Five-Thirty AM - XXXVII

‘Noel, what’re you doing?’ she asked nervously. Anyone could come up to the roof at any point. ‘Someone might come in,’ she pointed out.

He didn’t answer, just moved in close to her, and wrapped his arms around her. ‘Let them,’ he whispered, before bringing his lips down to hers in a hard, passionate no-holds-barred kiss.

They kissed like they were starved, hands, mouths, tongues, lips, searching and finding skin to lavish attention on. They drew back for air. Noel stepped back. His eyes were glowing with need, desire flaming on his cheeks. She drew a deep breath.

She met his gaze, saw the question in it. She smiled a slight smile, a Mona Lisa smile, and nodded briefly. She was ready.

So was he. Now more than ever. He smiled back at her.

Now was their time.

He took her hand and led her downstairs through the quiet dimly lit house to his room. It was in shadows, the only light coming from a bedside lamp. He showed her in, holding her eyes with his, all the while. The door closed behind them, and he locked it.

They looked at each other, standing there apart, she by the bed, he by the door. His face softened, his eyes caressing every inch of her, as he slowly moved forwards, his fingers lazily unbuttoning his shirt. She stood her ground watching him, only her deepened breathing giving away what this slow strip tease was doing to her. He dropped the shirt, his rippling muscles outlined in shadows and warm light, the phoenix beckoning her fingers.

She reached out a hand to touch it and he caught it with a slight shake of his hand.

Why not? her eyes asked.

He looked at her shirt. Your turn, his eyes said.

She undid the buttons on her shirt, eyes lowered and like him, eking out the moment for all it was worth, her arms limply dropping the shirt to the floor, before raising her eyes to his.

He shook his head. Not done yet, his eyes glittered with mischief and arousal.

More? her eyes questioned.

His raised eyebrow indicated the chemise she still had on.

She closed her eyes, feeling inexplicably shy, since he’d already seen her in much, much less. She caught the hem of the silky material and pulled it off over her head. He caught his breath. Her curves were in shadows, her breasts encased in a lace-edged white bra. He searched for the silver naval ring, barely visible in the darkness. He turned her around, standing in front of her, the light falling on her so he could see her clearly.

She opened her eyes, and looked at him, the angles and planes of his face slashed by the diffused light, his big body a dark mass that she wanted to reach out and touch.

He shook his head again, looking at the bra. She turned around, head bent in shyness, as she reached around her to unhook her bra. Her trembling hands gave her away.

He understood. It was her first time. He gently moved her hands away, unhooking it himself, feeling the tension come off the straps as he gently slid it off her shoulders, dropping it where it fell.

He traced the back of his fingers down her spine, watching as she jerked her back at the first touch, her shoulder blades moving delicately under the skin. He felt every indentation, every bump, fascinated by each one of them. He felt her shudder, saw her hands close into tiny fists. He sat down, drawing her back, till she stood between his legs, her back to him.

He held her left fist in his, his right following the curve of her back up, his mouth following it, leaving little embers burning on her skin, as he found every nook and cranny in her spine. He slowly pulled her down into his lap, till she was sitting on him, bending her forward.

He moved her hair, pushing it over her shoulder, following the waves of it, brushing against her skin, until his arms came around and finally cupped her breasts.

She gasped. His lips came down on her shoulder, licking it, tasting the ocean on her skin, his fingers teasing her nipples as they puckered for him. Her hands came up on top of his, pressing down on herself. She didn’t know what she wanted him to do. All she wanted was for him to release this coiled tension inside her that was threatening to break her in two. He squeezed her breasts as his mouth traveled up her neck. Her head fell back, he licked her jawline, she turned her head then, meeting his lips with a need that was threatening to burst the dams. Her bare calves rubbed against his rough bare legs, searching for relief, release.

His hands slid down over the concave curves of her stomach, finding the buttons and the zip to her shorts, undoing them. She gasped into his mouth, as they rocked together, his hand finding its way inside her tight waistband, unerringly seeking out that hottest part of her. His finger flicked against her slick wetness, and she almost came off his lap with a soft cry, only his arm wrapped tightly around her holding her in place.

He took his hand out, trailing her wetness on her skin, going to the waistband of her shorts, and slowly peeling them away. It was his turn to gasp! All she had on was a pair of tiny white thongs under the pants, he realized. She was shuddering now, shaking with need as his large fingers dug into her hips, pulling her forward, and his lips found the bottom of her spine, bending her forward, traveling lower, his hands digging and finding the firm softness of her buttocks.

