His parents were out of town for the entire week, off on some trip god knows where for a ‘romantic getaway.’ And her mother thought she was spending these summer nights at a friend’s house, unaware of her real plans. Because of this, they had a romantic getaway of their own…
They had been up until the early hours of the morning in passion, in the dark, in each other. The light streamed in through the window above his bed, and he lay on his stomach, having rolled over in the warmth of her spot to sleep in peace, wrapped in the scent she left on his thin sheets. He breathed in deeply and adjusted ever so slightly, causing her brows to furrow from across the room.
You see, she had been up for hours now, praying to a higher power that he didn’t move while she worked. The way the light hit his back through the blinds was so…poetic to her. The curve in his arms… The relaxed, natural look that washed over his face in sleep… The sheets just barely covering up that cute little ass of his… It was all just so…beautiful to her. He was unbelievably gorgeous to her in every way: the arch in his brow, the sharp features of his jaw…
She tried to capture this in her sketch, light gray lines being blended into nothing but shadows and reflections of light on rough, recycled paper in her sketchbook. Tilting her head side to side, picking up different-textured pencils and brushes to capture his beauty.
He grumbled and moved a little again, making her wince. His stormy blue clouds for eyes opened, and she found herself disappointed that she couldn’t have tried to capture that in the picture. “Love?” he mumbled, seeing her in her little perch she called a seat across the room. “What are you doing over there?” He began to roll over.
“No! Don’t move! I’m almost done…” she shouted, volume dissipating as she got back into her groove, blending in a few more of the shadows and dips of his body and the sheets around him. “Close your eyes,” she whispered, smiling as she made sure everything was perfect.
He did as she said, thinking about how it was a shame he couldn’t look at her more… She had slipped on his shirt both out of comfort and out of modesty, her violet panties peeking through at the angle she had her legs hoisted up to support her sketching pad. It was quite the sight, and he secretly enjoyed it.
She smiled, finally satisfied with her work. She flipped the book around to show him, “Okay. Open your eyes.”
He did, and a huge grin spread across his face at the sheer joy that spread through him. This girl… This beautiful, talented girl had captured him on paper, and he had never been before… “Oh, sweetheart…” he trailed off, not having the words.
She padded over to him and handed him the book. “I couldn’t resist the chance…” she blushed sheepishly, crawling into bed with him. “You looked so…perfect lying there.”
He reached over her to set it down next to the bed, holding both of her hands in his. “I love it. I love you.”
She smiled with relief. “You do? You really love it?”
He was baffled. He couldn’t understand how this girl—no, this woman—could possibly think he didn’t like something she had done out of her heart for him. Unable to take it any longer, he wove his fingers in her hair and pulled her mouth forcefully to his, the emotion in their locked, unmoving lips saying words to them both that they could never begin to express out loud. They broke apart, breaths mingling, holding each other’s gazes and their lips just barely brushing each other.
Something snapped. I couldn’t tell you what or how or why, it just happened. Something happened in those few, brief moments. An understanding, a mutual comprehension, whatever. It just…snapped, and it unleashed itself on both of them like a tidal wave.
Everything from their waists down was barely covered by his thin sheet, but their upper bodies stayed above the extra layers, getting a light breeze from the box fan he kept on almost always, Florida heat seeping in through every paper thin crack in the wall. Her skin broke out in gooseflesh, both from the fan blowing cool air and his smooth, sensual touch that slid from her knee, up under her shirt. He shuddered at the feeling of her supple skin against the soft, sensory tips of his fingers. The slightest, breathy groan slipped from her lips, and he caught it with his own lips, kissing her tenderly while still venturing her curves beneath the shirt.
“Off. Off,” she pleaded, tipping her head back in the slow torturing pleasure he was inflicting upon her luscious body.
Regularly, he would have made a gruff, sexily snarky comment about how she needed to use her words, but it didn’t even cross his mind. He didn’t just want to pleasure her today. He wanted to feel her. He wanted every inch of her so badly, he could barely grip it. It was just him and her and the sheets being rippled by the fan and their movements in this moment, and they both wanted it as badly as the other.
He inched her shirt up, a curious, heated look in his eyes. His black shirt falling to the floor, he massaged her perky breasts, indulging in the small moans that escaped. She brought his lips to hers, needed the feel of his lips so intensely she couldn’t resist them…slightly parted…sinuous…pink… Just the thought made desire pool between her legs.
Humming a pleasured sound against her lips, he parted her legs, hooked the hem of her panties around his curled finger, slipping them down past her knees and she kicked the rest of them off her ankles, the fabric getting lost somewhere in the sheets.
She cried out when he entered her, both of her hands gripping the back of his neck, both of his holding her hips steady. The heat rose between them, an ever-impervious string of passion binding them together, despite the cold breeze of his fan humming. Though, the hum was drowned out by their moans…their groans…their sighs… And what wonderful sounds they were.
AN: I know I want to use these romantic scenes in SOMETHING. But I don't know what. So don't be surprised if you see them in one of the novels I'm working on. Just a heads up! Comment and Vote!
