I come up from behind. Wrap my arms around you. Nuzzle your shoulder. Sink my teeth into the soft skin at the back of your neck.
You turn in your chair. I wonder how you look so incredibly sexy in your worn sweatshirt.
Your lips are soft. Sweet.
You pull me onto your lap.
I seek the depths of your mouth with my tongue.
Your fingers cradle my head, tilting me sideways and backwards. Controlling.
I arch toward you. My body aching for your touch. All I get your is continuous invasion of my mouth.
If you won't touch me, I'll touch you.
I run my palms down your face, neck, shoulders. Smoothing your shirt over your chest and stomach.
I love this shirt. Worn until it was soft and ragged around the edges. I play with the band at the bottom, working up the courage to slide underneath.
You our mouths apart. You pull my head to your shoulder. My tongue darts out to nip the tender spot at the crux of your neck and shoulder. You tug my hair. A warning.
"With a kiss like that, I thought you'd rip my clothes off and have me on the floor."
You stand, lifting me. "You wish you could be that lucky. A kiss like that is a promise to take my time with you."
I shiver with anticipation.
i used to clean an office and this one hot guy would come in all the time. and he'd wear those soft, worn sweatshirts. and i had a lot of time to daydream ... i'd probably stalk him if i could find him. but alas he seems to be camera shy. i'll have to stick with stalking Eddie Redmayne.