Marius
“Anca,” I try to say. It comes out muffled between the frenzied movement of our lips against each other.
I don’t even know why I’m saying her name. It’s not because I want her to stop. It’s not because I want to stop, I don’t think I could if I had a gun to my head. Maybe it’s to remind myself that it’s her, it’s her that I’m kissing. This tempestuous witch who’s taken over my body and mind since the moment I saw her at the bar just a week ago. From someone I couldn’t pick out of line up, to the reason underlying every single one of my decisions.
I’m kissing her, or she’s kissing me, or we’re in this equally together.
“Marius,” she sighs, and the blood rushes to my head, dizzying me.
She pulls away, her lips even fuller and more luscious than usual from the crushing of my mouth against hers.
She bites it, as if aware that it’s puffed up against the whiteness of her porcelain skin. My hand reaches up to cup her face, and it’s wet. She’s been crying.
Oh my god, you utter fuckhead, she’s been crying and you’re taking advantage of her?
“Shit!” I curse myself and pull my hand away, rubbing my temple with my other hand.
Her eyes instantly narrow slightly, there’s a furrow of her brow. “What?”
“I’m sorry, fuck, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t… no.”
“No, what?”
“No, we can’t be doing this?”
“Why not?’
“Because YOU… you’re upset, and I… ugh, when you kissed me, I just couldn’t stop.”
“You weren’t… aren’t supposed to stop.”
“Then why did you pull away?”
“Because I still need to breathe,” she says, and there’s a tone of defiance in her voice.
“I think we both need to breathe,” I tell her, getting up on my feet, pacing back and forth in front of her.
She doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watches me. I try to ignore her eyes on me, knowing if I look at her, all logic, all reason leaves me.
Finally, I turn back to her. She’s still on her knees, her hands on her lap, looking up at me. Her eyes are still glistening, wide, bright, her pupils open, and her lips haven’t lost their plumpness. And all I want to do is take her in my arms and make love to her. All that vulnerability, all that longingness, I want to dive in and bathe in it. And I want her to bathe in my want and yearning for her.
“Anca,” I sink back onto the ground in front of her, taking her hands in mine, “what are we doing?”
She shakes her head, as if ruminating over the stupidity of my question. Then she stops, and looks at me, pupil to pupil, as if nothing exists but us.
“We’re living, Marius,” she says. “You said it, now or never.”
Now.
***
The train ride and walk back to the hotel is done in silence.
Her hand never leaves mine and my eyes never leave hers.
Everything that needs to be said before we do this, is being said without words.
Leaning towards the elevator door, I press the button for our room’s floor, her hand still gripped in mine, as if there’s an understanding that if we let go, this all disappears in the wind. Let’s hold on, at least for these moments.
The ding of the elevator startles us both, and the doors open. There’s a hesitation. I’m not sure from whom, but neither of us race to step off. I smile at her and she looks away for the first time. But just for a moment, then she leans in and presses a soft, gentle kiss to my cheek before stepping off the elevator and leading me to her room.
Pulling the key card from her pocket she slides it into the slot and pushes the door, and I follow her inside.
For the first time, we let each other’s hands go, and stand there in the foyer of her room, staring at each other.
“Anca,” I say, and it’s the first thing I’ve said to her since we left the park.
She smiles and presses her finger to my lips, shushing me. Pulling her finger away, she replaces it with her lips, and then the hunger for her reignites in my torso.
“God, Anca,” I say, this time, and my own voice sounds somewhat erotic in my own ears, saying her name.
“Marius, take me, make love to me,” she whimpers, and those words, her voice saying those words, redefine what eroticism is in that instant.
I take her hand and pull her arm over my neck as I scoop her up into my arms.
I lay her on the bed and she pulls herself up onto her knees. I sit on the edge as I watch her.
Watch as she hooks her fingers into the straps of the dress and slides them off her shoulder. The dress slinks down her body and, oh god, she’s not wearing a bra. And she is… she is exquisite.
“Anca,” I say again, this time with barely any breath left in my body.
She smiles and holds her hand out to me, I take it, gently. She giggles softly and yanks me against her, and I fall, losing my balance, against her. She helps break my fall with her hand on my shoulder, but then my mouth finds her. Her skin. The soft, silken, milky white luxuriousness of her flat but soft stomach, the valley between her breast, her decolletage, and then, fuck, holy fuck, her breasts. Her plump, gorgeous, soft, delectable breasts. What little patience I had is lost as soon as her nipple hardens at the first touch of my cheek against her, and I suckle on the sweet, pink nub with an urgency I’ve never felt. Her moans vibrate from the pit of her stomach and I move my mouth to her other nipple, flicking the tip with my tongue, feeling it tighten and swell in a matter of split seconds.
Her hands are in my hair, massaging the sides of my head, and I wonder how it can get better than this.
“Marius. Don’t make me wait. I’ve waited for you long enough. Make love to me. Now,” she says.
I pull off her, off the bed and she sits up, following me. I fumble with my belt, but she reaches out, replacing my hands, unbuttoning my jeans and sliding the zipper down. Her hands graze my hard cock as she does, and my whole-body freezes.
Fuck.
God, I want her so bad.
She looks up at me, a soft smile playing on her lips, and there’s something so sweet about her that I crave. I lean over to kiss her.
As I do, she slides my pants and briefs down my legs, and when I finally pull away, I’m hard and ready in front of her. She bites her lips, looking at my cock and then back at me.
I can’t help but chuckle at the sexiness of her look.
“No, bad girl. You can’t touch me until I’m inside you or else this will all be over way too fast.”
“Fine, I just hope that you recover fast then.” The look she gives me is sly and I almost blow on the spot at the thought of her mouth wrapped around me.
It’s a delicious thought, but not what I want.
I want her.
I want to be inside her.
Taking her and giving to her, everything.