Lost in Hollywood

Ghosts

The tops of the columns of Sky's four-poster bed melt into the darkness, just like her body is melting into the mattress. Nothing exists but this moment, the way her heart is bursting through her breastbone, the way Cody's mouth finds hers, as if he's dying of thirst and only her lips can save him.

His kisses taste like salt and iron and need as he presses her down on the bed. His body is lean and strong on top of her, shivering under her touch as her hands roam over the smooth skin of his naked chest, the round muscle of his shoulders. Soft sighs and moans are dropping off his lips into her mouth, and she's drinking each and every one of them like they are holy wine, the source of life itself.

Her chest is aching. She's missed him terribly. She can't remember why they've been apart, but she knows it's been a lifetime since he's last held her like this, since she's tasted his kisses, since she's cradled him in her arms, and she's burning for him, burning like a flame, her body tense and restless in the need to get him closer, closer, closer.

She is naked already, but he is still wearing his jeans. The rough denim fabric against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, her soaking wet sex, sends intense waves of pleasure through her core. She can feel his arousal, the shape of his cock against her slickness and it's driving her mad. She wants him, wants him horribly, she wants those jeans off of him, wants to feel that cock pushing into her heat, shattering her to million pieces, turning her into flames and sparkles and stardust.

Panting, he sits up, kneeling on the bed between her legs and his eyes are dark as the night sky. His heaving chest is white as marble, the moving shadows dance on his muscled torso. He is a work of art, he is sculpted by Michelangelo himself, perfect, flawless, beautiful.

"Tell me you want me," he rasps, his voice cracking with need.

"I want you more than anything," she breathes and it is the truth. He is the only thing she wants, the only thing she needs, and this - this joining - will fix everything, it will mend the crack in her chest, the dark, empty hole in her soul, it will end the nightmares and the sorrows and the guilt and the shame—

She doesn't know where those sudden thoughts come from, and she pushes them away. There are no sorrows when she's with him. There are no nightmares. This moment is an eternity, and nothing outside of this bed exists.

He opens the buckle of his belt, the buttons of his jeans, and the movements of his long, graceful fingers are too slow for her liking. Just watching him is almost enough to undo her. Her gaze is glued on the waistband of his jeans. The dark trail of hair that leads down from his belly button teases her, she wants to reach out to touch it, to follow it with her fingertips, to lick it and taste the salt and the musk of his skin, but then he's pushing down his pants and his underwear and her mind goes blank. Her ears start ringing.

His dick is fucking gorgeous. It's so long and thick, standing erect against his stomach, and as his fingers curl around it to pump slowly, leisurely, a couple of times, Sky can't help a whine that leaves her throat. Hearing that sound, he smirks down at her, his eyes dark and deep like the Ocean before a storm.

"See something you like?" His voice is rough, throaty. Unable to draw her eyes away, Sky watches how his hand moves on his cock, how the clear droplets of pre-cum form on the tip, and her mouth goes dry with need.

"God, yes. I want you. I want you now."

That's all it takes. He's back on top of her, kicking off his jeans and his underwear, pressing his dick against her slick folds, his hot, panting breaths falling to her lips as she brings a hand down between their bodies, impatient in her need, grips him hard and guides him in.