33. Walt
THIRTY-THREE
Walt
I take a deep breath, unmoving, as a war rages inside me. Her trust is a precious gift, one I don’t take lightly. I want this—God, I want this—but I need to be sure she’s ready.
Slowly, I lift my gaze to meet Malia’s. The trust in her eyes sends a shiver down my spine. “Malia,” I start, my voice rough with emotion. “Are you sure about this?”
She steps closer, her body nearly pressing against mine. Her hand resting on my chest, her eyes never leaving mine. “I’ve never been more sure of anything. I want this. I want you.” Her face lights up with a radiant smile. She tugs on my hand again, and this time, I follow her, my boots heavy on the floor.
Unable to resist, I cup her face, my thumbs stroking her cheeks. The gentle touch sends electricity zinging through me. Her sweet, inviting scent envelops me as I savor her closeness. Her eyes flutter shut as I caress her skin, a soft sigh escaping her lips.
“I want to memorize every inch of you,” I murmur, my voice low and reverent. “I want to worship you like you deserve.”
Malia’s pupils dilate, blown wide with desire. She turns on the water, testing it until it’s just right. It doesn’t take long before steam fills the small space.
Malia’s hand slides from mine, her eyes locked onto mine, a silent conversation passing between us. She steps out of her shoes, her feet bare on the cool tile floor. I mirror her actions, my socks whispering softly as they meet the floor.
I turn her toward me, my hands cradling her face as if it were the most delicate thing in the world. I can feel the heat of her skin under my palms, the slight tremble of anticipation. Her breath is soft and warm, feathering against my lips as I lean in. Our lips meet in a slow, tender kiss. It’s a soft exploration, a whispered promise. Her arms wrap around my neck, her fingers toying with the hair at my nape, sending shivers down my spine.
The kiss deepens, our breaths mingling, our hearts synchronizing. My tongue explores her mouth languidly, savoring her taste. It’s like honey and sunshine, warmth and sweetness. I trail kisses down her jaw, her skin soft against my lips.
As my lips brush against her neck, her pulse flutters beneath my touch. Her breath catches, and the soft gasp that escapes her lips is a melody that sends a shiver down my spine, my body responding to hers like a finely tuned instrument.
The warmth of her skin, the taste of her, the sound of her breath, every sensation envelops me, drawing me in, inviting me to explore further.
I pull back slightly, my hands finding the hem of her shirt. I raise it slowly, my fingers brushing against her soft skin, my eyes never leaving hers. I want her to feel cherished, respected, loved. She raises her arms, allowing me to slip the shirt off. It floats to the floor, forgotten. Her skin is bare before me, her cheeks painted with a soft blush, her breath coming in gentle waves.
“Is this what you want?” I whisper, my voice low and husky. I want to hear her say it, to know that she’s sure.
Her eyes meet mine, no hesitation, no doubt. “Yes,” she breathes, her lips parting slightly. “I’m ready.”
I reach behind her, my fingers finding the clasp of her bra. I unhook it slowly, feeling her breath hitch again. The straps slide down her arms, the fabric falling to the floor. I take a moment to appreciate her, to admire the curve of her shoulders, the sweep of her collarbone, the rise and fall of her chest. She’s not just beautiful, she’s radiant, her skin glowing under the soft light, her eyes shining with trust and desire.
I trace a line from her shoulder to her elbow with the back of my fingers, enjoying the silky smoothness of her skin. Her breaths come in quick, shallow bursts, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Goosebumps bloom across her flesh, a delicate pattern emerging beneath my gaze, tracing the path my fingers had taken moments before.
The cool air meets the warmth of her skin, creating a dance of sensation that prickles and teases. The soft hiss of her breath, as it slips between her lips, stirs something primal within me, a longing to both protect and possess.
Her body’s responses, so immediate and honest, fuel my desire to explore every inch of her, to learn the language of her body and speak it fluently. The flush of her skin, the hitch of her breath, the shiver that runs through her—each is a whisper of her need, a secret shared between the two of us in this intimate dance.
I lean in, my lips replacing my fingers, trailing soft kisses down her arm. I want to take my time, explore every inch of her, and make her feel as cherished as she makes me feel.
