Chapter Eight Starting Again #3
He reaches behind me and unclasps my bra and slides it off my shoulders.
He cups my breasts in both hands and the feeling of his rough palms against my bare skin pulls a soft moan out of me.
He lowers his head and kisses the curve of one breast and then the other.
His mouth is hot and wet and when his tongue circles my nipple I grab his shoulders and hold on because my knees go weak.
He unbuttons my jeans and pushes them down over my hips. I kick them off. He kneels in front of me and hooks his thumbs into the waistband of my underwear and looks up at me. I nod. He slides them down my legs and I step out of them and I’m bare in front of him.
He stays on his knees for a moment. His hands travel up the outside of my thighs, slowly, taking their time, and then around to the backs of my legs.
He kisses my hip bone. Then the soft skin below my navel.
His mouth is so close to where I want it that I can feel his breath against me and the anticipation alone makes me ache.
"Kyle."
"Tell me what you want."
"Your mouth. Please."
He presses his lips between my thighs and I grip the edge of the nightstand for balance.
His tongue moves slowly and deliberately and he pays attention to every response my body gives him.
When my breath catches he stays right there.
When my hips push forward he grips them and holds me steady.
He takes his time and he is thorough and generous and I feel the tension building in my legs and my stomach until it spills over and I come with his name on my lips and his hands holding me up.
My legs are shaking. He stands and kisses me and I taste myself on his mouth. I unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans and push them down. He steps out of them. We’re both bare now and I pull him toward the bed.
He lays me down and the sheets are cool against my flushed skin.
He settles over me and I feel the weight of him and the warmth of his chest against mine.
He kisses my neck and my collarbone and the hollow of my throat while his hand moves down between us and his fingers find me still swollen and sensitive.
I gasp and grab his wrist, not to stop him but to hold him there.
"Tell me if it’s too much," he whispers.
"It’s not enough."
He reaches for the nightstand drawer and takes out a condom and I watch him roll it on. He looks at me the whole time and there’s nothing performative about it. It’s just two adults who want each other and are being responsible about it.
He settles between my legs. I wrap my thighs around his waist and pull him into me and we both exhale. He fills me slowly and completely and I dig my nails into his back because the feeling is overwhelming in the best possible way.
He starts to move. Slowly at first. Deep, deliberate strokes that make me feel every inch of him. His forehead is pressed against mine and I can hear every ragged breath. I can smell his skin and the soap on his neck and the faint trace of woodsmoke from the fireplace he lit earlier.
"God, Kaitlyn," he says. His voice is strained. "You feel incredible."
I roll my hips against him and his rhythm falters and I feel a surge of power in that. In knowing that I can undo this steady, patient man with the movement of my body. I do it again and he groans and grips the pillow beside my head.
We find a rhythm together. He adjusts the angle and hits a spot inside me that makes my back arch off the bed.
I cry out and he keeps going, steady and focused, and I can feel the second orgasm building from somewhere deep inside me.
His hand slides between our bodies and his thumb finds the right spot and works it in slow circles while he moves inside me and the combination pushes me right to the edge.
"Don’t stop," I say. "Right there. Don’t stop."
He doesn’t stop. He keeps the same pace and the same pressure and I feel it break open inside me.
I come hard and loud with my face buried in his neck and my body clenching around him.
He follows seconds later with a deep groan and his hips pushing flush against mine and I feel the shudder run through his entire body.
We stay tangled together, breathing hard. His forehead is damp against my shoulder. My legs are still wrapped around him. Neither of us moves for a long time.
He finally rolls to the side and pulls me with him. We lie face to face, still catching our breath, and he pushes a strand of hair off my forehead.
"Stay tonight," he says.
"I was already planning on it."
He kisses my forehead and pulls the quilt over both of us. I press my back against his chest and he wraps his arm around my waist and holds me against him. I can feel his heartbeat against my shoulder blade. Slowing down. Settling.
I feel sated and loose and completely at peace.
Not because the sex was good, even though it was.
Because the man behind me is exactly who he says he is.
Because there’s no pretense in this bed.
No performance. No hidden motive behind these hands.
Just Kyle. Honest, generous, patient Kyle, giving me everything he has and asking for nothing in return except the chance to do it again.
I fall asleep with his arm around me and I don’t dream about anything at all.