Deep Surrendering: Episode Four by Chelsea M. Cameron Page B

was a wonder we didn’t both spontaneously combust.
    “I know, I feel the same way,” I said. It looked like I was going to have to make the first move here. As much as I wanted him to undress me, he seemed too fragile. So I slipped my fingers under the edge of my silky top and tugged it over my head, letting it fall to a heap on the floor.
    “Do you want to do the skirt, or should I?” I said.
    “I can.” I turned and presented him with my back. His hands started at my shoulders and dragged down my spine, and I was reminded of the last time we were together and he used the ice cubes. The mere memory of it sent a bolt of desire shooting through me, and I almost told him to hurry up.
    With hands trembling a fraction, he pulled the zipper of my skirt down and it joined my shirt on the floor.
    “There. Now that wasn’t so hard.” That was perhaps not a good choice of words.
    Fin exhaled and looked me up and down, drinking me in. “There are a million different things I want to do with you.” His eyes snapped to my face. “What do you want to do?”
    I answered by taking one of his hands and putting it on the side of my face and taking the other and placing it on my lower back. Then I rose on my tiptoes and whispered two words:
    “Kiss me.”
    He did.
     

     
    Things came naturally to us after we started kissing. We had been together before, so we were familiar enough with each other’s bodies. I tried my best not to touch him other than to kiss him, but I rested my hands lightly on his chest and he didn’t push me away.
    Growing bolder, I fisted his shirt in my hands, but he pulled his mouth from mine.
    “Red?” I asked. “But just the touching, right? Not the whole thing?”
    “Just for the touching. I’m sorry.”
    “No worries. Message received.” I put my lips to his again and kept my arms at my sides. It was much more difficult to not touch him when we were facing each another. That was probably another reason he didn’t like to do it this way.
    His hands fluttered over my skin, hesitant at first, but he grew more confident the longer we kissed. I opened my mouth and he dipped his tongue inside.
    Slipping my bra straps over my shoulders, he undid the clasp with a flick of his wrist before pulling it down my arms and letting it land on the floor. My panties followed. He went for his zipper, but I stopped him with my voice.
    “Get on the bed. Please.” It seemed rude to ask without a please. He nodded and climbed on the bed, laying on his back and waiting for me.
    “Would it be easier with all the lights off?”
    “Yes,” he said, so I turned everything off and pulled the curtains closed so the room was as dark as possible. His eyes still followed me, watching as I moved.
    “Ready?” I asked for the last time.
    “Yes.” I climbed on the bed next to him, and we lay side by side for a moment.
    “Do you want to be on top?” The symbiosis we experienced a few moments before had evaporated and now things were awkward again.
    “Top, I think. Yes, top would be good.” He sounded like I was asking him what kind of ice cream flavor he wanted.
    He was looking at the ceiling and breathing deep like he was meditating. Even in the dark though, I could see the bulge in his pants.
    I waited. And waited.
    “Maybe we shouldn’t—” I started to say, but then he was on top of me, pressing my body into the mattress but still supporting most of his weight with his arms. I made a surprised sound that was cut off by his mouth on mine. I think he didn’t want me to speak, as usual, but at least facing one another we could kiss to keep me quiet.
    He sat up and unzipped his pants, fumbling a bit before he got them undone, and reached for a condom. Shoving them down, he let himself free.
    I bit my lip as I looked at him. I’d only had a quick glance the first time we (almost) had sex. The first time when he left me.
    He rolled the condom on so fast I nearly missed it. Before I realized he was going to go