He greets me with my favorite flowers (peonies) and champagne. Flowers that no other man has placed in my hands. Real champagne. He smiles at my response, telling me I deserve them, enveloping me in the kind of hug that fills my body and heart.
As I fuss with the flowers at the sink he comes up behind me to brush the hair off the back of my neck and kiss me, first tenderly then with increasing pressure as he buries his mouth in that sensitive spot behind my left ear, I feel his hot breath, and he grabs a hipbone in each hand with a groan.
I can barely get the flowers in the vase.
I turn around and we kiss – the kiss of lips long known to each other. He presses me against the counter and I can feel his hardness through his jeans.
His right hands slides from my hip to the back of my neck. He holds it firmly as he kisses me. A move known by few but which should be in every man’s repertoire.
We break apart to talk about work and family but before long he is pulling me by the hand to take me upstairs.
Standing face to face I have to tilt my face up to kiss him. I slowly unbutton his shirt to get my hands on his furry strong chest. “Oh god Ann, I miss your touch.” I relieve him of his shirt, and he removes my clothes to discover a strapless black lace bodysuit. He loves the snaps at the crotch. The bodysuit stays on.
I know what else he misses so slowly lower myself to my knees, kissing as I go. I tease my tongue along the waistband of his jeans. Looking up and smiling, I unbuckle his belt and take my time with his button fly.
I know he’s chosen his boxers for me and I murmur my approval as my fingers play with the growing shape within. His pants, boxers, and socks are deftly removed with one motion.
Soon after I make him feel like a goddamn rock star: I’m worshiping his cock. But my still-recovering ankle won’t let me stay in that position for long so we move so he’s sitting on the bench at the foot of my bed, and I kneel between his legs. We each love the view this provides. Every time I look up at him, over my dark-rimmed glasses, he is looking intently back at me with his dark brown eyes.
“You’re so beautiful, especially with a cock in your mouth….well, with my cock in your mouth” he says, and he can feel me smile at the joke. I tease and lick and suck and ensure I take his balls in my mouth as well: I know how much he likes that.
He can’t take any more and sits up, lifting me by the shoulders and steering me to the bed. He gently pushes me back and I bounce off the sheets.
And it begins.
He takes his time between my legs, and my orgasms start. He’s gotten so much better at oral. since we first met. He takes him time and knows how to find the right spots, how to keep going even when I squirm, and how to add his fingers to better effect.
When he pulls himself on top of me, entering me with a smooth motion, I gasp. I think I always do with him; he commented once how much he loves to hear the little noises I make. He slides one arm under my shoulder-blade so his hand is beneath my neck, cradling it. It keeps us close. He bites my shoulders, hard. All the time we are moving together in sync, my hand on his waist and the other on his ass. This is some seriously passionate sex.
We switch positions numerous times: my legs on his shoulders, him holding my legs in front of him, me on my knees with my face pressed into the bed, him behind me. But this time, we end the way we started, him looking down at me with the rhythm building until he can’t take it anymore.
Afterwards, as I lay in the crook of his arm, my fingers twisting themselves through his chest hair, I reflect wistfully how nice it would be to have this all of the time. To be able to wake up to him pulling me into him, his morning hardness against my ass, and to go to sleep with his warm body next to mine.
It’s midday and we have a glorious afternoon nap. It’s rare for both of us that we can sleep this way, intertwined together. He tells me he I’m the only person he’s ever been able to sleep with like this.
But then again, it’s all rare with him.