eight

Eight
Freya’s Day January 16 Grael 21
“How many loved your moments of glad grace, and loved your beauty with love false or true; but one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, and loved the sorrows of your changing face.” –W.B. Yeats
She lay curled up upon the queen sized bed with her back against his chest and his arms woven through hers around her waist. Her fiery hair lay strewn across the lavender flowered pillowcase that matched the sheets upon which they lay without speaking. She listened intently to their rhythmic breathing and wondered how long their breath had been in sync. He caressed her hands, circling her knuckles thoughtfully with his nimble fingers. She listened to the melded pattern of his breathing, and with the caress of his fingers she was oddly soothed and aroused at the same time. The heat of his breath on the back of her neck sent a wave of shivers down her spine. Slowly, she turned to face him, her lips only inches away from his. He released his grasp with his left hand and moved a stray auburn tendril of curl from in front of her eyes. Smoothing the stray hair behind her ear, the side of his hand wandered down her cheek. Leaning inward her lips caressed his mouth, slowly at first. Gaining intensity, her mouth searched his for everything which she could not answer for herself. His left hand wandered down to her hip, resting on the slight bit of skin revealed between the end of her purple baby tee and the beginning of her low rise jeans. The warmth of his lips created an insatiable spark; the duality of her tongue explored the depth of his mouth as well as the depth of his soul. Rolling closer to him, she wrapped her right leg around his left. She could feel the firmness of his leg muscles through his jeans against the curve of her thigh. Slowly, his lips traveled down the vertebrae of her throat, lingering on the hollow between the clavicle bone and the last bone of her throat. Here he ran his heated tongue in deliberate circular movements. Suddenly she arched her back, confirming the status of that location as a pressure point. At the arching of her back, he slipped his left hand around her to the small of her back, catching her as she came back down. Coming back down, she allowed him to roll her over onto her back, his hand remaining beneath her. Reaching upward, she grasped his shoulders firmly, helping to position him on top her so as not to crush her. His lips ran back up her neck to her mouth, remaining while his lips sought out the deepest part of her. Her hands slid down his shoulders and back up his arms, slipping inside the short sleeves of his white T-shirt. She held him forcefully for a moment before withdrawing her hands and running them smoothly down his chest, catching the fabric of his shirt in her clasp. With his shirt between her fingers she lifted it gingerly over his head, halting with her lips only then in their heated exchange of atonement.
His right hand brushed tendrils of scarlet curl from her face while his left hand wandered around inside the back of her shirt. His fingers danced along the double back clasp of the lavender lace bra. His mouth passed over the places on her face where her hair had dangled as the hand under her shirt moved across the bra straps and down the shoulders to the cups. It moved farther down to the edge of the shirt, where the right hand met it to catch the hem and lift it over her head. She ran her hands up his muscularly defined mahogany arms. The candlelight cast dark shadows, downplaying the contrast of her pale skin with the richness of his own. His heated lips ran along her neck, along her clavicle bones, and down between her breasts. Reaching upward, he grasped the lace straps and pulled them gracefully down her shoulders. Nimbly he popped open the hook in the back with his thumb and forefinger. Thoughtlessly he cast it to the floor along with their T-shirts that lay in a heap by the side of the bed. His right hand caressed the curve under the cup of her breast as he guided his mouth around her nipple softly. Her breath quickened slightly, and had their breathing not been so in sync he would not have noticed. Cautiously he flicked about her nipple with his tongue and then continued the circling motions around her nipple similar to those he had performed on her neck. She ran her fingers over his braided hair and caressed the nape of his neck. He moved his mouth across the slight cleavage of her b cup breasts to the left breast, wandering around it with his eager tongue. He suckled her softly at first, then intensified as she involuntarily gasped with delight. Simultaneously she grabbed his neck, and he looked up into her eyes questioningly. Smirking, he realized that he had left a mark of passion.
Moving her hands from the nape of his neck to his shoulders, she pushed him down onto his back. His amber eyes held her hazel gaze as she held the dominant position. She stared intently as she sat up straddling him. Slowly she descended, tracing his neck with her mouth, lingering on the side beneath his right ear. She caressed the cartilage around the piercing stud, noticing an increase in the rate of his heartbeat. Simultaneously, she brushed her breasts up against his firm chest. She could feel the heat between them building. As if ignited by another spark, she was abruptly rolled again onto her back.
Her lips let go of his ear lobe; his hands slid down her body to her hips, holding them firmly while he began kissing her stomach. Once again his tongue wandered, although this time it moved in circles inside her navel. Again her back arched, this time accompanied by a slight moan. Although barely audible, he was so in tune with her body that he heard it before it entered the atmosphere. He ran his hands down from her hips to encircle her thighs, all the while caressing her belly button with his tongue. He could feel the heat between her thighs through her jeans. Aptly his fingers traveled to the buttons of her jeans. The first posed some trouble, but the subsequent four unbuttoned without difficulty. Intense was the heat transfer from his hands as they slid down her thighs and legs as he slipped off her jeans. These ended up in the growing mountain of clothes on the beige carpet. He was in the process of gently slipping his fingers inside her purple lace panties when she forcefully pushed him over onto his back.
