Miss O'Hara If You're Nasty

"No, I don't think I will kiss you, although you need kissing, badly. That's what's wrong with you. You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how."

Mr. Jones must have Rhett Butler on speed dial.
I've spent some time in the last 18 hours rolling around in a haze. It's safe to say that Jones and I can check another illicit incident off our list (whoops). All it took was a simple graze of fingers on my hip and I crumbled like a sand castle.
He pushed me against the doorframe, and just looked at me with his stupid, sexy smirk, and my knees felt wobbly, then finally, blessedly, kissed me.

We've kissed before, but it was just a couple of hurried smooches, like a snack before dinner.

This time...oh. This was a 'bodies pressed together, up against the doorframe, lips sealed, just enough tongue, both of his hands buried in my hair, little moans, can't get close enough, please don't ever fucking stop, this must be what euphoria feels like' kind of kiss, and I don't know if it went on for seconds or days, but I could have continued indefinitely.  I haven't had that kind of kiss..maybe ever. I felt completely devoured.

It was bliss. 

I'm not gonna go into what happened after, but I will say that none of our rendezvous have gone all the way- plainly, we have yet to have actual sex. In the spirit of honesty tho, the idea of doing so turns me on like the fountains at the motherfucking Bellagio.  Like, if this man can make me feel the way he does with just a long, slow, amazing kiss (uuunnngggh), I can only imagine what his prowess would be like when we're naked and horizontal. He definitely has the equipment...don't ask me how I know this, just know it's a fact.

I shouldn't be writing this at work; I'm turning into a wayward harlot, and if my boss were to walk in right now, telling him why I'm slightly breathless and red as a tomato could make for an awkward and embarrassing conversation. Thanks the gods I work alone. Parts of my anatomy could poke an eye out if I'm not careful. I haven't had such a strong reaction to a guy like this in YEAARRRRSS, not since the early days with the Dreaded Ex. Jones gave me a shot of something I needed, and now I just want more. If our last meetup taught me anything, it's that I'd be quite happy to make out with him until my face disintegrates.  And maybe rub up against him. Alot. Possibly without clothing.

I'm a fucking mess.