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Bed Poetry

Declan

I lifted her and carried her over to the bed, muttering a curse when she wrapped her legs around me, hell yes . I was back on her lips, tasting every drop of their sweetness as my knees hit the mattress and a second later, I was stretched out over her.

“Is this okay?” I asked, lifting my mouth just enough to lower it to her neck.

I was oddly into the smooth column of her throat, that graceful strip of skin that smelled like sweets and tasted like promise.

I’d decorated it with chocolate diamonds at the jewelry event, and I was no less entranced than I’d been that night.

My tongue was everywhere and I was a mess, an unhinged man whose only focus was the soft skin laid out in front of him.

I wanted to pen poetry about the slide of my tongue against the slip of her skin.

“ Yes ,” she said on a hot breath, driving her hands into my hair and holding my head in place as I dragged my teeth over her. There was a shake to my fingers as I inhaled the scent of her clean skin, and a shiver rocked down my spine as she slid her feet up the mattress and arched her back.

“Kill me, Mariano,” I said, raising my head to look into her eyes. “You fucking kill me, honey.”

She looked up at me through heavy-lidded eyes that humbled me, because I didn’t deserve a look like that, and I was no longer capable of going slow. I grasped her towel and pulled it loose from her body .

My hands trailed all over her skin, dipping and sliding, tracing and teasing, and my mouth followed, doing everything possible to make her writhe and arch.

I was sick with the need to draw out every moan, distracted by the trembling in her legs, obsessed with the way she whispered my name over and over as she got close.

And the way she cursed when she was there?

It was intoxicating, a high like I’d never experienced.

I was blackout drunk on her body and had no plans to sober up anytime soon.

I kissed my way back to her mouth, capturing sighs on the way, but the breath in my lungs got a little stuck when I returned to kiss her slightly swollen lips.

Because the sight of her face made it hard to breathe.

Her eyes were closed, her hair a damp curtain on the pillow, and it pinched my heart, how beautiful she was.

The sight of her soft face stung my eyes and my throat, and I might’ve broken down and started speaking in poetic tongues if she hadn’t chosen that very moment to reach for the button of my jeans with her very capable hands.

I sucked in a breath and froze, every muscle in my body becoming stone as those very capable hands touched me.

It was the sweetest torture, holy shit .

She opened her eyes, blinding me with hot amber orbs, and it was over.

We exploded into action, moving fast, a mad rush of hands and limbs and wrappers and frenzied kisses until I was over her, panting, swallowing down emotions I couldn’t express as I met her eyes.

Do you feel this, too?

Are you as terrified as I am?

Can you kiss me for the rest of your life?

I swallowed again and managed, “Are we good here, Mariano?”