The steam from the shower envelops us, a warm, damp embrace that heightens every sensation. The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of us lost in a private dance of intimacy and tenderness.
I turn my attention to my shirt, grasping the hem and pulling it over my head in one fluid motion. My muscles stretch and flex, and I hear the soft hitch of her breath as she watches me. The shirt joins the growing pile of discarded clothing, fluttering to the floor beside her bra. Her eyes trace the lines of my chest, pausing on the ink that marks my skin. I stand still, allowing her gaze to roam, enjoying the heat that trails after it.
Tentatively, she reaches out, her fingertips featherlight as they brush against my skin. She traces the curves of my chest, pausing at the puckered skin of my healing scars. Her touch is gentle and reverent as if she’s aware of the pain lingering beneath the surface. Each touch is a spark, igniting a slow burn beneath my skin, a mix of pleasure and emotion that catches in my throat.
Her fingers drift lower, mapping the dips and valleys of my abdomen. Each muscle twitches slightly under her touch, my body responding to her exploration. I watch her, entranced by the expressions flitting across her face.
There’s curiosity in her eyes, wonder in the soft “O” of her lips, desire in the flush of her cheeks. Her brows furrow slightly as she concentrates as if she’s trying to memorize every line and contour.
She looks up at me, her heavy gaze meeting mine. There’s a question there, a silent ask for permission to touch, explore, and know my body intimately. I nod slightly, encouraging her, inviting her to learn my body as I intend to learn hers.
Her fingers continue their journey, tracing the line of hair that disappears beneath the waistband of my jeans, then retracing the path upward.
My breath deepens, my lungs filling with the steamy air, the scent of her, the scent of us. Her touch is more than a physical sensation, it’s a conversation, a connection.
It speaks of trust and intimacy, of shared pain and expectant pleasure. I let her explore, learn me, and heal me with her touch. And in her eyes, I see a reflection of my desire, my need, and my love.
Stepping closer, my hands find the waistband of her pants. I pause, looking into her eyes. There’s a soft glow there, a mix of anticipation and trust. I want to drown in that look, to wrap it around me like a blanket. She nods, her lips parting slightly, a silent invitation.
I slowly slide her pants down, revealing more of her to me. Dropping to one knee, I hook my thumbs in the waistband, easing the fabric down her legs. She steps out of them, her hands resting lightly on my shoulders for support.
Kneeling before her, I look up. She stands before me, clad only in her underwear, her body a landscape of soft curves and smooth skin. A rosy flush spreads across her chest, creeping up her neck, a visible sign of her desire and nervousness.
I want to replace that nervousness with warmth, with pleasure, and with a love so profound it chases away every shadow.
I press a soft kiss to her hip, feeling her shiver beneath my lips. Her skin is warm and soft, inviting my touch. I trace a path with my fingertips, following the curve of her waist, the flare of her hip, and the length of her thigh. Each touch is a conversation, a give and take, a call and response. Her breathing steadies, her body leaning into my touch, her nerves slowly giving way to pleasure.
I take her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. Her fingers curl around mine, holding on tightly.
My lips brush against her stomach, a gentle caress that makes her muscles quiver and dance beneath my touch. I hook my fingers in the waistband of her underwear, pausing to look up at her. Her eyes are twin pools of trust and desire, a silent granting of permission.
I slide the fabric down, her body revealing itself to me inch by inch. As I rise, I pause, inhaling deeply. Her scent, warm and intoxicating, fills my lungs, a heady aroma that makes my mouth water and my heart pound. It’s a primal, intimate thing, her smell; I’m drawn to it and captivated by it.
My lips nearly brush against her thighs, the urge to taste her overwhelming. I want to bury my face between her legs, to lick and suck, to lose myself in her, but I hold back, my breath ragged with the effort of restraint.
I don’t want to rush this, don’t want to scare her or move too fast. I want to savor every moment, every sensation, every breath. I want to memorize her body, learn its language, and understand her needs.
Continuing my ascent, I press against her, my body aligning with hers. Her breath hitches as she feels my arousal, my body hard and ready, yearning for her. I want her to understand what she does to me, to feel the depth of my need.
