Chapter 34 #2
I tear my gaze up to him with my teeth sawing into my lip. A prominent vein cuts over his forehead like he’s incensed, but his eyes are round and bright with unshed tears. “The things I imagine with you, Bea—the way I want you with such stunning, extreme specificity.”
“Si,” leaves me on a breath, my whole body flooding with knee-buckling relief.
“Let me tell you everything,” he says. “I want you to know it.” His chest expands like a billowing sail.
“Your face, your body, your hair, your laugh. The things you say and the way you look when you get a little pissed. There’s this.
” His fingertips trail up to the hollow under my cheekbone.
“The way this looked, stretched out with me inside. Having that memory now, knowing your mouth is even sweeter than it looks . . .” He merely shakes his head.
“But you want to know what I think about at my most depraved? I don’t know what kind of man it makes me, but god help me, Bea, I fuck my fist to the thought of a life with you.”
His lashes tremble closed. “It always starts with something small. I think of standing behind you in the kitchen and that sweet trail of peach fuzz down the back of your neck. It’s so pale you’d miss it if you weren’t very, very close.
. . . Sometimes just thinking about that is enough to get me there.
How fucking lucky I am to be that close to you.
” His eyes open again and bore into mine, fingers cupping my throat, featherlight.
“I fantasize about everything up close with you forever. You’ve got one smile line that’s a little deeper than the other, and I want to be the reason it stays.
Me and our life together. I want you to have to sleep on your side so I can fit myself around you with the cat behind my knees, and I want that smile line to turn into a permanent wrinkle from how well and often you rest that way.
“I imagine you getting bigger,” he grits, tipping his head toward the region of my belly. “And I don’t care one bit that it’s not reality, I let myself imagine that I did it to you. That you’re walking around with evidence of just how wanted you are by me.”
He presses his mouth to mine like he can’t bear it any longer, but he’s too quick and I’m too stunned to react and kiss him back.
“So, yes, Bea. My answer is yes. It’d be everything I want in life to raise a kid with you.
I just hope you’re ready to understand exactly how bad I want you. Every fucking day. Always.”
He brings both hands around my throat, and I hook my fingers over his wrists. I gasp when he doesn’t kiss me but licks a tear off the line of my jaw instead. The tip of his tongue flicks over my other cheek, now, just below my eye. I can feel my own pulse echoing through his.
“Are you feeling good? Can I have you however I want?” he asks my lips.
“Yes.”
He kisses me dizzy, right there in his kitchen with the clouds finally breaking and rain pouring free outside.
He licks away my gasps and rubs his parted mouth over mine like he’s savoring the feel.
He kisses me until my knees are weak and my too-sensitive chest is arching into him, desperate for him to press on me like a bruise.
“Take me—” His lips smother the words before I can say to bed, but he picks me up, loops my legs around his hips, and starts carrying me in that direction, anyway.
“You’ll be taking me,” he says, a demand and a promise. “In every way I’ve ever wanted you to take me.”
He’s not gentle about undressing me. He pulls my shirt over my head and tosses it, unhooks my bra with one hand while the other undoes my jeans.
Fingers curl into the hair at the base of my skull while more fingers slide into the front of my underwear.
He does one swipe through my cunt, and I list in his arms with a jagged cry, my back bowing, legs wobbling.
He works off the rest of my clothes while his mouth and teeth work over my collarbones.
He’s not too gentle with me at all, and I’m so fucking grateful for it, my throat seizes. Silas has always known what I could take even before I did.
“Please,” I rasp, my naked back settling against the mattress. He’s still fully clothed above me. “My—chest.” I squeeze my unbearably heavy breasts, pleading with him.
He sucks at my nipples and guides my hands to squeeze harder, and fuck, I think this might be it for me. I’m so sensitive, raw, swollen, I think I could come from this alone.
“Fuck, Bea, I don’t think I can wait. I’ll make it so good and sweet again in a couple hours, okay? I’ll go slow and I’ll be so nice, but I—”
I’m clawing off his shirt, shoving down his jeans, using my heels to kick them off when my hands can’t stretch past his knees.
I reach into his briefs and his lips crash into mine again, groaning over my tongue when my hand wraps around him, burning hot and painfully hard.
He growls out a curse when I reach lower and palm him where he’s soft and full.
