Chapter 28 #2
My own insecurities, quiet for a moment, began to surface.
I thought of my legs, the stubble I hadn’t bothered with, the small imperfections I usually tried to hide.
It was a fleeting, stupid thought, because in the next second, her hands were on my waist, her thumbs stroking the soft skin of my stomach, and she was kissing me again, erasing every doubt.
Her touch grew more confident, more demanding. Her hands moved around to my back, deftly unhooking my bra. She slid the straps from my shoulders, her lips following the path down my arm, her breath warm against my skin. My bra joined the growing pile of our clothes on the floor.
And then her hands were on my breasts, and I forgot everything else.
I had a thing for breasts, for the soft weight and feel of them, and hers were perfect.
I slid my hands up to hers, shaping my palm over them.
They weren’t heavy, but they were firm and yet her satiny skin made me want to bury my face there.
In return, she cupped mine, her thumbs brushing over my nipples, which hardened instantly at her touch. I gasped into her mouth, my body arching into hers, seeking more contact. She sucked my lower lip out a moment. The scrape of her teeth sent another jolt through me and I met her gaze.
“Be here,” she ordered me. “Here.”
Unwilling to delay anything, I just nodded. She was telling me what to do and fuck it, I latched onto that command like the life preserver it was. “I’m here,” I promised and let her draw me in.
She guided me toward the bed, and we sank onto the soft mattress. Somehow, I was naked and so was she. Belatedly, I almost cried as her skin slid against mine, the connection electric. Soft and firm and perfect everywhere, she had a body my hands longed to caress and pet.
She hovered over me, her hair falling around our faces, creating a small, intimate world.
She kissed me again, her mouth hungry now, her hands exploring my body with a newfound urgency.
It was like my emotional floundering had ignited something in her, a fierce need to pull me out of my own head and into my body.
Her mouth left mine, trailing a path of fire down my neck, my collarbone, my sternum. I was panting now, my hands tangled in her hair, urging her on. She took her time, worshiping my body with her lips and tongue, her touch both tender and possessive.
Anytime I started to drift, she would nip me almost painfully. Then I would jerk my eyes open and she would stare up at me until she was certain I was still there, with her.
When her mouth finally closed over my nipple, I cried out, the pleasure sharp and intense. She sucked and teased, her teeth scraping gently, her tongue swirling around the sensitive peak. It was almost too much, the sensations overwhelming, but I didn’t want her to stop.
Her hand slid down my stomach, her fingers tracing the faint shadow of hair along the apex of my thighs.
The slow stroke of her palms as she massaged them had my hips lifting, but she only paused.
Her gaze fixed on mine, once more making sure I was there and when I nodded, she smiled.
She pressed my thighs open and I stopped hiding.
I was bare before her, every vulnerability exposed. But there was no shame, only a growing sense of anticipation. Her eyes roamed over me, dark with desire, and then she was back, her body pressing against mine, skin to skin.
The feeling was electric. Her body was soft and warm, her curves molding against mine in a way that felt both foreign and incredibly right.
She was waxed smooth everywhere, her skin like silk under my hands.
I explored her, my hands mapping her back, her hips, the soft swell of her ass, marveling at the feel of her.
Her thigh slid between mine, pressing against my core, and I moaned, grinding against her, seeking friction. She kissed me, swallowing my sounds, her hand moving down my body, her fingers finding the slick heat between my legs.
"Kiara," I breathed, her name a prayer on my lips.
She didn't answer with words. She answered with her touch. Her fingers stroked me, exploring my folds, finding my clit and circling it with a pressure that made my whole body tremble. It was like she was breaking open all the dark places inside my soul, all the empty spaces I’d been hiding, and filling them with light, with pleasure, with her.
The pleasure built, a slow, steady wave that grew higher and higher with every stroke of her fingers, every flick of her thumb. I was lost in it, lost in her, my mind blissfully, wonderfully blank. There was no past, no future, only this moment, this feeling.
She shifted, moving down my body, her lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire. She settled between my thighs, her hands on my hips, holding me open. And then her mouth was on me, her tongue replacing her fingers, and the world shattered.
The pleasure was blinding, a white-hot explosion that ripped through me, leaving me gasping and shaking. I cried out, my hands fisting in the sheets, my body arching off the bed. It was intense and overwhelming and utterly perfect.
She didn't stop. She stayed with me, her mouth and hands gentling me through the aftershocks, her touch a soothing balm. When I finally came back to myself, she was kissing her way back up my body, her movements slow and tender.
But something in me snapped.
The tremor that was wracking my body wasn't just from the lingering pleasure.
It was from the sudden, terrifying realization that this could be it.
This one moment. That I might never feel this seen, this wanted, this whole again.
The thought was a spark to gasoline. I needed more. I needed all of it. Right now.
I surged up, rolling her over with a force that surprised us both. A soft "oof" escaped her lips as her back hit the mattress, but her eyes widened with excitement, not fear. If she saw the feral, desperate need in me, she didn't flinch. She met it.
