55. Theory
I moved toward Targen, straddling his lap because I was so ready to take this step. He’d seen me, really seen me, and still he’d held and loved on me. Suddenly, the desire I felt for him was no longer tinged with the fear of rejection. In fact, I didn’t want to feel any fear anymore, not with him around. I could feel my heart racing, excitement and a hint of nervousness swirling inside me.
I felt emboldened to act like my old self, to do what I wanted and deal with the consequences later. So, I leaned in and kissed his lips. He kissed me back like he was addicted to the taste of me, urgent and possessive and devouring my mouth with his. My body warmed, reacting to the only man who’d been able to tease a response from me in years. I felt his hand on my waist beneath the nightshirt, the gentle stroking against my skin unleashing a million butterflies. I wanted to close my eyes to enjoy the moment, but I worried about what the darkness would bring.
Targen kissed down my neck, soft, open-mouthed pressure that had me moaning. Then, it happened: his hand touched my scars, and I froze. My breathing picked up, but not because I enjoyed it. There was a sudden resurgence of fear and worry. Targen stopped and looked at me, his gaze steady and reassuring as he brushed a few strands of hair away from my face.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice soothing my fluttering nerves. “Theory, milaya , you know I would never hurt you, right?”
I nodded, but the hesitation lingered between us. My fingers traced the scars on my abdomen, the reminder of what I’d survived, but also of the vulnerability that I had recently exposed. “I just… I wish I were perfect for you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
I knew it was unreasonable and shallow. I felt ashamed for even saying it.
With a gentle caress, he brushed his fingertips along my jawline, his touch reigniting the fire inside me. I closed my eyes, savoring the sensation of his hand, the way it sent warmth radiating through my body. I leaned into his touch, feeling a magnetic pull drawing us together.
“Theory,” he said gently, his hand finding mine, intertwining our fingers. “Your scars… they tell a story, just like mine. There are things we understand about each other. Even if we never say that shit out loud, it’s there, and it makes me feel even closer to you. You are perfect to me, perfect for me. Scars and all.”
Damn, damn, damn, James . This man had a way of making me feel beautiful, even in my most vulnerable moments. Still, my insecurities pressed against me like a heavy blanket.
“Really?” I asked, my voice shaking just slightly.
“Really,” he assured me.
I gave him a soft smile, and in one bold sweep, threw off my shirt. He moved us and suddenly, he was above me, sliding down my body. I trembled as he anointed my scars with soft kisses and licks.
His actions wrapped around me like a soft embrace, and I felt some of the tension begin to melt away. I allowed myself to sink into the moment, to let the truth in his words and eyes and on his lips chase away the shadows of doubt.
“I’ll stop whenever you say stop. Just watch me, baby.”
I nodded again and watched, like he instructed.
His mouth continued its gentle exploration as his fingers danced along my sides, igniting sparks wherever they touched. My heart raced, and chills washed over me.
Then, his mouth was hovering over my center, so close that my clit jumped as I felt the warmth of his breath.
He pulled back slightly, and his eyes searched mine.
“Can I?” he asked, his voice low and rough.
I bit my lip and nodded. I watched him as his head lowered, but he kept his eyes on me.
I grabbed the sheets in a death grip as Targen slid his tongue up and down my slit. He hadn’t even dipped inside, and I'd never felt sensations like the ones I was feeling at this moment. And then that clever, curious tongue spread me open, and I lost the battle to keep my eyes open. For the next several moments, Targen worshipped my clit. There was no other way to describe the reverent way his tongue licked and laved and loved. Delicious sensations pooled between my thighs then spread outward, the pleasure seizing my body, leaving me a writhing, whimpering mess. The sounds he made as he proceeded to slurp and lick had me feeling like I was the best thing he'd ever tasted.As if he were reading my thoughts, I heard him call my name. Opening my eyes, I looked down and was immediately drawn into the heat of that silvery gaze.
“Pussy so damn good, milaya . You the sweetest thing I've ever tasted. I'ma need this shit daily. I’m telling you now, you fucked up feeding it to me.”
Stiffening his tongue, he proceeded to slide it along my slippery folds and dripping opening, before fucking me with it. His hands were everywhere, tugging my nipples, caressing my scars, teasing my inner thighs. Then, finally, two of his fingers breached my entrance. I lost it, rubbing against his face and hand as I came… and that was before he moved them into a sinuous curl, finding a spot inside me that had me freezing and shaking and crying and floating again. In the back of my mind, I was concerned that I'd drowned him, yet I couldn't bring myself to move, enjoying the euphoric state I was in physically and mentally. Then, he pulled back with a satisfied smile, watching me as his fingers thrust and his thumb rubbed.
