Tongue Tied

Chapter 1

The delicious scent of French country vanilla warmed the room. Dimly lit candles were placed on every wooden surface. They smelled almost good enough to eat. The soft glow of the flickering flames, accompanied by romantic, yet suggestive mood music was only a small fraction of the many things eliciting my pleasure at the moment.

The room was dark, aside from the candlelight. All the blinds were wide open, allowing me a beautiful view of the twinkling stars in the late night sky. Smooth cream-colored satin sheets were tangled and tossed around, as were our clothes. Satisfied sighs, moans, groans, gasps, and even the occasional breathy scream filled the air, alerting anyone within earshot of our ongoing actions.

Captured between the sweat-soaked sheets and his broad-shouldered and heavenly-sculpted drop-dead-sexy body, I was wrapped in bliss and enthralled by desire, losing every last ounce of control I still had beneath him.

His strong, rock-hard muscles and commanding features were an even more stunning view than the star-studded sky outside, only adding to my gratification.

Three final fulfilling thrusts pushed us both over the cliff, evoking satisfied noises from our mouths. Our hair was damp with sweat, our breathing severely labored as fiery pleasure coursed through our veins. It felt as though thirty heaters had been turned on in the room and pointed in my direction, heat burning through my body in the sweetest way possible.

I found it difficult to catch my breath, my usual reaction to the way he unraveled me. He rolled to the side, lying next to me and breathing equally as hard, if not harder. My muscles were relaxed beyond words. My limbs felt like jelly when I attempted to move just the slightest. Glancing to my side, I acquired another angle's view I might have been a little too used to seeing.

He lay there, half on the sheet and half on the mattress. The fitted sheet had been jerked from its usual stretched shield of the material beneath it. His chest rose and fell in a less dramatic rhythm than before, having gained control of his deep, throaty gasps a few seconds prior.

Light, sandy brown hair splayed across his forehead in a sweaty mess, covering his brows and falling like a curtain in front of his crystal clear blue eyes. He stared up at the ceiling, a mix of contentment and absence in his expression.

There was often a long pause, a breather before we spoke again. I'd become so used to it that it no longer bothered me that he didn't strike up a conversation immediately. When our sex-capades had first begun, I'd been somewhat emotional about what occurred. Six months later, here I was, naked and spent in a fairly destroyed hotel room bed beside the man I'd once despised.

Having come from two families who couldn't possibly hold more disdain for each other, I was raised never to like him. Growing up two houses apart and attending the same schools, we'd been competing on every level in every venue possible, until one day the revolutionary idea to have a discussion without trying to commit homicide was brought up. That one life changing talk was the beginning of a very spicy sex life, and a first for both of us in having a friend with benefits. Unbelievable, orgasmic, delicious benefits, that is.

I reached down, pulling the sheets up to cover my exposed body. The smooth satin sliding over my skin felt almost as good as his hands when they teased me. A barely audible squeak of pleasure left my lips.

Beside me, he lay on his back, breathing softly. His muscles flexed in the sexiest way as he rolled onto his side to face me. His bangs fell in front of his eyes once more and his lips curved up into a lopsided smirk.

I bit my lip when our eyes met, feeling a spark of desire between my legs. His light blue orbs sparkled with the reflection of the candles' flames dancing nearby.