She’s timid at first, soft and sweet. This kiss is a myriad of things. It’s warm and familiar and wild and electric. It’s standing in the rain with lightning crashing around us and it’s curled up by a crackling fire. It’s everything.
Calla’s arms reach around my neck and she pulls me ever closer, and the chemistry, lord almighty, the chemistry. I can feel it. It hisses in my veins, and it’s overwhelming.
She breathes quickly into my mouth, in tiny pants, and her eyes open up wide, looking into my own.
She pulls away. “I don’t want to let go of you,” she admits. “I don’t want to lose you.”
I know why she feels that way, and I feel the same, and I grab her and hold her in front of the window.
She’s so slight, so feminine, and her long red hair spills over my arm.
My hand strays along her arm, along her fingers, along her thigh. She pushes herself into me, her hipbones poking into mine, and she thrusts and whimpers, and stares at me.
“I want to do more,” she tells me. “But I’m afraid. I’ve never…”
I stare into her blue eyes. They are so dark right now that they look black. Dark with the night, dark with wanting me.
“You’ve never made love?” I ask, my voice is husky.
She shakes her head.
“No, I haven’t.”
She’s embarrassed, but she shouldn’t be.
She has made love. To me. But like everything else, she doesn’t remember. Like everything else, we’ll be doing it again for the ‘first time’.
“It’s ok,” I tell her. “We won’t rush.”
She nods and her head drops to my chest. She listens to my heart for a moment, then tilts her face up.
“I’m impatient though.”
I chuckle, because she is. I tuck a tendril of her hair behind her ear. Even her ear-lobe is delicate.
“I know.”
Her hand is suddenly on me, on my manhood, and I suck in a breath, because it’s so brazen, and so startling, and she smiles knowingly.
“Do you like that?” she whispers. She moves her fingers, kneading them against me. “Do you like it when I touch you?”
She’s not teasing. She’s asking a sincere question.
I can barely answer.
“Yes,” I manage to say. “Very much.”
She sighs in relief, and I can’t breathe at all, as she slides her fingers along my length on the outside of my hospital pants. The material is thin, and her hand is warm, and Lord God.
I groan and pull her hand away. It takes everything I have to do it, but I do.
Because even though this isn’t our first time, she thinks it is. And it’s not going to happen on a waxed hospital room floor.
“Did I do something wrong?” her brows knit together, and she bites her lip.
“No,” I rush to reassure her. “Not at all. It’s just… let’s wait. I want it to be more special than… this.”
I gesture at the floor and she smiles, a soft grin.