Chapter 39
Hemlock
The care I want to take with her tangles with my need to just take her.
The kiss is the best one I've ever had in my life, not that I've kissed many people. It's not something I did once I was old enough to understand it wasn't necessary to get what I wanted when I had a craving I couldn't shove out of my head.
My hands trace her body, wandering up her back and down her arms, and I feel the tremble in her muscles as she moves against me.
I pull back and look her in the eyes.
"You're mine?"
"I'm yours," she promises, a brilliant smile on her gorgeous face.
There will come a time when she doesn't smile, when she wants to argue or fight against the boundaries I have to keep around her in order to keep her safe, but she's so fucking pliable right now, and I won't worry about shit until I have to.
"Need you," I whisper against her lips before sliding my tongue along hers once again.
"I'm yours," she says a second time, and it lights a fire inside of me that I know will burn uncontrollably for a lifetime to come.
I don't know how long we kiss, but it doesn't seem long enough before we both have to come up for air.
There are a million words on the tip of my tongue when I pull my face back and look down at her. She's the most perfect thing that has ever walked the earth, and I'd lay down my life a thousand and one times before I let any harm come to her. The ferocity raging inside of me to protect and give her everything so I can see that pretty smile of hers daily swirls through my body like a live wire, and the sensation of it makes me restless. eager to show her how much she means to me. I do my best to stay calm, shoving down that manic urge to scream her name and make sure everyone within earshot knows she's owned.
The insanity of it isn't lost on me either. I know part of me is crazy, but I guess this is what happens when you spend a life mostly alone until you find your soulmate, and I know without a doubt that's exactly what this is. She's the missing part of me I never thought to look for and thank whatever greater being exists that put her in my path. I’m a changed man because of her.
I pull the t-shirt I gave her over her head, revealing the slinky tank top she had on when I broke into her house last night. Neither my shirt nor the tank top she was wearing matched the flannel pajama pants she's wearing, but I've never been one to concern myself with such trivial things.
Her skin, the soft, creamy expanse of it, however, coordinates with everything I own, so I don't waste another second pulling the tank over her head and shoving the flannel pants down her legs until she's standing in front of me completely naked.
I'm obsessed with the way she stands there in front of me, not showing an ounce of shyness on display. She chews her bottom lip as if she's struggling not to make a move, and I sort of love the fight between doing what she wants to do and waiting to see what I have in mind for us tonight.
"What do you want?" I ask, doing my best to consider her needs rather than plowing over her and taking what I need instead.
She narrows her eyes as if she can sense the battle swarming inside of me.
"I certainly don't want you to treat me any differently than you did before."
Surely she doesn't mean it the way it sounds. Everything is different, and I'd never be able to help keep even this aspect of us from changing at least a little.
"I care about you."
"I know you do," she says quickly. "But I'm not a piece of fragile glass.
She runs her hand up my side until it's interrupted by the gauze covering my wound.
"And I don't want you to do anything that's going to keep you from healing."
Until she mentioned it, I'd already forgotten about the injury.
"Then how about this," I barter, pulling my shirt over my head and tossing it to the floor before reaching for my belt buckle.
"How about you slow down," she says with a wide grin, taking a step back so she can fully take me in. "Why don't you give me a little show?"
My hands freeze on my belt as I glare at her. "That's never going to happen."
Her laughter echoes all around us, and I just want to swim inside the happiness and live there for eternity.
"How about I lie back on that bed and you ride my cock until your legs get weak instead?"
"That sounds like a plan," she says stepping to the side so I don't knock her over while pulling off my jeans.
Her laughter reverberates again when I fall to the bed and pull her down on top of me. There's enough happiness inside this woman for the both of us, but although I don't have a wide grin on my face, I've never been more content in my entire life. It's almost enough to just forget about the evils in the world and try to exist in this bubble with just the two of us. I know that can't happen, but I don't imagine it'll hurt to take a few days for just the two of us. The doctor did order me to take it easy.
"Go slow," I whisper when she sits up, sliding her wet heat up the length of my aching cock.