My mouth crashed down on hers, no longer tender but hungry, bruising. I kissed her like I was trying to devour her, to memorize her taste, to imprint this moment on my soul. My hands were everywhere, frantic, possessive.
My hands roamed her curves, the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips. I had a thing for soft bodies, for the generous give of them, and hers was perfect. I broke the kiss, my gaze dropping to her breasts once more, and I lowered my head, taking a perfectly dusky, peaked nipple into my mouth.
I sucked hard, my teeth grazing her, wanting to leave a mark, wanting her to feel this as deeply as I did. She cried out, her hands tangling in my hair, holding me to her. It had been so long since I’d been able to lose myself against a pair of breasts, that I went a little crazy.
I worshipped her breasts, moving from one to the other, tasting and teasing until she was writhing beneath me, her breath coming in ragged pants. I could feel the slick heat of her against my thigh, and the knowledge that I was the one making her feel this way was intoxicating.
Now, I needed to taste her.
As much as I wanted to stay with her breasts, I massaged one with my hand even as I kissed a path down her stomach. At each dip and curve, I stroked my tongue over her navel, then the sensitive skin of her inner thighs and eventually, I settled between her legs.
The intoxicating musk of her arousal filled my senses and blotted out everything. I looked up at her, her eyes dark and heavy-lidded, watching me, and then held her gaze as I licked a slow, deliberate stripe up her slit.
Salty and sweet and uniquely her, she was delicious. I groaned, my own body clenching in response. I teased her, my tongue circling her clit without ever quite touching it, my hands holding her hips steady as she bucked against me.
As much as I wanted to draw this out, to wrench every drop of pleasure for both of us out of her, the frantic and desperate part of me won. I flattened my tongue and licked her again, this time focusing on the tight bundle of nerves, sucking it gently into my mouth.
Her response was instantaneous. A sharp cry, her thighs tightening around my head, her fingers gripping my hair so tightly it almost hurt.
I loved it. I loved knowing I had this power, that I could make her fall apart like this.
I slid a finger inside her, then another, curling them to find that rough patch of skin inside her that made a woman see stars.
"Rachel," she gasped, her voice strained. "God, Rachel."
I didn't stop. I fucked her with my fingers and my mouth, my movements growing faster, more demanding, matching the wild rhythm of my own heart. I could feel her getting closer, her inner muscles starting to flutter around my fingers, her hips moving in a desperate, seeking rhythm.
But I wanted to feel her come against me. I wanted to be the reason she broke apart.
I pulled back, ignoring her whimper of protest, and moved up her body.
I captured her mouth in a searing kiss, letting her taste herself on my lips.
I shifted, swinging my leg over her hip, positioning us so we were pressed together, cunt to cunt.
The first contact was electric. A jolt of pure pleasure shot through me, so intense it stole my breath.
I looked down at her, at the flush on her cheeks, the desire in her eyes, and I started to move.
It was a slow grind at first, a deliberate, teasing pressure.
Her slick folds slid against mine, the friction building, the pleasure coiling low and deep in my belly.
It was better than I had ever imagined. The intimate, raw connection of it was overwhelming.
Her hands gripped my ass, pulling me closer, urging me on.
I increased the pace, my movements becoming more urgent, more desperate.
We found a rhythm, a primal, rocking motion that was both fierce and beautiful.
Our bodies moved together, slick with sweat and arousal, the sounds of our breathing and the wet slap of our skin filling the room.
I could feel her clit rubbing against mine, a perfect, exquisite friction that sent shockwaves through me with every thrust.
Her eyes were locked on mine, and in them, I saw my own desperation reflected back at me. This wasn't just about pleasure anymore. It was about connection, about breaking open all the dark, empty places inside both of us and filling them with light. With this. With us.
I could feel my own orgasm building, a tidal wave of pleasure gathering strength. "Kiara," I breathed, my voice ragged. "Come with me."
She arched her back, her head thrown back, a cry tearing from her throat as her orgasm ripped through her. The sight of her, the feel of her pulsing against me, was my undoing. My own orgasm crashed over me, blinding and intense, a wave of pure, unadulterated bliss that left me shaking and spent.
I collapsed against her, our bodies slick and trembling, our hearts beating a frantic, synchronized rhythm against our ribs. I buried my face in the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent, trying to memorize the feel of her skin against mine.
For a long time, we just lay there, tangled together in the quiet aftermath. The frantic energy had dissipated, replaced by a profound, bone-deep peace. She held me, her arms wrapped around me, her hands stroking my back in a slow, soothing rhythm.
I didn't know what this was. I didn't know what would happen tomorrow. But for this one, perfect moment, I was right here. I wasn’t disappearing.
I didn't have the words. I didn't know what to say.
But it didn't matter. She just held me, her hand stroking my hair, her presence a quiet, steady reassurance.
In the silence of her room, wrapped in her arms, I felt something inside me, something that had been locked away for a very long time, finally shatter.