Chapter 18 #2
I perk up and hastily put my glasses back on to find a message from Amelia.
Amelia
Come and hold me?
I drop the phone, practically leaping out of bed. Without a second thought, I dash out of our apartment and take the stairs two at a time down to hers. Outside her door, I knock, and a moment later, she opens it, a smile spreading across her lips as her eyes roam over me.
I’m only in my pajama pants, having even forgotten to put on shoes. She’s wearing an adorable strawberry print T-shirt with matching shorts, but her eyes are suspiciously red behind her glasses.
Has she been crying?
“That was quick,” she says, her tone dripping with amusement.
“Sorry,” I mutter, feeling a bit sheepish.
She laughs, the sound warming me from the inside out, and pulls me into the apartment. After she locks the door and double-checks it, she takes my hand and leads me to her dimly lit bedroom.
As we enter, I try to steady my breath, focusing on masking the rapid thud of my heart—from the sprint and her presence—but it’s no use. We lie down, and I draw her close to me, spooning her from behind, my arms encircling her as I burrow my nose in her hair.
Mine.
Maybe she’s finally done with pushing me away.
She strokes my forearms while I deeply inhale her scent, my favorite lavender, and her fragrance fills my nostrils.
“Why are you still up?” she asks softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Because I was fantasizing about tasting you again.
“Why are you?” I counter instead. When I feel her turning, I loosen my hold on her so she can face me, but she doesn’t answer.
I stroke her cheek, counting the freckles on her nose while we just breathe together.
Thirty-six.
A perfect square—an integer with inherent symmetry and stability.
My favorite number.
Her eyes zero in on my lips, and she licks hers. “Can I kiss you?” she whispers before her eyes find mine again.
“I could be on my deathbed, and my answer to that question would still be an unwavering ye—” Before I can finish, she interrupts me with a kiss.
It’s soft and tender at first but quickly deepens as I pour all my longing into it. I cup the back of her head, fingers tangling in her silky hair as I pull her even closer, drawing our bodies flush against each other.
I’m lost in the sensation of her lips on mine, her hands on my chest. It’s like I’ve been starved for her touch, and now that I have it, I can’t get enough. My heart races, and I’m acutely aware of every point of contact between us.
Her hands start to roam, her touch light and teasing, and it’s driving me crazy.
I’m hard as steel, straining against the fabric of my pants.
Too soon, she pulls away, her eyes dark with desire as she reaches down and lifts her shirt over her head, revealing her naked torso.
My breath hitches in my throat as I take in the sight of her perfection, the soft glow of the nightstand lamp illuminating her pale skin.
She takes my hand and guides it towards her breast. “I want your hands on my body,” she whispers, her voice husky.
The feel of her soft flesh beneath my fingers sends a jolt of electricity straight to my groin.
I cup her, marveling at how perfectly sized her breasts are in my hands.
She leans in and kisses me again, and I squeeze her breast, my thumb brushing over her hard nipple.
Our mouths part as she moans, and her body arches into my touch.
My confidence soars as I realize that I’m drawing these reactions from her. Just me, the guy who was afraid to even speak to her for years. “That okay?” I whisper against her lips.
“Yes,” she breathes out, her eyes fluttering open to meet mine. “I love everything you do. Please don’t stop touching me.”
Her words doubly affirm my confidence to explore her body further. I push her gently to lie on her back before lowering my head, capturing her nipple in my mouth, and she gasps, her fingers threading through my hair as I tease and suckle her.
I move to the other breast, giving it the same attention, while my other hand caresses the side of her body, tracing the curve of her waist and hip.
She squirms beneath me, her body responding to my touch in the most intoxicating way.
I want to memorize the feel of her skin, the taste of her lips, and the sound of her moans.
I want to imprint this moment on my soul because I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I am irrevocably in love with her.
Until my heart gives out.
Coming up to kiss her again, my heart pounds in my chest as Amelia reaches down between us, her fingers hooking into the waistband of her shorts.
Breaking the kiss, she pulls them down, revealing the soft, smooth skin beneath.
She kicks them off, leaving her completely bare to me, and the sight of her is enough to make my mouth go dry.
Fuck.
She places a hand on my chest and pushes me flat onto my back, following to lean over me.
My head falls against the pillows, and she keeps her hand right above my heart, her blue eyes fixed on the exaggerated rise and fall of it.
