❝…I’m at the mouth of Kartik’s tent. He’s asleep, blankets thrown back, bare chest exposed like a Roman sculpture. A line of dark hair snakes over a taut of stomach. It disappears into the waistband of his trousers, into a world I do not know….
I want to taste that mouth again. Wanting brings me down in a whoosh, feet planted, breathing shallow, head light. There’s only the wanting. Bring my lips to his and it’s like melting. Those black eyes flutter open, see me. The sculpture comes alive. Every muscle in his arm is flexing as he pushes himself up, pulls me under, slides on top. The weight of him forces the air out of my lungs like bellows, but still comes out as the lightest of sighs. And there’s his mouth again on mine, a heat, a pressure, a promise of things to come, a promise I’m rising up to meet.
His fingers are a whisper on my skin. A thumb inches toward my breast, traces circles over and around. Move my mouth to the salty skin of his neck. Feel my thighs moved apart by a knee. Something inside me falls away. It’s as if I’ve stopped breathing for a moment. I’m hollowed out. Searching.
The warm fingers trail down, hesitate, then brush past a part of me that I don’t understand yet, a place I haven’t let myself explore….
The fingers, strong and sure and not entirely unwanted, are back, the whole of his palm cupped against me. I’m pinned to the earth by his choice. I could just float here, lose myself inside him and come out reborn as someone else. The thumb on my breast rubs my skin into a delicious rawness, as if I’ve never truly walked in my skin before. My whole body strains to meet the pressure of him. His choice could be mine. He could swallow me up if I just let go….❞