14. Three Little Words
three little words
Scarlett
H e tugs my erect nipple into his mouth, eliciting a sharp gasp from me. I dig my fingers into the soft cool hair on the back of his head, holding him to my chest, my head thrown back.
It doesn't last long, though. A second or two later, I find myself on my back and Sol is dragging my pants and underwear off, and then he's hauling me upright again, sitting on his chest, facing the headboard as he gazes up at me.
"Better grab onto something, beautiful," he says, a lascivious grin curving across his face.
"Sol, what are you—"
My question is answered when he cups my ass and pulls my hips forward, guiding my sex toward his mouth. Before I can so much as gasp, his tongue slashes through my lips and curls against my clit, and a sudden bolt of heat shears through me, and I fall forward, grabbing at the headboard as I keen through gritted teeth.
Sol cradles my ass in his hands with the utmost reverence, gazing up at me from below, mouth fused to my pussy, tongue slowly driving, rolling, circling. My tits bounce and sway as he laps and suckles, and my eyes close, and my heart pounds. Sol groans with pure, unabashed, male delight as I find the edge rising within me and begin to grind on his mouth, riding his hungry, eager tongue.
My eyes rip open at his groan, and I watch him lose himself in my rapture, devouring me more and more ravenously as I climb up to climax, whimpering and gasping. When I reach the cusp, he slows, to my great frustration—only to slide two thick fingers inside my empty, aching sex and bring me right back to the edge.
This time, he pushes me over it, and light bursts behind my eyes with sparkles and flashes of color; my whole body spasms, and a shuddering cry escapes my lips, and I balance above him, reaching down to clutch at his head, grinding furiously against him as I come and come and come.
I know him well enough at this point to know that if I don't stop him now, he'll keep me coming just like this, and as incredible as that feels, I have other plans.
I swing off of him and off the bed. Dance backward as he reaches for me.
"Where you goin', darlin'?" he asks.
I grin at him, crooking my finger at him.
He rolls off the bed and to his feet, stalking and swaggering toward me, and I let my desire for him flood through me—and not just physical desire, not just sexual attraction. Perhaps for the first time ever, I allow my feelings to well up inside me, to flow through me.
Need.
Attraction.
Appreciation.
Arousal.
Gratitude.
Fear.
Worry.
Nerves.
A desire to please him.
A desire to simply be held.
A need to hold him.
A need to lose myself in him.
A sure knowledge in my gut that there is no other human on this earth who will ever, ever know me and understand me as he does.
A willingness to give myself over to him, fully and completely, no matter what that looks like.
A belief in the core of who I am that he's my person, and I'm his.
A realization that I love him.
I dance out of his reach, laughing as he grabs for me and misses. His hand grazes my hip as he grabs for me again, and I wriggle the other way, laughing and giggling in a very un-Scarlett-like way as he lunges for me. It becomes a game of cat-and-mouse, and soon we're both laughing and breathless.
Until he catches me.
His arm slings around my middle, arresting my momentum and swinging me around and off the floor. My back slams against the wall beside the doorway to the bathroom, and he pins me there with his body, mouth capturing mine.
I groan as I dissolve into the kiss, giving him my tongue.
His hard cold zipper presses against the tender flesh of my sex, the hardness behind it begging for relief.
I push him away and spin us, putting his back to the wall. "My turn," I whisper.
"I need you, Scar," he murmurs.
"I know, honey," I say. "Trust me."
"I do."
I lift his shirt up and off, letting my hands roam his perfect, delicious body. "You're bigger than you used to be," I whisper. "I like it."
"Yeah?"
I kiss his shoulder, the base of his throat, the hard line of bone at the top of his chest. "Mmm-hmmm."
He slides his hand into my hair above my left ear. "So fucking beautiful, Scar."
"I think maybe you'll like this view even better," I whisper, dropping to my knees.
I’ve used my mouth on him any number of times in the past, of course—it's a normal, natural, enjoyable part of sex. He usually stops me before he comes, preferring to be inside me. And I have never, with him or anyone else, gone down on my knees like this. It always reeked of subservience. Submission. A lack of control.
But with Sol, it's different. It's a different kind of intimacy. It's not about subservience, it's about a different kind of connection. An intimacy based on trust and the desire to pleasure the other person. I know Solomon respects me. I know he values me. Every time we connect physically, he puts me first. Gives me pleasure until I can literally take no more.
