Chapter Thirty One
A sound escapes Meg, somewhere between a groan and a gasp, and I lock it in my mind to keep forever.
She shifts against me, a subtle arch that closes any inch of space left between us.
The rigidness in her limbs melts away, her head tilting closer as if she’s chasing the contact of my lips.
As usual, I’m more than happy to give her exactly what she wants.
My head dips, my mouth brushing the corner of hers first, not quite a kiss, but just enough to feel the heat of her skin, to hear the hitch in her breath.
Beneath her thighs, my hands tighten fingers flexing against her soft warmth.
I refuse to rush. I’ve been dreaming of this exact moment for far too long.
“Are you still with me?” I murmur against her cheek, inhaling the sweet smell of her body spray.
Instead of answering in words, Meg’s hands glide down the front of my shirt and fist the material, dragging me into her waiting lips.
Our mouths crash together, urgent and needy.
Pure fire burns through me, short-circuiting my brain.
Her lips part naturally, inviting my tongue to glide over hers.
I will myself to have restraint, but I can’t deny myself this any longer.
Her taste consumes me, the stolen breaths and muffled moans threatening to undo me.
Using my hips to keep her pinned in place, my hands roam freely.
Stroking to dip in her waist, splaying across her back, seeking out her nape.
I can’t get close enough. I’ve spent so long being careful with her, filtering everything through screens and distance, through jokes and deflection.
Not anymore. There’s nothing filtered about this reality.
No buffer. No delay. Every small reaction is received immediately, every inhale, every shift of her body, every soft sound she doesn’t manage to hold back.
It drives me crazy, pulling me further in, my hand sliding from her neck down her arm. I plan to map her out piece by piece.
Meg shudders beneath my touch, her head tipping back just enough to give me access to her throat.
My lips trail along her jaw, across her pulse, to the crook of her neck where I lightly nip at her skin.
Down south, my dick is hardening to the point of pain, aching to be free of my slacks, desperate to feel pleasure for Meg that isn’t by my own hand.
But if I’m not careful, this show will be over before I’ve even pulled down my zipper.
Pulling myself back a fraction, only to pace the passion searing through us, my forehead presses to hers.
“I know I’ve been careful to not say too much,” I murmur, “but I’m not being careful anymore. I have so much I want to say.” Meg’s lids flutter open, her eyes dazed with lust.
“Tell me,” she breathes seductively. A lesser man would have been brought to his knees then and there.
“You’re everything, Meg. You’re perfect to me.” My thumb brushes along her jaw, reaching up to cup her cheek. She scrunches up her nose and attempts to twist away from my gaze. I refuse to let her.
“I’m a fucking mess,” she whines. A smile stretches across my swollen lips. If only she could see through my eyes.
“And I think you’re perfect anyway. If this is you at your worst, I can’t wait to see you at your best. I’m going to be with you every step of the way now. No more recovering alone, no more keeping me at a distance. When I decide what I want, there’s nothing holding me back, and I want you.”
Meg’s eyes swing back, hunting for a trace of doubt and finding none.
I stand steady, allowing the emotion to flicker across her face.
Beneath the desire, something is cracked wide open between us.
I’ve never been shy. More reserved, waiting for when Meg is ready to hear me.
To really hear me. Now, she roams my face, her hands opening for her palm to rest across my heart. Have it, Amorzinha. It’s yours anyway.
Leaning back in, slower this time, I ensure each pass of my lips is intentional.
Meg can be fucked by anyone she deems worthy, can find rushed, meaningless releases anywhere.
But what I can give her is special, reserved for us and us alone.
My mouth presses against hers, not rushed, not demanding, but certain in what we have.
In what it can be. My hand settles at her waist again, while the other lingers near her jaw, keeping her close without being forceful.
There’s a balance to the heat and restraint, the want and control.
I hold onto that, letting it build instead of burning out too fast.
Her fingers tighten against my chest as I guide her away from the wall, the movement slow enough that our lips barely break contact.
Each step is steady until the back of her legs meet the edge of the bed.
There’s a soft shift in her balance, a quiet intake of breath, and I take the opportunity to deepen the kiss again, providing security as she’s lowered onto the mattress.
