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Sleeping Beauty

18 Jul

Photography by Tiffany Zettlemoyer

She is sleeping

Her breathing is shallow. Her chest rises and falls. He counts the seconds and studies her for signs of waking.

There are none.

He says her name. Softly.

Again. A little louder. But still quietly. He does not really want her to stir.

He gently takes her hand in his. It is small, and soft, and cool. Her fingers lie over his. They are quiet and still. His thumb and forefinger circle her wrist. He can feel her pulse. He imagines it quickening, but he cannot be sure. He lowers her hand to the bed.

She is beautiful. Her hair is raven black against her pale skin. Her lips are perfectly formed and ruby-red. She is wearing a pure white dress that is fitted at the breast, tight at the waist, and clinging to her hips. Sleeping Beauty

He knows he should kiss her, rouse her from her slumber, bring her back to consciousness.

But her still and perfect form has mesmerised him, captivated him, bewitched him. He feels himself harden as he moves towards her. He murmurs her name again. His throat stifles the sound.

He reaches out and with almost trembling fingers he strokes her cheek. Her skin is warm to his touch.

She does not stir.

He carefully undoes the first of the buttons. And then another. And a third. The gorgeous swell of her breasts makes him dizzy with desire.

At the sixth button, as the material begins to peel open, he realises she is naked underneath.

.

She is not sleeping.

She senses him standing by the narrow bed, gazing at her. She knows his eyes are upon her, taking in every curve, and every line. She waits. And tries to control her breathing.

She focuses on keeping perfectly still.

She hears him say her name. Twice. She ignores it, forbidding her eyelids to flicker.

He picks up her hand. His sudden touch in the darkness almost makes her flinch with surprise. His fingers are long and thin. She fears he will feel her pulse race crazily as his thumb presses against her flesh. He releases her gently, and she knows.

She is certain about what is going to happen when she hears her name a third time, and it is said like a faint prayer in a hoarse and caressing whisper.

His touch upon her cheek is like fire. She almost gasps at her own arousal.

He begins to undo the buttons of her dress.

Achingly.

Tantalizingly.

Deliciously slowly.

This is heaven.

She will not wake now..

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Photo by Tiffany Zettlemoyer

This is not new, I wrote it some time ago. But I like it, it has proved popular – and I hope you can forgive yet another outing

 
8 Comments

Posted by on July 18, 2016 in Erotica

 

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

8 responses to “Sleeping Beauty

  1. missameliaandsir

    July 18, 2016 at 6:04 pm

    Please Sir, you may post and repost this exquisite piece over and over again. Just as I shall never tire of breath, I shall never tire of the delicious ache this piece awakens.

    Liked by 1 person

     
  2. redklwr2006 Kym

    July 19, 2016 at 1:05 am

    Your posts and reposts are a pleasure. So whatever floats your boat at time, go for it.

    Liked by 1 person

     
  3. paganwitchroz

    July 20, 2016 at 10:45 am

    Perfect prose Dominant. . ..she awaits that kiss that will awaken her from her slumber . . . Yet fears the outcome😈 On Jul 18, 2016 7:54 PM, “A Faded Romantics Notebook” wrote:

    > Romantic Dominant posted: ” She is sleeping Her breathing is shallow. Her > chest rises and falls. He counts the seconds and studies her for signs of > waking. There are none. He says her name. Softly. Again. A little louder. > But still quietly. He does not really want he” >

    Liked by 1 person

     
    • Romantic Dominant

      July 20, 2016 at 10:50 am

      I think the kiss is the last thing she s interested in at the moment. Smiles.

      Like

       
  4. terry1420

    October 31, 2016 at 4:46 pm

    Thank you for reposting. This is beautiful. Wouldn’t want to stop his “explorations”.

    Liked by 1 person

     

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