The women on this island are mindblowingly beautiful. It's a fact I can't escape. One I don't try hard to, because it's torturous, but I can't want it to stop. If the schoolgirls waiting for the bus drove me crazy back home, this seems like the price to pay for already being out of my mind
( ... )
Somewhere along the way, all that uncertainty goes out the window, lost in the sound of the waves and her breathing and the taste of salt on her skin. It's hard not to feel more confident when a beautiful woman, barely more than a stranger, clutches at your skin that way, and the way her fingers drag under leaves me pressing into her fingers. It's relieving and maddening at once, a cool balm that reminds me the burning goes deeper than that.
My hand slides higher up her hip to the curve of her ass and I keep mouthing down, to the hollow of her throat and lower to the edge of the dress. Instinctively I stop there, even though I don't want to. Somehow it seems like a line I shouldn't be crossing, not because of her, but the dress itself, and I don't know why, but I can't think clear enough to ask questions of myself. Of her's a different story. "Do you want to go somewhere else?" I ask, muffled against her skin, trying not to beg her to say yes, yes, yes, berating myself for phrasing it so stupidly.
I can feel him pause and that snaps me out of it somewhat, my eyes fluttering open as the world blinks back into focus and I finally zero in on his face - or his forehead, more accurately, as he utters the words half-muffled against the hollow of my throat. I swallow, drag teeth across a slightly swollen lower lip and then pull back slightly to face him directly, nodding once.
"Okay," I softly tell him, though whether we're going is definitely still a question in the back of my mind. Still, there's not very many places on the island I haven't explored yet - other than the dinosaur territory, and I don't think he has any intentions of taking me there. My hand slips down to take hold of his, squeezing. It's almost too innocent in contrast to what we've just been doing, to his other hand still pressing against the small of my back.
After everything else, her hand in mine takes me by surprise. It's not even just the fact we've been standing out here making out and the gesture is an almost alarmingly tender one. It's everything before that, too, life before the island, life before tonight. It's not something that happens a lot for him, and I don't know how to feel about it except uncomfortable aware of my fingers and the instinctive worry about whether or not my palms are going to get all sweaty even though they aren't at the moment. It's a distinct possibility, the kind of thing you worry about without meaning to, because her opinion shouldn't matter since I barely know her, except it matters desperately.
"Okay," I echo, stepping reluctantly away. Reluctant until I remember why I asked, anyway, and then it's more hopeful than anything else as I lead her back toward the path. I don't know where we're going yet, which is as much reason as any to go slowly, even though I want to bolt forward and get there fast.
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My hand slides higher up her hip to the curve of her ass and I keep mouthing down, to the hollow of her throat and lower to the edge of the dress. Instinctively I stop there, even though I don't want to. Somehow it seems like a line I shouldn't be crossing, not because of her, but the dress itself, and I don't know why, but I can't think clear enough to ask questions of myself. Of her's a different story. "Do you want to go somewhere else?" I ask, muffled against her skin, trying not to beg her to say yes, yes, yes, berating myself for phrasing it so stupidly.
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"Okay," I softly tell him, though whether we're going is definitely still a question in the back of my mind. Still, there's not very many places on the island I haven't explored yet - other than the dinosaur territory, and I don't think he has any intentions of taking me there. My hand slips down to take hold of his, squeezing. It's almost too innocent in contrast to what we've just been doing, to his other hand still pressing against the small of my back.
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"Okay," I echo, stepping reluctantly away. Reluctant until I remember why I asked, anyway, and then it's more hopeful than anything else as I lead her back toward the path. I don't know where we're going yet, which is as much reason as any to go slowly, even though I want to bolt forward and get there fast.
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