Nipple. I could fucking come playing with her tits. I’m hard as fuck. With hands on her narrow waist, I press my palms into her lower back and move up and out. Over again. More.
“Ahhh.”
I go lower. What a great ass. It rises with my touch, like she is offering a gift. I want her to wait for it. To feel the pull. Yeah. I want her to fucking want it. I’m gonna fuck that. That ass and pussy is a fuckin’ feast.
“Let me see!”
Legs spread with the command. The woman is a mistress when it comes to the tease. As master, I’m going to return the favor. With each movement I’m a millimeter closer to the holy land. Fingers finding buried treasure. I want to smell that thing. Smell her sex on my mouth. Just the thought sends a bolt to my balls.
I bury my face in between silky legs and breath in the scent of her. It makes me want to come. She knows what I’m doing and likes it. There is this rawness to the woman. I love that she is so open. Makes me want to fuck her all day long.
The pink lips. They’re calling me. Oh yeah there’s the clit. It’s peeking out of the hood. Sucking that tiny center of the universe gets me hard. Even her asshole is asking for attention. It’s sitting there daring me to finger it.
