“Yes please. I didn’t know if you were a red or white person, so I went for middle ground.”
Sal poured two large glasses of the rosé and chinked hers against his.
“To the station.” She smiled and raised her glass to her lips. Russell nodded and took a long sip. His stomach was filled with darting, floating butterflies and he wondered whether he should have bought another bottle.
Before he could take another mouthful, Sal was in front of him, her face only inches from his, her beautiful eyes shining, those breathtaking lips slightly parted, waiting. She wasn’t smiling, but she was radiating kiss me now.
He didn’t hesitate. His lips finally met hers, urgent, strong, tasting like wine and sweet spices. She moaned softly and her arms came up around his back, hands caressing his shoulders through his shirt. He felt on fire. Her kiss was like nothing he’d had before. She wanted it as much as him – he could taste it on her mouth. He held her head between his hands, his thumbs stroking the short hair away from her temples. He thought he could stay there forever, drinking her in, devouring her.
She broke away, her lips parting from his with a sigh. She opened her eyes to his, his hands still cradling her long neck with a tenderness that she had never experienced before.
“You feel it too, don’t you?” She whispered.
“I’ve wanted to do that since the first day I met you.”
“Me too.” She said, her voice low, sweet, vibrating through his fingers as they ran down her lissom throat. “I – I think I need you, Russell. You… you soothe me.”
“I soothe you?” He leant down and ran his lips across the hollow of her throat, his tongue feeling the hammering of her pulse.
“Mmm” He kissed his way up along the side of her neck, inhaling her, feeling dizzy with want of her.
“Russell…” Her hands ran down the length of his spine, and found their way under his shirt where goosebumps rippled across the flesh of his lower back.
“Mmm?” His voice was smooth as whiskey in her ear, as he licked the spot just behind her right ear. She let out another sigh, her hands roaming all over his broad back.
“The soup, Russ – oh…” His kisses moved along her jaw line, forcing her head back as he made his way, oh so slowly back to her waiting mouth. His hands had found their way down the back of her skirt, his fingers dancing, tickling, teasing along the top of her buttocks.
“Fuck the soup.” He said as he kissed her, his lips softer than his earlier kiss. He took his time to savour her, running his tongue along the inside of her lips. He felt her shiver against him and he lifted her, his hands under her arse, sitting her on the bench in front of him, his mouth never leaving hers.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him in closer, her breasts crushed against his chest.
“I don’t usually… do this…” She whispered between kisses as he pulled the straps of her singlet down over her brown shoulders. His mouth was back on her neck, making its way across her electrified skin, his tongue flicking beneath the fabric that covered her bare breasts.
He stopped and with a look that melted her insides, pulled the singlet up, trapping her arms in his big hands over her head. He kissed her hard on the mouth then bent to her nipples. Her skin was hot, his lips burned as he took her full in his mouth and closing his eyes, gave himself up to the feeling. She moaned, guttural, primal. Her legs pulled him in tighter, her thighs squeezing him, trying to meld him to her.
She slipped her hands out of his grip and pulled his head up to her mouth, bruising his lips with her own. She tugged at his shirt; buttons pinging off and hitting the tiled floor.
“Need you – ”
He stepped back and ripped the shirt off. She laughed as he tangled himself in his sleeves and he gave up, the shirt hanging in rags around his arms.
As Sal pulled at his belt, Russell’s phone rang. He ignored it. He wasn’t stopping for anyone or thing. He was about to make love to a woman who had so consumed his being that nothing would get in his way.
The phone stopped and he smiled at her through their kiss. The very air around them shimmered and slowed as Russell laid Sal back against the counter top, a fresh wave of goosebumps rippling across her stomach as her bare skin made contact with the granite bench top.
One hand rested on the elastic of her skirt, his thumb dipping below, brushing the top of her pubic bone. The other hand slid from her calf to her thigh, ending at the crease between hip and leg.
“Oh God just touch me!” Sal cried. She had both hands kneading at her breasts, her voice was hoarse.
Russell just smiled at her and stretched out an index finger, touching her just shy of where she wanted him to.
He pulled his jeans off, desperate to be free of his boxers.
Then his beeper went off. The sound so foreign and unwelcome they both yelped from the intrusion.
“Fuck!” Russell stepped back, tripping over his jeans and landing on his arse. He snatched up the beeper that was vibrating across the tiles and stared malevolently at its screen.
Sal sat up, a frustrated smile hovering on her mouth.
“What is it?”
“Shit. Shit! I have to go. There’s a fire out at the Mackenzies. Shit, shit, fuck.” He yanked his jeans up, tearing off the rest of his shirt and shoving his feet back into his shoes.
“I’m coming with you” Sal whispered as she scrabbled off the bench and ran to the bedroom. She was back in the kitchen in less than a minute, jeans, boots and flannelette shirt hastily thrown on.
“No, Sal, you’re not trained.”
“Don’t tell me I won’t be safe. I can help, Russ.” She grabbed his head as he fumbled with the zipper on his jeans.
He looked into her eyes, saw the swirl of confidence and fear behind her words.
“OK.” She let him go. “But you do what I tell you.”
“I’ll lock up” she said as he raced through the front door. Switching the stove off at the wall and moving the pot of soup to the sink, she followed him quickly through the door, not bothering to lock it behind her. Her heart was thumping in time to the maelstrom of thoughts in her head, his fervent kisses, his calloused touch and now this – she patted her shirt pocket, the asthma inhaler sitting reassuringly against her chest.
An excerpt from one of my NaNoWriMo 2011 short stories, prompted by the Byron Bay Crew’s infamous sex scene dare.