Page 54 of Tito

The first time we kissed will always be the first kiss. The one I’d certainly never forget. But that kiss? The one at the foot of the bed? The one where my entire naked body was pressed against his entirely naked body?

Yeah.

It was the kiss that songs were written about. It was the kiss that inspired movies to be made. The kiss that was the predecessor to conceiving children. The kiss that undoubtedly gets the blood moving in a manner that can only lead to one thing.

He lifted me from my feet and carried me to the foot of the bed. Carefully, he lowered me onto to the blanket.

“Don’t move,” he said.

His brown eyes were still as gorgeous as the first time I saw them, but they were no longer intimidating. If anything, they were comforting. He may have been a martial arts expert and a street-fighting biker, but in the end, he wasn’t going to hurt me.

My reassurance was sprinkled throughout his deep golden orbs. With my feet dangling over the edge of the bed, I gazed into his eyes and grinned at my newfound observation. “I won’t.”

Standing at the foot of the bed, he had a complete and uncluttered view of my naked body. He looked me over, slowly. It wasn’t a critical observation. It seemed more to be a matter of processing my curves in an admiring fashion.

One inch at a time, he scanned my entire body. By the time he satisfied himself, he wore an undeniable grin of guilty pleasure.

I liked it that he didn’t have to tell me how he felt. I simply knew.

He knelt at the foot of the bed and lowered his chest between my thighs. “Like I said—”

I closed my eyes.

“Don’t move,” I whispered.

He kissed his way up my inner thighs, alternating from one to the other. With a fistful of blanket clutched in each hand, I allowed him to continue without interruption.

The tip of his tongue flicked against my clit. A jolt of liquid lightning shot through my veins. He continued, repeatedly torturing me with his tongue until I was on the cusp of reaching climax.

As I hung on the edge of the climactic cliff, he inserted a finger. Then another. I welcomed them by arching my back and giving him free reign to explore me as he wished.

After working me into a frenzy, he paused. With admiration in his eyes, he studied my face. Soaring in the clouds above, it took me a moment to return to the reality of the room. When I did, he kissed me.

I kissed him in return. As we shared the passionate moment together, I didn’t know—or care—how much time was passing, or that we weren’t engaged in sex.

Eventually, our lips parted. I drew a shaking breath and gazed into his eyes for reassurance.

He smiled and kissed me on the tip of my nose. “I’ll be right back.”

After gracefully donning a condom, he returned to the bed. Our bodies intertwined, and once again, we kissed. As our tongues danced to a song that only we could hear, he guided himself between my legs. Then, ever so carefully, he pushed himself beyond my wet folds.

As much as I hate to admit it, sex had always been awkward. Jockeying for position, trying to find the perfect place to be, all the while hoping that whatever it is that I wanted wasn’t uncomfortable or contrary to my partner’s wishes. During the act of engagement, the selfish battle began, with each person seeking their own climactic bliss, giving little thought to the other party’s needs or desires.

In the end, if an orgasm was reached, the mission—albeit ugly and without much direction—was a success.

Sex with Tito redefined the act.

Fluid, and without pause, our bodies merged. In perfect timing, we worked our hips against one another’s. There was no pain. Only pleasure. No wishes, only desires being met. Joined in that sexual union, we continued, kissing and exploring each other’s bodies with our hands the entire while.

A sexual satisfaction totally new to me grew with each stroke. At the moment I feared I may explode, he kissed me deeply. Then, with the precision of a pendulum’s swing, he continued his journey, each stroke as predictable as the past.

I closed my eyes and kissed him in return. After an indiscernible amount of time, my level of euphoria peaked. Breathless and wondering if I’d live through the orgasm that was sure to take my life, I broke our embrace.

I gazed into his eyes. Once again, they reassured me that all was as it was supposed to be.

While our eyes were locked, I was overcome with a surge of euphoria. From my toes to my fingertips, it surged through me like a tidal wave. If it was a warning of what was to come, I was in trouble.

I needed him to kiss me.

My lips parted ever so slightly. Paralyzed by the liquid ecstasy pulsing through my veins, I couldn’t bring myself to speak. Apparently, I didn’t need to. He lowered his chest to mine and granted my silent wish.

Lost in the embrace of that passionate kiss, my sexual word exploded into a million little pieces, taking me by complete surprise in the process.

Fearing that my life was forever changed, and that I was at the mercy of the man who loomed over me, I gazed into his eyes once again.

In them was all the proof I needed.

My life was as it was supposed to be.