20. Paige #2
We start in the hallway. His hands sliding under my shirt, my fingers working the buttons of his. By the time we reach the stairs, my shirt is abandoned on the banister. By the time we reach the bedroom, we’re both half-undressed, our skin pressed together, our breath coming fast.
He lays me down like I’m something precious. Hovers over me in the low light, just looking.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmurs, his voice a low, vibrating rumble that echoes through my bones. “You have no idea.”
“Show me.” It comes out barely above a whisper.
The air in the room is thick, almost suffocating with the scent of anticipation and the heavy musk of our shared heat. I can feel him hovering over me, his breath a warm, steady ghost against my skin.
I don’t want to speak; I want to feel. I reach up, my fingers sliding into the thick hair at the nape of his neck, gently but firmly guiding his head down toward my chest.
He lets out a shaky exhale, his lips grazing the swell of my breast. “I’m going to savor every single inch of you,” he murmurs into the curve of my breast, his hot breath dragging a shiver straight down to my core.
A soft moan escapes me, my back arching instinctively to press the peak of my breast firmly against his lips.
He doesn’t rush. He lingers there for a heartbeat, his warm breath teasing my nipple before he finally closes his mouth over me.
I gasp, my hips lifting off the mattress as he sucks firmly, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.
“God, you taste so sweet,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to look up at me, his eyes dark with hunger.
“Don’t stop,” I whimper, my fingers tightening in his hair, pulling him back down. “Please, don’t stop.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, his voice dropping an octave. “I’m going to taste every single inch of you.”
He begins a slow, torturous descent, his lips grazing the valley between my breasts, then trailing down to the soft skin of my stomach. I tremble under his touch, my fingers clutching the sheets as he nips at the flesh of my hip.
“You’re shaking,” he notes, a small, possessive smirk playing on his lips. “Are you that desperate for me?”
I can’t answer; I can only moan as he moves lower, his presence a heavy, warm weight between my thighs. When the first wet stroke of his tongue hits my clit, I cry out, my head tossing back against the pillows.
“You’re so wet for me,” he groans against my skin, the vibration of his voice sending a jolt of electricity through my core.
“Oh god… right there… just like that,” I plead, my voice breaking.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his tongue flicking with rhythmic, steady pressure. “Just let go for me. Give it all to me.”
He uses his fingers to stretch me open, exposing my swollen center to his relentless tongue. The pressure builds, a coil tightening deep in my belly until I feel like I’m vibrating. I feel the ledge approaching, the world blurring into white light.
“I’m… I’m close… please!” I scream, clenching hard around his fingers as a violent orgasm rips through me.
He doesn’t pull away, continuing to lap at me until the last of the tremors subside. He looks up at me, his chin glistening, his eyes filled with a raw, primal intensity.
“You’re beautiful when you come,” he whispers, his voice thick with desire.
I reach down, my hand finding the hard, throbbing length of his cock, guiding it against my thigh. I can feel him pulsing, his restraint snapping.
“I need you… please, inside me,” I whisper, my eyes searching his.
“You have no idea how hard it is to be patient with you,” he groans, positioning the broad, wet tip of his cock at my entrance. “Tell me to slow down and I will.”
“Don’t slow down. Don’t rush. Just stay with me,” I breathe, wrapping my legs around his waist to pull him closer.
He pushes forward, a slow, agonizing stroke that fills me completely. I let out a long, shuddering moan, my eyes fluttering shut as he buries himself to the hilt.
“Twelve years,” he gasps, his forehead resting against mine. “Twelve years, and you’re finally in my bed.”
“Don’t move… just stay there for a second,” I whisper, savoring the feeling of being stretched and filled.
“I can’t stay still,” he murmurs, beginning to move in deep, steady thrusts. “I’ve been dreaming about how you’d feel in my bed instead of on my workbench.”
He leans down, his lips finding the pulsing vein in my neck. He kisses me there, his breath hot and heavy.
“You’re mine,” he says into the pulse of my throat. “Every inch of you belongs to me.”
“Yes… I’m yours,” I moan, my nails digging into his shoulders. “Please, faster… harder.”
“Is this what you want?” he asks, his pace quickening, the wet slap of our bodies filling the room. “Tell me exactly what you want.”
“I want you to make me scream,” I gasp, my breath catching.
He lets out a guttural sound, his hand reaching down to find my clit, rubbing it in perfect synchronization with his thrusts. The dual stimulation is overwhelming. I feel the storm gathering again, building higher than the first.
“Look at me,” he commands softly. I open my eyes to find him watching me, and the look on his face terrifies me, because I know exactly what it means, and neither of us has said it out loud yet.
“Wes-”
“I know.” His voice breaks on it, his rhythm never faltering. “Me too. But not here. When I say it, you’re going to be looking me in the eye, and you’re going to know it isn’t the sex talking.”
That’s what sends me over. I peak again, my walls squeezing him in tight, rhythmic pulses, his name breaking apart in my mouth.
That pulls him over his own edge; a choked sound tears out of him as he drives deep one last time and comes, hard pulses of him flooding me, his whole frame shuddering against mine.
We stay locked together, our breathing ragged and synchronized. He doesn’t pull away, keeping his weight grounding me.
“That,” he breathes, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead, “was worth every year of the waiting.”
I let out a soft, breathless laugh, arching my back to press my chest against his sweat-slicked skin. I tilt my head back, looking up at him with heavy lids.
“You’re not actually planning on stopping, are you?” I whisper, my voice a low, teasing purr.
He lets out a low, dark chuckle, his hand sliding down to squeeze my hip possessively. “Stopping? Sweetheart, I’ve barely started with you.”
“Prove it,” I breathe, my hand sliding down to find his cock, already beginning to stir and harden against my thigh.
“Is that a challenge?” he murmurs, his lips grazing my ear, sending a shiver straight to my core.
“Maybe,” I whimper, pulling his face down to mine. “But I think you know exactly how to handle me.”
“I do,” he groans, his voice thick and hungry. “And I’m going to take my time making sure you can’t remember your own name by the time I’m done.”
Afterward, tangled in sheets that smell like both of us, his fingers trace patterns on my bare shoulder.
“I want to marry you someday,” he says. “Not now. Whenever you’re ready. But you should know that’s where I’m going. I’ll only ever want the thing I say out loud.”
I go still. Then I smile.
“Ask me properly. When you’re ready. With a ring and a knee and a speech.” I turn to press a kiss to his shoulder. “I’ve earned a good proposal after the disaster of my last one.”
“I haven’t asked yet.”
“Then you’d better start planning.”
He laughs, and the sound vibrates through my whole body.
Outside, an engine slows on the street. Headlights sweep across the curtains, hold there for a breath too long, then crawl past.
I tell myself it’s a neighbor. I almost believe it.