Fear of Falling

just too damn afraid to say it.
    By the time his hand had moved to my right breast, repeating the delightful torture, I was writhing against him in a slow rhythm. He matched my movements, stroking me through his thin pajama bottoms, letting me feel how ready he was for me. I nearly gasped. I had never been with anyone quite that ready before. I mean, he was really, really… ready.
    Blaine’s mouth was hot at my ear, his breath as labored as mine. “I need to kiss you. Now.”
    In the next instant, he flipped me onto my back, and settled his body atop mine. Blaine’s inked arms enclosed my frame as his knee eased between my legs, slowly parting them. I didn’t have time to protest even if I’d wanted to. His lips captured mine with a hunger I had never experienced before. It was like he needed me to survive. Like kissing me was as necessary as his next breath.
    Our lips, our tongues, moved together in perfect harmony. We were music together—melodious, intense and dramatic. His low groans became the bass line as he plucked the strings of my body, producing soft moans and high mewls. My hands were tangled in his hair, as his roamed the soft expanse of my frame, exploring the valley of my waist, the dip between my breasts, the raised peaks of my nipples. We were belly against belly, the hard ridges of Blaine’s midsection melting into the softness of mine.
    Feeling his warmth, his body demanding my compliance, felt good. It felt right. And it felt like more . Not just another meaningless sexual encounter. Not a physical response to the opposite sex. Not a means to an end. Blaine was giving me more than just his body. He was filling me with his soul.
    His mouth moved down to my neck, licking and sucking a trail down to my chest. The moment Blaine’s studded tongue flicked my nipple, I gasped. Sensation attacked the puckered bud, as he skillfully twirled that barbell around the tip before taking it into his mouth completely. His fingers coaxed the other, simulating the delicious torment of his tongue.
    Blaine moaned his satisfaction against my skin, heightening my own arousal for him. With every lick, stroke and suck, he was vocal. He let me know how hot he was for me, and it made me even hotter for him.
    Just as I thought I could seriously lose it just from his mouth on my breasts, Blaine lifted his head and looked down at me with hooded, dilated eyes.
    “Let me make you come,” he rasped.
    O.M.G.
    He stared at me for long seconds, before I realized he was waiting for my answer. I didn’t know what to say. What could I say? With every thought centered on Blaine and what he was doing to my body, I couldn’t focus on much else. I knew I wanted him, needed him. But I also knew that crossing this line would only make it that much harder to keep him out of my head. Could I really do that? Could I give him part of me and expect him not to want the rest?
    Before my brain could come up with a logical answer, I was nodding. I wanted what Blaine wanted. And that was the only thing that mattered at the moment. Not his past, not my scarred psyche, not the uncertainty of tomorrow. Just him.
    His lips were back on me, once again tasting my mouth, my throat, my nipples, and moving south. He licked a trail to my belly button, swirling his tongue around it while easing off the too-large boxer shorts on my hips. I closed my eyes and lifted my backside to aid his efforts, hoping like hell that I wouldn’t regret it.
    Though I knew it was coming, the feel of his tongue on my hypersensitive sex nearly made me scream. Never in my life had I felt so utterly exposed and out of control. I didn’t even try to muffle my cries of pleasure. He matched my erotic sounds with his own, the vibrations from his mouth creating a new layer of sensation. He tasted and teased my flesh, the contrast between the feel of hard, slick metal along with the soft texture of his tongue coaxing my orgasm. I knew it would do me in. I knew I would be totally vulnerable once I reached my peak, and dammit, I didn’t care. I wanted Blaine to take me. To claim me. To own every one of my orgasms for the rest of my life.
    Blaine didn’t stop when the first waves of pleasure took me under. His tongue, his lips, his fingers… they kept moving, eliciting more tortured sounds during my dramatic downfall. I begged him to stop, yet worked my hips closer. Even as tears streamed down the sides of my face, and I cried his name over and over, he devoured me, demanding