Fire and Brimstone

Long hair hangs about my face and chest; piercing eyes of brown or hazel or grey, I’m

not sure which; milky pale skin, smooth to the touch; a smile that stings and unnerves me, as if she sees through the armor in which I’ve so carefully girded myself, as if she understands that which I cannot give voice. My gaze wanders to her chest, but with a single finger, she lifts my gaze back to hers and presses her soft lips against mine. She smells of vanilla and cinnamon. The tip of her tongue slides along my lips and I can’t help but open my mouth to allow her access. Her fingers run through my hair, grab my hair, yank back my head. I open my eyes and take in her face, smiling and dangerous, before her lips return and her tongue forces its way into my mouth, making circles around mine. I moan as her hands drop to my chest, working the tips between her fingers, my spark fanned to a blaze. She giggles behind the kiss and eases into me, her chest against mine as we fall back. I let out a deep, slow breath as her warm fingers probe deeply, my body and soul aching to be taken, mutilated, released. She slides them over me slowly, aware of her beautiful torture. In and out, left and right, they move. But before long, before the rush of climax, she puts herself above me, slides her tongue along the outline of my jaw, and then down my neck, between my breasts, and below my navel. I am frozen with anticipation and the thrill of her desire, her consuming hunger for me. All I can do is breathe until her tongue dances against me and then I am hers completely.