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The concourse was busy. Jack Carter could feel it in the air. Expectant. Waiting. The feeling almost physical. Almost manifest. Everybody waiting for somebody. He saw the doors open, and the first few people walk out, searching, looking. Their eyes, flickering from face to face, quickly, hesitant but eager. A girl in a long overcoat, her eyes lighting up as she found who she was looking for. Her heels clicking on the tiles as she moved through the crowd. A young guy, too busy trying to control the luggage cart. Eyes widening with surprise, then pleasure as the girl met him halfway.
And then she was in front of him. Tall and straight, stepping around the baggage cart, melting into his arms. Elise. And the kiss was everything he’d ever imagined it would be. Long and deep and utterly private. The world disappeared, the concourse, the airport, the other passengers. The sound of the little kid with the toy aeroplane. The bustle of the conversation. There was nothing but the feel of her in his arms, the taste of her on his lips. The way her body moulded to his, pressing against him. Becoming part of him. He knew at that moment. She was the one.
He drove, and the feel of her hand on the back of his neck made his heart ache. She stroked his hair, revelling in the feel of it under her fingertips. It was Christmas. She didn’t want to be anywhere else. Here. With him. Right now. She felt complete. He made her complete, and she leaned over and kissed his cheek as he drove.
He glanced over. Saw her smile. “What was that for?”
“I’m here. With you. I don’t think I’ll need any other reason to smile ever again, Jack.”
Six months ago, and he would have laughed at those words. Crass. Cliched. Sappy romantic bullshit. Now? Now he felt like everything he’d ever sworn against was conspiring to take him over. And he couldn’t resist, didn’t want to resist. Go with the flow, Jack.
She was speaking again. “Have I told you since I arrived that I love you?”
The words sprung to his lips, unbidden. He almost stopped himself. No. Let it go. Let it out. Live the feelings, don’t deny them. “Every single time you say something,” he answered.
She was silent, but it wasn’t etimesgut escort an uncomfortable silence. Her eyes were shining, just like they do in the movies. He thought she had never looked more beautiful.
Finally, she spoke. “No words,” she said. “I have no words. Nothing seems adequate. I speak four different languages, and I don’t have any way to do justice to my feelings in any of them.”
“Then don’t speak,” he said. “It’s superfluous, for us.”
She just smiled and looked out of the car window. Watched the unfamiliar roads. Felt his presence. She didn’t even have to look at him.
He had it all ready for her. Been working on it for days. The fireplace. The soft rug. The Christmas tree, with the lights and the glittering balls, bright and sparkling. The candles, dim and soft and soothing. And it was dark when they arrived. He had known it would be. Planned for it to be.
He opened the door, went inside. The Christmas tree lights were on.
“Jack?” she said, turning to him.
“Mm?” Lighting the candles with a matt black zippo. Pausing to look at her. His face, half hit by candle light. So beautiful. So handsome. She could have cried, right there, but instead she felt it between her thighs. The desire, the need. She felt herself start to throb, lust running from her nipples to her clitoris and back again.
She put her bags down, kicked them into the corner of the room. She hadn’t missed the rug, or the fireplace, or the candles. Seeing him there… God, how often did lovers actually just run into each others arms? Did that really happen? This was life, not Gone With The Wind. Did it matter whether it happened to anyone else? He looked at her. His eyes lifted. Black and impenetrable, holding secrets that she wanted to spend a lifetime uncovering. She didn’t care. It was going to happen now, regardless.
He finished lighting the candles and stood there, looking at her. Just looking at her. “Did you want something, sweetheart?”
She had shaken through the whole flight, but now, here with him, she was calm. She was here and he loved her and she had no need to be nervous. Her fingers were sure as she lifted a hand and unbuttoned sincan escort the top button on her blouse. She nodded at him.
“You,” she said.
He fell upon her like a parched traveller at an oasis.
Slick. Hot. Sweat. Skin on skin. Harder, faster, more forceful. The feel of her hair against his skin. Her lips against his lips. His body pressing hers down into the soft plush rug. The roughness of his thighs, scratching the smooth inside of hers. Her body, so soft, pliable, willing. Her ankles, locked behind his back, pulling him deeper. Her breath, hot and heavy, breathing the words in his ear.
“Fuck me, Jack. God. Yes. Fuck me, baby.” Her voice, hoarse. Demanding. Supplicating.
His animal groans, so guttural and primeval. The feel of her nails scratching down his back. His muscles tightly corded, lean and tense under her fingertips. His urgency. Her passion, rising with each savage thrust into her pussy. An inarticulate cry, escaping from her lips as he hit that sweet spot of release inside her. Her back arching, her lips parted in that soundless and timeless expression of pure, unadulterated ecstasy.
“Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.” The words, a litany of passion, repeated over and over. Her mind, unable to form coherent thought, aware only of the thickness of his cock, and the sound of his breathing.
“Oh god. I’m cumming. Oh god. Please. Please. Don’t stop. Don’t.. Oh god. Make me cum.. Oh god, yes. Yes. Oh baby…..” The pitch of her voice, rising higher and higher, sharper, demanding release. Her thighs like steel cords, locking him down, locking him deep inside her.
She was pure sensation. The touch, the feel, the smell of him. The taste of his sweat, the sight of his face, his eyes boring into hers. The power. The intensity, like a living thing between them, around them, in them. And then he was nothing but his cock, nothing but the solid swollen head, deep inside the wetness of her pussy, tight and hot and hungry, his universe contracted to that one perfect point of pleasure. Hilt deep inside her. The pressure deep in his balls, the feeling travelling up his entire length, a lighting surge of passion. He cried out then, just once, as that escort etimesgut exquisiteness reached the head. Spoke her name. Elise.
She answered him, her fingernails digging into his ass, loving the feel of him in her hands. “Oh god baby. Oh god. Yes. Cum for me. Cum inside me. Oh god.. I want it. Please baby. Oh god, don’t stop. Cum for me, baby. Cum for me now.”
And he did, his own back arching up, rearing up over her body, his eyes locked on hers. He froze in that position, his hips locked between her thighs, his cock buried deep inside her pussy. his fingernails hooked and hard on her shoulders. Time stopped. The moment that seemed to last forever and be over too soon. The moment of truth. She looked in his eyes and she knew.
Then the moment broke. Time started, and she felt it then, his cock swelling inside her, his eyes opened wide. He was there. It was now. And she squeezed with her muscles, just once, and he exploded, filling her, claiming her, possessing her. The heat, scalding her, flowing into her. Liquid passion. And then she couldn’t stop herself, her fingernails digging into his skin, her legs locking even tighter around him, her body on fire. Hypersensitive. Pain and pleasure came together, merged, mixed, the lines overlapping, blurring, consuming them both.
And then in the afterglow, when she’d finally got her breath back, and he’d managed to lift himself off her, their bodies peeling apart like two halves of a whole, he’d slid out of her, unwillingly, reluctantly and she found the strength to bend her head and take him in her mouth. Softly, gently. Cleaning him with her tongue, savoring the mixture, relishing the taste.
He watched her hair as her head moved over him. Soft on his thighs, lit by the candles and the soft small lights on the tree. Was she his? Was this it? Did this Christmas mark the start of something new? Something bigger than himself? She moved back up his body, rested her head on his chest and make a small soft contented sound. Her hand on his arm. The flicker of the fire, dancing over her skin.
Maybe it wasn’t important. She was here, right now. And he had to live in the now. In the right now. Because you can’t live in the past, except through memories, and you can’t experience the future until you get there, so the now is all that matters. And she was here now. With him. And he loved her, right now.
Tomorrow would take care of itself.
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