Chapter 27 #2
A soft thrill tingles in my stomach, making me bite my lips—until Micah leans down, his lips brushing against the back of my neck. “Let me hear you.”
“You…haven’t even done anything yet,” I huff when, of course, I cannot keep my voice even despite what I just pointed out.
“I know.” He’s smiling; I can hear it, the way it makes his tongue curl differently around the words, how they're spoken more softly. It’s enough to make me shiver.
“But I want to know if I’m getting it right,” Micah whispers, the little puffs of his breath tickling down my spine as he kisses a slow path down. “Especially when I’m getting to…here.” He’s hovering over the small of my back, his hands settling in the crook of my hip.
It only lasts a moment—then his tongue touches the skin just above my crease, and all thoughts are blown from my mind. That little warm spot demands all my focus.
His breath tickles against the sensitive skin, raising goosebumps and sending a shiver up my spine.
I almost bite my lips again, but remember Micah’s request at the last moment and allow the gasp to slip out. For a second, I can feel Micah smile, then his hands slide up over the back of my thighs, slowly spreading me apart.
He slides his tongue down along my cleft and over my entrance.
Hot.
Wet.
Intimate.
It’s too much and not enough at the same time.
Micah licks at me again, leaving room for cool air to tickle against my skin. I shift, although all my muscles are coiled like springs, waiting for some unknown signal.
I gasp for breath when Micah's tongue presses against my hole with more intent.
Tension surges back, rippling outward like I'm a lake he threw a heavy stone into. I skip from gasping to moaning. Broken, involuntary noises that don't make any sense. There's no room for sense in me—only the feeling of Micah's tongue and lips and fingers.
His thumbs dig into my ass, close to my entrance, and—like he pushed a button I didn’t even know I had—my back arches.
My arms shake under the sudden weight, and I slide to my elbows, burying my face against the bed.
My entire body has gone rogue, unsure what to do with it all because those aren't my lubed-up fingers, playing with myself, ready to shy away when it gets too much.
This is someone else, touching me without any reservations.
As if to prove that point, Micah dives in again, pressing against the tight ring of muscles, and then he hums.
“Oh God, oh fuck!” I shout, uncaring about the noise. I can't, even if I wanted to. I need to breathe and get it all out somehow. The pressure intensifies, pulling at something deep inside of me.
“Relax.” Micah's voice travels through my skin rather than the air, tingling all the way to the top of my head. “I've got you.”
“Yes! Yes, oh God, Micah!” Anything else is lost between moans as his tongue returns to play with me.
Pushing every now and then before treating me to long and lavish licks that make my head spin.
I try to rock into his rhythm but can barely match it.
And when I do, Micah changes his grip to hold me firmly in place.
His tongue slides deeper, causing my entire body to shudder.
The most contradictory sensations are warring for dominance; hot and cold flashes rush across my skin in quick succession. Micah is devouring and treating me with so much care, all at the same time.
I can barely handle the surges of pleasure; each of them brings me to the verge of begging for it to stop before he retreats, and all of a sudden, I plead with him to give me more.
I wish he could—
“W-wait, Micah, I want—” I start, breaking off when the tips of Micah's fingers rub over me as his mouth vanishes. Emboldened by the tingly touches, I push my ass back.
“Fuck me, please?” It's not the seductive proposal that I was aiming for, but I hope it'll work.
At the very least, Micah pauses. The warmth of his mouth disappears from my skin, making me shiver.
“Yes! I mean…are you sure?” Micah's answer makes me laugh until I feel his lips and then his teeth against my behind, sucking on the sensitive skin, dragging a low moan out of me.
“What about Colin?” Micah asks after giving me a short break to catch my breath.
“Fuck Colin,” I groan, then wince. “I mean not fuck-fuck Colin…ugh!” I bury my face in the mattress. Slowly, I count to five, then push myself back up.
Micah's eyes sparkle at me, amused, but also shuttered.
He scoots back so I can sit up and turn toward him.
My whole body feels jittery. I'm teetering on the brink of an orgasm, and feel like I’ve already come at the same time.
It's infuriatingly distracting, especially with Micah so close but not close enough.
“Sorry, sweetheart, but I don't want to be the asshole-jock who gets in the way of your…uh…bohemian romance.” Micah grimaces, and I snort, reaching for him, aching for more contact. I catch one of his hands, linking our fingers. Feeling his warm skin against mine is like a physical relief.
“Bohemian romance?”
“I don't know. Something like that.”
“What? You’ve been to my home!” I laugh.
“No, I mean…I can’t recite poems to you. I’ve never even written one.”
“Poems?” I blink. Micah has utterly lost me, even as he gestures like it’s clear.
“You know. Stuff that Colin does? Writes you a poem, then lays you out in a meadow of wildflowers before he—” Micah breaks off, his brows drawing together in a frown.
I can’t help but snort, squeezing his hand.
At least his annoyance has taken all the nervousness away from me.
“Wow, tell me more about those fantasies?” I snicker when his frown deepens.
“Colin has never written a poem for me. Or read me one. As for the wildflower meadow”—I look around at the various plants that decorate my bookshelf, my windowsill, my entire room, then smile back at Micah, whose night-and-day eyes are brimming with uncertainty—“these will have to do?”
This isn’t the sophisticated romance he somehow imagined I had with Colin. It also isn’t the erotic tale between two fictional SEALs like in Keeping Noah. This is entirely us—exactly what I want.
Micah's eyes trail from my hand, where it rests in his, along my arm. Slowly, his hand moves to my wrist until he can curl his fingers around it. His other hand cups my face, thumb tracing over my cheek like he's personally responsible for spreading my blush evenly across my face.
“You look so beautiful, I don't want to hurt—”
“I want it to be you.” Micah's hand muffles my voice. It's tempting to turn my head more into the contact, press my lips into his open palm, and form the words against his skin, make him absorb them.
“For my first time, I want it to be us.”