Chapter 34 #3
I manage to do what he says, but it’s dicey when he ruts up into me, and I start to come apart again.
Still, when sparks rain down behind my eyelids, so bright and good I don’t know if I want to cry or laugh, I hold on to him as tight as I can while he bounces me on his lap, and I say, “I love you, too,” right into his ear, and it carries him over the edge immediately after me.
He stays inside me long after he’s done, keeps nudging into me with shallow thrusts.
Eventually, completely spent, he falls back to the bed with me spread over him like a blanket, holding me so tightly I know it prolongs him catching his breath.
But we stay that way even after he’s softened, like we’ve got no plans to move.
I trace the scars covering his chest, so much adoration coursing through my veins I have to fight off the urge to cry.
His pulse thrums at the base of his neck, and I lay my fingertips over it.
His warmth under me and inside me mixed with that steady rhythm and the sounds of afternoon rain all work together like counting sheep.
“Need to feed you,” I mumble sleepily.
“Mm. The hungriest part of me has been fed,” he says with a single laugh, his voice dragging at the edges, too. “We can rest, for now.”
I think Silas is still chewing the last bite of his grilled cheese when he bends me over the arm of the couch, props my knee up beside my hip, and slides into me from behind.
I’d been awoken by my growling stomach and crept out to the kitchen to throw something together for us both.
He came prowling around the corner just as I was finishing up the second sandwich, and here we are.
He strokes into me slowly, pausing when he pulls out nearly all the way. Taking his time like he’s watching himself as he slides back in.
“It’s too bad you can’t see this, Bea,” he says.
He proceeds to describe his view in vivid detail without a change in pace, and something about the way his voice works over me and its hypnotized rhythm make me wildly impatient and desperate.
He talks about how he comes out covered in a wet sheen and the hot, soft way I unfurl around him.
He tells me I’m pretty and circles the ring of my ass before he calls me sweet.
“These,” he growls appreciatively, gripping my hip bones and pressing his thumbs down on either side of my spine. “You’ve got dimples, too.”
When I get close to coming, he taunts me. “I can feel you sucking at me already. You need it bad, huh?”
“Yeah.” I nod emphatically with my face in the cushions now, my toes barely touching the floor on one foot. I’m so spread open I could bite into my knee.
“Good. Be needy with me. Let me spoil you so good.” This is what makes me come, and he chuckles like he’s found me out.
“Oh, no, baby. Liked that? You want me to bring you gifts? I’ll buy you a hundred pairs of those lacy shorts.
I’ll give you foot rubs after you’ve been on your feet all day.
I’ll fill you up so good you feel empty without me. ”
He slips out of me all the way, and I let out an outraged sound because he’s right, I already need him, already feel bereft. But he grinds up my seam and makes me messy and wet all over, squeezing my ass cheeks on either side of his cock. It’s crude and base and just as needy as I am.
And then he’s working himself back into me and pressing his thumb into my ass in that way that should feel wrong, like an invasion, but I love it so much.
I love the way he talks to me and how I can’t hide from it or feel embarrassed.
I’m too exposed and he sees it all, notices every detail.
I love when he loses himself and gets quiet, too.
He slides two fingers into my mouth with his free hand and keeps fucking me steadily, filling me in every possible way, and I’m so drunk on pleasure and joy, I start to laugh. I can’t believe I once told this man I could get him out of my system.
He starts to laugh, too. A dark, amazed chuckle. “I know,” he says. “Fuck, I know.”
We make ourselves eat and rest a little more, but it’s the ability and freedom to reach for him, to touch and squeeze and taste without restraint that I can’t seem to pass up.
He makes love to me quietly after we shower, cleaned up just to get each other worked up again.
This time, he makes frequent stops to kiss over my body.
Even what he does between my legs is kissing.
It takes me so long to come, I think we stop and start over countless times, but it’s as if we’ve got all the time in the world.
This is the goal; there is no finish line we race toward.
I roll him onto his back and return every kiss, every taste.
When I do come, it’s with his tongue in my cunt while he strokes himself lazily. I’m fizzing all over and tug him up over me so his weight can keep me from turning into foam and blowing away. He thrusts into me once before he’s coming, too. And sleep closes in around us again.
“Why don’t you wear that chain you used to wear anymore?” I ask curiously. I’m still tucked into his side, still naked, still in bed. The sun is rising on a new day and glittering through the branches of the oak.
He hugs me and lays a kiss to the crown of my head. “Can’t wear anything metal on the job,” he says, but I can tell it’s only half the answer.
“You don’t wear it off the job, either,” I say. He reaches down to give my ass a firm squeeze and his pinkie drifts close to where we’re still joined. “Don’t try to distract me.”
He chuckles and lets out a small, self-conscious sound. “Guess I got nothing to hide. You already know I can be melodramatic,” he says.
“It’s one of my favorite things, actually,” I remind him.
I hear him swallow, and lean up to search his face. He gives me a grateful, peaceful smile and plants a kiss to the tip of my nose. My entire torso warms. “You remember when I told you I wished for this?” he says. “I meant it literally, Bea. I made a wish for you.”