How Mitul got the strength she never knew, but in one swift move, she was off his lap, and diving under the covers.

He looked at her, his eyes questioning. She sat up looking at the large figure looming in front of her, the slightly loose fit of the shorts doing nothing to hide his full arousal.

She looked at him pleadingly, one hand holding the duvet to her chest, her hair tumbling around her shoulders. He grinned then, an evil, wolfish grin, got up and turned away.

‘Where are you going?’ the low, deep voice shivered through him. He dug through his bag, till he found it. He came back to the bed, and quickly got rid of the shorts, and stood before her in his boxers. He placed the box on the night stand and got into bed beside her, putting an arm around her and drawing her close.

‘Protection,’ he said.

‘I,’ she swallowed. ‘I took it already,’ her face flamed.

‘Since when?’ he drew back, to look into her face.

‘That Sunday,’ she buried her face in his neck. ‘Do you mind?’

He shook his head, amazed at her. Amazed that she had thought about this. About them. That she’d wanted this to be her first time. Her first time, she wanted her first time to be with him! He was humbled as always, by her. She was protecting him and here he was thinking about protecting her. He almost chuckled at that.

She smiled at the look on his face.

‘Why?’ he asked instead, dropping a kiss on her.

‘Because it feels right with you.’

‘And it’ll only be me from now on,’ he promised her, lifting her face to look at it. ‘Because that’s how its meant to be,’ he swore.

He examined each feature of her face closely, seeing his image reflected in her eyes, knowing she was reflected in his. He opened his mouth, inviting her to kiss him, she brought her lips to his, half on top of him, the sensitive tips of her nipples finding the abrasion of his chest delicious. He could feel her navel ring against his abs, although his hands were full of her delectable bottoms, that metal piece in between them was making his arousal harder, bigger. He nudged her legs apart sighing as he felt her wetness where it was needed most.

Slowly he rolled her over, bringing her completely under him. His eyes held hers as his hands found the string like waistband of her thongs, hooking under them, and peeling them away. His lips came down on hers, kissing her deeply. It was a kiss from his soul. He needed her to feel it, needed her to know, nothing would be between them again, and as his tongue delved into her mouth, his finger entered her. She jerked her hips at that, and his thumb soothed her nub. Slowly he moved his fingers, sliding them into and out of her, the thumb continuing to soothe her and heat her at the same time. He kissed her again, before sliding a second finger in. Her hips followed the rhythm his tongue and fingers set. She was clutching at his biceps, spiraling out of control. He slid across her body, his fingers plucking her nipples like a harp, as his mouth found the naval ring. He tugged at it, feeling her fingers dig into his arms. His tongue tasted the unique cinnamon and chocolate taste of her skin. He could sense the three pronged attack was sending her over the edge. He quickly removed his boxers, barely stopping what he was doing, panting with the effort to keep in control. Her legs were bent at the knees now, scissoring over his back. Just a little more, he groaned against her skin. He lifted his head to whisper against her skin, ‘come to me, baby,’

And she came, shuddering, holding on to his shoulders, as he pulled his fingers out and slid himself into her, the initial pain wiped out in the sensations that were quaking through her. He gasped as she convulsed around him, holding her close until she slowed down. Her body was limp as she felt him inside her for the very first time. She was still shaking from the aftershocks when he began moving inside her, a little deeper each time, feeling her start to accommodate him, almost drowning in her tightness, and the red-hot wet heat around his most sensitive part. He felt the friction from each fold inside her, shooting up his spine, yet he held back, waiting till she was ready, not pushing it, not pushing into her, just waiting, his head buried in her neck, her fingers holding onto his hair, hips still rocking gently and drawing away, waiting for her to join him.

And then he felt it. The change in her, the slow rocking of her hips, coming up to meet his, welcoming him home. And so the tempo built. The dance commenced, as she learnt the steps, whispering his name. Faster and faster went the steps, whirling, slowing, tossing them up again, higher and higher, until the incandescence burned them up, arms and legs and hands and mouth tangled, holding on, crying out for each other, until the fire died down, sated for the time being.

They lay there, their bodies slick with sweat, exchanging sweet kisses in exhaustion. Their eyes finally fluttered close as he turned off the light. The last thing Noel thought of before he fell asleep was, how sweet the word ‘Noel’ sounded in two drawn out syllables uttered in a raspy deep voice. He slept with a smile on his lips, the smell of her around him, his arms filled with the woman of his dreams.