Being on my knees like this is for me. I could blow him just as easily lying down and it'll feel the same for him. No, giving him oral like this is for me. It's a surrender. Allowing myself to trust him. Allowing myself to give him a different aspect of myself—one that, until now, I always saw as weak. But it's not. It's not weak. It's strong. I know myself, and I know my worth, and more importantly, I know my worth and my value to Sol, and I know it won't be diminished by doing something in a posture that I always saw as weak, submissive, and degrading.
I push him up against the wall, grinning at him while running my tongue over my upper lip. Flick open his fly, lower his zipper. His cock springs into the opening, thick and rigid, veins begging for my tongue.
I tug the jeans so they fall around his ankles and he steps out of them, kicking them aside. His eyes are locked on me, heavy-lidded, brow furrowed, breath coming slow and deep—-his anticipation is delicious. He wants this. Bad. But I also know that in the seconds before he lets himself come, he'll try to stop me. Usually, I like that he stops me and turns it into an us-thing rather than a him-thing. This time, though, I intend to follow through—all the way.
But I intend to play, first.
I slide my hands up his thighs, over his sharp hard hipbones, and carve my hands over the hard blocks of his abs. Reach up and toy with his nipples while kissing his diaphragm. Run my tongue up the groove between his abdominal blocks. Caress down his hips again and kiss and lick lower and lower until the hard warm length of his shaft rests against my cheek as I kiss the tender, delicate skin behind the thick root. I circle my hands around the backs of his powerful thighs and slide my lips over his skin to the other side, his cock now nuzzling the right side of my face as I touch my lips to his skin around the root and up to his belly.
Slide my hands upward, teasing them up to his taint and along the crack of his hard, taut ass. Cup the firm bubbles of his buttocks, scratching my nails down and smoothing my palms in circles.
"Fuck, Scar," he growls. “Killin' me, babe."
I palm his thighs and then cup his heavy, hot, taut ballsack, lifting, kissing the side of it, underneath it, the other side. "Haven't even done anything yet," I whisper.
"What you're doing right now, honey..." he rumbles, voice taut, low, breathless. "Fuckin' amazing."
"Not even touching your cock," I murmur, delicately petting his balls with my fingertips.
"Gonna make it all the better when you do," he answers.
I nuzzle my cheek against his shaft, running my tongue up his soft skin. With one hand, I roam the hard plane of his chest and rippling wonderland of his abs, and with the other I tease his taint with my middle finger, toying, tickling, tracing with my fingertip and fingernail, ever so softly and gently.
"Fuck, babe. You tryin' to make me beg?" he growls.
I grin up at him. "Maybe."
His fingers trail over the crown of my head, run behind my ears, trace my jawline. "Please, love. Let me feel that sweet mouth on my cock, Scarlett."
"Mmmmm," I hum, pressing a soft kiss to his belly just beneath his navel, the tip of him glistening millimeters away from my chin.
Look up at him, kiss again, lower. Open my mouth, eyes locked on his. Take him into my open mouth but don't close my lips around him, pulling away, only to lick up beside his shaft once more.
"Fuck, Scarlett. Fuck. Please, baby."
"You want it?” I ask.
“Fuck yeah. So bad."
Kiss the underside of his shaft, closed-mouth kisses upward from the root to the tip. Take the plump round head in my mouth and lick the tip before letting him go.
"Like that?"
He groans, head thunking back against the wall. "Fuckin god, Scar, yes. Like that. Please, honey."
"Please what?" I whisper, closed-mouth kissing the tip again. "Tell me what you need, Sol."
"Your mouth, babe."
"Like this?" I roll a few shallow bobbing thrusts onto his head, tongue flicking and swirling.
His hands rest on the top of my head, fingers pressing into my scalp. "Fuck, fuck—yeah, babe. Just like that."
"That's it?" I ask, reaching around to cradle his ass again. "That's all you want? Just this?" I repeat the short, shallow movement, taking only the head of him down to his glans between my lips, mostly using my tongue on him.
"Want more," he whispers.
"More?"
"Please, Scarlett. Got no problem begging."
I knead and claw at his ass. "Then show me, Solomon. Show me what you need."
He gathers my hair in his fist at the back of my head, holding it there with both hands and pulls me onto him. I keep my eyes on his as I let him guide me, open-mouthed, onto his cock. Deeper. Deeper. He touches the back of my throat, but before he can trigger my gag reflex, he releases the pressure and I back away.
Again, just as slowly and intentionally, he guides me onto him and stops just before it's too much for me. God, he knows me so well. I close my eyes and sigh as I lick my lips, tasting his precum, and then meet his eyes as I take him into my mouth once more. This time, I don't back away all the way, keeping him inside my mouth, lips locked around his glans, tongue swirling against the leaking tip. I pull at his butt as I go down on him, this time pushing him against my throat a little more.