Her scent still fills my senses, a constant reminder of the pleasure that awaits us, the intimacy we’ll share, the love we’ll make. For now, however, I’m content to explore her, learn her, and let our connection deepen and grow.
My lips find hers again, our kiss a slow, sensual exploration. My hands roam her body, learning her curves, her secrets, as if they’re a language only my touch can decipher.
She presses against me, her hands dropping to my belt. She looks up, a silent question in her eyes. I nod, a soft smile playing on my lips, granting her the permission she seeks. Her hands tremble slightly as she unbuckles my belt, the metal clanking softly as it gives way. She unfastens my pants, the zipper hissing as she slides it down.
Kneeling, she pushes my pants down my legs, her hands trailing after, feeling the muscles of my thighs, the coarse hair of my legs. I step out of them, the fabric a puddle at my feet. My breath is ragged, my body aching with need and anticipation.
“This is your doing,” I whisper, my voice rough with emotion. “This is what you awaken in me.”
Her eyes widen, wonder and desire warring in their depths. She tugs at my briefs, pulling them down my legs, her knuckles brushing against my skin. I’m laid bare before her, vulnerable, exposed, every inch of me yearning for her touch.
Her breath is warm against my skin, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted. The steam from the shower envelops us, creating a world where only the two of us exist.
I reach down, pulling her to her feet. I kiss her deeply, my body pressed against hers, our skin touching from chest to toe.
I guide her under the spray of the shower, the warm water cascading over us like a tropical rain. Steam billows around us, creating a cocoon of heat and intimacy. I want to wash away her doubts, her fears, and her inhibitions, leaving only the two of us. I take a moment to appreciate the sight of her, the water flowing over her body, her breasts heaving with each breath.
She reaches out, her delicate fingers wrapping around my length with a featherlight touch, a tentative exploration that sends a jolt through my body. A shiver runs through me, and my breath hitches, a low rumble building in my chest, a primal response to her touch. My head falls back, a low groan rumbling from deep within my chest, unbidden and uncontrolled. It’s the sound of a need so profound it steals my breath away.
It’s a raw, intimate moment.
I rein in my passion. More than anything, I wish to turn her hands away, to kiss every inch of her instead, and show her delight slowly. To guide her through a journey of sensations without rushing, without surrendering to the fire that threatens to consume me.
Her touch is more than just a physical sensation. It’s an emotional connection, a silent whisper of trust and intimacy. It fuels my desire to make this moment unforgettable for her, to take my time, to explore her, to pleasure her.
I gather her in my arms. Her body soft and yielding against mine. Her heart beats steady and strong, a rhythm that calls to me and grounds me. Our lips meet in a languid kiss, a tender melding of mouths that speaks volumes without a word. It’s a kiss that starts slow, a gentle brush of lips that evolves into something deeper, more profound.
Her breath hitches as she kisses me back, her body melting into mine. Her heartbeat quickens, matching mine beat for beat. Our connection is palpable, a silent language that only the two of us understand, a dance of love and desire that’s uniquely ours. We luxuriate in the intimacy of our kiss, the joy of our closeness, and the promise of more.
Malia’s hands glide up my chest, her fingers curling around my shoulders as she draws me deeper into the kiss. Our tongues entwine in a languid dance, the water cascading around us like a sacred rite, cleansing and pure. Her trust in me is explicit, a silent offering that humbles me.
I turn her gently, my hands resting lightly on her shoulders. Water streams down her hair, darkening it, and I follow the path with my fingertips, massaging her scalp in slow, tender circles. She sighs, her body relaxing under my touch, her eyes fluttering closed.
Emboldened, I explore further, my fingers tracing the curves of her neck, the lines of her shoulders, the expanse of her back. I press kisses to her nape, my lips lingering on her soft skin, leaving gentle impressions of my devotion. She turns to face me, her eyes still closed, a soft smile playing on her lips. I capture her mouth in another kiss, this one more insistent, more fervent. Her body arches into mine, a low moan rumbling in her throat. My hand slides down her stomach, my fingers curling around her hip, anchoring her to me.
“Let me take care of you,” I murmur, pulling back slightly, my gaze locked on hers. The words are a promise, a vow to cherish and honor her.
