She sat knitting in the corner of the room. Her back against the wall and her knees pulled up, she would have been easy to miss if it wasn't for the bright pink of the shawl she was working on. The coffee shop was filled with low sounds and rich scents. College students lounged like lions towards the front of the room, lazy in the languid afternoon light. The cup of tea at her elbow had grown cold as she ignored it and worked on her project.
Her hiking boots rested on the pine wood paneling that made up the seat of the booth, looking some how out of place. Her hair was hidden beneath an elaborately folded and styled scarf of an equally bright pink, a shock of color against her black slacks and her black shirt. He watched her as he crossed the room. He knew that she was waiting for him but he was surprised to see that she wasn't watching for him. A small frown on her face suggested that she was frustrated with her project.
He stopped at the counter across from the booth she was sitting in. As he ordered an espresso, he watched her out the corner of his eye. She bit her lower lip and paused, counting stitches. She looked up as he turned with the demitasse in hand. A smile bloomed on her face and she set the knitting down in her lap. She moved to get up and he wave a hand at her, silently telling her to stay in her seat. He slid into the seat across from her and looked at the shawl.
From what he could tell, it was relatively basic knitting but even he could see where the tension of the stitches changed as she worked on it. “So, what's on your mind?” he said casually, putting the demitasse squarely in front of himself. She reached over and set a hand on his. It was a small gesture that was utterly innocuous but it was like a quick jolt of electricity came from her fingertips as they settled on the back of his right hand.
“Nothing much,” she said coyly, her smile turning mischevious. He raised his eyebrows and slipped his hand away from hers. At that sudden lack of contact, she felt a yearning ache and struggled with the urge to reach for him again. “I was thinking we could go do something,” she said. It was his turn to give a wry smile. As he picked up the demitasse, he couldn't help the quick flash of heat in his eyes.
“We're not doing something now?” he said, feigning innocense. Her coy expression turned droll as she looked flatly at him. “I thought we were having coffee,” he said, “Isn't that what we're doing?” She opened her mouth to make a sarcastic response and thought better of it as his expression turned a touch serious. The seriousness in his expression gave way to a slow, suggestive smile. “Oh, I know,” he said, “We're talking as well. How could I forget that part?”
For a moment annoyance at his teasing warred with something else in her eyes, again she seemed about to comment and changed her mind. He carefully set the demitasse down on its saucer and moved it aside. As she started to pull her hand away and turn her attention back to her knitting, he caught her wrist. Her gaze whipped from the fabric she was making to his face. In that moment, excitement, desire, and fear shone in her eyes. He could tell that she desperately wanted to say or do something but was struggling with herself. He ran a fingertip along the inside of her wrist, noting how her pulse throbbed wildly. “You had something you wanted to say,” he urged, his light touch putting chills through her.
“I... It...” she stuttered and she started to pull her hand away again. His grip hardened and her gaze went from their hands to his face again. “It's nothing,” she said suddenly, looking everywhere but in his eyes, “Really.” He scooted forward in his seat, turning her wrist over until the back of her hand was flat against the table. With his freehand, he traced random lines over the inside of her wrist, watching how she struggled against rising arousal.
“It's a bitch to want something and you just can't bring yourself to ask for it, isn't it?” he said, amusement shining in his eyes. He watched as the flush rose over her cheeks and the way she looked demurely at her knitting. His grip on her wrist grew harder, making her gasp softly and her gaze flick to his eyes. “Trying so hard to be proper when there's nothing proper about this at all,” he said softly, his tone rich with amusement, “That's cute.”
“I didn't say anything about that,” she replied primly, with a faint edge of panic to her voice. His smile turned wolfish “Really, I don't know what you're talking about,” she said quickly, giving a small tug on her captured wrist. He dug his nails into the sides of her wrists. Her next protestation faded away into a soft sigh as she shivered and her eyes fluttered shut. “Oh my,” she said nervously after a long moment of silence.
