Lost

Excerpt:
The afternoon sun fought to get inside, rays cutting through the gaps between the shafts of bamboo, slashing across the floor and over Derrek’s prone body on his sleeping mat. Cat grinned. Derrek had always slept like a corpse, not stirring for explosions of thunder, for giggling girls at slumber parties when they were kids, even when the monsoon winds tried to pull the house apart, he’d snore through it all. And at this moment he looked like a corpse, as well. Flat on his back, limbs akimbo in a futile effort to defy the heat, his sheet scrunched down to a thin band draped across his pelvis adding to the effect of a modest cadaver.

Still, he looked lovely. Cat sat down on the floor beside him. Bands of sunlight striping his face, his naked chest and abdomen, his muscular arms, his hairy thighs. With his breath his belly rose and fell, dipping to accentuate the curve of his ribs, making a little shadow appear in the gap between his body and the sheet.

She wanted to look at it again. The part of him under the sheet. She wanted to touch. *To smell.

Sitting perfectly still, she listened. Silence promised her their dad was still off collecting samples. Gingerly she plucked up the edge of the sheet and folded it back. Everything was so, so lovely. The thin line of dark hair that ran from his belly button and merged with the thick thatch of black curls below. His pelvic bones, rising to pale, gentle peaks with the grace of the slope of a desert dune. His cock.

Science had an answer for it. Human beings, like all animals, are programmed to reproduce. Glands pour chemicals into the blood so when you smell that potent musk, when you see that delicate sculpture of warm flesh, you want to touch, to kiss, to take it into you. People are flesh-and-chemical magnets, powerless to resist coming together.

His cock made her happy and broke her heart, at once. So soft, so delicate, all pink, full and heavy, lying against his pelvis. As if it were asleep, like him, and even in the stultifying afternoon heat, was clinging to him for warmth. For safety. Could you love a part of another person?

When she crouched down on her hands and knees and breathed him in, his scent, his heat flooded her body with want, with need, an ache as cruel as desperate hunger. Fuck, she wanted to mount him, to spread her thighs and rub the sensitive nub of flesh against his cock, feel it harden, nestled between her slick lips, then take him inside. Feel that hardness open her, rise up, up inside her, fill her. But all that had to wait.

Scared he’d wake before she could discover everything, she forgot to touch, to trace the ridge of the crown with her fingertip, to lift the soft warm penis and feel its weight in her hand. She just bent her elbows, dipped down, inhaled his scent, then tasted. Licked his salt musk, drawing her tongue up the length of him, just half what it was when she’d seen him hard…