Constance thought she could finally stop looking over her shoulder. She has a steady job as a hairstylist, rents a small apartment next door to her best friend, and keeps a routine that distracts her just enough to not have to dwell on her past.
All...
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Warning: some sexual themes ***
Did he kiss me first? When did we make it to the bed? How did I end up on top? Why is he looking at me so affectionately?
Who cares?
Luca used earnest, slow strokes to touch my body. I thought he would ravage me like a hungry man at a buffet but instead he exploded my senses with his careful taction and deep hums that escape his lips. His hard form turned velvety as I ran my hands over his impossibly sexy body. He let me take the lead and set the pace as I analyze every inch of him. The many scars that stretch over his skin, the dip and rise of each muscle. . .
Not wanting to waste any more time, I remove my shirt and reach back to unhook my bra. It took me a few seconds but when it was unclasped, Luca pulled the straps down my shoulders until it fell away, exposing my front.
His hooded eyes take in the view, patiently admiring my every curve. I'm nervous but I won't hide, not tonight.
He leans up and takes my mouth again passionately and rests his large hands on my breasts, tenderly kneading them. I sigh into his mouth enjoying this new, sweet, gentle side of Luca. He isn't treating me like a meaningless lay, more like a pricessless jewel. Never have I been held the way he holds me, kissed the way he's kissing me. Not once in all those years with Eli had I felt the way I do with Luca after only a few days.
I could learn to tolerate his mood swings if all nights were like this. I could love Luca.
Somehow I end up underneath his strong body, crushed between his solid body and the soft bedding as he tours my anatomy. He secures his lips on my skin and amorously streams light kisses from my jaw down to my stomach while his fingers play with the curve of my thigh. I get goosebumps every place he touches until he reaches my only scar.
Panic begins to take over, memories I try to push away start to surface. Luca's large hand takes a hold of mine and his lips plant a reassuring kiss on my palm. I don't know if he understands and I don't care. I want him to make love to my body, scars and all.
"Did. . did he do this?" Luca asks as he kisses the healed wound.
I look away from him, "I don't want to talk about that right now."
Really I don't want to speak of anything outside of this bedroom. I don't want to remember ever living before this monemt. I want Luca to make me forget, to kiss away the nightmares that follow me.
As if he could read my mind, he trailed steady, compassionate butterfly kisses over the scar, over the memories. Even though he knows nothing of my past, I feel valued and treasured in a way that makes me emotional. Luca, the homeless man I took in, the killer the police warned me of, the grouch who has little to say and even less if its nice, that Luca is making love to my body with just his lips and fingertips.
