I endeavor not to fall victim of my immediate response and push or scratch the surface that the object explores as it reaches my jawline and my mouth at a deliberate, unhurried pace. I’m able to define the soft, delicate edges of wide-spread layers as he brushes it against the seam of my lip. Inhaling through my nose, I’m promptly met with the same faint, sweet scent that I encountered moments ago. Only then do I distinguish what the mysterious implement at Hayden’s will is…
Withdrawing the blossom, he meets my lips and takes the roses place upon my body. My mouth opens to allow his expert tongue entry to meld and fondle against my own.
The entire experience, the sensations which he is unveiling to my body, the time he is taking with me, honoring me, loving me…the physical, mental and emotional sentiments combining into one explosive journey. There is no feeling more passionate, more fanatical than making love to someone, who is making love to you.
I uplift my left hand and place it on the side of his face, groaning into his mouth as I deepen our kiss with a hefty urgency. Desperation spawns as I silently plead for us to take the next step of our exploration, and have him alleviate the throbbing that is manifesting between my thighs. But again, I am left coveting and untaken as he retracts his supple tongue, and withdraws from my mouth and body.
The mattress bounces and shifts. My hips gyrate against thin air, begging for any form of friction that will aid me to orgasm. I hear a stifled pop, and the itchy feeling of the rose is back on my naked, writhing body once more. Only it is different this time, it isn’t full and layered like before…it’s single and intangible, like a wing of a butterfly. I concentrate profusely, while savoring the mesmeric responsiveness, which has my body bowing.
Starting at the top of my cleft, the surge through my lower body is electrifying, consuming. Seeking to graze my folds against the frail and gracious aid, my hips propel upward. Finally, friction is granted, and it is fucking amazing. My body sparks, my lower back tightens, toes curl and fingers claw their way at the bedding while the pliability of the petal sheaths the sensitive ball of nerve endings.
He twists it around and around in a sweet, delicious torment that I know will soon have me finally unhindered and satisfied.
“Hayden, please––” the torment is too much for my hankering body to bear. I plead franticly for Hayden to relieve me of the constricting ache that forms, intensifies and tightens deep within my body––pushing aside the pleasure and stepping into painful territory.
My legs fall further open, tense and stiffen. The muscles and nerves in my hips bow with delicious force. My incoherent whimpering peaking at its highest as I come undone. My body is engulfed in sheer ecstasy causing my toes to curl and my eyes to roll. My head is thrown back and my back arches off the bed in the deep, intensity of my climax.
And for the first time, the only word that tumbles from my lips is Hayden’s name.
HAYDEN
She lies spent and sated, as she regulates her breathing, relishing her post-coital glow.
The pleasure that is laced through Samantha’s voice as she calls my name sends tingles down my body, and my heart constricts. She has never called my name before.
I surprised myself with the extent of my self-restraint, as I watched her desire increase with every touch, every kiss, relenting to what her body craved, her writhing, her whimpers.
So many times I wanted to take myself in my hand, and work myself over as I worked her body and pleasured her in ways, which I hope was new for the both of us. However, she deserved and needed my undivided attention as I explored her body, watching her facial expressions. The way she bit down on her lip as she neared her climax. Observing every reaction I provoked as I stimulated her in a sensual, tender manner, which I hope demonstrated the love that I hold.
I discard the flower and petal onto the bedside cabinet, before turning back to a sated Samantha and glide my hands up the shape of her legs. She shudders when I dip between her wet thighs, gripping at the flesh and I feel the raise of goose bumps.
Positioning myself between her legs, my forearms rest on either side of her head. My weight presses her deeper into the mattress as I shield her body. Setting my fingertips against her face, she parts her lips, and sinks her teeth into that lower lip that I have an urge to draw into my mouth and provocatively suck upon.
I brush her flustered, heated cheek with the back of my knuckles, smiling lovingly down on her form, fully aware that she is still absent sight. I lean my face closer to hers, and run the tip of my tongue over her lips. She opens her mouth and our tongues touch freely in the open air.
