A Word of Praise

Chris woke up to the weight of a small body on top of him. He partially remembered blacking out in bed before they could put the pillows between them, as they'd done the other night. His eyes, almost naively, glanced to Kiara's leg above his own and trailed up to find a slightly wrinkled top. It exposed a piece of skin and... fuck. A new part of her tattoo was showing right below her waist. He was simply unable to break the stare.

The last time he'd seen it, it was just a few black and grey leaves on her upper thigh, sneaking out of her loosely hung towel. Now he could see the other end of the design. Another leaf and the beginning of a flower he'd never be able to identify. At least not with so little of it showing through the bottom of her sleepwear.

With great effort, he was able to look away from the ink on her skin, but his eyes' next destination was far worse. Her face was so peaceful while she slept, he could barely remember what it looked like when she was taunting him. Her hair was all over the place, exposing her sidecut and a straight scar he'd fail to notice before. Was it from the fall she mentioned the day before? He wanted to touch it, trail the path of pain with his fingers, and feel her skin against his own. "You can do it" He looked back at her recently opened eyes and wondered why she didn't yank her leg away from him as soon as she woke up.

He also couldn't tell why he indulged in his wish to touch the part of her shaven head marked by the thin white line.

"We should get ready" Her voice was low and uncertain. If she had said it with a bit more conviction, he might have pulled away. But she showed an opening, and just like in any negotiation, he had to explore it. He simply didn't have it in him to let it go.

"Why are you avoiding me?" He didn't mean to be so blunt about it, but the truth was she had spent the day before too distant, almost detached. And it was eating him up inside, despite his attempts not to show it. "I'm not," she retorted, pushing his hand away from her hair.

"Don't do that. Doesn't suit you."

"What is it that I'm doing?" She raised a brow. He propped onto his elbows to look into her eyes and took a second before answering.

"I can't really tell, but you're not yourself."

"I thought you didn't want me to be myself," she defied in a sarcastic tone. A little more like her, that fire. And he felt that tug in the pit of his stomach he was growing accustomed to but missed the day before. "You don't know what I want." He got a bit closer and felt her breath falter.

"Neither do you" She looked at him too deeply, like her words carried more meaning than he could understand at the moment.

"I know what I want, Kiara." He knew what he fucking wanted, and it was her.

"You might, but you won't enjoy it when you get it." She wasn't allowed to say that. She had no fucking clue how much he would enjoy it. And hell, he was going to make her enjoy it too.

He pushed her shoulder down to the bed and hovered over her body, relishing the glint in her eyes when she felt him pressing her down. He'd been rock hard since he woke up to her body clinging to him but needed to get her there too. If her speeding breath was any indication, it wouldn't take long.

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"Don't you dare say I won't enjoy this." He brought his face down to her neck and inhaled deeply. She smelled so good. But he needed more, so he began to kiss her neck, and trailed down towards her shoulder. He pushed the strap of her top down and he bit that soft spot on her pale skin, desperate for a taste of her.

"Chris." Fucking hell her voice was delicious, whispering into his ear in a pleading warning.

"Tell me," he asked, pulling his head up to level her eyes. He sounded in control but needed her to say yes. To let him have her. He knew she wanted it, could feel it in the reactions of her body, but... he had to be sure.

"No marks," she smirked. Oh, that devil, giving him what he wanted but trying to remain in charge. He'd have to show her just how little control she actually had. He kissed her shut, pressing her body further down the mattress and feeling her heat through the thin sleepwear.

His hands trailed the path to the hem of her cotton top, that dull thing that shouldn't be allowed to touch her sinful body and pulled it off of her. She deserved silk, or lace, or nothing at all. His cock twitched at the sight of her bare breasts. Her breath was caught in her throat when he took her left breast in his hand, pressing her nipple between his fingers. He took the opportunity to push his tongue into her mouth. That's when he felt her pushing back and getting his bottom lip between her teeth. Fucking vixen, she was fighting back. And it felt good.

But he'd have the control back in no time, just as soon as he was done exploring the rest of her body. And hell, what a body. He could feel how strong she was under the soft skin, how the years of practice had molded her body into a sculpture he simply had to commit to memory.

He felt her fumbling with his shirt but held her wrists against her thigh. Breaking the kiss, he looked at her in warning. He was working on her, not the other way around.

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Then, Kiara pushed her body up with her hands still trapped and licked his neck with the tip of her tongue. She laid down again, looking at him with mischief. He felt a shiver starting straight from his cock and climbing all the way up to his neck where her mouth had been. Fuck, he wanted to slam his dick in that pretty little mouth of hers until she gagged.

But there was still too much in the way, and he went down to remove the rest of her sleepwear. When she was rid of it, he returned to the point he was dying to see for what felt like ages now. Her mysteriously sinful tattoo. And damn, it was perfect.

He already knew it went from her midthigh to below her waist, but he had no idea how fucking sexy it was. Two large flowers he didn't recognize covered the upper half of her thick thigh, surrounded by carefully placed leaves and stray petals. It was a masterpiece attached to the work of art that was her body, and he couldn't help but ask.

"What are those?" His voice was rough

"A chrysanthemum and a peony." She breathed out, eyes closed feeling his hand exploring the sensitive skin.

"Is there a meaning?"

"I'll tell you one day." One day. For an unknown reason, that involuntary promise found its way to his heart and he felt it beating faster at the thought. One day.

With one last kiss on each of her drawn flowers, he unwillingly left the inked part of her body to pay attention to other parts he'd been neglecting. The inside of her thigh, for example, was claiming his attention like no other. And he could not find it in himself to refuse.