I follow without hesitation, one knee pressing into the mattress beside her as she sinks back onto the sheets.
“Take this off,” Meg tugs at my shirt. I grin at her impatience, her fingers undoing my buttons.
Once hanging open, I peel the fabric from my shoulders and toss it aside.
Meg’s nails scrape a delicious path across my skin, testing the smoothness of muscle she finds trailing my abdomen.
It’s no secret that my diet is terrible and I’m not a fan of the great outdoors, but I’ve made sure to keep up my fitness level.
Mostly out of boredom, but I’ve never been so thankful for that than I am right now.
Meg’s eyes alight greedily, her bottom lip being pulled in by her teeth.
Pulling it free, I lower on my forearms, our mouths instantly seeking each other’s.
We’re magnetic, drawn back to one another over and over again.
My tongue traces the seam of her lips and she opens, letting me in.
She tastes divine, as I knew she would. My hand travels up her ribcage, pausing over the frantic beat of her heart.
“Thiago.” Meg breathes my name as a gentle plea, Meg’s own hand coming between us to steer mine lower.
My thumb finds the lower curve of her breast through her dress, the rounded weight sending an arrow of lust directly to my dick.
In equal impatience, Meg arches into the touch, her back leaving the sheets, seeking more.
More touch, more friction, more everything. I give it to her.
My hand covers her breast, finding her braless, full and perfect in my grasp.
Her nipple is a hard peak against my palm.
Dragging myself lower, I circle it with my tongue, sucking the fabric into my mouth.
Meg’s pleasured groan is music to my ears, her breath going out in shallow pants.
I repeat the action, leaving a wet patch over her nipple and moving onto the next, giving it the same devoted attention.
Her thighs part further, a natural adjustment to make space for me.
My dick approves. Fuck, she’s going to be the death of me.
“Your turn,” I raise my head to whisper against her ear.
Sitting back on my heels and straddling her thighs, I help Meg to hitch the hem of her dress higher over her thighs, revealing a lacy black thong I wasn’t prepared for.
Her stomach is exposed next, then her breasts and I’m a goner.
She’s stunning. Beyond that. She’s…simply perfect.
Her body is all soft lines and subtle curves, a natural hourglass that appears effortless, her waist dipping in before flaring into her hips.
Her skin catches the low light, almost tricking me into believing this is a generated image straight from my jerk-bank.
There’s no way she can look exactly as I picture, yet here she is.
Warm and smooth beneath my hands. Not trying to look sexy, not posing, just being herself.
Peeling the rest of the dress upwards, Meg lifts her arms, a gesture of complete surrender. Her hair spills across my pillow, a riot of brown waves against the white cotton. The sight of her, pale skin, pink pebbled nipples, the elegant line of her collarbones, it all steals the air in my lungs.
I don’t think. Leaning down, my mouth finds the hollow of her throat where I kiss her pulse, then slide lower.
There’s no barrier now as my lips close over her nipple again.
Meg cries out, making a beautiful sound that becomes lost to my groan of approval.
Her hands fly to my hair, holding me steady as I suck her into my mouth, my tongue working the tight bud until she’s writhing beneath me.
Her skin flushes, a rosy heat spreading across her chest.
The hands in my short curls tighten, then start to push.
I can’t deny her. I wouldn’t even dream of it.
Kissing a path over her stomach, I slide off the mattress and kneel on the floor.
Meg wriggles out of her thong, with some assistance from me when it gets caught around her ankles.
I grip her thighs, sharply tugging her down the bed until she’s almost hanging off, her pussy bared to me.
I simply inhale her scent, enjoying the view until her hands are back in my hair, tugging my mouth against her.
Despite my lack of resistance, Meg guides me with a sense of urgency. She needs this. She needs to forget everything that exists outside of this room. She needs me. My tongue finds her clit, and I circle it with a slow, relentless pressure. Her hips jerk violently.
“God, yes, Thi. At last,” Meg groans a broken sound torn directly from her throat.
Her thighs clamp against my ears, the world narrowing to her heat, her taste, and the wet, rhythmic sound of my mouth on her.
I lap her up, from clit to slit and back again.
My cock aches, throbbing painfully against the zipper of my slacks. Meg’s pleasure comes first.