"You say that," she moans on a particularly exquisite roll of her hips. "But you'll take over when I go too slow."
"Prove it," I say, my mouth hanging open, my eyes threatening to flutter closed because it feels so fucking good.
My moan of pleasure pulls another laugh from her perfect mouth, and just like she predicted, I have to fight the urge to flip her over and get down to business, but at the same time I sort of love the restraint required. It has to be the absolute best torture.
"Do we need a condom?" I ask, gripping her hips in my hands before she can lift her body and take my length inside of her.
Her eyes lock with mine, and my heart literally stops waiting for her answer.
"At least for a little while," she says, and I realize it's the right answer when my heart restarts and it's pumping at that calm, even keel I need it to in order to feel normal.
Having babies with her isn't a decision we need to make right now while riding the high of deciding to be together. That's a conversation meant for when we're dressed, and knowing how attracted I am to her, it would probably be best held in a public place so we can't let our bodies take over.
"I have one in my wallet," I tell her, missing the warmth of her body on mine when she has to climb off the bed to get it.
When she steps back closer, instead of climbing back on the bed where she was before, she leans over, mouth closing over the tip of my cock.
I jerk with need at the warmth of her tongue as it slashes across the leaking tip.
"Jesus, fuck, Zara. That's a sure way to make me have a fucking heart attack."
She pulls back, smiling, but I guide her head right back down, my back arching when she does her best to take all of me. She gags before she hits the middle of my cock, but she makes up for it by wrapping her hand around the base and stroking upward.
"If you want me to come, keep that shit up," I warn, fully aware I was the one to put her back in that position.
I'm fucking torn, unsure which direction to go. I could easily blow my load in her waiting mouth and eat that delectable pussy of hers while I recover or I can encourage her to sit on my dick and we can come together. Honestly, any combination of those would work because we're at a different point in our relationship than we were before. I don't have to rush out and spend some time alone wondering why I feel so connected to her all the while chastising myself for having any emotion at all. We're together. I'm hers. She's mine. We can spend the rest of the night exactly like this.
When we wake in the morning, she'll be in my arms and I can have her again.
The lack of having to decide makes the decision that much harder. Selfishly, I want it all. I want her mouth on me, pussy wrapped around me. I want my mouth all over her body, and I know I won't settle and be completely satiated until I get it.
Jesus, this woman isn't getting any sleep anytime soon.
"Up here," I urge, feeling like we should be face-to-face, heart-to-heart when we connect like this for the first time after committing ourselves to each other.
I moan again, feeling completely out of control of my own emotions when she rolls the latex down my cock. I'm trembling by the time she straddles my body, my hands on her hips as if I have any control over what she's planning to do.
When the tightness of her body encapsulates my cock, it feels otherworldly. As good as it was before, it has nothing on how it feels now. Jesus, how is it better than ever? How does accepting the emotional side of caring for someone make this aspect of a relationship ten times superior?
Change has always been a scary thing for me. The unknown used to have the ability to cause literal hives on my skin, but I think I like this change. I like the idea of having her here with me every day, and if we get to spend a lot of our time like this, I'm a fool for taking so long to get us to this point.
She leans down, her mouth hovering over mine, and I don't miss the opportunity to cup her perfect tits in my hands. The woman is stacked in the best possible ways, and I'm damn near giddy at the knowledge that she's mine.
The roll of her hips, the occasional lift and fall, taking me all the way in. Somehow it all equals the best feeling I've ever experienced, and I predict that it will only get better going forward.
I know I care for her. I know I need her in my life. I'm as aware of both of those things as I am that we don't really know much about each other, but it's as if our souls connected before our minds or bodies did, and those parts of us are just along for this wild ride, an afterthought of sorts, unnecessary for us to link together.
"Zara," I pant as her body starts to tremble.
I grip her hips harder, holding her in place while I lift my hips and press into her deeper, ignoring the scorching heat in my side at the effort.
Fire erupts in my veins, but it's the most intoxicating thing I've ever experienced as we jump over the cliff together, and as we lie there panting, her body covering mine, I realize I was a fool for trying to fight something so incredibly perfect in the first fucking place.