He groans, and his knees dip. He locks his knees, but they nearly give out again as I plunge my mouth down his shaft again, back up, and then immediately go back down, swallowing around the head.
I moan around him as he starts letting his hips push, and I encourage him by pulling at his ass.
"Want it like that, do you?" he growls.
"Mmm-hmmm," I murmur wordlessly, pulling at him as I go lower, taking more of him.
"Ahhh fuck, babe." He gasps, and his knees buckle. "God, feels so fucking good."
Now, I start taking him in a rhythm, moaning with unfeigned eagerness as his hips push and his knees buckle.
"Baby, oh fuck. Scar, god, yes."
"Mmm-hmm?"
He pulls at my head, and I let him pull me deeper until I push against his hold—he lets go instantly, and I back away, gasping, looking up at him with a grin as I catch my breath.
"Jesus, babe."
I run my hands up his abs and back down his hips, taking his hard ass in my hands again as I slick my lips around him, tongue licking and flicking, swirling and sliding against his shaft.
This time, there's no stopping. I feel him reaching the edge as I set a rhythm, taking as much of him in thrust after thrust as I comfortably can. His hands dig into my hair and pull me closer, encouraging each downward slide of my mouth around him, and his knees buckle and dip as he nudges the back of my throat, moaning raggedly as he takes my mouth, his need taking over as he starts thrusting helplessly.
"Fuck, Scar, fuck—fuck." He dips at the knees and then straightens, locking out, and groans long and low in his throat as he reaches the cups. "Fuck, baby. Gotta come."
"Mmmm!" I hum, backing away in preparation for tasting his release.
"Need you, baby. Want to be inside you when I come."
"Mmmm-mmm,” I answer, reaching up to find his hands.
He tangles his fingers with mine, knees buckling, hips thrust forward as I take him in long, slow slides of my mouth, unhurried and wet, tongue working. Faster, then.
"Scar...holy shit—fuck, ohmygod, Scarlett—I’m…oh fuck. I can't stop. Can't—oh fuck, Scarlett. I'm coming, baby. I’m—ohhhhhhhhhhhhfucking god..."
He groans through gritted teeth as he tries in vain to hold back, but he's got no chance of that. I crush grip his hands in mine as I give him my mouth, fast and deep.
He comes with a guttural bellow that he cuts off with clenched teeth, head thrown back, pouring himself into my mouth. I swallow his first release, let go of his hands and cup his balls, driving my middle finger along his taint and pressing as he detonates a second time, the hot salty wash of his come flooding my mouth.
He grunts helplessly, then, hands burying in my hair and pulling me onto his cock—I let him, swallowing frantically around a third pulse before letting him pop free of my mouth with a greedy gasp of air. I wrap my hand around him and pump him hard and fast, squeezing his balls as his knees nearly give out—I give his tip a closed-mouth kiss, swirling my tongue around the head as he smears a last few drops, quickly licked away.
That's when his knees give out totally, and he hits his ass. He looks almost dizzy, stunned.
"Scar—holy fucking shit, babe." He pulls me to him, hauling me onto him, straddling his thighs as he slumps against the wall, legs stretched out.
I wipe my lips with the back of my wrist and grin at him. "Hi."
"Holy shit."
"So you said."
"No, but...holy SHIT."
He palms my ass, pulling me against him—I lift onto my knees and press my belly against his lips, gazing down at him with my hands in his hair; he caresses me from shoulders to thighs, up and down and up and down again.
"What was that for?" he murmurs, kissing my belly, my ribs.
"Because I wanted to." I toy with his cool, silky hair. "Wanted to make you feel good."
" Good isn't even with a million lightyears of how you made me feel, my love."
I sink onto his lap and palm his cheeks, kiss him until we're breathless. "My love?"
"That okay?"
I nod, kissing him again. “Hell yes, it’s okay. More than okay."
"I thought you didn't like doing it that way," he asks, searching me with his eyes. "On your knees like that."
"Discovered that with you, now, I do." I shrug. "Once in a while, at least." I wink at him. “Don’t get too used to it, though.”
"What changed?"
“Me."
He traces the line of my cheek down to my jaw, and tucks a tendril of hair behind my ear. "How so?"
"Trust, I guess," I answer. "Trusting you, trusting myself."
"You told me to make love to you," he says.
I smile. "You did. And you will."
