Chapter 59 #2
When his eyes brushed along the dark scar carved into the curve of my ribcage, in true Kain fashion, he maintained his expression, offering no reaction to it.
I didn’t know if I loved his poker face then, or if I hated it.
I both didn’t want to know what he thought about it and wanted desperately to know if he thought I was ugly now.
It wasn’t until the first tear rolled down my cheek that I noticed the saddened prickliness of needles behind my eyes.
Kain didn’t immediately react to my crying either. Instead, he reached into the distance between us, taking my head into the palm of his hand and drawing me in closer until our lips met softly. His touch was gentle yet somehow effective in communicating what he didn’t say.
You’re beautiful, his lips on mine silently announced, before maneuvering away and tracing along the trail the tears I’d shed, kissing them away.
His other hand fell to my naked waist, his thumb resting naturally over the raised skin of my scar; nothing in his actions indicating that he was avoiding touching it, nothing in his actions indicating that he was disgusted by it.
Kain touched me like no time had passed between us, like he still remembered my special spots and buttons, like a map of my body was burned into the skin of his mind.
I wondered if he still loved me the way he did before.
Raising a hand to his cheek, I guided his lips back to mine, feeling a little emotional over how perfectly he fit.
My lips over his, his lips over mine, both of us taking turns being the kisser and the one being kissed, a silent conversation between the both of us in the quiet of that room.
I missed you.
I thought about you every day.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
In the midst of our wordless conversation, my fingers crept under the cotton of his shirt, the pearl between my legs humming at the firmness of his body under his clothes.
By touch alone, I knew the hills and valleys of his muscular form had been well-maintained in my absence.
Even after all this time, the image of his body in its full glory was still fresh in my memory.
Perhaps I’d held onto it as best as I could, for fear I might never see it again.
I could remember the definition of the muscles along his abdomen, jutting out to meet the curves of my own body under the sheets of whatever bed we’d found ourselves in that summer.
I could remember the decorative geometric tattoo on his left pectoral muscle, how I remembered tracing my fingers along its prettiness as we laid together some nights.
I remembered every hair, every spot, and every birthmark.
I could remember taking him into my hands, feeling him get harder and watching him grow. It was with enamored awe that I would admire his beauty, both my mouth and kitty watering, my body hungry to get him inside of me somehow.
I was always such an excited giver with Kain.
Coming back into the moment, breathed a sigh of relief over the fact that I didn’t have to hold onto the memories so desperately anymore.
I had the real man right here, pressed against the palms of my hands.
It was with renewed urgency that I felt the need to see him the way I remembered him once again.
My hands gripped at the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in a momentary halt of our kisses.
In an instant, my arms were around him, pulling him to me in a need to feel his skin against mine.
The warmth of his body greeted me like an old friend, holding me so tight you’d think he was trying to prove to himself that this was all real.
“Did you dream about me, too?” I whispered, finding the front of his jeans under my hand, dragging the zipper down with deliberate leisure.
“All the time,” he breathed, pulling his head back and analyzing the details of my face.
I didn’t have to wonder if he found me pretty.
Though his eyes were investigative, I didn’t feel uncomfortable.
Kain always looked at me like I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
Even now. I could remember why it was difficult to feel insecure under his piercing gaze.
I leaned into the distance between us, closing it with a touch of my lips to his. When he parted my lips, I readily welcomed him inside, eager to taste him on my tongue, hungry for the warmth of his passion to caress me in ways only he seemed to know how.
My fingertips at the waistband of his pants pulled down, dragging down his boxer briefs with them, before taking his hardness into my hands.
I loved the way his body responded to my touch, feeling him grow rigid against my palm, sensing his body tense ever so slightly at the first initial touch before relaxing again.
I loved the sounds he made against my lips as my hand ran up and down the length of his hard flesh, the way it twitched in my hand, the way his breathing changed just a little.
When Kain was turned on, he took deeper breaths, tickling the tiny hairs on my skin with each of his equally long exhales.
Damn, when was the last time I thought the way a man breathed was sexy?
It was with this thought that I realized the close attention I paid to Kain’s body, his responses, his everything in that moment—it was the same for him and my body.
We knew each other’s bodies with ease, a roadmap we’d taught ourselves a year and a half ago, and still remembered as if it were yesterday.
Half-smiling, I inched down from his lips, leaving a trail of kisses along his neck and down his chest before ultimately coming down to the throbbing erection I held in my hand.
When it came to Kain, I used to love giving head.
I think I might’ve done it almost every other day the summer I tried it for the first time.
The feeling of having complete control of his body as he remained at the mercy of my mouth would forever be a turn on.
My tongue slipped out and circled around the head of his length twice before my head dipped lower so I could take a little over half of him into my mouth before he hit the back of my throat.
It was with measured concentration that I slowly took the rest of him down the length of my throat, inch by inch, slow at first to keep my gag reflex at bay.
In the sixteen months I’d spent having bad sex with intentionally bad replacements, I could at least find benefit in the fact that I’d learned a few things.
I highly doubted that Kain was the type to feel insecure over the appearance of new skills. When my chin met the skin of his scrotum, I knew I’d taken all of him in. I also would’ve known from the way his voice turned gravelly when he swore a singular, “Shit,” under his breath.
The taste of his flesh along my tongue was like an aphrodisiac, getting me riled up enough to stick my hand down my underwear to meet my throbbing clit as my head came up for its first ascension.
With my fingers circling feverishly around the nub of my sex, I brought my head down a little slower, repeating the process before my cautious speeds were cast away and I developed a rapid bobbing rhythm.
My hand in my panties matched the momentum of my bobbing head, taking all of him in and then three-quarters of him out before coming back down again in repetition, working the muscles of my throat to massage the veiny brown skin of his appendage.
Careful not to bite down, I lightly teased with my teeth grazing the skin of his sensitive head, tasting a hint of precum on my tongue before taking him all in again.
His groans and breathless encouragements weren’t enough for me.
I wanted to make him yell, shout, maybe even scream.
I wanted to make him go temporarily insane.
My hand slipped out of my underwear, my fingers slick and moist when I took his balls into my palm, eliciting a marginally louder reaction out of him I noted with a full-mouthed smirk.
My hand wasn’t out of my underwear for thirty seconds before Kain replaced my now busy hand with his own, obviously knowing just the right places to touch me between my thighs.
The expertise of his hands was both euphoric and annoying, in the way that he made me quiver into the edge of an orgasm with his fingers alone.
I moaned, a vibration of sound that stimulated the sensitive skin of his penis enough to have him moaning with me.
What a beautiful sound it was, lost in a cloud of pleasure, no holds barred.
Just free. This was the sign I needed to know that he was close.
With that, my speed increased exponentially, taking his entire length down with a hungry speed that triggered my gag reflex once or twice, but I didn’t slow down.
Not until I felt his balls in my hand tense only slightly, and then twitch with each supply of his hot semen hitting the back of my throat, collecting into a miniature pool on my tongue.
Kain’s hand settled into the back of my head, combing through my hair and holding my mouth to him as he climaxed a seemingly never-ending supply.
He swore again, something disarmed and weakened about the cadence of his voice, something conquered.
I rose my head from him, a triumphant smile crossing into my features as I met his eyes.
Kain was breathing like he’d just run a marathon, eyes on me like I turned out to be the opponent he’d underestimated.
And I suppose, in some ways, I was. When I gulped down the warm seed he’d emptied out into my mouth, I could’ve sworn I saw his dick coming alive all over again.
“Lauren,” he said between breaths, tone in amused disbelief when he asked, “How the fuck?”