The knuckle of my thumb presses into her left cheekbone, as I nestle it under the blindfold. Tugging the material upwards, Samantha is reacquainted with her temporarily deprived sense. Her eyelids flicker like the flame of a candle, but she finally decides to keep them shut.
Rolling my hips against her, she gasps as my erection presses against her engorged, sensitive sex––being sheathed by her parted folds as it strokes against the slick coating of her clitoris. Repeating the roll of my hips, she answers me with a deep, persuasive moan, unabashed by the bountiful degree of longing which veils the lustful sound. My mouth unites with hers and I take the opportunity to suck on her lower lip. The desire to come so hard is overpowering, but I contain myself, for her.
I relieve her lip of my suction with reluctance. “Open your eyes, beautiful.” And as her lids flutter open to reveal her bright, topaz irises, I pull my hips back and inch by steady inch, I sink into her. Her eyes widen and glisten delightfully as she adapts and indulges in the feeling of the fullness. Keening appreciatively as I savor every part that prizes the feeling of her warmth, the ridges of the cushioned walls of her channel that massage against my shaft, holding me tight and firm as I sink deeper and deeper.
“Samantha…” I murmur on an outward breath. My hand pushing her sweat infused locks away from her face. I take in her beauty, the way her lips part, her tongue moistening her drying lips, the slight creases of her brow as she knits them together before each erotic, guttural moan, and the feel of the warm air ousted from her body as she exhales.
Hooking my forearms beneath her underarms, my hands clasp around her shoulders as I pull my hips back and sink into her again. She whimpers loudly as she tips her head back, closing her eyes and clamps her teeth into her lip in an attempt to stifle her cries.
I line my tongue up her throat to her chin before I gaze down on her.
“I love you, Samantha,” I rasp, but she doesn’t reply. I feel a strain in my heart. But before long, I feel myself build, and the potent sensations push my dampening curiosity far from my mind.
“Don’t stop…” I feel her pulsating around my length, clenching tightly as my foreskin is pulled back within her depths.
Eyes screwed tightly, her arms are wrapped around my neck, her legs locked around my hips. She grips at my shoulder blades with an untapped intensity that I have never witnessed from her before.
“Look at me, beautiful.”
Her eyelids flutter open. We watch the pleasure on each other’s faces, in each other’s eyes as we build up to our release together. The tightening of her grip and the burning of her nails in my shoulders incites my need to give into my body’s demands, as does Samantha’s.
Exhausted and appeased, I drop my weight carefully onto her, nestling my face into the crook of her neck while we stabilize our breathlessness. I am held in her arms, one at the nape of my neck, the other on my thorax holding me close to her moist, sultry body.
“I love you, too, Hayden,” she whispers in my ear. Mustering my reserved strength, I push myself up from the embedment of her neck and examine her eyes. “More than I thought possible,” she concludes between rapid soft pants, her voice breathy, and her eyes brimming with love, contentment and relief.
With the pad of my thumb, I caress her mouth and without a second thought, she plants a kiss on the tip. I am in awe of this woman; the woman who has captured my heart and opened doors for me that I never deemed possible to walk through again. She has me solely, my heart, my body.
With the events that transpired this weekend, with the truths unearthed and witnessed, tonight, I finally feel as though we can get through anything. I feel we truly belong to each other.
THIRTEEN
-------------------------
SAMANTHA
Thrashing around, tossing and turning that shakes the bed and the sound of Hayden struggling, wakes me from my slumber.
“Why…? No…please don’t…I’m sorry.”
Leaning over languorously, I flick the switch of the bedside lamp, filling Hayden’s bedroom with a soft, gilded glow. Placing my hand gently on his bare shoulder, I shake him softly to release him from the suffering his subconscious is inflicting upon him.
“Hayden…Hayden, honey…” I whisper, shaking him a little more forceful.
“No…don’t do this please…” he calls out, his face contorted, and gasping between the tears that stream their way down his sleeping features.
Witnessing him in so much emotional distress strains my heart. His head rocks from side to side across his white, linen pillow. His back arches off the bed. Sweat sheens his brow and upper body.
“HAYDEN!” I yell and concurrently shake him with as much strength as my body can muster, and his eyelids spring open in an instant.
