He shifts forward, because he knows my body also, and swirls his hips, eliciting a long, low moan from me. He releases my hands to capture my breasts, pausing the ramming of his hips against mine to suck on them hard, pinching the skin and biting the tender swells. When he showers my shoulders and neck with kisses and love bites, I grasp and pull him into me.
"Ugh, Jim, make me…" She please, and arches her back and then squeals.
I want it to be him to give that to me and I shift my hips so that he would strike me where I would feel the most pleasure. Leaning forward, he rocks into me again with long strokes. I feel him – the tell-tale, coiling …show more content…
It is in that way - forehead to forehead, hips aligned instinctively, heaving chests and groans of hunger and desire - that I crash and fall, everything I know up to that moment falling away from me while he races to his end just after me. He presses his face into her shoulder and crumbles as our bodies offer up shudder after shudder of release until all that remains is a quivering suspension of movement and then silence.
I run my fingers through his damp curls, the smell of sweat mingling with the various aromas of the candles – vanilla and pumpkin that is intertwined with the lingering salt …show more content…
"And I love you." He shifts onto his side and continues watching me, running a finger down my cheek to rest on my chin. "It's always been you... you know since the first I saw you and it will always be you."
"But I'll change. I won't always look like I do right now." I mutter softly.
"Well, if that's the measure of things, I won't always look I do right now." He laughs
"You will always be the handsomest, most desirable man in my eyes." MY eyes flit away. "I'm not the only one who thinks so."
Jim pulls my head back to look at him. "Melinda, honestly, do you think that a little, empty-headed girl like the one on the beach could possibly hold a candle to you?"
His incredulity spreads over his face and only grew as I consider his words.
"She's young, and unscarred, and probably doesn't wake up every other night screaming from nightmares from talking to the dead," I say matter-of-factly.
"And she also probably has no courage, no character and wouldn't last a minute dealing with what you deal with." He says and I chuckle at this. "You are singular, in every way, and not because of what we have gone through. Melinda, I will never love anyone like I love you. It gives me a pain in my chest just thinking of even trying to love someone else." He dips his head to kiss me, a far gentler kiss than the one I gave him, but full of the same, persistent heat, the slow burning flame that always flares when we are together. "If you don't know me by