Kelly
When my skin meets air I forget everything but his warmth and his strength and his touch.
My heart races. I'm sure I'm panting, but I don't even notice. It's like the entire world has shrunk to this tiny universe of me and Crash, his smell, his touch.
With whispered words and gentle smiles, Crash encourages me to scoot further up the bed, until I'm in the middle of the huge expanse and a moment later he's crawling after me, over me, his hands sliding from my calves up, up, up, over all my dips and valleys, my softest spots, and my hardest corners, his fingers leaving trails of goosebumps on my skin. I realize he's removed his jeans. He gasps my name and slides his tongue over my sensitized skin until I'm writhing against him, gasping his name, and pleading for him.
I know what we're supposed to do, I understand the mechanics, but I still don't understand why—oh.
