The Make-Up Artist

Chapter Twenty Four: Taking It Slow

You wake the next morning to the feeling of warm fingertips on your neck. You open your eyes to see grey light filtering through the drapes and glance at your bedside clock to see that it's still quite early. You feel pretty drowsy still, but the sensation of his skin touching yours is making you increasingly more alert. You lie still to enjoy the moment and wait to see what he will do next. You feel your hair being brushed away from your neck, then the bed shifts as Taron moves closer. The next thing you feel is his warm breath on the back of your neck right before his tender lips replace his fingers, and it sends chills throughout your body. His lips move slowly across the area where your neck meets the top of your spine, then over to one shoulder, pushing your top aside slightly to kiss lightly at the exposed skin there. No longer able to keep still, you arch your back and stretch your legs beneath the covers. Realizing you're awake, he leans close to your ear and whispers.

"Good morning." The sound is exhilarating, and you realize how wonderful it is to wake up next to Taron without being drunk, sick or without pants, at least for now. You turn your head toward him and raise your arm to encircle his neck. Only worrying minimally about morning breath, you really haven't been asleep that long after all, you pull his head close and whisper the greeting back before pulling him to your lips. He seems very encouraged by this and kisses you back enthusiastically. You rotate your body all the way around so that you are facing him, and wrap your other arm around him fully; grasping at his now dry hair as you kiss him back just as eagerly. You are now the one to push your tongue past his lips to mingle with his, and enjoy the soft moan that comes from him in response. His hands go behind you and slide under your pj top to rest against your braless back. His palms splayed flush against your bare skin, massaging gently and pulling you tighter against him, gets a fire going within you that starts to burn a little out of control. Pushing him over onto his back, you lay half-way on top of him, delighting in the fact that his robe is barely covering his chest at this point. You have a sudden overwhelming desire to be skin-to-skin with him, and you wonder if he wants that too. You are still kissing him fervently, one hand at his jaw, the other traveling down to the exposed skin of his chest. His hands are still pressed firmly to your back, as your hand continues it's downward descent to his abdomen, and stops to rest at the knot at his waist. Thrilling in the way his hands, body and mouth are making you feel, you slowly start to undo the knot of his robe with clumsy fingers. He has it double-knotted and it's difficult one-handed. You have it almost completely undone, when his hand comes away from under your shirt, and grasps you firmly around the wrist. Surprised by his abrupt movement, you pull back to look into his eyes, a little out of breath and feeling a lot out of control.

"I thought...we were taking it slow?" He says a bit breathless himself. You feel yourself flush and let your hand go limp, burying your head into his shoulder and feeling a little more than embarrassed.

"I'm sorry", you say, your voice coming out muffled against his body. He removes his other hand from under your shirt, and places both palms gently on your face lifting you up to look at him.

"Hey, do not be sorry", he says looking fixedly at you. "Believe me, I want this just as much as you do. Well, probably more", he says with a devilish grin. "But you were right. We should take it slow. I definitely do not want to do anything to fuck this up again." You smile at his words, then roll over onto your back, still feeling a little foolish.

"I know. And I completely agree. I just don't know what it is about you. I can't seem to control myself around you", you say looking over at him and feeling flushed again after hearing the words come out of your mouth. "And apparently what I say to you", you say looking at the ceiling and smacking your hand over your forehead. He chuckles, and removing your hand from your face, brings it down to hold it between your bodies.