Chapter Thirty-Nine #2
The kiss is slow, soft, and sweet—just a taste, a little nibble, as if he is afraid of taking too much. That doesn’t matter. I have always been drawn to the slow, the soft, the sweet, and I lean in, seeking more.
It feels like a scene from a romantic movie. I feel the click I have been searching for, and I let myself sink into the kiss and into the moment with Reuben.
It changes things, and we both know it. I lay a hand on his cheek, then slide my fingers up, running them through his hair and ruffling it playfully.
Did he deepen the kiss, or did I? I’m not entirely sure; I just know that everything inside me wants more.
He eases back, his eyes still on me. This time, I link my arms around his neck, and a hum in my body resonates in my throat as he grips my hips.
Then I turn to him. I want that warmth, that jumpy, nervous thrill.
“I remember this part,” he murmurs against my mouth as his hands begin to glide.
I instinctively reach up when he starts pulling the pins from my hair. “Oh, it’s going to be—”
“Amazing,” he says. “There’s so much to do, so much of you to explore.”
He takes a moment, studying my face, watching the light and shadows play over it. He sees it countless times and knows every angle by heart. And still . . . it still appears new to him.
And when he brings his mouth to mine, the time for thinking ends.
He has shut off his needs for so long, but now he rediscovers the warmth embracing him. To want again—to be wanted—feels miraculous and gloriously normal. I reach for him.
He lets my hands run over his tough muscles, contrasting with my long arms and satin-smooth skin.
As he lifts my tank top over my head, I arch my back to help him. Then he skims his hands lightly over my breasts before simply laying his head there with my heart drumming beneath him.
I feel so cherished. The feel of his hands against my skin is nearly reverent, his lips lingering as if the taste of my flesh is as vital as breath.
His mouth brings fresh, nearly forgotten thrills that make my body shimmer and my heart swoon. His hands stoke heat, igniting little fires in my blood.
More of him; all I know is I want more.
I decide to return the favor, and with a murmur of approval, I run my hands over his chest and shoulders. When our eyes meet in the shadows, I smile.
“Don’t look so proud,” I admonish him in a playful and mocking tone.
I think to myself as my fingers brush over his cheek. I’ve always been half in love with his hazel eyes.
“Reuben,” I murmur and draw his mouth back to mine.
He halts the rush with a long, sumptuous kiss. When I press against him, offering, opening, demanding, he uses his hands on me, and with my pussy so hot, so wet, so soft, he gives me that first, gasping release.
I’m sure he feels like a god when my body, a wonder of female strength, goes weak.
Reuben takes his due, tasting my skin, nipping at pulses that thrum and drum, letting his hands roam everywhere, taking everything until he is rendered breathless with longing.
Something draws me out of pleasure land, and I can swear I hear the doorbell ring above the music. Still, my senses are so clouded, and at this point, I don’t care about anything else other than the pleasure Reuben is providing.
And when he slips inside me, it feels like the last key in a lock. He lowers his forehead to mine and pulls out for a moment or two, trying to pace himself again.
When he finally enters me for the second time, it’s with a gentleness that feels strange compared to the passion burning between us. We move together, finding a rhythm that feels as natural as breathing. The world narrows down to this moment, just us.
I gasp his name as waves of pleasure wash over me, and he follows soon after, burying his face in the crook of my neck as he reaches his own release.
As he orgasms, I frame his face with my hands and look into his eyes while losing himself in mine. He lets himself go, taking his time now and riding while I move and wrap around him. At that moment, I know I am doomed. There is no way I can resist him after this.
With our hunger finally satiated, we lie there quietly for a long time, winded and dazed as if we’ve run a marathon in the desert heat. As our breathing slowly returns to normal, Reuben traces lazy patterns on my skin, and I nuzzle into his chest, feeling safer and more content than ever.
“Mariah,” he whispers. “I love you. I think I have for a while now.” Then he pulls me closer, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.
As we drift off to sleep, wrapped in each other’s arms, I realize that this is what real love feels like—not the fairy tale version I used to dream about, but something deeper and more profound. A love born out of shared experiences, mutual respect, and a connection that goes beyond the physical.
Our journey to this point has been unconventional, to say the least. A fake engagement turned into something real, a conspiracy that brought us closer together, and a love that blossomed in the most unexpected circumstances.
But as I lie here, listening to the steady beat of Reuben’s heart, I know that I wouldn’t change a thing. Every twist and turn has led us to this perfect moment of understanding and love.
As sleep finally claims me, I smile, looking forward to waking up next to Reuben and starting our new chapter together—a chapter filled with honesty, trust, and a love that’s all the more precious for having been hard-won.
This is just the beginning, and I can’t wait to see where our story goes from here.