“Targen…”
My eyes drifted closed.
“Yeah. Moan that shit again.”
His voice was deeper, rougher than usual as he kissed his way up my body, telling me how good I felt and tasted. I heard him whisper "Damn, you was saving that for a nigga, huh?"
“Mmm…”
I whined my protest as he stood, but my eyes popped open, eager to see him. Targen stripped slowly, the lamplight revealing how absolutely fine this man was, all hard planes and angles in a solid package. And oh, my… that article that I had read that said men weren’t necessarily built proportionally, that neither height nor foot size was related to penis size, wasn’t true in this case. Nah, they obviously hadn’t included Targen in that particular study, I thought, marveling at the damn forearm that jutted from between his muscular thighs. My own thighs pressed together in wanton anticipation.
And then he was over me again, his mouth capturing mine in those sweet, drugging kisses as his hand slipped between us. I gasped as I felt the head of him tap my clit before dragging downward.
“Theory?” he rasped.
“Hmm?” I responded, breath unsteady with want.
“Can I?”
Shameless and greedy, I nodded. “P-please.”
He palmed the back of my thighs, spreading me open for him, and started a slow, thick slide into me. He watched me the whole time as inch after incredible inch of him invaded and lay claim to me, waging a sensual war in which I happily surrendered. Targen read my reactions, stopping or moving depending on what I needed in the moment. There was a moment, when he was finally fully embedded, that the insecurities surged forth, making me question yet another thing. He must’ve felt my withdrawal. Holding himself still inside me, he brushed kisses against my legs before demanding, “Tell me.”
“He… I was… I n-needed repair… stitches. I don’t…” Embarrassed, I stopped.
“You are the best thing I’ve ever felt in my life. Like warm, wet velvet wrapped around me. So tight… so good, malyshka ,” he crooned, starting to stroke me slowly. “You like the way that feels?”
“Mm-hmm,” I admitted on a sigh. He allayed my fears as he ramped up my desire, his softly spoken affirmations combining with the stretch and rasp of his dick within my ultra-sensitive walls to leave me barely coherent.
“You look so pretty taking my dick, baby. You know how fucking possessive that makes me feel? Knowing that I’ma be the only man to ever see you looking like this again.”
I moaned, tilting my hips to meet his.
“Fuck, Theory. You like that, too, huh? I felt that pussy squeeze me when I said that. You like when I talk to you, baby?”
“M-more.”
The demand was stammered, choked out as he lit sparks inside me until I was ablaze. He moved faster, deeper.
“Good girl, milaya , telling me how you wanna be fucked. You’re mine, Theory. I’ll always give you what you want, what you need,” he vowed, dropping my legs to lean down and ravage my mouth.
His kiss was a melody of sucks and licks and bites that had me so open for him. He pulled away as I moaned a protest, a sexy little smirk curving his perfect mouth. His pace picked up, his eyes steady on my face.
“I like tasting you, too, baby. Squeezing me so tight. You about to cum on my dick for the first time, huh? Tell me what you need.”
My nails curved into the rock-hard muscles of his side as I pulled my knees back, wanting all of him I could take.
“Harder. Targen, baby… please go harder,” I panted.
And he complied, pounding into me, deep strokes that surely had to be taking me past my limits. I wanted every bit. It had been so long, and never had it been this good.
“You like that, malyshka ? You like feeling me go hard and fucking deep inside you?”
I nodded… barely, something so sweet and sharp and painful and glorious building inside that I could hardly focus.
“Yeah… I know you do. You know why? Cuz you’re mine. I’m gon’ say that until you believe it. You’re mine, Theory Grace Miller. Say it,” he ordered.
And of course, I obeyed. “I’m yours, Targen. I…”
The power of speech left me. My eyes swept closed. And above me, he whispered, ‘Good girl, milaya . Now, cum.”
So, I did.
I imagined I was a screaming, weeping, red-faced mess, and I didn’t give a damn. This felt… he felt incredible. I clung to him long minutes later when he started to pull away.
“I’m about to cum, soon, baby. No protection?—”
I held him tighter. “You said you were my protection. I don’t need… I don’t want to be protected from you.”
He kissed me hard. Rode me harder.
“That’s how I want you, too. No latex, no distance, no secrets, nothing between us,” he murmured.
I held him close. “Then, cum inside, Targen,” I invited huskily.
So, he did.