Her fingers made circles across his chest that would later be traced by her wet, anxious lips. Straddling him with her delicate hands resting on his shoulders, tendrils of cherry hair fell across his amused face. She slunk slowly down his chest, her perky breasts creating friction with his rapidly rising chest. His jeans were easier to take off, which she accomplished with deft hands. She could feel the heat from beneath his smiley face boxers. Rubbing up against him, she felt his body quicken to the occasion. She could smell him more intensely now. Now she could identify the mixture of scents that had always perplexed her: laundry detergent, cinnamon, light cologne, and now, a raw, manly scent that could only be pheromones. His firmness bulged on the inside of her thigh. Her wet, anxious lips traced the muscles of his chest, the way her hands had earlier. They moved lower until she was caressing his navel with her tongue, allowing the heat to trickle over his body and town to the tips of his fingers.
With the same audacity with which she had pushed him over when he was not finished taunting her, he rolled her over onto her back again before she could even realize that she was no longer dominating. This time it was his mouth that did the searching. Across the sides of her face, along the nape of her neck, down her chest, below her navel his lips moistened her creamy skin. His tongue ran over the top of her lavender lace panties enticingly. The heat from beneath the lace was searing, and yet he could not bring himself to remove his mouth. His right hand moved from the small of her back and cast them to the floor. His mouth wandered around the inside of her trembling left thigh. She pushed downward onto his shoulders in an effort to roll him onto his back. Firmly he held onto the small of her back as he surrendered and rolled over. He lay now with his face between her thighs as she slid her body down his face and then his chest, her breasts caressing his face as she became eye level with him.
The heat rose in the little space that was left between them, culminating in the intensity of his amber eyes. She held his gaze, aware of the searing heat between her breasts and his chest, aware of the firmness against the side of her thigh. Slowly, carefully, she slid down his chest and was now eye level with the smiley face boxers. Reaching up she slid them off with more care than he had. She liked to make him wait; he hated waiting. Thoughtfully she tilted her head to one side. To slide up and have him enter her immediately or have him tortured just a bit longer? She surprised a giggle. If she made him laugh it would all be over. Apparently she was losing this option, for his muscular arms grasped her by the waist and slid her back up his chest and placed himself strategically inside of her. She was now eye level with him again. Leaning inward to kiss him, she felt a sharp pang and cried out, although she was not sure if it had been out of pain or pleasure. She surrounded him completely now: her lips, her body. She leaned back gently, feeling him ease farther into her, all the while never taking her lips off of his. Amidst slow, methodical kisses she found her body’s natural rhythm and rocked to it. Ages seemed to pass. She let out a muffled cry. As naturally as she had found the rhythm, he rolled her over, his mouth still engulfed by hers. Only now it was she who was engulfed. Engulfed by his scent, his mouth. His hand moved from her shoulder to the side of her head, as if to cradle it, creating a contrast between the violence of his thrusting and the sensitivity of his touch. Suddenly she became aware of screaming, half pleasure stricken, half starved. It was his touch that brought her back to herself and made her realize that it was she who was screaming. And then there was nothing. There was darkness and sweat, and heaving breath. The sheets were soaked, the candles had burned out, and their erratic breathing still matched. It was as if nothing could sever them. His damp fingers traced the hollow of her neck, and then the darkness came and settled on her soul like a feather.
He left her sleeping on the bed, curls lazily across her face. Quietly he put his clothes back on and headed to the kitchen. He was hungry, and she would be hungry when she awoke. Down the narrow hallway he padded in his socked feet to the kitchen. He looked around the room. There were no plates in the sink. No coffee cups, no silverware. Either she had stopped eating again or had gone into her one of her cleaning modes. He doubted it was the latter. He opened the freezer and rumbled through the plastic containers that were labeled with type. Toasted whole wheat couscous and Basil with sunflower seeds, pink lentils with zucchini, egg plant parmesan, chocolate tapioca pudding, watermelon salad with feta and mint, Cesar salad, Mexicali chop with crunchy tomato strips, mock tuna salad, smoked Portobello club sandwich, Smokey eggplant spread, smoked tomato and black bean quesidias, strawberry meringue nests, southwestern corn pudding, fennel spiced potato wedges. Jamar shut the refrigerator. Adrienne had moments where she would cook large amounts of food, mostly with the intent to feed people other than herself, and freeze them in the freezer. Everything was vegetarian. He shut the refrigerator. She was cooking as though Charlotte were still living with her. The reality was that Charlotte had broken up with her before she took the teaching assistant position at the university, which was at least a semester previously. She hadn’t put any dates on the containers, so he didn’t know that they were fresh. But, they were frozen, so most likely the food only had freezer burn. What he really wanted was some pizza, but he knew if he ordered some she would not eat it. He pulled out the pink lentils and zucchini, fennel spiced potato wedges, and the chocolate tapioca pudding. If nothing else, jamar knew that she would eat the pudding.