Taking the soap, I lather it in my hands, working up a rich foam. My touch is soft and reverent. I start at her shoulders, my hands sliding down her arms, her back, her stomach, washing away the day’s worries, the past’s hurts. Her eyes follow my movements, dark with desire and wonder.
Kneeling before her, I wash her legs, my hands running down her calves, her ankles, and her feet. She steadies herself on my shoulders as I lift each foot, my thumbs circling her insteps, my fingers cleaning between her toes. I look up at her, water flowing over her body, her eyes filled with such profound emotion it steals my breath away.
As I rise, she leans into my touch, a soft, languid sound unfurling from her lips, a melody of pleasure and anticipation. My hands, guided by instinct and adoration, cup her breasts, learning their weight, their shape, their sensitivity. Her breath quickens, and my touch becomes leisurely, my fingers stroking and tracing the ever-hardening peaks, feeling sensations ripple through her, which set my heart racing.
Her back arches, a silent invitation, a surrender to the dance of give and take. My lips drift from hers, tracing a path down her neck, her throat, her chest. I pause at her breast, taking her nipple into my mouth, the feel of it against my tongue a sensual jolt. She responds with a moan, her fingers digging into my shoulders, anchoring herself to me.
My hands roam her body, tracing each curve, each contour, a slow, sensual journey of discovery. Her skin is soft and smooth, her muscles quivering beneath my touch. Her breath catches, her body trembling, a symphony of pleasure building within her, rising toward a joyous crescendo. Time slows down, each moment stretching, expanding, filling with love and light. I savor each second, each sensation, each shared breath.
Reluctantly, I break the kiss, my eyes meeting hers. I slide my fingers lower, gently exploring her most intimate place. I part her folds, my fingers finding her center, circling it softly, tenderly. She moans, her body trembling.
I slide one finger into her, then another, my thumb continuing its gentle rhythm. Her eyes widen, her breath hitching, her body responding, hips moving in sync with my hand. It’s a dance, a rhythm, a song that only the two of us can hear, can feel. Each movement is a testament to our connection; each gasp a whisper of love and desire.
“Walt…” Her eyes flutter open, her gaze finding mine as my fingers delve into her secrets. Her head falls back, eyes drifting closed, a surrender to the sensation building within her. I lean in, my lips pressing tender kisses to her neck, my fingers never ceasing their delicate dance.
Her body tenses, a bowstring drawn taut, her inner muscles fluttering around my fingers. She’s on the precipice, a moment away from flight. I intensify my touch, my fingers moving with more urgency, my thumb circling her sensitive bud with increased fervor.
Driven by a need to bring her to the height of pleasure and guided by her soft whispers, I drop to my knees. I press kisses to her stomach, her hips, her thighs, each touch reverent, a silent worship of her body, her essence. I look up at her, our eyes meeting, a silent communication passing between us. Hers are filled with desire and trust, a mix that sends a wave of emotion crashing through me.
I lean in, my tongue finding her center, an intimate kiss that makes her grip my hair tightly. But it’s my fingers that dance with her, that draw out her pleasure, that send her soaring. I take my time, learning, discovering what makes her gasp, what makes her moan, what makes her body tremble.
Her breath hitches, her body tensing, her muscles coiling in anticipation. I want to witness her face as she surrenders to her release. Her eyes meet mine, a profound connection that steals my breath away.
Then, she’s soaring, her body convulsing around my fingers. Instead of the taste of her, I drink in the sight of her release, the cry of completion that rings in the small steamy cubicle, the beauty of her face as she falls apart and comes back together again. It’s a melody that fills the small space, a sacred and intimate expression of surrender.
Her body trembles as she rides the waves of her climax. As the tension melts away she wilts into my arms, spent, her body leaning heavily against my steadying frame. I rise, wrapping my arms around her, a shield, a sanctuary, holding her until the last ripples of her orgasm subside.
I gently stroke her back and hips. Her breath slowly returns to normal, her body relaxing, going limp against mine.
“You okay?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Malia nods, her eyes still glazed with pleasure. “Yeah,” she whispers. “I’m more than okay.”
“I love you,” I murmur, my voice husky with the weight of my emotions. Her eyes fill with soft tears. “I want to know every inch of you.” I underscore every word I speak with my kiss.