“Open your eyes,” he said, his tone hard edged and demanding despite its softness. She opened them slowly and looked over at him. His grip on her wrist softened but she made no move to break contact. “Now, tell me what it is you wanted to say,” he said firmly. The blush deepened and she started to look away. “Look at me,” he said in that unyeilding tone. She looked back at his face, unable to help the feeling of being trapped, pinned like a butterfly beneath that hungry look in his eye.
That was when she realized that some where along the line, she stumbled past the point of no return. “I,” she said in a voice that was the ghost of a whisper, “I've missed you. I've missed...” She fell quiet uncomfortable with admitting what she was feeling out loud. He looked at her, raising his eyebrows in a silent exhortation for her to continue. She suddenly reached for her cup of tea and took a sip. She looked down into the cup.
She felt like an idiot. She was a grown woman, not a girl out on a first date. Looking at him, however, just sent the words right out of her mind. Vivid images of what she lusted for burned in her mind. She struggled with the sense that voicing such things was entirely improper, something that she should never do. “You've missed...” he prompted, choosing to ignore the way she stared uncomfortably into her tea cup. He was fairly certain that she managed to render herself tongue tied. On one hand, it was entertaining to watch her struggle, but it made carrying on a conversation rather challenging.
A soft sigh answered him. She continued to stare down into the cup in her left hand as she said very quietly, “I've missed your touch.” He smiled. The small admission spoke volumes about her state. He could see that her indomitable will was bending like the summer grass in a breeze. He could hear in her voice a tremble of uncertainty. In answer to her quiet words, he again caressed the inside of her right wrist. Her breath caught in her throat.
“Come with me,” he said quietly, letting go of her wrist. She blinked as though suddenly awakening from a light doze and hurriedly put her knitting back into the tote bag. As she reached under the table for her purse, he slid out of the booth. He watched her make her way out of the booth before gesturing for her to lead the way out of the coffeehouse. When the reached the door, he reached past her and opened it, standing so close that they nearly touched.
She paused once they were out on the street, unsure what way they were going to go. He reached over and took her hand, leading her to his car. They got in and he started it. They drove in pregnant silence, words hanging unsaid between them like some sort of perfume. As they made their way out of town, he reached over and put his hand high on her thigh. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly gone dry.
Soon, they were driving to a small park well past the outskirts of town. The trees were brilliant in their autumn glory as the sunlight slanted gold through them. As they stopped in the parking lot, which was little more then a glorified square of gravel, she noted that cool weather had served to leave the park as deserted as a graveyard. He reached to the back seat and pulled a woolen blanket from beneath her purple knitting bag. “Let's take a walk,” he said, smiling as she blushed. They got out of the car and he locked it. He stepped up close beside her and took one of her hands in his.
They walked along a trail that crossed the burbling creek and took them deep into the treeline. Soon, he had lead her to a pine grove that was still but for the call of a whippoorwill. Safely ensconced in the privacy of the forest, they were well and truly hidden from the parking lot or the paths of the park. He spread the blanket out on the forest floor as she looked demurely down at her hands. He sat down on the blanket and opened his arms.
She sat beside him, entirely unsure what to say or do. He reached up and pulled the pink scarf off of her head. He balled the silk up and shoved it into his pocket as he gently tugged her hair free of the bun it was pinned up in. He leaned close to her, pressing his face against her hair and taking in a deep breath. The lavender scent of her shampoo only served to be a pleasant counterpoint to the subtle scent of her. He pressed a kiss against her brow as he gathered her into his arms.
She started to duck away when he put a hand against her cheek. Gently, he guided her face to his and slowly kissed her. He began to lean back, holding her against his chest. Soon, they were laying side by side on the blanket, kissing until they were nigh on breathless. He broke the kiss and ran a hand through her hair. With a light tug, he encouraged her to lean her head back.