I scrape off his briefs with one hand until he has to help me and strips them the rest of the way.
I’m the noisy one, this time, little sounds slipping out of me with every grasp and touch.
I let out something truly desperate when he lurches upward and leans back on his knees, looking over me while we pant at each other.
“You’re already different here,” he says, and it doesn’t spark an ounce of self-consciousness in me, because he says it like I’m the most awe-inspiring thing he’s ever beheld.
His hand spreads wide over the slightest slope of my belly.
“And here,” he adds, running the same hand up to cup one of my breasts again.
I moan, low and long from the bottom of my soul. “You can already tell?” I breathe, failing not to squirm. I need to be rubbed everywhere, inside and out.
“I’ve had you memorized forever, Red,” he explains, plain and simple.
He takes himself in hand and holds me still by my hip, rubbing the head of his cock over me.
My legs part wider, and he does it again.
And again. And again. Torturing me until I think I’m going to lose my mind and I have to bite back a whimper, teeth planted in my lip, hands reaching up to rake at his big arms while I practically thrash beneath him.
I think it’s an accident when he finally slips inside me a few blessed inches.
I think he means to tease me some more, but I’m soaked and circling, and we catch each other at the exact right angle and moment.
He falls forward with a hard grunt of surprise, palms slapping down on either side of my waist, holding himself still and shaking.
Holding his breath completely until our eyes snag again, when he lets it out and sinks into me farther with his jaw gritted.
He starts to crawl his big body over mine and gives me another inch.
Kisses me sweetly before he gives me another.
Brings my knee up and makes me take another from him, and my cheek turns in to the bed with a gasp.
He’s so thick and big, and I’m so—full. So full.
I’m so overwhelmed. My nails dig half-moons into his back.
“Silas, it’s—a lot.”
He hums an apologetic, murmured sound but brings my face back to his and seals our mouths again in a rough, wet kiss.
“You’ll endure it, Red,” he says, lips curling into a crooked smile, hot wax dripped over my skin. He pries away one of my hands and glides it down between us. “Feel it. Feel how good you’re doing.”
My fingers glide over the wet mess of me and vee over the inches of him not buried there. They stay like that when he presses a little deeper, just a tilt of his hips. I melt some more, his hard and solid pinning me in place where I’m soft and grasping at him with greedy little pulses.
“That’s it,” he whispers. “See, baby? You can take it. You have to take it. You’ll have to endure me forever now.” He grabs my hand again and brings it to his mouth, keeps two fingers there on his tongue, and bites down on them gently when he slides in the rest of the way.
I moan and arch, grinding my needy clit into him, my fingers still in his mouth. My other hand clutches his ass, holding him here, so deep in me I’ll never get him out.
He slides back and surges in. My fingers slip from his bite and tug into his hair. “Jesus, Bea,” he groans. “You feel . . . like you missed me.”
“You’ve never been”—he moves, and my breath hitches—“here before.” No part of him, no part of anyone has ever been so deep.
“Exactly,” he rasps.
He takes me slow at first, in spite of his earlier promises.
Full, lingering presses, and his thumb working at my clit when his hands aren’t roving over me.
He stokes it up, tells me sweet, lovely things in between filthy ones.
How good I feel, how hot and tight I am around him, the best sort of burn.
How beautiful I look, flushed and shining.
He tells me how well I’m doing and how he sometimes wants to punish me for how badly I make him want.
He says he can’t wait to see what I look like when my belly grows.
Tells me he can’t wait to see what I taste like after he’s been inside me.
He works at me faster, and I pluck and pinch at my chest, sensation buzzing through every limb until it meets in my core and starts to coil tight.
“There, yeah?” he asks, but I’m moaning before he finishes the question. “Yeah, fuck,” he says, amused and amazed. “Look at you. God, I love you so much.”
I grab at him when I come, digging into him like I’ll spin away otherwise.
I bury my cries and my teeth in his shoulder, and he reaches beneath me, gathers me up until I’m flush against him where he kneels, his heels under his ass.
I’m split over his lap with his forearms banded across my back and no means to escape how deep he is, no way to give myself leverage.
“Silas,” I groan, overwhelmed.
“Squeeze me with your thighs,” he commands. “Lock your ankles and hold on to my shoulders.”