I want to keep up the whole screwing-with-her-head thing, making her laugh and blush and smile, but I’m finding that becoming almost impossible to do anymore. I’m intoxicated by the feel of her little warm feet kneading the muscles in my back, her delicate steps trying so hard to be careful; her small form brings out something primal and protective within me, and it takes everything in me not to roll over and grab her in my arms and kiss her breathless.
“Am I doing it right?” she asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Ah, yeah, that feels awesome.” I moan a little in between words, my eyes opening and closing as if a coaxing hand lies across my lids. “Mmmm … yeah, right there … ah, yeah.”
“Stop that!” She chuckles, and I feel her weight shift as she tries to balance herself. “You sound like you’re about to get off.”
Babe, if you only knew …
My laugh is muffled and strained, followed by an oomph! as Sienna’s weight continues to shift unsteadily.
She walks on my back for a few more minutes, losing her balance only a couple of times and causing me to suck in a quick breath and my eyes to bulge. But she could go ahead and hop up and down if she wanted and I’d still want her to stay right where she was.
After a while, when I feel like she’s suffered enough, I let her off the hook.
“Owww!” I brace the palms of my hands against the floor.
Sienna jumps off immediately. “Did I hurt you?”
“Not with your weight,” I say with a grimace, pushing down the grin trying to sneak up on my lips, “but your heels are kind of rough. Felt like sandpaper there for a second.”
A burst of air pushes through her lips.
“Shut up!” She laughs and then I feel her toes prodding me in the ribs. I pretend to be wounded. “My feet are not like sandpaper! Trust me, I spend enough time on them so they should be immaculate.”
I roll over onto my back and grab one of her feet in both my hands before she can snatch it away. Then I pretend to inspect it, turning it this and that way with my fingers collapsed around the top and my thumbs pressing into the bottom, which is actually quite soft. She hops on one foot, trying not to fall over.
“OK, you’re right.” I give in and let go. “Must’ve been something else.” I smile up at her.
Then, unable to hold myself back anymore, I bring her down on top of me so that her bare legs straddle my waist. Fitting my fingers at the back of her neck, I pull her gently toward me, touching my lips to the edges of her mouth, the little hollow below her nose, and finally her lips—I feel her warm, soft body melting into mine. I kiss her softly, winding my fingers in the back of her hair.
When she pulls away slowly, her eyes are still closed for a moment. And when they open, she just looks at me, I look at her, and I never imagined that so much could be said between two people without a single word.
Finally the moment shifts and she smiles brightly and jumps to her feet, poking me gently in the ribs with her toe again. I draw my legs up, bent at the knees with my feet flat on the floor to conceal the other part of me that is fully awake this morning, making sure that the shorts I slept in last night are loose in all the right places. But I’m pretty damn sure she felt just how hard I am when she was straddling my waist—must be mostly what that red in her face is all about.
I want more than anything to carry her into my room right now, lay her across my bed, and carefully strip off her clothes—it about killed me when she stood up and broke the moment—but then I realize how much more it makes me want her, not just physically, but in every way, and I find myself trading sexual frustration for patience, and her heart.