*****

Sometime in the night, he woke up, an unusual warmth wrapped around him. Her head lay on his shoulder, her face nuzzled on his chest. He turned on the light to better look at her. She looked so beautiful asleep, and he could feel the first stirrings of desire simply by looking at her.

She frowned in her sleep, and slowly blinked her eyes open, frowning at the phoenix on his chest. Her hand came up and touched it, tracing every line on it. He lay still watching her, breathing lightly as her fingers traced it through. He watched in amazement, as tears pooled in her eyes. A finger under her chin raised her face. His thumb traced the path of the tear wiping it away.

‘What?’ he asked her. Somewhere along the line, they’d learnt the art of communicating with little or no words.

‘You could have died,’ she whispered. ‘And I would’ve missed you in my life.’

He cradled her head, bringing her close, his other hand drawing lazy circles on her back, as he softly and gently kissed her forehead.

‘I had to find you first,’ he whispered back. ‘How could I die without knowing you?’

He bent down to kiss her, softly, tenderly, a kiss full of warmth and passion. He pushed the pillows up against the headboard and sat up leaning back, and drawing her to his chest. The covers fell to their waist, he raised his knee up, while she curled up her legs under her.

‘Mitul,’ he looked down at her downy head under his chin.

‘Mmm?’ She drew back and looked at him.

He dropped a kiss on the mole next to her lip. ‘I love you,’ he said.

She smiled running her fingers over his face, her head still on his shoulder. Dipping her fingers into his mouth, her smile growing delightedly as he sucked each finger she placed in his mouth. His arms were around her waist as she sat up now, facing him, in the dim light of the lamp, looking like a pagan goddess, naked and beautiful, unconsciously proud, her back straight - all gold and brown. He couldn’t help it, he was getting aroused just looking at her. His hot gaze took in the gold chain around her neck, the delicate lines of her collarbone, the sensuous curves of her breasts, the dark aureoles beckoning him, the tips tilted proudly upwards, the faint glint of that dammed silver naval ring.

‘I was right,’ his husky voice interrupted her examination of his face.

She raised an eyebrow and followed his gaze, looking down at herself. ‘What about?’ she asked puzzled.

‘You are chocolate and cinnamon,’ he grinned raising his eyes to hers. ‘You look like it and you taste like it.’

‘And you, sir, are shameless,’ she swatted at him.

‘Shamelessly addicted to you,’ he replied, holding the hand she’d brought up to swat at him. He placed it on his chest, inviting her to go ahead and explore. He sat up straight, the six pack of his abs coiling with the movement, each ridge and valley becoming more defined, bringing him closer to her. She placed both her hands on his chest, trailing them softly over it. Finding each hard muscle under the skin. She looked at his nipples, licking her lips as her fingers trailed over them. His hand came up and cupped a breast, his palm lightly rubbing against the hardening tip. Her eyes flew up to his.

She placed a palm over one nipple and lightly imitated what he did to her. His sharply indrawn breath told her she was doing something right. She pressed down lightly on both his nipples and then leaned forward to lick one. She wanted to taste what he felt like. He held still allowing her to do what she wanted to him, to know that his body was hers, to do as she willed. His everything was hers. He waited as his goddess pulled one nipple into her mouth. His hand tightened on her breast, as he pulled it, tugged on the nipple with his fingers. She leaned over him, to kiss his other nipple, as his hand slid from her hip to her thigh, pulling her leg across him, till she was sitting on his lap, his throbbing erection between them. He caught his breath as one of her tiny hands made its way down, flitting over the moulded abs, and finally stopped, feeling the satiny skin of his abdomen. He held her hand and put it on him, and a groan escaped from deep in his throat as her fingers closed around it. He showed her what he wanted, moving her hand with his, as he felt her wetness seep onto his thighs. He wrapped her hair in his hands, looking deep into her eyes, before bringing his lips down on hers. Their tongues meshed, danced, tortured each other.

He lifted her up, her hand still on him, guiding him into her, their moans mingling into each other as he was sheathed fully inside her. He showed her the rhythm. She learnt fast, clinging to his neck, moving to his beat, her head thrown back, riding him, as he buried his face between her breasts, his arms wrapped around her. His lips searched and found a nipple, sucking it now, hard, and she moved faster on him, controlling him, controlling them. Until she went out of control, biting down into his neck, as she finally reached her release, clamping down hard on him, shuddering in his arms, the only thing anchoring her. And he joined her then, his hoarse, ‘Mitul’ filling her ears and heart with joy.

*****