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Slow Burn

I look at my watch. 6:38am.

“Fuck,” I muttered to myself, “another all-nighter”

My schedule has never been what you call normal. My workshop is at home, in my basement - and I find the stillness of the night calming. I work easier when there are no phone calls to make, no e-mails to answer to right away, no distractions - just my music, my work and me. Silver-smithing can be a quiet meditation; it can also be a pain in the ass for the person living with you – all the banging and the swearing that go with the territory. We may work alone, but our mouths would make any sailor or - as we now know from reality television shows – any chef proud.

This was, however, not a night of “meditative calmness”. This was a night of the pre-valentine’s day madness. Too many orders, not enough time. Not that this is a problem I’m complaining about of course.

I climb wearily up the stairs to my bedroom. The sparse but well-appointed room is a sight for sore eyes after the organized chaos that is my workshop. He was still asleep, and I stood for a moment to admire his form – his body radiated warmth against the grey sheets, the dark mahogany bed, and the sunlight beginning to filter through the windows. For a moment, I just wanted to crawl into bed, suckle on his cock and enjoy the feeling of skin on skin but practicality prevents me – I’m covered in silver shavings and there is metal polish under my nails. I sigh and with some reluctance, padded to the bathroom and stripped.

I turned the water on and steam began to fill the room. I step in and let the hot water do its magic on me, relieving the tightness in my neck and shoulders from being hunched over all night. I moan in relief and try to rub out the sore spots. I love my work, but, as in every profession, there’s always a physical consequence.

I smiled when I heard him enter the bathroom and felt his calloused hands sliding over my own. Working hands, we both have working hands. We’ve both earned every scar, every callous for the sake of our craft. My hands have long lost anything feminine about them, but I’m strangely content by that – these hands can craft dreams out of metal and stones.

“Hi baby,” he whispered in my ear as he rubbed my shoulder. “Productive night?” He’s stopped asking whether it was a long night long ago. Sometimes, for me, nights are never long enough.

“Yes,” I mumbled back, and continued to enjoy his hands on my body. He lowered his head to kiss my neck. One hand continued to rub my shoulder from behind while the other roamed lower, across my breasts, over my hardened nipples, and down my belly.

I moaned when he found me already wet and waiting. His talented fingers found my clit and gently brushed it, and a second time, more forceful, drew a sigh from my lips. He wrapped his left arm around me, held me across the shoulders, and leaned me back into his body as he as he rubbed my clit, insistent but tender.

I cried out when I came, the world exploding into different colours of light and my body shuddered. When I opened my eyes again, I saw his smiling eyes looking down at me, just a flutter away, and he kissed me softy – my top lip, my bottom lip, then both. He’s always said he loved kissing me.

He shampooed my hair and soaped my body, such simple, innocent but erotic acts of intimacy. By the time we crawled back into bed, dawn had broken and every fiber of my body was craving his touch.

He wrapped his arms around me from behind me, holding me tight as he fitted his body into mine as we curled up together. It was a cool morning, and we cocooned ourselves in our duvet, his hands rubbing my arms to keep me warm. I luxuriated in the early morning light as he ran kisses across the back of my shoulders.

I ran my fingers lightly across his arms, enjoying the feel of the length of his body against mine and his rapidly hardening cock against my ass. He ran a hand up to my face, and ran the back of his hands across my cheek and I turn and nuzzle it like a kitten.

“So beautiful baby”, he breathed, “so soft... so smooth…” he brushed the hair off my neck ad kissed it, slowly stoking the fire in my body and my hips start to slowly grind in response.

One of his hands slid down and squeezed my breast and pinched my nipple. I groan in response and I felt his cock at my pussy, already wet and waiting. In one slow, unhurried move, he slid his hands down to my hips and pulled me onto his cock, filling me.

I groaned, his cock buried deep inside me as he kissed me down my back and his hands found my swollen clit. I reached behind me and found his hips, and pulled him into me a little deeper. I heard him sigh, and felt him bite my shoulder lightly.

I felt every inch of him sliding in and out of me and he started fucking me. Long, slow, teasing strokes. His hands running back up to my breasts as he pulled himself all the way out, then all the way back into my warm, tight pussy. I pushed back into him, urging him to fuck me a little faster.

I grind my hips back into him, our breathing speeding up. My first orgasm almost took me by surprise and I felt it wash over me like a wave of light. I heard myself laughing, as I am apt to when I cum.

I can feel him smile, and rolled me onto my stomach so he can fuck me deeper and harder. As he bit my beck, I can feel my ass rise to meet his every thrust. Our movements faster now, and more urgent, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside me and a moan escaping my throat at every thrust.

He slowed, and I felt him take a finger, coating it with my wetness and felt him slid into my ass. My body hummed in response as I arch back tighter to him, urging him to fuck me harder, faster. Nothing but pure sensation as he pounds into me, pushing me hard into my bed,

I threw my head back and laughed a full-throated laugh as I came again, my entire body shuddering. I heard him growl, and felt him fill me with his cum deep inside me. He kept pumping his hips, pushing even deeper into me. My pussy clenched again at that, the feeling of being filled almost sent me over the edge again.

He falls into the bed beside me as he reluctantly pulled out. I see my own lazy smile reflected on his face – deeply content, relaxed. He took my face in his hands and kissed me again deeply, his tongue parting my lips. Like a woman drowning, I drank it all in.

He pulled me on top of him and laid my head down on his chest to listen to his heartbeat, his fingers twirling my hair. I know I’m going to have to share him with the world soon, but at that moment, nothing else matters.

My nights are never long enough, and on some days, neither are my mornings.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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