53. Fifty
Fifty
Cecil
Until my dying breath, nothing will compare to this moment.
Eden is exquisite. Her body, her taste, her sighs. If I were to leave this room and there was a grave dug in the yard, I would willingly jump in.
The breathy sounds that tear from her throat have a dizzying effect. In place of splintering ear drums and muddled thoughts, her voice only leaves me feeling euphoric. Out of all the drugs I’ve consumed, Eden is certainly the best of them all.
I’ll never be able to let her go.
Only once her tugging on my hair becomes desperate and her pleas for more become pleas for mercy do I raise to my knees. Her pupils are blown, her hair mussed. She’s both angelic and corrupt.
And she’s mine.
I press featherlight kisses along the damp skin of her collarbones, working my way up until my murmurs are pressed to her ear.
“You’re alright?”
“Yes,” she sighs. Turning her face, she searches for my lips. Not in a position to deny her, now or ever, I lean into the kiss. Her hands travel down my spine, thumbs dipping into the waistband of my cotton pants. I pull back, a question of certainty poised on my lips, but she beats me to it.
“More.” She doesn’t need to beg, but I’d be a lying man if I said I didn’t enjoy the sound of it.
It’s clumsy, the two of us working to remove the last barrier between us. It makes me feel so much younger, so much more inexperienced. I’d like to think I know what I’m doing when it comes to bedding women, but being with Eden feels like the first time.
It’s only once I’m hovering over her that I realize I’m trembling just as much as she is.
The silver of her eyes appear a sparkling gold, her parted lips perfectly pink.
She stares up at me through half lidded eyes, not a glimmer of doubt.
Her face is so open, so trusting, that it steals the breath from my lungs.
“Eden, I-”
Her hand comes to my cheek, the pad of her thumb running beneath my eye.
“I know.” The whisper from her lips is all it takes, and I relinquish myself to the nirvana that we’ve created.
My hands wander, coaxing and comforting, as I move above her. I search her face for any sign of pain. Or regret. There’s a moment where her brows pinch together, her lips purse in discomfort, but she keeps her eyes on mine.
My nerve endings are buzzing, and I can hardly form a word. All I’m able to rasp out is, “Alright?”
Eden nods. “Yes,” she says. A small smile spreads over her lips. “Yes.”
Minutes tick by, and what was once an awkward tangle of limbs becomes something perfectly in sync.
Her hands grip my shoulders, my hair, my back, anywhere they can reach.
My own pleasure builds, and I bury my face in the softness of her neck.
Enveloped by her flesh, her scent, I can’t think of a paradise greater than this.
Her cries grow louder, and all at once they’re muffled. Pushing myself up, I wrap one hand around her jaw. Teeth buried in her lip, her eyes are squeezed shut as she quiets herself.
My thumb pries her lip from its confine, sliding in past her teeth. The warmth of her tongue presses against the pad of my thumb as I set her sounds free.
Each keen buzzes in my skull, and the edges of my vision blur. It builds and builds, aiding me on my journey to oblivion. I feel the press of a heel into my lower back, and her hands find purchase on my arms.
Having no choice, I clamp my own eyes shut. Color and light sparkle behind my eyelids, and I lean down until our foreheads press together. Breaths intermingling, we share oxygen as we share each other.
It builds, and builds, and it’s too much.
It’s too much, almost unbearable.
Her lips move against mine with a whisper.
“Cecil—”
A kaleidoscope of sensation washes over me, and I experience an eternity of bliss all in a matter of seconds. Her body adheres to mine as her back bows from the mattress, her nails slicing into my flesh. No pain reaches me, and I’m not sure it ever will again.
At 2:13 A.M., on a muggy Louisiana summer night, I find salvation in the arms of a girl.