He gazes up at me with fearful, wounded eyes; shocked to see me, yet not fully recognizing who I am. He pushes himself up, throwing the comforter off his sweaty, clammy body. Raising his legs he encircles his arms around them and conceals his face between his knees like a fearful child. He struggles to regulate his breathing, as he gasps between his laments.
Folding my legs underneath me, I inch my way closer to him. He straightens his posture, and tips his head back, taking deep, calming, cleansing breaths. With my knees on either side of his hips, his back to my front, I hang my arms around his shoulders. Crossing them over his pectorals, I place a kiss on his right shoulder.
Since the night Hayden went in search for me and found me in a less than compromising embrace with a random stranger outside the club, and made known that my demeanor on that lonesome, bleak night was a shadow image of the person who had been the catalyst and provoked his demons and self-doubt, followed by reliving the torment and humiliation that she subjected him to, Hayden has been reacquainted with his subjugating nightmares.
And to think it was not so long ago that I was the sole reason for taming his nights of suffering in torment. I never should have let him relive his past with that bitch, Addison. I should have supported him, and trusted him without needed the reasons behind his behavior.
Virtually every night is the same, waking up thrashing, shouting, pleading and crying. The cold sweats and a bruised conscious are once again becoming more familiar to him while he trudges through his nightmares alone. Three weeks of his ever growing fatigue, intervening with his work and his daily routines, as his sleep deprivation mercilessly continues to feast upon his emotional and physical strength.
“They’re getting worse…aren’t they?” I rock him side to side in an attempt to quell his rising anxiety, my nose nuzzling at the crook of his neck. He remains reticent. This is a part of Hayden that I have never witnessed before; seeing someone so confident and in control be lessened to this state of vulnerability…it swells my heart and turns it to concrete. I swallow past the setting lump in my throat.
“Do you want to talk about it, honey?” I ask guarded and with a heavy heart; disconcerted of what I may hear, but knowing that it may shed a little light into the patterns that are causing him so much pain subconsciously.
Jessie always tells me to talk about my nightmares, and it helps.
“Just drop it, Samantha,” he hisses. Grasping my hands he brusquely removes them from around his body, and pushes himself up from the bed.
I watch him, my mouth agape, dazed and startled at his unprovoked verbal attack. He heads straight into the bathroom. I hear the cascading water as he turns on the shower, and it has the same effect on my emotions as listening to running water has on your bladder.
I throw my face in my hands and allow myself to shed my own tears. Knowing what he has gone through, and accepting the fact that he had been diminished to an unrecognizable being at the abuse of that bitch, I thought the release of the burden that he was hiding would have made us stronger.
I shake my head resigned and defeated.
Why did he snap at me like that? All I want to do is help and offer reassurance. But how can I reassure him if he refuses to tell me what the bases of his dreams are? Dreams are our ways of progressing through unresolved issues after all…aren’t they?
Kicking off the comforter, I crawl over Hayden’s side of the bed, and leap out of it. I amble into the en-suite bathroom and lean against the doorframe. I watch Hayden’s outline intently outside the opaqueness of the surround whilst he stands under the flowing water. His one arm outstretched against the golden tiles in front of him, his head hanging down.
My heart cries out to help my man get through his moment of distress, my mind seeks to offer reassurance and compassion…my body aspires to show him how much he means to me, to lose ourselves in each other, in our passion, our love, and to somehow disregard and abandon the concoction of emotions he has feasting on his body and psyche, and concentrate on one thing…us.
Reaching down to my mid thighs, I grasp the hem of Hayden’s T-shirt and pull it up over my body, and drop it to the floor. I am completely naked in the doorway. Hayden remains forlorn and still under the shower head. The beads of water trickles down his body, his head submerged under the hot, refreshing torrent.
I stroll over to the glass and pull open the door, startling Hayden as I do so. He removes his hand from the tile and slicks his hair back before running his hand down his face, freeing himself from the droplets of water upon it. He turns and gazes at me as I stand at the cubicle entrance, an inquisitive, apologetic look etched upon my face and revealed in my eyes. I need to be near him, I need to reassure him…this is the only connection I can think of to help release him from his confusion.