He stands up, taking me with him as if I weigh nothing, and carries me to the bed, setting me down tenderly. Lays beside me and rolls me into his chest. I press the length of my body against him, cradling his thigh with mine, sex pressed against his quad, hips and belly against his, breasts against his chest. Instead of resting my cheek on his shoulder, though, he pulls me higher and claims my mouth with his.
And so begins the longest, deepest, hottest kiss of my life.
Slow at first, just lips meeting, tilting, he cups the back of my head in one hand and my ass in the other, and kisses me and kisses me. Breathless, I pull away to gasp for air, but he takes my mouth again, ravenously, and gives me his tongue and demands mine, and now the kiss builds into something else, something more. I whimper as he scours my mouth with his tongue.
Builds, and builds. He growls into my mouth, squeezes my ass. I writhe against him, gasping as he breaks to breathe, forehead against mine.
"Sol," I whisper.
I feel him, and I need him. His cock is a thick hard ridge between us, a hot length begging for my pussy. I grind against his thigh, and he shifts me higher. I tilt my hips and catch his head with my lips, and I gasp a whimper against his mouth as I work him inside me. I'm wet and slick with need, and he slips into me easily, and we groan in unison as he fills me to the brim, burying himself inside my pussy to the hilt. On our sides, legs hooked around each other, we pull at each other with hands and with feet, and our mouths meet, touch, drift, and then lock.
I've never felt so close to Solomon as I do at this moment, physically wrapped up in him in a way I've never experienced, emotionally tuned to him, open to him, filled by him. I feel his spirit meeting mine, his soul braiding around mine. We move in perfect synch, the kiss breaking as we gasp, mouth stuttering against mouth.
There's no rush, no greed, no pounding deep or teasing shallow, just an endless, infinite wonder of togetherness, our bodies matched perfectly, his pleasure building mine, my ecstasy mounting with his. I don’t need to touch my clit—only Sol.
My man.
Mine.
My everything.
I feel my climax emerging from the depth of my very soul, and it is wild and titanic and freighted with a delicate spiderweb of emotion. My love for him, so far unspoken, swells with each meeting of our bodies, welling higher and burning hotter each time he slides inside me, slicks slowly through the lips of my sex, burying inside me until I ache with him, pulse around him, squeeze his thickness as my orgasm shivers toward a maddening crescendo rapturous bliss.
Inside my quaking, drenched depths, Solomon begins to find his release as well—I feel it in the pulse of his cock, in the desperation of his kisses, in the way he cradles my ass and hauls me hard against him with each thrust.
Mine reaches its zenith all at once, and I shake all over, helplessly shrieking far too loudly as Sol releases his control, driving into me as hard as he can.
I come on a scream that fades into a breathless whine, and he buries his face in the side of my neck and roars, his hot breath damp on my skin and I claw both hands into his ass and pull, hard, as I feel his orgasm unleash inside me.
My shrill whimper becomes a chant, his name a prayer on my lips. "Sol, Sol, Sol, Sol, Sol—" I gasp, as he pounds into me, coming inside me in rush after rush, and my pussy spasms and clutches at him as mine rips me into a new dimension. "Oh god, Solomon."
"Scarlett," he gasps. "Mine—my Scarlett."
I nip his earlobe and then press my lips to his ear and finally whisper the three words I've kept hoarded in the deepest, darkest corner of my soul, now flooded with the light of this man, my best friend, my soulmate, my partner, my love: "I love you."
Sol flinches physically as if struck. "Scarlett, oh god, oh god, Scarlett. I love you. I fucking love you."
He pulls away and I cradle his face, our bodies gone still. "I love you, Solomon. God, I love you. I love you so goddamn much, and I always have."
We stay like that, locked together, until he finally slips out of me. No pillow talk, no quiet murmurs. Just physical intimacy, a closeness that I suddenly crave more than anything. We doze.
Rouse with evening light streaming through the windows. There's a slight, nagging feeling of guilt, though—like we should be doing something else, something more than this, as if we're stealing time that isn't ours.
I push that aside. I need him. Need this.
He puts me beneath him and enters me, and I take him slowly, gazing up at him and letting my love and vulnerability shine through my eyes. Hold nothing back. I tell him I love him as a whispered prayer as he fucks us to a mutual orgasm.
Again and again throughout that evening and night we sleep, rouse to make love, and fall back asleep until finally even Solomon's seemingly endless capability runs dry and my poor pounded pussy is sore and achy.
When we finally sleep, it’s tangled up in each other, dreamless and deep.