about 4000 words
When an artist becomes to involved in her work, she’s left to wonder: was he real or just a part of her imagination?
Lying on my bed, on the covers rather than beneath them, I watch him walk through the door like he’s been here before. This can’t be real, a part of my mind screams, you’re sleeping.
You’re dreaming. I care not, for he comes to me looking like an angel. Worn jeans caress his thighs, cupping them like denim hands. I watch his nipples, tiny pert little soldiers, rise and fall as he walks. My hands itch to run across his abdomen.
Heat flows through my body, pooling between my thighs. I reach out. The moonlight coming through the window makes my hands look ghostly; I shudder at the image. Like a phantom, he crosses the room and reaches for me with his long, slender fingers. My hands brush his. They’re freezing; I shiver.
Reaching for him, I believe he’s real, for when my fingers brush against the bare skin of his arm, he gasps. The tiny sound fills my heart with wonder. Already, his hands, quickly warming, cup my breasts, squeezing them through the thin material of my nightshirt. I close my eyes, lost in the sensation.
Across his chest, my hands follow a path not unknown to me. My thumb brushes his nipple, and I feel an involuntary tightening of my own. My cunt is wet, a warm heat that soaks into my panties. For a moment, I watch as a smile curves his lips, then he lowers his head, and I see nothing but his eyes.
He kisses me. Like warm embers, his lips coax my mouth to flame. I gasp, the sound swallowed by him, and I stroke his tongue with my own. I wish I were stroking another part of his anatomy, and to that end, my hands flow down his torso to his waistband. The button pops easily. Seemingly of its own violation, the zipper lowers. His bare penis emerges; I wrap my hands around it.
I feel as if I’m holding the finest crystal, his body created just for my enjoyment. I caress him, rubbing my thumb across his head, feeling the drop of precum. Some invisible power rushes through me. I pull my lips away from his, and sit up. For a moment I stare at this man standing almost naked by the bed.
I reach forward, his jeans clutched in my hands, and I push them down over his narrow hips. The movement pushes me forward, toward his cock, and I reach out to sample it with my tongue. As I lick it, a primal moan rumbles from my chest.
Dropping his pants, I clutch his ass, using it as leverage as I plunge my mouth down on his erect shaft. The salty, musk taste that is pure man envelops me. In time with my head, my hips rock, my body aching to feel him deep inside me.
He moans. “Oh, God, wait.” The words emerge on a ragged breath.