The Daydream

       With eyes tightly shut, chest raising heavily in the blackness of the cool room, she lay below the covers. Visions of the life she wished she was living playing before her eyes. A wistful smile spread across her face. A soft nibble of her lips was the only reminder that her thoughts weren’t real.
       But there was something about the way she pictured him looking at her. His eyes burned a passionate hole into hers as his gentle, yet commanding hand slowly made its way down her arm. Pulling her in swiftly, she laid her head on his bare chest.
The aura of protection engulfed her and they began to sway in the candlelight of the music that played in the background. His angelic voice blessed her ear as he covered the song that accompanied him. Reaching up, she caressed his neck, bringing her fingers to brush his defined jaw.
       She pulled back and stared into his ferocious eyes. A yearning for her touch and a desire for her love ignited a fire in those desperate eyes that threatened to burn her sweet supple skin. A fire that travelled to his fingertips, scorching her lightly.
       A soft moan escaped her lips as the delicious pain sent shock waves to her core. A twisting in her stomach that exploded in wetness. Panting lowly, she sunk into him. With a delicate hand, he twirled one of her luscious kinks around his finger as he continued to sway with her.
       He had always loved seeing her in his clothing. The way his sweater hung loosely on her frame brought a smile to his face. For, all he ever wanted was to hold her. He slowly brought his lips to her forehead as he moved her arms from around his neck. He intertwined their fingers as he brushed his face against hers.
       A gesture so gentle and brief, it may as well have not happened. Next, he placed a soft kiss on her cheek. The beauty of the sound that escaped her lips made him pull her impossibly closer. He loved the way she reacted to him. To his touch, his voice, to the way he looked at her. To his love.
       She wasn’t greedy. She wasn’t lustful. She wasn’t rough. She wasn’t draining. And neither was he. He loved the intimacy he experienced with her. Intimacy that was unmatched by his string of past lovers. She was different, and that was why he treated her like a precious gem. Like a fragile piece of glass, the slightest touch could break her. Only this glass was reflective. If she broke, so will he.
       He spun her and pulled her back into him. The profession of love fell from his yearning lips before he could think twice. With every detailed confession of his love, his kisses moved closer to her lips.
       Now it was her turn to stare into his eyes with earth-shattering intensity. It was her turn to glide her fingertips up his secure arms and his neck. It was her turn to send a wave of passion to his core via the touch of her lips. A wave of passion, that she soon would feel throbbing against her.
       It was her turn to hear the inhumane noises that would escape his throat as he promised to make them one with his tight restrain. It was her turn to profess the love she had for him. The yearning in the pit of her stomach to never let this moment end.
Lightly, she pressed her lips to his in the magnificent daydream. Her tongue moved against his in an admission of her searing love for him. Though she was gentle, she was demanding. Challenging. She wanted him to not just meet her level of passion, but to surpass it. To show her that she was his and only his. That she was the best. That she was the one. She needed his confirmation.
       And confirm he did.
       With every motion of his tongue, every caress of his hands. With every grunt that rippled from his nether regions, out of his throat. He made it clear that she was all he ever wanted, all that he would ever ask for and more.
       Slowly, she opened her eyes. A sad smile formed on her lips in the darkness where she lay. He wasn’t above her or under her. He wasn’t next to her nor would he ever be. He was nothing but a distant dream. A reminder of what she didn’t deserve. He was a figment of her vivid imagination. Turning over, she let the tear slide down her nose and fall onto the pillow. One of many she released that night.
       She wished he was more than just a daydream.