He's touching me again, and I
feel delicious.
I know that he is concerned
about how upset I am with this dragon business, but he just doesn't realize what
his touch does to me. He's holding
my hands in his, and it's all I can do to not lean in and kiss him right in
front of the others.
I remember when I
accidentally fell into his lap during the Agatha Grisley case.
I tried to play it cool and calm and unconcerned, but inside all I wanted
to do was wriggle in, and settle there for the rest of the evening.
I can feel my palms start to
perspire, and I'm sure he can feel it too; it's a huge effort just to keep my
body from shaking with nervousness and delight.
I know he is giving me words
of encouragement, but I can hardly hear them.
His tone is so soft and gentle; it warms my soul just to hear his voice.
I wish to do nothing else but
take this man upstairs, and make beautiful, sweet love to him.
To explore the unknown, intimate parts of him, and have him respond in
kind. To compare our contrasting
skin tones as we lie side by side in bed; his a rich, dark cocoa, and mine a
pale peach.
To feel his solid weight upon
me as he pushes into my body. To
feel his sturdiness beneath me as I thrust into his...delicious.
Simply and sensually delicious.
I'm sorry, Winston, I didn't
pay attention to a single word you said while I was lost within my fantasy.
I can only nod mutely as you wink and wag your finger at me...
Wait...Winston -winked- at
me??
He was holding my hands, and
now he winked at me? Does this mean
that he--. No, it couldn't possibly mean that...could it?
This bears looking into...real soon.