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Fiction: Just Past the Witching Hour
By Witchy | May 15, 2007
He came to me in the darkest part of the night; just past the witching hour.
I felt him before I saw him. Like a spirit under cover of the total absence of light, I felt him - his being - shifting and sliding around my body. Dusting me with kisses.
My breath quickened. I sighed out his name.
“Touch me.” Only my pounding heart filled the silence. I felt his being press against my hip and shoulder. Just teased. His spirit slid over my hip, down between my legs. I squirmed. Ached.
“I want you.”
He touched me only with his spirit and already I ached. Throbbed. He pulled away.
And then, he was there. His breath, hot against my ear. Chest pressed lightly against my back. His hand slipped around my waist and pressed against my belly. A groan escaped my lips as I pushed back against him. His touch increased. Fingers kneaded the surface.
A starburst of light.
And heat.
I melted into him, wanting. Needing
“Touch me,” I breathed, pleading.
“Shhh. Hush now, my little witch. Let me love you slowly.” His breath dipped down onto my neck, snaked along my shoulder blade. More, I wanted more.
“I want you,” I said again.
“Soon. Just feel.”
His voice was low. Gravelly. Heavy. It seduced me. Every time he spoke, it seduced me. And when his fingers circled my breast, he seduced me. I would have done anything right then. Given him anything. His mouth tested the hollow at the base of my throat. I wondered, briefly, what he tasted when he put his mouth on me. When he ran his tongue down my neck. Hot. Then cool as his lips moved away. What was he thinking? Was he wondering how we came to be together, to have it be so natural, so intense? To have it happen so fast. Happen at all.
His spirit with mine. Two bodies, orbiting each other, then merging together. Impossibility interrupted by need. Conquered by it.
His scent filled my senses. And the taste of him, when he turned my body and brushed his lips over mine, made me ache even more. Burn. My hips wiggled against him, warmth dripped down my legs. Hot on cold. I shivered as a current of air flitted over my body.
Then, he stood in front of me, and my eyes flew open in surprise as he smiled into my eyes like a wildcat, lithe and predatory. There was no escape. No turning back. Only this moment.
This moment forever.
But there was no wariness within me. I surrendered to it, willing. Not as prey, but as something intimate. And something wilder. But somehow, gentle. I was his. He moved down my body, his lips dusting kisses over my skin. Hands circled my waist, clasped behind my back, pulled me closer. Lips pressed against the center of my belly. His tongue flicked at the edges of my navel. My head dropped back. I groaned as he pressed his chest against my loins.
“Please. I want you.”
“Need me.” That voice again. My thoughts scattered. He pressed against me, his hands roamed over my breasts, hesitating over the nipples.
“Need me,” he whispered.
I did. I did need him. My breasts ached and contracted. I pressed forward.
“I need you.” I pleaded. “Please.”
His fingers slipped between my legs, lingered. And then my legs gave out. He slid one arm around my hips and held me firm. I swayed. Trembled. Gave in to his touch. To the feeling. To the need. Nothing had prepared me for this. No earthly experience had readied me for what I would feel in this moment. For how deeply I could want and need. But it was more than physical.
And it terrified me.
But I couldn’t stop it. Didn’t want to. We moved together, his fingers stroking me, slipping inside of me. I sucked air into my lungs, blew it out. Sucked it in. My throat went dry.
And then he was inside me.
Filled me. I arched against him, crying out as he took me to a place I’d never been. In a world I couldn’t imagine.
Spirit. Body. Soul.
I almost wept.
And then, as I sank onto my knees, he was gone.
I stared at the floor and whispered his name - just past the witching hour.
Topics: Erotic Fiction |
3 Responses to “Fiction: Just Past the Witching Hour”
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October 15th, 2007 at 1:14 am
Damn Witchy … you need to publish a book of your short stories. This was as intensely emotional as it was sexual. More so actually.
October 15th, 2007 at 1:23 am
October 15th, 2007 at 1:49 am
And I get a kiss! Now I’m