Hunger wakes me for the fifth time this evening.
Growls build in the back of my throat as the frustration mounts. I throw the covers to the side and stand, my blood pumping in my ears and pulsing in long arcs down my body. My boxer briefs hit the floor as I tie my hair into a tight bun. I grow frustrated as the hairs defy me, delaying. Not quick enough. Never quick enough.
I slide back under the discarded sheets, careful not to disturb. Blood rushing, I can feel my heart fighting my lungs for space.
Breathe. One, two, three.
Exhale. One, two, three.
Breathe. One, two, three.
Exhale. One, two, three.
The rush remains but it’s muted – I’m focused.
I make headway to the foot of the bed.
A low, long groan sounds as I rub a trailing line of thumbs and lips toward her hand-hungry hips. Her warmth intensifies. I can feel it on my fingertips. My chest. My face. She shifts. I breathe her in. Petite lines roll like the cresting of a wave. My eyes ride them until they settle. The hunger builds.
I tease. Soft fingertips touching lips, whispering the arrival of more to come. Her hunger awakens from slumber with a soft escape of breath - my kiss continues. Gentle at first, a slow tempo of tension. Impatient hips grind into me, burying my face in bliss. I hold my breath, focus on hers. Feel her pulse, the thrum of her body as it reacts to my touch. I bring her to the edge; hold her there.
Kiss, wait. Stroke, wait. Suck, wait….
Her legs tremble as I coax the last drops of control out of her muscles. Pulsing in unison, my tongue and digits bring forth ragged, hungry moans and the salty sweetness of her lust.
“P-Please. I need you inside of me,” she hisses through clenched teeth and arched back.
My free hand finds purchase in her hair. With slow firm pulls, I finish my plate to the tempo of wildly bucking hips. This is my meal. Not hers.
She needs to be reminded.
Freeing my shoulders, I wrap an arm behind her back, pulling her hips to me. She is sensitive – it really is a shame she was being so selfish.