say has a dimple right there in the center.
Oh God! I love chin dimples . . .
"My turn, Presley," he whispers gently.
Okay, yeah . . . we share honesty except for names; but that's okay because Adam isn't his real name either. We both know this much.
I close my eyes, losing myself to his touch. I can feel the slightly calloused pads of his fingertips gently touching my face, in different places, tracing along my jaw line, before they lightly caress my cheeks. He slowly moves over my nose, and then ever so lightly brushes the arch of my brows, taking his time, letting out a sigh as he finishes.
"You're beautiful," he murmurs, huskily, and I can feel his warm breath against my skin as he says it. "You're fucking beautiful," he repeats.
He leaves my lips for last, slowing his exploration so that he touches every centimeter of them.
"I want to kiss them," he breathes and I feel my skin tingle in response.
"Go ahead," I murmur, keeping my eyes closed.
And I feel his soft, full lips claim my own very gently, with a calm and deliberate sensuality. I'm expecting rougher, more possessive kissing from him because that's what I'm used to with Hayden, but he doesn't. He has a totally different manner about him and I like it.
But it is foreign to me, so I'm not sure I can trust it.
"Relax," he instructs me, and I realize that I have grown tense and I'm not sure why. Am I cheating on Hayden? Is that even possible?
"Don't think about him," he says; his tone now brusque. "This is about you and me, nobody else, okay? We're both where we want to be, and for this moment in time, no one else exists but the two of us."
"I'm sorry," I stammer, feeling my face flush with a little bit of shame and a touch of embarrassment. He totally gets me, and not only that, but he's able to sense my unspoken emotions. He even recognizes that I have them. I want to clutch him closer to me, but I'm clueless as to how he might respond, or what he might think.
Will he feel my desperation?
Probably.
The truth is that I am desperate. Desperate to be held closely within his strong and safe arms, and to be cherished and loved--not just fucked at someone else's leisure.
That's what Hayden does. He fucks me; he doesn't make love to me. And I'm not saying that he doesn't fuck me well, because he does most of the time, but my orgasms (when I have them) are simply a coincidence; they're never a result of his expertise, or concerted effort on his part. It's all about him when we fuck.
And now it's no longer enough. It hasn't been since Adam and I first chatted in that room - that internet room called "Owners of a Lonely Heart."
Always on my guard, I hadn't opened up to him much at the start, but somewhere along the way he'd earned my trust, and I his. Soon after, I found myself looking forward to getting online and going to our chat room to meet him. We even kept weekly schedules of when we'd be in the room.
Occasionally, I would have to miss a 'chat date' with him because of Hayden's demands. Afterwards I would sense a cold aloofness in his messages, and I know that sounds weird, but it's the truth.
So, I finally broke down and explained the entire situation to Adam, deciding that if I lost his respect because of it, then better to know now rather than later, when I might be more emotionally invested.
What a crock of shit. It was apparent that I'd become invested almost immediately with him. There had just been something--something unique and special in the way that he approached me. I sensed a sort of vulnerability in him, much like my own when it came to matters of the heart.
And now his soft, full lips are working mine with a gentle determination and we fit perfectly. I loop my arms around his strong neck and pull him closer; savoring the feel of his body, and his natural scent permeates my senses.
His tongue traces my bottom lip, and his teeth nip gently at it, teasing the way for his tongue to find mine. Our rhythm is perfect and I melt against
Oh God! I love chin dimples . . .
"My turn, Presley," he whispers gently.
Okay, yeah . . . we share honesty except for names; but that's okay because Adam isn't his real name either. We both know this much.
I close my eyes, losing myself to his touch. I can feel the slightly calloused pads of his fingertips gently touching my face, in different places, tracing along my jaw line, before they lightly caress my cheeks. He slowly moves over my nose, and then ever so lightly brushes the arch of my brows, taking his time, letting out a sigh as he finishes.
"You're beautiful," he murmurs, huskily, and I can feel his warm breath against my skin as he says it. "You're fucking beautiful," he repeats.
He leaves my lips for last, slowing his exploration so that he touches every centimeter of them.
"I want to kiss them," he breathes and I feel my skin tingle in response.
"Go ahead," I murmur, keeping my eyes closed.
And I feel his soft, full lips claim my own very gently, with a calm and deliberate sensuality. I'm expecting rougher, more possessive kissing from him because that's what I'm used to with Hayden, but he doesn't. He has a totally different manner about him and I like it.
But it is foreign to me, so I'm not sure I can trust it.
"Relax," he instructs me, and I realize that I have grown tense and I'm not sure why. Am I cheating on Hayden? Is that even possible?
"Don't think about him," he says; his tone now brusque. "This is about you and me, nobody else, okay? We're both where we want to be, and for this moment in time, no one else exists but the two of us."
"I'm sorry," I stammer, feeling my face flush with a little bit of shame and a touch of embarrassment. He totally gets me, and not only that, but he's able to sense my unspoken emotions. He even recognizes that I have them. I want to clutch him closer to me, but I'm clueless as to how he might respond, or what he might think.
Will he feel my desperation?
Probably.
The truth is that I am desperate. Desperate to be held closely within his strong and safe arms, and to be cherished and loved--not just fucked at someone else's leisure.
That's what Hayden does. He fucks me; he doesn't make love to me. And I'm not saying that he doesn't fuck me well, because he does most of the time, but my orgasms (when I have them) are simply a coincidence; they're never a result of his expertise, or concerted effort on his part. It's all about him when we fuck.
And now it's no longer enough. It hasn't been since Adam and I first chatted in that room - that internet room called "Owners of a Lonely Heart."
Always on my guard, I hadn't opened up to him much at the start, but somewhere along the way he'd earned my trust, and I his. Soon after, I found myself looking forward to getting online and going to our chat room to meet him. We even kept weekly schedules of when we'd be in the room.
Occasionally, I would have to miss a 'chat date' with him because of Hayden's demands. Afterwards I would sense a cold aloofness in his messages, and I know that sounds weird, but it's the truth.
So, I finally broke down and explained the entire situation to Adam, deciding that if I lost his respect because of it, then better to know now rather than later, when I might be more emotionally invested.
What a crock of shit. It was apparent that I'd become invested almost immediately with him. There had just been something--something unique and special in the way that he approached me. I sensed a sort of vulnerability in him, much like my own when it came to matters of the heart.
And now his soft, full lips are working mine with a gentle determination and we fit perfectly. I loop my arms around his strong neck and pull him closer; savoring the feel of his body, and his natural scent permeates my senses.
His tongue traces my bottom lip, and his teeth nip gently at it, teasing the way for his tongue to find mine. Our rhythm is perfect and I melt against
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