His White Luna

Alice Forrest

His voice was a raspy growl, and I shivered as he carefully cupped my face with one hand before leaning in for a kiss. This kiss was so much softer, so more careful, and kind. The way his lips grazed my own and tickled along my cheek, had me melting at his touch.

“Did you put my pyjamas on me, just to take them off?” I asked breathlessly as he let his teeth graze down my neck.

He chuckled deeply, and his hands laced around my back, unclasping my bra in one effortless motion, “perhaps,” he purred, before kissing me again.

I felt the air tear from my lungs as my flesh met the cool crisp air as he removed my bra, not giving me a second to feel exposed, his chest was hard up against my own and I couldn’t help but relish in the warmth he provided – he was always so warm.

Taking my hand, he kissed from my shoulder, down my bicep and along my arm, kissing each one of my fingers. He must have kissed every inch of my body, at some point, perhaps a hundred times, but never like this. Never had his kisses felt so intimate.

“I want to give you something,” he said, as he kissed each knuckle on my hand, letting his lips trail down my finger where he planted another kiss on the tip.

“You don’t have to buy me things Nate,” I said, and I was shocked at how soft my voice sounded.

“But I like doing it,” he chuckled, and he leant back towards my neck, nibbling it lightly.

Entwining his fingers in mine and sucking on my neck, his other hand disappeared into he darkness of the room, before re-appearing, clenched as he held something. “I don’t want you to think this means more than what it is, but I should have given this to you when we first met,” he rambled, as he planted series of kisses on me.

“I will try to keep an open mind,” I chuckled, and I appreciated the communication.

Rolled off my chest, making my hand the centre of his attention, the way he was positioned left his groin pressed hard against my thigh, where I could feel the hardness of him fully erect. For a second, distracted by his generosity, I let my mind wander to what I wanted to happen next, only to be torn from my imagination as he slipped a warm ring onto my left hand – ring finger.

I suddenly felt as cold as the night outside, the air in the room felt too thick, unable to go down my throat and fill my lungs, his touch, his weight, made my stomach twist in knots. His burning gaze snapped in an instant back to me, and he adjusted himself, cradling my face, his own laced with concern as I froze to that spot in the bed.

“Alice,” he said, his voice soundly like a growl, “you said you were going to keep an open mind.”

I tried to swallow, to make a sound, but nothing came out of my lips.

“It’s a promise ring Alice, not an engagement ring.”

I could still feel my heart hammering against my chest, like if I was not willing to run from the room, it would break free of my chest, grow legs and gun it for the nearest exit. As if sensing my continued stress, he took my hand and kissed it, showing me the ring.

“I want to bridge the gap,” he said softly, as his thumb traced the smooth white metal of the ring, dipping as it went over the break in the band, “I want to promise you, that I will make this relationship work, I will do everything in my power to make you happy, I will do anything you say. I want you to have a reminder of this promise, to carry it with you everywhere you go.”

“Take the ring off,” I choaked out, my voice now raspy and coarse.

His eyes closed and he slipped the ring off, and I felt the weight lift from my chest – but the air still hard to breath. He let me escape from his arms and I slid off the bed, landing on the plush, thick rug that framed the bed.

I felt his hands massage my shoulders and he slipped between the bed and my back, wrapping his legs either side of my body as I shook. “The ring is yours, Alice, you don’t have to wear it, not if you don’t want to,” he sighed, and he rested his head on my shoulder.