I Need Somebody To Love [ Eliza ]
Jun 7, 2012 21:35:34 GMT -5
Post by I'm Known As Eliza on Jun 7, 2012 21:35:34 GMT -5
Lance brings me closer to him, and I don't resist. I feel safe in his arms, this man I just kissed, and that kiss would never fade from my memory. The kiss felt good, and the smell of blueberries fills me all around. He grips my hand, and I grip it like I'm dying and he's my lifeline. I know that he will be there for me, and I can tell by the words that he whispers ever so softly, "I will always stay with you." I gaze into his eyes, those eyes that I can never get enough of, those eyes that always express strong emotion, and I know that he's telling ther truth. The way his hand touches mine, and the way that his warmth fills me, it can never be replaced.
He wants to eat now, but he's restraining himself, asking for my opinion. “Would you like to eat now to eat now or do you want to head to bed and you know?” he asks me, and I blush a deep red. Does he really want to go so far, so soon? But he quickly backtracks and he recalls his last statement, by saying rather quickly, "I mean, let's clean the place up or..." And before I can even nod along to agree with his words, as I'm still speechless, he already has the blueberry piles that aren't smashed put into a bowl and set aside.
The kitchen smelled like blueberries. It was a pleasant smell, and she knew that the next time that she ate a blueberry, she would draw Lance in for a kiss, an embrace, something. If we're still? No. We will be. And I know because after he cleans the blueberries up, he whispers in my ear, "We can eat after one kiss..." The words are smoky with passion, and I smile, and he pulls me in for another kiss. This kiss is more intimate. I'm pushed up against him, not in a dangerous way, but in love. I am filled with another wave of warmth and the taste of blueberries, and I kiss him back happily. I bring the kiss even longer, expressing my passion, drawing it out, wanting more kisses. But I restrain.
I stop the kiss regretably. It's a great moment, the kind you remember years from now, a long time away. I stay in his arms though, and I slide my own up his back, gripping him in a tight hug, so I can smell the dirt and the blueberry juice. I love the smell of him, and I love the warmth that I feel when I'm with him. Could this be the man I spend the rest of my life with? Could this be the one I spend my last days in his arms?
I don't want to stop. I want to lay in arms and kiss him until the end of time. But I whisper quietly, "We should eat." It's so quiet, so quiet I can barely hear it myself, but I nod again, and I say it louder. "We should eat." With my hand still clutched in his, I stand up, and I look to the table. The food is laid out, with more blueberries on our plates, and I smile. "Blueberries," I say smirking. I sit at the table, still grasping his hand. The table is just thin enough so I can still grip his hand while I eat. I shake salt and pepper onto my salad, and I smile at him. I don't want to eat. I want to go for a walk, share another kiss, stay in his embrace. But eating with him, that's good, too.
He wants to eat now, but he's restraining himself, asking for my opinion. “Would you like to eat now to eat now or do you want to head to bed and you know?” he asks me, and I blush a deep red. Does he really want to go so far, so soon? But he quickly backtracks and he recalls his last statement, by saying rather quickly, "I mean, let's clean the place up or..." And before I can even nod along to agree with his words, as I'm still speechless, he already has the blueberry piles that aren't smashed put into a bowl and set aside.
The kitchen smelled like blueberries. It was a pleasant smell, and she knew that the next time that she ate a blueberry, she would draw Lance in for a kiss, an embrace, something. If we're still? No. We will be. And I know because after he cleans the blueberries up, he whispers in my ear, "We can eat after one kiss..." The words are smoky with passion, and I smile, and he pulls me in for another kiss. This kiss is more intimate. I'm pushed up against him, not in a dangerous way, but in love. I am filled with another wave of warmth and the taste of blueberries, and I kiss him back happily. I bring the kiss even longer, expressing my passion, drawing it out, wanting more kisses. But I restrain.
I stop the kiss regretably. It's a great moment, the kind you remember years from now, a long time away. I stay in his arms though, and I slide my own up his back, gripping him in a tight hug, so I can smell the dirt and the blueberry juice. I love the smell of him, and I love the warmth that I feel when I'm with him. Could this be the man I spend the rest of my life with? Could this be the one I spend my last days in his arms?
I don't want to stop. I want to lay in arms and kiss him until the end of time. But I whisper quietly, "We should eat." It's so quiet, so quiet I can barely hear it myself, but I nod again, and I say it louder. "We should eat." With my hand still clutched in his, I stand up, and I look to the table. The food is laid out, with more blueberries on our plates, and I smile. "Blueberries," I say smirking. I sit at the table, still grasping his hand. The table is just thin enough so I can still grip his hand while I eat. I shake salt and pepper onto my salad, and I smile at him. I don't want to eat. I want to go for a walk, share another kiss, stay in his embrace. But eating with him, that's good, too.
