"I want you to touch me. I want to moan your name. I want your tongue on my neck, whispering sex language, I want to feel you breath on my skin."
I stopped typing when I saw his message.
"I want to explore your body with my fingers and my tongue. I want to find those spots that would make your insides quaver. I want to suck your nipples till you forget to breathe."
I picked up my phone, and dialed his number from my memory.
"You should be here, I want you here. I need you to hold me"
We were torturing ourselves, we were just blocks away from each other and it hurt like hell.
All our conversations ended with the need for a deeper form of intimacy.
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"I want your hands on my arse. I want my tongue in your mouth. I want to feel your heartbeat against mine. I want to feel your hardness in-between my legs."
His message came in.
"I want to claim you for mine. I want to get you dripping wet with my fingers. I want to pound into you till forever."
I wanted joint bodies and heated romance. He wasn't even a few blocks away anymore, he was at the other end of the world and I was here. Some how we managed to talk about everything still, from my boring work hours to his sex escapades.
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Memory is like rain. Several emotions hitting you so hard, you want to run and look for cover. I was in love with him, I mean, there were several places I couldn't go without remembering his hands holding mine, or his laughter, or the taste of his mouth or how his skin shone like gold under the sun. My nights were incomplete without wanting him. I couldn't listen to the songs I loved without that familiar liquid ache under my skin wanting him to hold me like he did all the time when we played the same songs.
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