Something Like A Sparrow (wednesdaysong) wrote in twisted_tails,
Something Like A Sparrow

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You knew I’d be coming home to you soon, but I still felt like it was a surprise—like that feeling you get when you wake up, the morning of your birthday, and you just know that it has to be wonderful, just because…

I’d taken great care in my appearance, clean shaven sex and legs, those long limbs tucked into killer heels, and oiled up with natural hemp oils (apparently smelling like a donut). Red hair was down, loose, just a bit wild, shrouding my naked shoulders. Black was normally the color choice in my wardrobe, but today I’d opted for a red and black brocaded corset, and a black mini skirt that hugged my hips and fell barely mid-thigh. Cliché? Perhaps just a little, but I knew I could carry it off with the red hair. Lips were painted red; that siren kind of red that made men think about cherry pies, lollipops, and having a goddess on her knees.

My hands shook as I drove to your house. I knew you’d be home by now, stepping out of that hour long shower, the working day’s grime scrubbed clean. You’re probably clean shaven, but I’m hoping not—I love the way you feel sliding over me, that perpetual five o’clock shadow an interesting texture on my smooth skin.

I lit a clove—a nervous habit?—even though I’d claimed to quit. You always had a way of making me need a cigarette; most times, in the best way possible.

How fortunate we were to have an empty house for the afternoon. Your parents were hardly ever out, along with your sister. I wish my gas-guzzling beast of a car didn’t make so much noise coming up the drive, but this wasn’t a surprise, so it really didn’t matter.

A small piece of paper attached to the door was my welcome. I slid inside the house, tossing sunglasses haphazardly on the counter. I could hear Old Blue Eyes crooning through the radio upstairs, so you must not have been finished yet.

I sunk into the leathered chair (my spot?) and waited for you to come downstairs.

But I’ve got you…under my skin.

So much for clothes. There you were, at the bottom of the stairs in a towel, and I restrained a smile. You know you’re stronger than me, so there’s no way I’m leaping up to take the towel. Chances are, if I had leapt up, the towel would’ve been discarded eventually, and not in a joking manner.

“Well ‘ello, stranger.”

Not quite the climatic greeting I had anticipated, so I figured I’d make up for that. Something about me lately…made me feel wanton. Like a sex kitten. Like I could have anything I wanted, all I had to do was pout my lips, bat my eyelashes and that was all. Mine. So in true sex kitten fashion…

The steps from me to you were easily eaten up by long legs (longer in heels—your height, finally) and I put a hand to your waist first. You bit your lip, and laughed, though not so much humorously…that look I’d become so accustomed to. One hand to your chest, the other moved to your neck. Butterfly touches. Make you wonder if I’m real, if I’m here, or if this is just one of us dreaming.

You know I’m often distracted by your lips. But to my dismay, I can’t kiss you all the time. This is different though. You’re mine, even if just for the evening. Completely. I normally don’t kiss on the mouth, but we’ve moved past that. Too much had changed and not changed, stayed the same, but didn’t. So I kissed you. A kiss about hot apple pie, with vanilla ice cream melting in the center. A kiss about chocolate when you haven’t had any in a year. A kiss about summertime, about the water, about rain. A kiss that felt like we were spinning out of control, holding onto each other for some connection to something real.

“Hello.” Could you recognize my voice? The volume so low, it was like speaking rose petals, like breathing pollen. Afraid that anything louder could break the spell, and I’d wake up in my bed in Virginia, tingling and upset that it was just a dream.

Fingertips tiptoed to the top of the towel knotted at your waist. I grinned devilishly and brushed up against you. Had you, “missed me?” I asked coyly enough to not be obnoxious. You stifled a groan, and pulled me back into you. Us. I could feel you fit against me, my body humming. Self control meant not pulling you to the floor, right there. I felt your lips at my neck and nearly buckled.


A wanton sigh escaped my lips and I pressed closer into you. Us. I wanted you now, and you knew it. You were just playing with me, fingertips branding the tops of my thighs. You pulled back to watch me, just slightly. Do you like to watch my eyes get big, and listen for that slight gasp when you push two fingers inside of me? I grabbed onto you, digging nails in just slightly to the warm flesh of your shoulders.

“We should probably move this somewhere a little more private, don’t you agree?”
At that point, I had still retained powers of speech. “Indeed.”

You grabbed my hand, pulled me close enough for another kiss on the neck, and then led me downstairs. Your room was its usual chaos, but I had my attention on other things. Sitting down on the bed, I slid off my shoes—relief from those heels, finally!—and pulled you closer to me. You bit your lip again, but did not have enough time for your customary snort. I didn’t want romance, slow and sensuousness, even though there were moments when I longed for it with every fiber of my being. No. Not today. I had been away for far too long.