And I do the same to her, watching in awe at the way her chest heaves with heavy breaths that easily fall into sync with my own.
Then, her hand trails down my stomach, and she reaches for my waistband, drawing a shudder from me as her fingers brush against my hard-on. She pauses, concern on her beautiful face as she says, “It’s okay if you want to keep them on. I didn’t mean to—”
I push up to my elbows and interrupt her with a kiss as I tug my pants down, my cock springing free, eager for her touch.
She hovers over me, her gaze locked on mine as her long hair cascades down like a curtain, framing us. “Can I… can I touch you?”
Where is that insecurity coming from?
As if I would ever say no to her touch.
“Amelia…” I smile, reaching out to push a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I’m yours.”
She wraps her hand around my shaft, her fingers barely able to close around me, a small smile tugs at the side of her lip. She strokes me slowly, her touch sending shivers of pleasure coursing through my body.
God, why is this so good?
I reach out and find my way between her thighs, parting and stroking her in return. Our breaths come faster and faster as we lose ourselves in the sensation of giving and taking pleasure from each other.
“You feel so good,” I murmur against her lips, my thumb finding her clit and circling it slowly.
She moans, her grip on me tightening as her hips rock against my hand.
“So do you,” she breathes out, her strokes quickening.
I feel my orgasm building, the familiar tingling sensation growing at the base of my spine. But I don’t want to come like this. So, I take her wrist, stilling her movements, and her forehead comes to rest on mine. “Everything okay?”
Smiling, I whisper in her ear. “I did some research, and I found something I’d like to try.”
She leans back to look at me and raises an eyebrow, a playful smile gracing her lips. “What kind of research?” she asks, her tone teasing. “Oliver, did you watch porn?”
I chuckle, shaking my head, the corners of my mouth tugging into a smile as I push another strand of stray hair behind her ear. “It’s from a romance book,” I confess, feeling a bit sheepish as the words leave my lips.
She groans before whispering, “Why are you so perfect?”
You’re fucking perfect.
“So, you’re willing to try?” I ask, my heart pounding, anticipation thrumming through my veins.
She pulls back, her brow furrowing in that endearingly quizzical way. “Try what exactly?”
“I want to taste you,” I murmur, my tone dropping as I lean in closer. “I want to savor you while you sit on my face.” There, I said it.
Her breath hitches, and a flush creeps up her neck. “Oliver, that’s…” she starts, her voice trailing off as she searches for the right words. “I’ve never done that before. It’s not something you have to do. It’s… more of a thing guys do in books.”
Oh, I bet Grey and Misha would disagree with that statement.
I reach up and cup her cheek, tracing the soft curve of her jaw with my thumb.
“Are you telling me no because you genuinely don’t want to?” I can’t quite tell, but I would never make her do anything she doesn’t want.
She hesitates, her gaze dropping to my chest as she considers her response. “I… I didn’t tell you no,” she finally whispers when her eyes come back up to mine.
“Perfect.” I grin, removing my glasses and placing them on her nightstand, but I pause when she doesn’t move.
Maybe if we both see a little blurry, it will help with the nerves.
I reach up to take her glasses off as well, setting them right next to mine. Then, with a gentle nudge, I guide her to straddle my face as her hands find purchase on the headboard.
There’s a moment of stillness, a suspended breath, as she looks down at me, uncertainty flickering in her stormy blue eyes.
I meet that storm with my own and say, “Come here,” with such conviction that any lingering doubts she might have evaporate.
Her breath hitches as I pull her down. The first touch of my lips against her sends a jolt through both of us.
I kiss and lick and suck, losing myself in her taste, the feel of her squirming against my face, and the sounds of her pleasure that grow louder, more insistent with each passing second.
My hands grip her hips, guiding her movements as I focus on her clit, teasing it with the tip of my tongue, relishing the way her body responds to my touch.
“Oh my God, Oliver,” she gasps out, her body trembling above me. “Don’t stop… please, don’t stop.”
I have no intention of stopping.
I want to bring her to the brink and watch her fall apart, to be the one who makes her feel good, who makes her forget about everything else except for this moment. It’s a powerful feeling to hold someone’s pleasure in your hands—or, in this case, on your tongue—to be the source of their ecstasy.
Her ecstasy.
No one else’s.