The heat is cloying, pressing in from all sides. A late night in May, the air would already be wet if it wasn’t for the early summer storm. With every roll of thunder, every crack of lightning, the smell of ozone invades the house, the pressure in the air changes. My body feels electric, like it is of the storm, and all the baby fine hairs on my body stand up on end. It’s late evening, the clouds blanket the sky, and the world is darker for the want of a moon. The flashes of lightning are the only source of light. The power is out; technology outdone again by the awesome force of nature. I lean against the open sliding glass door, inhaling the scent of petrichor, absorbing the sound of the rain into my skin. My body feels alive.
I feel the brush of your fingertips at either shoulder, pushing the thin straps of my dress down my arms. Your lips follow, peppering my skin with heated kisses and the barely there brushes of your tongue and teeth. When your mouth finds my neck, I melt back against you, head tilted away to bare the sensitive line of flesh. I shift and slip my arms out of the straps, and the dress falls to the floor. I stand naked in front of the open night, save for the black fabric at my hips. My skin glows with the ethereal non-light of the storm. One of your hands wraps around my body and your palm presses flat against my stomach, the other wraps around my throat, fingers stretching to grasp my chin and keep my head turned. Your mouth works my neck gently, applying the pressure of your teeth, sucking my skin in between them, marking me in tiny ways that will make themselves known in the morning.
Your hand slides up to cup and grope and pinch my breasts. My nipples stiffen beneath your fingers and I arch my back against you. Your grip tightens on my throat and my breasts and I feel you shift behind me, your bare feet shuffling back against the carpet, pulling us both back to the bed. The sudden urgent need to feel you naked and spread on top of me is heavy inside of me. Your hands turn me in your arms and you press me back against the high bed; the edges bump against the backs of my thighs. I wiggle up on top of it and pull you closer with my legs, hooking my ankles back around your knees. My eyes are on yours as my hands unbutton and unbuckle your jeans and tug them down your hips. As they fall to the floor, my hands touch and press against your naked hips in the dark.
Your palms force me onto my back and slide down my stomach till they reach the edges of my panties. I gasp as you pull them down my hips and legs, touching me the whole way. They fall by the wayside, and your hands grip the inside of my thighs, keeping them spread open. The center of me aches and throbs, and though I can only see the lines and shapes of your body in the shadows, I can feel you staring down at me, drinking in what you can see.
“Come here,” I whisper, reaching for you.
You climb in between my thighs and my arms wraps around your back, holding you to me, feeling your skin against mine. I can’t help but moan at the touch of your body, and my legs wrap around your hips. I cling to you as you press inside of me. My hands can’t stop moving against you, in the soft, thick tendrils of your hair, against the nape of your neck, your shoulders, down your back. I want to melt against you. Your lips find my neck again, and it sends a pulse straight down to where our bodies meet. I turn to the side to give you my skin. Lightning illuminates the room and for seconds, I can see the reflection of us in the mirror against the wall; we are nothing but flushed skin and grasping limbs, and the image is burned into my mind.
Your hands and your mouth are everywhere. Your body moves against mine relentlessly.
“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” I am mumbling, my voice growing to a fever pitch, tears roll down my cheeks, and suddenly I am unbelievably desperate for you to stay with me, to keep touching me, to keep fucking me. I can’t stop begging.
“Shhh, shhh,” you murmur and grasp my hair in your hand, long thick bunches of it strung between your finger tips. You pull it, once, hard, forcing me to look into your eyes.
Your breath is beating hot against my face, and I can make out your eyes in the inky dark, just before you claim my mouth with your own. Your tongue invades my mouth roughly, staking your claim, much in the same way that your cock lays claim to my body. I’m falling apart beneath you. My back is arched, my hips are rocking, my hands and legs are holding you to me, as if you might fall away otherwise. My body is on edge, and every clap of thunder makes my heart race faster. The storm is roiling inside of me as it rages on outside. You’re groaning against my lips and when you pull away, my breath is coming in sharp pants.
“What do you need, baby?” you mutter.
My hands slide away from your back and shoulders and grip your arms tight; I fight the urge to close my eyes.
I gasp: “You, I need you…”
My body falls off of the edge of being, of existence. My orgasm rips through me, quick, unexpected, and my nails dig into your biceps as I cry out loud. You move against me harder, faster, fighting the grip of me.
“I need you, Sir,” I mewl his name, over and over again, letting it beat into the air like a prayer.
He comes inside of me with a roar and I dig my heels into him, holding him deep, deep inside of me while he fills my body with his seed. I can feel him in the innermost parts of me, and it is inexplicable, the way it makes me feel.