And so he had brought the drinks to her table himself, setting them down on the table before her, then taking a seat. He had yearned to skip the drinks, step in behind her, and run his mouth along the side of her neck. He’d wanted to taste her again, to run his hands over her body the ways she loved, to tug her back to him and kiss her in a storm of released hungers. He knew that dress. He knew the snap at the nape of her neck that would release the straps running up from the arms, over bare shoulders, and fastening above a bared back. He knew the feel of her breasts and stomach on his hands when he had once released those straps and let the black fabric fall…
He needed to sit a moment before he could catch his breath enough to voice a greeting. “It’s good to see you.”
Her lips curled upward demurely. It was a modesty betrayed by the look that flared in her eyes: *Take me. NOW.* Unvoiced, but spoken so clearly without words. Unspoken, except in the heat of past evenings when the words had come as clearly from her lips as anything he had ever heard her say. Anything she had ever demanded. As clearly as she spoke now: “It’s good to see you, too.”
They talked then. The noise of the people about them had served as a constant reminder of where they were, or, rather, where they were not. Not alone. They talked of where she’d been, what she’d done. They talked of how things had been at the bar, the mundane particulars of running the business, and of ordinary happenings in each other’s lives. But even in those ordinary words, there was a current running between them. It was if he reached out to touch her, to feel the back of her hand, an arc of electricity would span the distance before they even touched.
And so he spoke with her, gazed upon her, until the hour grew late, bar patrons slowly tricked out, and her foot brushed his leg. That very touch brought the hard, raw image spearing into his mind of her heels pushing into the small of his back as her thighs squeezed him, gripped him, pushed him deeper into her. His eyes flared at hers, and he could tell she saw it. The edges of her mouth curled upwards near imperceptibly, and her next words were almost a purr:
“How’s your memory these days?”
“Oh…” he took a sip from his drink to stifle a moan. “Very vivid, I think. And yours?”
Her tongue slid across her lips, slowly. He decided the bar wasn’t likely lit well enough for anyone to notice her stockinged foot pressing its way along his inner thigh. When she slid it higher, pressing along the length of desire that pulsed hot for her, and he decided even if it were lit well enough, he didn’t care.
“I remember some things quite well,” she said finally. “Some things I call to mind when in my bed, at night. Alone.” Her foot pressed. Stroked. “But memories can only serve a woman so much.”
She was driving him crazy, and he knew–from those nights of learning her body, her mind, her desires–he knew that making him want her only served to heat her more and more. They were so alike, he thought. Each fed off of the other’s pleasure like vampires of desire. But he wasn’t going to let her take complete control. Not yet.
He slid his hand down over her foot, pressing it closer to him as his palm glided down over her toes, her ankle… He took her foot in both hands, rubbing along the arch as he watched her. Darkness crept into his eyes–that same darkness that filled them when she had made him growl, made him want her, made him shove her down to her bedroom rug and take her like an animal when she had cried out for more.
Her eyes wavered, lost in some private moment as her breath drew in, shaky and slow. She was savoring, he knew. His palm stroked her heel, rounded over it, kneading and touching. Now it was his turn to grin. He could see what it was doing to her, clear as if he could see the heat rising from her body. She edged forward in her chair, and in the low light of the bar, gave the calf of her leg into his hands. He felt the muscle, the skin beneath the silk, hungry to touch her. He watched her eyes close, watched her head fall back…
He’d have given anything for the bar to be empty then. He saw her in his mind’s eye, a night from the past, letting her head fall back as she had just done. He remembered the way her voice sounded, coming low and deep, rich with pleasure and cresting in gasps when his mouth had made its slow journey across her. He wanted that again, wanted her again, so fiercely.
Her head lifted back, eyes opened, mirroring his need in their depths. Her lips parted, and he felt her draw that next breath over them. When her teeth slowly bit the tail end of that breath, the rush that tore through his body had him struggling against the urgency of his need to have her.
Low in her throat, she growled…
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/sejzng/reunion_part_1_mf
Awesome start!
!subscribeme