by Daemon Rider

Disclaimers: This was written as one of the ‘Author Challenges’ that Radclyffe hosts in her Yahoo group. Radclyffe’s work can be found at www.radfic.com.

I hadn’t intended to write for this challenge but that’s what happens when I’m bored, alone and faced with the horror that is Boxing Day television....

Many thanks to Tamara for the beta. Thanks also to E & Cheri for the read-throughs.

Comments to D R: daemon_rideruk@yahoo.com.

Copyright © 2006 by Daemon Rider. All Rights Reserved.

---

I lie down on the bed, then prop myself up on one elbow, saying nothing, just looking. I let my gaze rove over naked flesh. I tell you that you are beautiful. That I want to take your nipples into my mouth and feel them harden. I want to lick my way down your form until I reach my own personal paradise. I want to taste you. I want to feel you, skin on skin, along the length of my body. Instead I watch, not moving until I hear you speak, voice rich with your need.

“Please.”

It’s all I’m waiting to hear. I reach out, speaking to you the whole while; telling you the things I’m doing; the things I’m intending to do to you. Trailing my fingers down, following collarbones, feeling goose flesh break out across heated skin. Until I caress the rounded edge of a breast; nipple already erect and waiting, aureole pebbling at my tender touch. I tug gently on the ring which pierces it, drawing gasps from us both. I roll the nipple between my finger and thumb, pinching it slightly, at first too hard and then not nearly hard enough.

I continue my journey, fingertips softly outlining ribs as they pass, feeling stomach muscles clench, watching them ripple. One hand lightly sweeping across a hip-bone and tracing the lines of the small tattoo there. I’ve always loved that part of a woman, the sharpness of bone framing the graceful curve of the abdomen.

My right hand returns to play with the nipple piercing once more, as my left moves through neatly trimmed hair to tease, not quite separating the flesh, not quite. Once more you speak that single word.

“Please.”

I can deny you nothing.

I slide one finger, parting, gliding, over flesh wet with silky desire. Stroking past, around but never quite touching that part of you that most needs it. Smooth circular movements, oh so very slowly. I know exactly how to tease, just how much you can take. I can judge perfectly when you need me slow and sweet and when you need it hard and fast. We are so familiar with each other’s bodies, you and I. You are begging now, pleading with me, whispering my name and offering anything and everything to me. A third time you beg me.

“Please.”

And then I’m inside you. Your body, warm and wet, welcomes me. I breathe a sigh that sounds like a prayer. Being deep inside you this way always fills me with awe. I am humbled. I worship you. Your deep groan shows me how much you welcome me. I watch my fingers, first one and then two, enter you; strokes smooth and even. Slow, deep, rhythmic. Both hands now working in unison. One to thrust, gradually speeding up while the other traces its path around, and then finally brushing across, your clit.

“Oh god.”

I don’t know which one of us says it; perhaps it’s both of us. You moan a word that sounds like my name. Muscles tighten against my hand. My eyes close and groaning I follow where you lead. The world stands still and I barely hear you as you exclaim.

“I love you.”

When I can think and speak again I reply.

“I love you too, babe. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. I’m sorry. I promise, never again. Next Christmas will be different. Soon, I swear, I’ll be home soon.”

I continue to watch my naked body in the mirror, seeing my arm stretch to press the button that will switch off the loudspeaker and end our phone-call. I blow out the candle and settle down to sleep with your words echoing through me.

I’ll be home soon.

Soon.

Soon.

The End

Feed the Scribbler: daemon_rideruk@yahoo.com.