The Reunion (Part I)

I can see you walking in and can't ignore that look in your eye. So far beyond mischief; I know you've long ago undressed me with your eyes and your mind is already racing with the things you plan to do to me. I stand to greet you and my feet make the floorboards creak as I hurry to the door to be closer to you. You don't bother waiting until I'm closer than arm's reach before I feel your hands tighten around my biceps, almost too tight as you pull me in to you. Your tongue forces its way past my lips and searches for a partner. It finds one in mine, and the soft, damp warmth of your mouth is dangerously inviting.
Moments ago my feet left the ground as you brought me, hard, against the wall, your tongue now leading your whole body pushing into me. Your kiss becomes more frantic as you introduce your teeth to my lips, my lip ring, my neck, my collarbone, that soft spot between the two and I can't help but cry out. You stop momentarily to look at me, straight, hard, boring through me and your smirk betrays your thoughts. But before I can reciprocate you have me turned around, my face flushed and warm, pressed relentlessly against the cold wall.
You are everywhere at once. You hold my hands above me against the wall with one of your own, dwarfing my delicately manicured fingers with your rough, short fingernails and the strong palms attached to them. Your free hand makes its way behind my head, sweeps the hair off my neck and suddenly your teeth have set me to fire and ice, chills running down my spine until they are warmed at its base. You grasp at the strap of my tank top, hissing something in my ear about being in your way. I mutter unintelligibly and you press your body harder against mine against the wall.
Your hand reaches around me and takes a handful of my breast, scratching, squeezing, pinching my nipple until I squirm and whimper for you to stop. You grant me no such solace. Instead you abruptly turn me around and effortlessly rid me of the top half of my tank top, letting the lacy top fall around my stomach. Your mouth is on mine again, and again come the fire and chills making my knees weaker by the second. Finally, I can't take it anymore and wring my hands free from yours to throw them around your neck, clutching desperately at your shirt, needing your skin on mine.
Our lips break briefly as your shirt passes over your head and between us and next to the still-open door. I kick it shut as I come back to bite your bottom lip. My nails start to dig into your shoulder blades, and I can just make out a sigh as you shudder and wrap your arms around me, tight. You lift me up to fully meet your six-foot-plus frame, and I eagerly wrap my legs around your waist. You slam me against the wall once more, and your hands move to cup my ass for support and then some.
I barely feel you move until you throw me on the bed, so hard I almost bounce off. As I regain my composure you look at me, and the remnants of the outfit you know I spent days preparing. The perfectly coiffed hair now tousled by your rough hands, the just-enough-not-too-much makeup not hiding the color in my cheeks and my excitement, the strategically planned outfit twisted sideways and halfway down my body. "You're beautiful, you know," you say in the first coherent comment either of us have made since we set foot inside the door. "Now, take off the rest of those clothes. I don't want anything else in my way."


...to be continued...