About to Kiss Me

KIERA.

"Since you're not telling me, I'm headed to bed. And you probably should, too." He said thickly.

So this was it. I did not matter to him, provided I was hale and hearty, and would warm his bed at night. The man player was using me to replace Joanne, taming my poor little heart.

"I can leave tomorrow morning if you want." I curled up in a miserable ball on the couch, wounded at soul.

All this time I spent in his room and didn't bother to steal a dollar? What had gotten into me?

"Don't try my patience." I knew he was waiting for me to give up the charade as he stood there, switching the channels until a romantic movie was playing. I sank my face in a throw pillow, heard him messing around the room.

"Get lost. You don't want me around anyways."

"Move over."

I gulped, my thoughts haywire, as he stood tall, hovered over me, in just his boxers hanging dangerously close to his V-line. The sight of his huge boner flayed heat around my woman parts. I rolled on my side, blocking out his sexy body. I wasn't falling for him tonight.

No way.

Neither of us said anything as he lay beside me, encircled my waist and pulled me into him. My limbs quivered, melting under his influence. Idiot. He knew what he was doing to me.

"Kiera," he murmured tightly.

"Yeah?"

In the dim lights his face was so close to mine that I could smell his minty fresh breath, and make out the his curls dripping on to my arm, jarring my body awake. He stroked my lips as though he was wondering how to paint it, tensed and fidgeting, draped one leg over my hips, drawing me yet closer like I would never be close enough. In the dim lights I saw silver stars warring to shine above uncertainty in his eyes.

Dylan was about to kiss me.

My heart pounded my chest.

He had a fiancee but he was about to kiss me.

I was a cheap whore.

Then his lips crushed mine, devouring me as the appetizer, main course and dessert, piece by piece building a desire I'd never felt before. Our spirits entangled beyond our bodies as we took the kiss higher, tongues gliding against each other in a rhythm made by Satan's choir. For a long time Dylan kissed me, took my breath each time he drew out and in, used me up and brought me back to myself anew, fazed in a dizzy haze of this strange adventure. I knew I would never be able to kiss another person, because he had sealed his bargain on my lips forever.

"I__" He panted, flushed, shuddering as if he had a eureka.

"Shut up and kiss me again," I whispered. This time the passion was slow and unhurried, he stoked the embers till they were burning hot, then fanned the fire ravaging my body. I saw all seven colours of the rainbow with the way he touched me, a little here, there, never everywhere at once, like he was unwrapping a holy gift.

***

We lay there together, unmoving, sated and spent.

"Did I hurt you?" He traced the outline of my facial scars from a month ago, lingering particularly on the initials.

"Maybe," I admired his overall handsomeness, the dip and curve of his biceps, the way he nestled me in. His voice low and husky, a tone I was realizing he used only when with me.

"I'm sorry."

"I was kidding. You're too sweet for your own good."

"Kiki," he seemed etched in pain. I wanted to cure him however I could. He could use a break from being my superhero movie.

Instead of words, I found my palm somewhere below his throbbing hard member, and he seduced my mouth in a forbidden dance, then kissing his way up to my scars. I felt a warm drop on my neck.

His fingers lingered tentatively on the hem of my top. "I want to see you."

I shrank back, thinking of the blotches on my chest. He would hate me. So I eased away from our intimate position, my mind scattered all over the place. I wiped the teardrops threatening to fall, back on my feet, the spell broken. I should be dancing and humming a mermaid song but I wanted to drown in his oceans asleep.

"Without clothes," I was surprised that he didn't mind at all. "Now."

He beguiled me to lay back down, worshipping my body in a spell of caresses and tongue. His fingers lingered tentatively on the hem of my top as he kissed my belly button, letting my guard down. Then he stopped short.

"Look at me," he whispered.

He swooped on my neck bone like a veteran hawk, orchestrated tremors building and falling over me in sweeping currents.

When I opened my eyes, I vowed never to forget how he openly adored me. Afraid, I wondered how to tread this new path with Dylan, meanwhile stroking a few locks of his hair.

"I can't__ I'm so ugly inside. Please stop," I felt ashamed. I should have run away when I had the chance.

He captured my thighs between his whilst he groaned, apparently warring within himself. Gosh, I was so stupid. Getting myself into trouble, frustrating him, pulling him only to push him away.

"Put your hand in my boxers. Like this," he gave me no time to think about it, plunged my blushing palm where he meant below his rock hard pelvis, the sensitive region between there and his cock just few millimeters away.

"Trust me," he said plainly. Trust and obey.

I met a soft pulpy line running straight downer his inner thighs, reveled in the heavenly smoothness of his skin.

"That was the last injury I sustained before I quit the police."

"You were a cop?"

"The hottest one you'd ever find."

"Stop bragging."

"I was always shy to bed women, afraid that my scar would be a turn-off for them. So I want to you know that I understand how you feel."

Emboldened by his confession, I whispered, "Promise you won't laugh at me."

"You mean so much to me. I'd never hurt you."

"So help me God, if you're lying__"

He put a period to whatever I was about to say. They were the flames from our first kiss rekindled over the moon on a stick, dipped me into his ecstasy as our foreheads touched. I was completely at Dylan's mercy, thank goodness he intended to take full advantage of it as he nudged me to raise my arms and, in a flash, my offending top was discarded. I was the accused and he was the judge, and by how he froze, and gently cupped his large palm on the protruding nipple of my left breast, I supposed I was discharged and acquitted.

"Jesus."

"What... Do you think?"

"Kiera, I__"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone this far. I don't want to hurt you," he watched my pert breasts heave up and down with hungry lust.

I descended rapidly from my pinnacle of dreams. What was I hearing? He did not mean it. He would resume our unfinished business and cuddle me afterwards.

"Dylan__"

"Oh God."

"Are you okay?" I was dumbfounded at the sudden shift.

"I'm sorry. I can't hurt you. Perhaps it's for the best if you don't sleep in my room tonight. Joanne is returning tomorrow." He passed me my shirt, averting his gaze as I redressed hastily.

If only he knew how pained I was. He rejected me when I opened up to him, like the foolish slut I had always been. This time, I wasn't bawling, I decided. I had been through worse break-ups and I was the mistress of icy stony hearts. Once I shut my door, blocking out his strained "Goodnight", the dam burst, and the teary waterfall had leeway. Dylan would live to regret this night.