Flares...Fire

The first hint of warmth starts in the pit of my stomach. It's the blush that comes with the anticipation, the lingering look, the feeling of eyes on me and how I love that feeling. Sometimes I pretend that I don't know he's watching me...

The heat intensifies with the kiss. Not the quick, on the way out the door type of kiss but the slow kiss, the long kiss, the lazy kiss. The one that explores the inside of my mouth with a sweeping tongue. It's the kiss that I know will lead places.

Touch flares the embers. Fingertips sear hot paths on my skin as they release me from my clothing. Rough hands sizzle on my skin and drag hot moans from me. The caresses are what make me pucker and tighten and swell in all the right places.

Words ignite the passion with staccato sounds. It's the words that bring the urgency. The tone of voice...low, husky...makes my heart pound in my chest. The words embrace me just as touch does. They stoke my imagination and nudge at my desire until I am almost blinded by it.

The elements make a combination that puts me on overload. When I am stretched out with his body next to mine, contact on all levels, that's when the fire rages. The warmth has gone from a sensation to a glow to full flame. The flames lick at my composure and send me to the edge and over. I'm hot, so hot that I burn. I hug his body to mine as if to quench the fire. In culmination, the heat spreads from a ball in my belly to all my extremities. It tingles and courses through my body until it wanes, until my breathing evens, until my shudders subside.

Quenched. Fed. Sated. Run its course.