✧*｡ ααямαυ ℓємσиѕ ✧*｡

ιи ѕє¢яєт

"I would rather be burned
with desire for you than live
my life without experiencing
these awesome emotions."

Smut

A L T E R N A T E U N I V E R S E
A P H M A U    P O V
_______________________

His lips latched onto my neck once more, biting the soft flesh.

"How long do we have again?"

His response was pressing closer to me, pushing his hands on my thighs and trapping me against the wooden desk.

I breathed out, relishing his touch as he moved down my body. His hands rubbed up and down the front of my thighs, squeezing them every so often. Lips trailed my collarbone, cleavage, and finally biting my breast just above my tank top.

Grabbing his hand that rested on my thigh urgently, I gasped at the feeling I had missed for weeks.

He finally registered my question and responded quick enough to get back to work with barely a breath in between. "Two hours."

"Plenty of time," I panted with a laugh.

I tipped my head back, allowing him room as he explored the surface of my neck and jaw with the skin of his lips. I had to lean forward a bit - I was sitting on a mahogany desk and he stood between my legs.

His hands remained focused on my thighs still, but mine trailed up his arms to rest on his shoulders.

Slipping my hands into the back of his shirt, I began to bunch up the fabric. He noticed soon and stripped it off, helping me escape from my own top.

Aaron's hands traveled back to my butt, giving my cheeks a squeeze under my shorts. They were for working out, tight and black almost like my underwear.

Well, almost like my underwear that I didn't wear.

I didn't bother on my way over here.

My eyes opened as I released another gasp, unable to lean forward anymore. His strong arm kept me in place so I didn't fall back, but my body was already giving up; going limp.

I was turned on, my mind clouding.

My nails dug into his shoulder as I breathed deeply. His free hand was still in my shorts, rubbing my backside in every which way.

I breathed in a squeak in my voice. Humming to myself, I sank into him completely.

He was hot, his body temperature elevated with our activity.

As my body melted from his kisses, my neck tender with fresh bruises, he got the message and climbed onto the table with me. He laid me back, pressing my spine against his hand rather than the wood.

The desk was cold, as was the lamp, papers, and other work supplies we hadn't bothered to move.

This apartment was his father's old study, at the top of a skyscraper with an incredible view.

Nobody accepted our relationship, so we met here as often as we could to see each other until we saved enough to move away.

There were few things in the room at all - this desk, a couch, coffee table with side tables and one lamp with a burnt out bulb. The loft was empty, and all around us were windows.

Right in front of one of the large glass walls was a mattress. Various pillows, blankets, and stained sheets were strewn about atop it.

Something erotic about it, being intimate on display.