Page 80 of House of Bass

When I pull back to look at him, the emotional tension disappears only to be replaced by a different kind. Our breathing hitches concurrently at the closeness of one another.

My breasts are touching his chest and the distance between our lips are hardly an inch apart. He breaks that distance and kisses me.

It is slow and soft, like we are apologising for the years we had lost not being together, saying all the words we couldn’t. Then gently his hands slide up my back and unzips my shirt. It hangs ridiculously on me after that, one move and it’ll fall off. My eyes flicker from side to side as I try not to grind roughly against him, to focus on the places he is touching me. Face. Neck. Breasts. That’s when things change, when he touches my breasts. I’m not wearing a bra and once that knowledge was privy to him, the only way to describe him is a man gone wild .

The shirt comes off in an instant and he latches his lips to my nipples and every inch of me buzzes with an insatiable need. When he finally removes his mouth from one, he peppers kisses along to the other breast and repeats the act.

“Is this the inspiration you wanted me to find?” I ask, in between gasps.

“Definitely. Inspiration is best found in the bedroom.” A smug smirk on his lips, he starts kissing me again but this time he stands and carries me up the stairs like I weigh nothing. Kicking open the doors of a room I barely had the chance to appreciate because the only thing I can see is the man holding me. Arden gently places me on the bed and I can’t help but stare into his eyes as he stands to his full height to take off the rest of his clothes. I always loved the flecks of blue in his green eyes, it makes me feel like I am a part of him.

“This is a first for us,” he says as he climbs onto the bed and lays on top of me, his finger teetering below. I understand what he means. This isn’t like anything else. Not the flirting nor the touches nor kisses. He wants to be sure I am ready for our first time together, it is more than asking for permission but rather indicating that we are reaching the point of no return.

Breathily, as he strokes me, I reply, “I want it, more than anything.” Then when he senses I am ready, he enters me at once and my back arches accordingly. It is phenomenal, I finally feel complete. The last thing I am is a virgin but as he moves within me, I am relearning what sex is.

I feel him everywhere, like he is the captain of my soul and I am his sailor.

Our sweaty skin clings to one another, even when we finish he stays inside me. If I could keep him attached to me forever, I would.

The next time my eyes open, Arden is asleep with his head resting on my naked tits with his arms enveloped around my middle. So tight like it is his subconscious’ way of saying he doesn’t want to let me go. I study his peaceful face; those unfairly long lashes, his perfect lips and face without a single blemish.

Just looking at him…I feel the loosened threads of my heart sowing itself back together.

“I can feel you watching me,” his sleep-addled voice says, breaking my train of thought.

“Did you grow eyes in the back of your head while sleeping? And here I thought we were in agreement that aliens aren’t real.”

He turns his head (still on my tits), “I just have great internal Annabel detection skills.”

“Hmm, and what does this entail?”

“Knowing exactly what you want,” He starts kissing me, from my chest all the way down, “and when you want it.”

Then he starts doing this thing with his tongue that I just wish I could explain but if you’ve had good sex, you’d know.

“That sounds perfect.”

“Yes, you are.” He grins.

✧✧✧

Waking up the next morning to the smell of breakfast, I take the nearest piece of clothing which is Arden’s oversized shirt and I find my way downstairs to see him cooking in the kitchen. There are trays of food: pancakes, toast, sausages, bagels etc.

“I can't believe you expect me to eat this much carbs,” I say, smiling as he looks up from the omelette he’s frying. Arden, who is shirtless and wearing a flower patterned apron, grins at the sight of me in his clothes.

“Who said this is yours? Baby, this is all me,” he tells me as he takes the eggs off the cooker.

When I round the table, he hauls me up on top of it and I wrap my legs around him. We kiss softly, our tongues fusing together in symphony while I dig my hands in his hair. After having him for more than a few rounds yesterday, I still crave for more. Our first time was all I imagined it to be, with him, I can never get enough. I don’t think there will ever be anything more important than what we have right here and now.

“Good morning,” he whispers when we pull back slightly from one another.

“Morning, to you too.”

“How are you feeling?” He knots his hands together, trapping me in his embrace.

“I can still walk so clearly you didn’t fuck me hard enough,” I joke and he laughs.

“You think you’re funny.”