Her Fire

19 - Her fire

The car sways roughly as David steps on the wrong pedal and Deirdre would have french-kissed the windshield, if she hadn’t had her seatbelt on.

"What the he!l, David!?" She snaps, annoyed.

"I'm sorry! You took me by surprise, my brain just… failed me for a moment."

His face has lost its usual stoic expression that Deirdre’s irritation evaporates right away and she can't help but giggle.

He glances at her. "Please don't tease me so. It's cruel, you know."

She pretends to be offended by the accusation. "Tease you? I am quite serious. Find us a spot and I will give you that kiss… and maybe a little more. It's the least I can do, considering… you know…"

His face falls a little before he blinks the expression away into nothing. "Oh… I understand. Thank you… but you don't have to do that."

"What? Wait, what did you understand?"

With a small sigh, he answers "I don't want a pity kiss, Deirdre. Let's not ruin our last time together with a depressing memory."

She raises an eyebrow. "Who told you I'm offering out of pity? You should know by now, I wouldn't have proposed it, if I didn't want to do it."

He says nothing and Deirdre is almost certain she has offended him somehow, but then at the next curve, he takes the car out of the main concrete road, turning left towards a small dirt one that leads to who knows where.

She can see fields upon fields of wild grasses and olive trees scattered here and there. The track seems to go on forever until at some point, they find a fork in the road. One appears to go straight up to the mountains, and the other leads to a private property that looks abandoned or perhaps unoccupied at the moment. It's hard to tell given that it's all closed down for the incoming cold season.

Her heart starts pounding in anticipation when David finally stops the car somewhere secluded and turns the engine off, watching her with a guarded expression.

Without hesitation, Deirdre unbuckles her seatbelt and turns to David.

"Move your seat backward, as far as it can go."

He complies without question and she nods in approval when there is enough space for her too. As carefully as she can, she sits astride his lap, facing him, ever so thankful that she had decided to wear a very loose skirt today.

She can feel his sudden intake of breath and David’s eyes flutter close as he gets lost in her scent. She wonders how she smells to him.

Deirdre smiles mischievously, welcoming his clean, male scent as well. She can’t really explain it, it’s unfamiliar to her but very pleasant and it doesn’t come close to any other scents she can recognize.

He is making it feel like it will be her first kiss, the way her heart suddenly starts pounding with excitement. And maybe in some ways, that is true. This will be the very first time she’ll give her kiss wholeheartedly and quite eagerly, to be honest.

This time, it will not be a fated mate’s first kiss, taken from her so rudely thanks to some divine right. This time, it will not be clumsy ones shared with human boys or men who didn’t know any better and barely meet expectations.

Deirdre hopes he will not disappoint and she can feel… that is, she just knows it will be different.

This is it. The one kiss that matters.

"Open your eyes," she whispers. "Look at me."

He opens his eyes and Deirdre can't help but gasp at the vulnerability that she sees in them. But that is not all. There is raging lust as well, tempered by an emotion that she doesn't want to acknowledge.

She's playing with fire. It’s dangerous and this time, she’ll likely burn as well…

But then again, she was the former fire goddess. She should be able to handle it just fine. And if not… Well…there are ointments for burns. She'll recover.

"Lower this until I tell you to stop."

His hand reaches down to the side of the seat to push the button that will help him lower the backrest and Deirdre pushes it to go down by putting her weight on it, not breaking eye contact with him. They are so close to each other that their breaths intermingle with one another and it is the most erotic, intimate thing she has ever felt. His scent surrounds her and it is inebriating, but sharing one breath with this man is strangely even more titillating. She has chosen well for her ‘first’ kiss.

Deirdre is burning with desire and they haven't even started yet. A familiar warning alarm keeps ringing at the back of her mind but it sounds distant, muted somehow. All she knows is that if she doesn't kiss him now, she'll regret it for the rest of her life.

Before the backrest reaches its limit, she whispers "Stop."

"Deirdre, I—"

"Burn with me." She claims his lips before he can say more, almost in fear that words might break the magic of the moment and she won't get the promised taste of heaven.

Unlike the sky god, David lets Deirdre take the lead and his response to her kiss nearly makes her weep.

She was wrong. There is such a thing as a perfect kiss. It just has to come from the right person.

There is no aggressiveness in him, only eagerness and deep affection. He does not try to overwhelm her or to overstep unseen boundaries, instead, allowing her to adjust as the kiss deepens, to feel secure enough to want to deepen the kiss herself and let him explore as well, their lips and tongues moving together in perfect harmony. He tastes like the sweetest and purest of nectars, and it’s so…addicting.

Holding on to his shoulder with one hand while the other one runs through his hair, she marvels at the soft waves that hold so much of his scent, as she presses downward, wanting—no, needing to be closer to him as much as possible.

She feels his body reacting to her as well, something hard suddenly springing to life right where she is seated and she smiles through the kiss.

He pulls away all of a sudden and she feels bereft even before his lips are no longer touching hers.

"Deirdre, I just want to—"

She grabs his head and kisses him again, moaning in relief as he responds just as eagerly as before. Tentatively he puts his hands on her waist and she hums approvingly, grabbing one of his hands and putting it on her bütt0cks, and his other hand immediately follows, instinctively massaging them and making her moan even more as he pulls her closer to him.

She really is burning up. The last time she ever felt like this was when she still fire itself. The heat is intense but it makes her feel alive and she pulls away from him only to take off her shirt and her bra, sighing in relief as her bre*sts spill out, freed from their bindings.

David watches her, breathing heavily, waiting for what she wants to do next. She meets his eyes, not even a little bit shy about being n@ked before this man. Her n*pples stand just as proudly, inviting him to take a little taste of her charms.

He raises a hand to reach out, as if unable to stop himself, but at the last second, he looks up, silently requesting permission to touch her. Her smile widens and she nods, exhilarated beyond belief when, instead of simply grabbing her breast like a starving caveman, he holds her waist instead and lifts her up a little so that he may worship her better, feasting upon her sensitive buds with his mouth, his tongue ever so gentle in revering the pale, pink orbs.

"Oh, yes…" Deirdre moans, gripping fistfuls of his hair and breathing in his mesmerizing and captivating scent that she knows is uniquely like that for her — which makes it even more intimate.

David’s left hand slides down from her waist to her thighs then slides under her skirt to feel her better, his palm warm and a little rough due to manual labor which only makes her more aware and more sensitive to his touch. She catches his lower lip and suckles on it, playfully pulling away from him a little - without letting go - so he would lean forward to follow. But instead, she gasps and consequently lets go of his lip when she suddenly feels his hand caressing the edge of her underwear, dangerously close to her feminine folds and she marvels at his sudden newfound boldness.

It’s such a potent aphrodisiac, the feeling of being desired. And it fuels her own needs.

They stare at each other for a few seconds, Deirdre daring him to try and sink a digit without saying a single word, as he stares back at her with a pensive expression.

“Well? What’s it going to be, David?” She whispers, leaning closer. “Do you think you can handle my fire?”