15. Stefan #2
Sucking gently, I swirled my tongue around the hardened peak. Her fingers dug into my scalp, pulling me closer, and I could feel her hips starting to move restlessly against mine.
Her other breast got the same attention. Her moans filled the room, soft and breathy, and each sound went straight to my cock.
“Stefan.” She gasped my name. “Please.”
“Please what?” I kissed the valley between her breasts. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want your mouth.” Her voice was wrecked. “Lower. Please.”
“Here?” I kissed down her ribcage. “Or here?” Lower, across her stomach. “Or here?” I pressed my lips to the soft swell of her lower belly, feeling her muscles quiver under my touch.
“You know where.” Her hips lifted, seeking. “Please, Stefan. I need...”
“I know what you need.” I hooked my fingers in the waistband of her underwear. “I’m going to give it to you. But first I want to look at you.”
I dragged the fabric down her legs slowly, letting my knuckles trail against her skin. She was trembling by the time I tossed the underwear aside.
I sat back and just looked.
She was spread out on the couch, naked and flushed, her hair fanned across the throw pillow. Her chest heaved with each breath. Her thighs fell open, revealing her center to my gaze, and I could see how wet she was already.
“Fuck.” The word came out reverent. “Look at you.”
“Don’t just look.” She reached for me. “Touch me.”
I settled between her thighs, my shoulders pressing them wider apart. I could smell her arousal and my mouth watered.
A kiss pressed to her inner thigh made her muscles jump.
Then the other thigh, higher this time. “Stefan.” Her hips lifted. “Please. I can’t wait anymore.”
I lowered my mouth to her.
She cried out, her hand flying to my hair. I groaned against her, finally tasting her after four years of deprivation. She was sweet and tangy and absolutely perfect.
I dragged my tongue through her folds, from her entrance up to her clit, and felt her whole body shudder. I let her guide my mouth where she needed it.
“Right there.” She gasped when I circled her clit. “Oh god, right there.”
I flattened my tongue against the swollen bud and licked slowly, feeling her thighs tremble on either side of my head. She moaned, her hips rocking up to meet each stroke.
“You taste so good,” I murmured against her. “I forgot how good you taste.”
“Don’t stop.” Her head thrashed against the pillow. “Please don’t stop.”
I sealed my lips around her clit and sucked gently. She cried out, then grabbed the throw pillow and smothered the sound against it, her back bowing off the couch, and I had to press my forearm across her hips to hold her down.
I slid one finger inside her, groaning at how tight and wet she was. Her walls clenched around me immediately, pulling me deeper.
“So tight.” I curled my finger, searching for that spot I remembered. “So fucking tight, Lay.”
“More.” She pushed down against my hand. “I need more.”
I added a second finger and pumped slowly, my tongue still working her clit. She was making sounds I’d never heard before, desperate little whimpers and moans that drove me crazy.
“I could do this forever.” I kissed her inner thigh, my fingers still moving inside her. “I could spend the rest of my life between your legs.”
“Stefan.” Her voice was wrecked, barely recognizable. “I’m so close. Please.”
I curved my fingers and found that spot, pressing firmly while my mouth returned to her clit. I sucked hard, flicking my tongue rapidly, and felt her body wind tighter and tighter.
“That’s it,” I murmured against her. “Let go, Lay. Come for me.”
She shattered.
Her whole body arched off the couch, her thighs clamping around my head, my name tearing from her throat, muffled by the pillow. I worked her through it, gentling my touch as the waves crashed through her, drawing out her pleasure for as long as I could.
When she finally collapsed back against the cushions, boneless and panting, I pressed one last soft kiss to her center. Then I kissed my way back up her body.
Her stomach. Her ribs. The curve of each breast. Her collarbone. Her throat. Her jaw.
I settled over her, bracing my weight on my forearms, and looked down at her face. Her eyes were glazed, her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen and parted.
“I love you.” The words came out before I could stop them. “I never stopped loving you, Lay. Not for a single day.”
“I love you too.” She reached up and touched my face. “Take me to bed.”
I gathered her in my arms and stood, carrying her through the dark apartment. She was lighter than I expected, or maybe I was just running on adrenaline and emotion. Her head rested against my shoulder, her arms looped around my neck.
Her bedroom was small, dominated by a queen-sized bed with rumpled sheets. I laid her down gently and stretched out beside her, pulling the blanket over both of us.
She curled into me immediately, her head on my chest, her leg thrown over mine. I could feel her heartbeat slowing, her breathing evening out.
“Stay.” She mumbled against my skin, already half-asleep. “Don’t leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” I pressed my lips to her hair, breathing her in. “I’m never going anywhere again.”
Her body relaxed against mine, heavy with exhaustion. Within minutes, her breathing deepened into sleep.
I lay awake for a long time, staring at the ceiling of her bedroom. My daughter was down the hall. The woman I loved was in my arms. My family was under one roof for the first time.
The empty ache I’d carried for four years was gone. In its place was something warm and solid, something that felt like hope.
I tightened my arms around Layla and let my eyes drift closed.
For the first time in four years, I slept without dreaming.