Three days passed, but she could still feel his kiss on her mouth.
It had haunted her, not in the way past kisses had, the kind that came with guilt and confusion. This one lived somewhere between her ribs, echoing at odd hours. The kind of kiss that made you rethink every time you ever settled for being halfway loved.
Jessel hadn't rushed anything after that moment. He sent good morning texts, checked in softly, never overwhelming. But there was something unspoken now, a gentle humming under their conversations.
"How's your heart today?"
That's what he asked on the afternoon she invited him over.
She read the text twice before replying,
"Open, come over at 7".
It was almost 8 when he arrived, bottle of Yellow Tail Carberbet Wine in one hand, snacks in the other. She met him at the door wearing a silky two piece loungewear set, modest enough to not scream intention, loud enough to suggest it
"Something smells amazing", he said stepping in.
"Its me" she teased. " oh and your snack you brought"… giggling
He laughed, that deep quiet laugh of his that felt like velvet.
The ate on throw blanket, two pillows and music playing low in the background, he talked about his childhood again, about his fears of becoming emotionally unavailable like his father. She told him, how being the strong one has started to feel like punishment and not pride.
No mask. No pretending
Just two people slowly unraveling.
At some point she reached for his hands and laced their fingers.
He looked at her.... then really looked. Like she was something he really wanted to remember in full detail.
"You have no idea what's it's like to finally feel seen" she whispered.
"Yes I do" he replied " I see you. Even the parts you still hide from yourself and everyone else".
They didn't plan the kiss that followed, it just happened. One second they were mid laugh, and next her mouth was on his. It was different this time, not careful, not polite . Hungry.
She leaned into him fully, his hands steady on her hips as if he's been waiting his whole life to hold her like this.
His lips moved from her mouth to her jawline, to the base of her neck. Her breath hitched, She arched into him instinctively, finger gripping the collar of his shirt.
"You taste like cinnamon, he murmured against her skin.
"You talk too much," She whispered, tugging his shirt up and over his head.
He helped her out of her top too, then just stood there staring at her like he wasn't sure if she was real.
"You're so….. soft ," he said, finger tips tracing the curves of her waist. Not just your skin. Everything about you.
And it's messing with my mind."
She smiled, pulling him back closer, " then let it"
He lifted her effortlessly, carrying her to the couch. Not the bed. Not yet. Something about that felt too ceremonial, too predictable. This needed to happen where it started, the space where they talked, laughed and opened up.
His hands roamed slowly, deliberately. No rush. Like he was memorizing her. Worshipping her.
When his mouth moved lower, she gasped, knees trembling, fingers tangled in his hair. He kissed her thighs with a reverence that bordered the holy. And when he finally parted her legs and tasted her, she moaned so loud she couldn't recognize her own voice.
He didn't just go down on her, he studied her reactions like scripture. Adjusted his pace when she whimpered. Slowed down when she begged for more, only to build her back up until she was gripping the edge of the couch and crying out his name like prayer.
When she came, she shook … not from release alone, but from the fact that she hadn't felt this safe in someone's mouth in years.
He rose slowly, locked eyes with her, his lips glistening.
" Your turn, she whispered, pulling him down with her.
She buckled his jeans with shaky hands. Freed him. Watch his jaw tighten as she slid her hands down him.
And when he finally entered her, slow and deep, her eyes rolled back and her entire body arched into him.
It wasn't just intimacy .
It was claiming.
It was the moment two souls who had waited too long , been hurt too long and doubted too deeply finally decided they deserved to feel good.
They moved like dancers, no stumbles. No awkward rush. Just a rhythm that felt written in the stars.
His hands gripping her hips as he thrust deeper, groaning softly in her ears. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer, refusing to let the moment be halfway.
"Look at me" he whispered "I want you to see what I see"
She opened her eyes, breath shaky. And what she saw undid her.
Not lust , Not hunger.
Devotion.
They stayed like that for what felt like hours,
Shifting,Breathing,Tasting.
There was laughter too, between kisses, between gasp. They joked about the pillow falling, the music repeating same songs and others odd .
But even in those breaks, the connection never broke .
When they both came, almost at the same time, it wasn't loud or wild. It was quiet. Deep like a river settling.
And then they stayed wrapped in each others arms, breathing each other in, skin warm and hearts loud.
Later, much later, she lay with her head on his chest, his fingers tracing lazy circles along her arms.
He kissed her forehead and said nothing for a long time.
The softly:
"Efua, I dont want this to be a high point . I want this to be the beginning."
She nodded, her heart beating slow and full.
" I've never felt this chosen," she whispered.
He pulled her tighter
"That's because you were always worthy, they just didn't have the eyes".
Next ...