03-07-2025, 05:57 PM
Their lips were just a breath apart now, their noses brushing.
His hands traveled, slowly, reverently, along her back, up her spine, memorizing the arc of her posture.
When they settled just below her shoulder blades, she exhaled a soft, shaky breath that tickled his cheek.
Then, without breaking eye contact, Meghana started moving.
Not a rocking motion, not yet, but a slight forward press of her chest into his, tightening the embrace.
Her thighs pressed in closer around his waist, and her calves slid behind his lower back.
His arms curled further around her, drawing her gently to him.
They fit. Completely.
Her cheek brushed his as she leaned closer, and her lips ghosted over the edge of his jaw.
A deliberate trace of his lips
He shivered.
His lips found her temple first, a light, reverent kiss, and then the slope of her cheek, the softness beneath her eye.
Meghana turned her face toward him, giving him silent permission.
Then, finally, their mouths met.
Not like the ones before.
This kiss was a surrender, a slow, aching slide into something deeper.
Her lips moved with him, not urgently, but with a rhythm that pulled and released.
Her fingers clutched the back of his neck now, anchoring herself.
His hands roamed the length of her back, her sides, memorizing her warmth, her curve, the quiet strength in her form.
They stayed like that for a long time, every breath a conversation.
Every gentle press of her hips against his, every lean of her body into his chest
Every shiver in her fingertips said what their words could not.
His heart pounded, not with lust—but with the gravity of the moment.
This wasn’t just attraction. It was a letting go.
When they finally paused, Meghana’s forehead leaned into his, both of them breathless.
“I’ve never felt anything like this,” she whispered.
He could only nod, resting his palms along her naked thighs now, thumbs stroking the edges. “Me neither.”
Their breathing slowly calmed, but the heat between them didn’t fade.
Instead, it glowed, low and steady, like the embers of something about to become a fire.
They didn’t move.
Because sometimes the most intimate moment… is simply staying.
-- oOo --
His hands traveled, slowly, reverently, along her back, up her spine, memorizing the arc of her posture.
When they settled just below her shoulder blades, she exhaled a soft, shaky breath that tickled his cheek.
Then, without breaking eye contact, Meghana started moving.
Not a rocking motion, not yet, but a slight forward press of her chest into his, tightening the embrace.
Her thighs pressed in closer around his waist, and her calves slid behind his lower back.
His arms curled further around her, drawing her gently to him.
They fit. Completely.
Her cheek brushed his as she leaned closer, and her lips ghosted over the edge of his jaw.
A deliberate trace of his lips
He shivered.
His lips found her temple first, a light, reverent kiss, and then the slope of her cheek, the softness beneath her eye.
Meghana turned her face toward him, giving him silent permission.
Then, finally, their mouths met.
Not like the ones before.
This kiss was a surrender, a slow, aching slide into something deeper.
Her lips moved with him, not urgently, but with a rhythm that pulled and released.
Her fingers clutched the back of his neck now, anchoring herself.
His hands roamed the length of her back, her sides, memorizing her warmth, her curve, the quiet strength in her form.
They stayed like that for a long time, every breath a conversation.
Every gentle press of her hips against his, every lean of her body into his chest
Every shiver in her fingertips said what their words could not.
His heart pounded, not with lust—but with the gravity of the moment.
This wasn’t just attraction. It was a letting go.
When they finally paused, Meghana’s forehead leaned into his, both of them breathless.
“I’ve never felt anything like this,” she whispered.
He could only nod, resting his palms along her naked thighs now, thumbs stroking the edges. “Me neither.”
Their breathing slowly calmed, but the heat between them didn’t fade.
Instead, it glowed, low and steady, like the embers of something about to become a fire.
They didn’t move.
Because sometimes the most intimate moment… is simply staying.
-- oOo --
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