You’re stronger than me, but maybe you sensed the fact that I was wanton, desiring to be in control. You were easily pulled down onto the bed, towel not yet discarded. I climbed atop, pushing your hands up over your head, nestling against you. I wanted you to feel the heat from my body. Sporting a devilish grin, I ran a few fingers through my hair, and let it fall just under your chin. Limbs stretched out, a feline gesture, and all that hair was pulled languidly down your body. I nibbled on my lip and watched you, watched you with those aquamarine eyes and two sets of two fingers peeled back that towel, allowing for hair to spill over the object of my (and yours) desire. Fingers sought out flesh, and it wasn’t long before they were pressing into the very tip of you, rubbing the sensitive expanse of flesh underneath.

I like the way your body shakes. So I go a step further, bending down farther to kiss the insides of your thighs, pressing my finger into the lines where your legs meet the rest of your body. Flicking my tongues back and forth, but making no promises. You threaded five fingers each through my hair, stifling the sounds of potential begging. How many times had I wanted to hear you speak my name, or moan out and been deprived? But I could tell by the way you shook, the occasional gasp, that I was doing my job correctly.

I sat up just slightly, and you spoke. The sensation of your words curling about my ear was enough to enslave me (not like I wouldn’t do whatever you asked, anyway). “Don’t tease me…”

But that was what I had exactly in mind. I repositioned my knees between you, and bent down. Letting you feel my breath on you. Flicking my tongue back and forth, up and down the length of you. How you could stand it, was beyond me. I felt your growing frustration though, and so I took pity on you and brought red-stained lips around you, as quickly as possible. There was the gasp I’d been looking for!

Don’t lose it too soon though, sweetheart. You were mine for the evening, and this time, I was more than prepared. I took into consideration our previous conversations (in which you nearly drove me mad) and decided to take action. Taking my lips off of you I redirected you, in all your perplexity to sit up. I wanted you to watch me. The corset and skirt were easily abandoned—part of their appeal—and I lay back onto your sheets. Two fingers started at my chest, and ran slowly down the length of my body. Very slowly. I fair blushed at the way your eyes darkened in watching me, but the idea was one I’d entertained for a while. Fingers moved lower, tracing over my tattoos before brazenly dipping down to shaven sex. Using the other hand, I spread myself open to you. I was already wet, ready for you to be in me, my clit practically throbbing. I ran my fingers around it gently. I shook in response to my own hands, but pushed myself further, sliding two fingers into me. Slowly at first, but before long I was using a quicker rhythm. I threw my head back, moaning out just slightly. I didn’t want to come, not just yet. I wanted to slide down on top of you, come all over that hard cock of yours, but the temptation was indeed strong; the temptation to do it myself.

I wanted, needed you in me. But today was about seduction and teasing, as much as it killed me. I turned around, snuggled up to you and lay on your chest just so. I took your hands, ran them over my body, letting you just skim the surface. I wanted all of you, to have you fill me, but the anticipation was driving me wild. Rubbing up against you, I continued to slide two fingers in and out of me. I wanted you to feel the way all my muscles contracted, even the ones in my stomach and lower-back. Can you feel me? Can you feel the shuddering run through the length of my body?

I laugh at your frustration, a sound like tinkling bells as you move from beneath me. So much for starting on top. I was already so close to coming apart and in one quick gesture you were inside of me, filling me up until I thought I would split in two. Every time I gasped, and every time you laughed at me, surprised at the continuity of the gesture.

You were inside of me for only a few minutes when I felt the first wave coming on. I arched my back, dug my nails into yours and cried out your name. I wasn’t terribly vocal, or at least able to comprehend during sex, but each climax was usually marked with that one word. Your name.

Three times of being tossed back into the hurricane and your breath began to quicken. I loved how you pressed into me, driving harder, racing to the finish line of pure, orgasmic bliss. You came in a torrent, and I could feel your heartbeat in time with my own. I was spazzaming around you, my legs shaking, which would continue long after you pulled away from me.

It seems like forever, though it could have been only a few moments. You lay atop me, our sweat and smell of sex mingling in the air.

You look up at me, those bedroom browns darkening once more. I can feel you harden inside of me.

“Tired yet?”
“Not a chance.”
“Good.” You grinned devilishly, and it made a shiver snake down my spine, all over again.
“Good thing I’ve got you for the whole weekend.”

And yes, yes it was…

To be continued?
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