His mouth settled warmly over her pulse point and she gasped. He threw a leg over her hip and pulled her tightly against him. His hands smoothed down her shirt before slipping under it at the waist. With an almost painfully light touch, he retraced his motion, capturing her breasts in his hands. She gave a soft, liquid sigh, her hands settling lightly on his shoulders. Gently, he kneaded her breasts, smiling at how she squirmed.
“Sit up,” he breathed in her ear. She sat up, as did he, and took her shirt off. He smiled at her lack of bra before wrapping an arm about her waist. His mouth closed over her right nipple and she gasped at the heat of it. She maneuvered herself to be sitting in his lap, her legs wrapped around his hips as he suckled at her breast. She sighed and moaned softly, her sounds of pleasure all but lost in the breeze.
His hands wandered over her back as she lightly wrapped her arms about his shoulders, snarling her fingers into his hair. Where ever he touched, she felt as though she was burned. The lightness of his caresses brought tears to her eyes as she ached for him to be more heavy handed. His hands settled on her hips as he leaned back. She looked down into his eyes, all self-consciousness washed away by the arousal he invoked in to her.
They readjusted themselves so that she lay beneath him upon the scratchy woolen blanket. He covered her mouth with a hungry kiss as she ran her hands down his back. He pushed himself up on his arms, looking down at her. His eyes drank greedily in the sight of her face soft and flushed with arousal, the way her white flesh seemed to glow in the late afternoon light, and the dark rosebuds of her erect nipples. He realized that he could just stare at her and it would be enough to make him happy. At that realization, his smile turned soft and sweet. Her lust clouded eyes briefly cleared with confusion before he kissed her again.
Unlike his earlier kisses, this one was harsh and demanding. She stiffened in surprise. His touch turned much more heavy handed, gripping her hard and kneading her soft flesh insistently. She gasped and shuddered in pleasure. In a fit if pique, he leaned back and tore her shoes off her feet, casting them to the side with irritation. He reached forward and peeled her slacks off her, removing her panties as well in a single practiced gesture.
She went to reach for his clothes when he put a hand on her chest. This hand moved down to her stomach, pressing her down to the hard earth beneath them as he brought his face close to her thighs. He took in a deep breath, savoring the scent of her arousal. He put a hand on either side of her hips and dragged his tongue over her sex with a groan of pleasure. She gasped again. Slowly, deliberately, he explored her sex with his tongue, tasting every inch he could.
She moaned and groaned at every slight movement of he tongue. She spread her legs wide, attempting to make it easier for him to continue, whimpering as she brought her hips up to his face. His relentless assault with his tongue soon brought her to a shuddering and gasping climax. Encouraged by this, he did so two more times. He brought her close to the edge of a fourth climax and stopped. She squirmed as he went to his knees.
She watched him with lust fevered eyes as he pulled his shirt off. He sat down beside her, briskly removing his clothes as she stared at him. He couldn't help the sigh of pleasure as he worked his erection free of his clothes. He knelt between her legs and took hold of her hips. She stared up at him as though entranced. Watching her face, he slowly entered her. Her eyes widened and then fluttered shut as she gave a low, gutteral sound of pleasure. Exerting all of his will, he set a slow pace, watching the changes play over her body as she drew close to climaxing again.
She threw her head back and took in a deep breath as she began to tremble. As the orgasm broke over her like a wave, she gave a long keening cry of pleasure. Encouraged by this, he began to thrust harder and faster. Successive waves of orgasm shook her and she gasped and shrieked, weeping with pleasure and flailing beneath him. Soon, her enthusiastic response dragged his own orgasm out of him, ending their pleasure play earlier then he wanted. As she collapsed to the ground beneath him, he slipped out of her. He took a corner of the blanket and pulled it over them before gathering her into his arms. Feeling utterly sated, his dissatisfaction with their lovemaking ending so soon only an intellectual thing, he kissed her forehead and allowed himself the luxury of dropping down into a light doze.