The Romantic

In retrospect, the moment felt like a dream, Hadriel felt as though destiny chased him into her arms, and perhaps he wanted to be caught. He futilely concealed his nervousness when butterflies fluttered madly within his heart.

Paralyzed by emotion, Hadriel longed to take Celeste in his arms, but he secretly feared she would not approve. To the contrary, Celeste read him like the open book that he was, her personal diary, and asked him the question that turned the page.

“Why are you acting so strange?” Celeste looked at him quizzically. She smiled, her silver eyes called him into her arms, and his instincts took over. He pulled her close and inhaled the scent that intoxicated his senses. Blood rushed through his veins like a raging fire on the surface of a kerosene river, his breathing felt shallow, his heart pounded against the walls of his chest, and his body awakened. For the first time in as long as he could remember, desire struck him without a drop of alcohol, and his soul softened into a romantic river, in which she swam.

The arousal of his body pressed against her perfection, and he craved her insatiably. Hadriel led Celeste to her bed. She lay face down, and he hovered

 The Romantic

over her, kissing her shoulders, and the back of her neck. She giggled, and then she inhaled sharply when she felt his strength press against the barriers between them. She dropped her head as if preparing to surrender herself to the moment.

She looked up again, but Hadriel would not let her awaken from that dream.

Half-naked, they indulged in their dance. His body yearned to be one with her. Their skin flushed with heat, as they ground against each other. Celeste pushed her body against his, daring him to inch closer to the point of no return, but he would not go there without her, and he dared her too.

Hadriel recognized the passion that he often imagined they’d share and yet, somehow he knew they were barely scratching the surface of what they were capable of reaching. He fell beside her, throbbing to penetrate her, but refraining from going too far because he knew that this was not that dream. So he proceeded to enjoy the fantasy, and took it to its limit, because in his heart Hadriel knew the mirage was merely an introduction.

Celeste turned to face him; they embraced and ground against each other’s passion, in their private clothing. He kissed her neck, slowly following the trail to the center of her chest, and despite his urge to remove her brassiere he decided to save that for another time too. His lips lingered near her navel; his hands traced a path along her inner thighs and fell to her flooded gates of passionate secrets. Despite his inclination to wander behind the veil of her garments Hadriel decided to massage her through her moistening panties.

He gently caressed her while his tongue danced on her stomach, and his lips traded kisses with her skin. His fingers motioned in a circular pattern. Her pelvis thrusts against his hand. She surrendered to his rhythm before he changed direction to tease her. She cursed him under her breath, and giggled, and moaned when he found her spot again. He was nowhere near being done and hoped to steal the seconds away from time itself in order to extend that dream