Looks Best When…

182240_562470723185_118401058_31406809_1126638_nWritten By: Sapphire and Demez

She Looks Best When She’s In…

The first time I got a shirt printed with my book cover on it, with my name on it, all I could think about is how she would look in it. You know, that moment when she comes over for dinner and she doesn’t plan on staying put there’s too much wine, too many laughs and all of a sudden she decides to spend the night.

“Give me something to put on.” She says it knowing it probably won’t stay on long anyway but seeing her in my t-shirt does something to me. The way she takes it out of my hand and undresses with the bathroom door slightly open. The way she walks out the bathroom, the t-shirt sticking to her curves because of the moisture. The way it’s a little bit too small because all I had was a small left. I probably could have given her one made for a man but I like the ones made for women on women. It’s why I paid extra for it.

“I have some lotion in my purse, hand it to me.” I keep Dove body wash in the bathroom closet just in case she decides to spend the night, the soft smell makes my house feel more like a home, her thighs are touching in the t-shirt, even tipsy and with the title of my book on her chest she sits like a lady.

I’m so busy staring that I don’t hear her calling my name, I don’t see her handing me her phone. “You iPhone people and those horrible cameras. Use my phone, take some pictures,” she says. I see the seriousness in her eyes, the way she licks her lips. Sitting back on the couch I’m watching her thru the camera on the phone the size of a tablet. Tonight in my t-shirt she’s Mona Lisa and I’m Picasso.

He Looks Best When He’s In…

There’s something damn near edible about a man wearing a tailored suit, I can’t quite put my hands on it and yet I wanted to put my hands all over him, run the tip of my fingers from the width of his shoulders to his length and watch him get lost in the feel of me feeling all over him.

I wasn’t sure if it was because I’d seen him in J’s, a wife beater and jeans a million times but even in that, every time I saw him was better than the last, causing my heart to skip several beats and that girlish grin and blush to cover my face in a warm glow; instantly making me feel like I was in high school all over again… Daaam there was nothing like that feeling. He was gorgeous in his “dough boy” basics, his swag on 20, with his no nonsense attitude all into me and visually devouring every inch that he saw. That’s how I met him, looking absolutely delicious and every inch of him screamed “trouble.”

Good, that’s exactly what I needed to jumpstart my transition into my newly “single” status. I’ve always had a thing for bad boys, tattoos, and trouble and he says he has this crazy fixation for redheads with tongue rings and sassy attitudes; check and checkmate, guess we’ll both have our hands full. We exchanged numbers me locking mine into his phone, him sliding his in my back pocket, gripping tightly and pulling me in close, smelling warm and intoxicating and reminding me of something unexpected like receiving a note asking to check a box to be his girlfriend.

Cute, I love originality but those sloppy, wet kisses from my cheeks and ears to my neck and chest was absolute “D-boy” action and they were doing the trick. He placed those soft pillows he calls lips on mine and I reciprocate, devouring and sucking on his bottom lip, feeling him go hard and soft at the same time; he ain’t ready for this action and its’ been a long time since a man had been this close; hopefully I can behave myself but I refused to make any promises.

She Looks Best When She’s In…

“What are you doing after work?” It’s the question she text’s me after lunch. I sat back and looked at my phone, wondering if I should tell her the truth or make something up that sounds more exciting, maybe something funny. It’s a beautiful day outside though and the last thing I want to do on a beautiful day is be in the house.

“I’m cutting the yard and washing my truck. Maybe I’ll BBQ if I can get the fire started before it gets dark.” She’s not the raking leaves and washing a truck type so I expect her to send me one of those silly emoji’s she loves, instead she sends, “Cool, I’m going to help you, I’m coming over after work.”

Standing in the backyard, I see her walking towards me. Ripped jeans that show bits and pieces of those pretty legs of hers. Jeans that look amazing on her but the mosquitoes and thorns on the bushes will love too much. A long sleeve flannel shirt rolled up to her elbows, one of those shirts that looks worn but you can tell it’s new. Her hair is in a bun, she’s wearing some Timberlands with the jeans inside.
We both know she’s not here to work, she just hates being home by herself on the weekends. She’ll take a bath in Off and sit on the porch drinking beer and watching me work. She looks best when she looks comfortable, when she looks like she’s at home.

He Looks Best When He’s In…

We met up later that night so of course I’m late, quite naturally, but I’m as flawless as someone this nervous could be and worth every extended minute. I pull up next to him all calm and collect, hands moist, heart racing and every bit excited about the possibilities. He sees me, primping nervously, stands in front of my car to ensure that I get a full dose of what he had to offer; I almost lost it. Mouth-watering, panties soaked and holding on to every pulsating ounce of me that begged to be held and stroked by him, by this insanely gorgeous man wearing the hell out of every stitch in his black, tailored suit. I leaned back in my seat and got drunk off the power radiating off him, compelling me, absolutely begging me to submerge myself in his everything, to lose my life in his passion; to allow him to momentarily dictate and dominate me. I exhaled the high he placed me on loving the trip that he was taking through my veins and allowed myself to get lost in him. Hmmmm, he was delicious.

Dinner was beautiful, the conversation and wine was flowing, his words were profound but all I wanted to do was sit on his lap, rub my face in his beard as he whispered poetry in my ear. I wanted to get lost in every syllable and vowel, wrap my fingers around his tie, draw him in closely and nibble on those lips where those beautiful words mixed and mingled with the wine that was already invading my system. I wanted to massage his broad shoulders through the fabric and allow it to hypnotize me until I was unaware and uncaring about our surroundings. There was something about him in his suit that caught me completely off guard and totally open and receptive to everything that he had to offer and he knew it. He led me back to his car propped me on his hood, slid in between my legs and nibbled and sucked all over my neck, reminding me of what it felt like to be wanted and desired; of what it felt like to be needed, to be loved if only momentarily. I basked in the moment, in the glow of it all daring to lose myself for a second to this amazing man in his suit.

She Looks Best When She’s In…

I don’t sleep much, most mornings I’m up at five or six after going to sleep at two or three. Seeing her lie in the bed, the sheet barely covering her naked ass and back. I like watching her sleep, maybe I like seeing her naked more. Clothes aren’t her favorite thing in the world. Most mornings she has nothing more than a robe that she barely closes.

Her skin is perfect, flawless. It’s not without effort. She moisturizes after every shower, she puts on this facial mask three times a week. I’ve never seen her forget to floss or get a pimple.

She has to know how turned on I get when I see her naked, when she’s getting ready to take a shower and has to let the water run for ten minutes before she steps in. I think my lips love her skin more then she loves her skin. As crazy as it sounds I feel like it’s sweet. When my tongue is tracing that skin I feel as though I can taste skittles or Hershey’s kisses.

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