Chapter Twenty-Six #2
“I like your stabbing.” I keep exploring his chest, every divot and raised line. “There are a lot of scars.”
“Likely more to come. I hope that won’t mar your future viewing pleasure.”
“It won’t. As lovely as the package is, what I really see…” I rise until my face is above his. “Is what’s beneath it.”
His cheeks flush, and I tug him into bed with me. He deftly maneuvers until he’s under me, and then I lean down to kiss him.
“Is this where I’m allowed to say I love you?” I whisper.
His eyes burn, and he reaches up, pulling me down into a kiss. It’s long and slow, and my mind whirls and floats until I open my eyes and realize I’m looking up at Bishop, with him over me.
“I’m not done with my exploration,” I say, pushing at him lightly as he kisses my neck.
“Then you shouldn’t have said the magic words.”
“I didn’t. I asked whether it was all right to say them.”
“Too late.” His lips move to my ear. “You said the words, and now I must do something I have never done before. With anyone.”
“Never?”
He pulls back to look at me. “Never.”
“That is either intriguing or concerning. Possibly both.”
He chokes out a laugh. “Hopefully not concerning.”
“What are you going to do?”
He brushes a strand of hair from my face, the other hand cupping my cheek. “Make love to someone. More specifically, make love to my wife, but I feel as if I should be clear and use the more generic term.”
“You have never made love?”
“I came close once, in a forest, chasing the most delectable nymph, throwing her down and … Well, it was an act of love, certainly, but I don’t think it quite qualified as lovemaking.”
“So what does?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“You raise a lot of questions.”
He kisses me before I can ask another, and it’s another long, sweet kiss, his hands traveling down my sides and then back up to wrap in my hair before he lifts his head, face over mine.
“No objections?” he asks.
“Is objecting an option?”
“It’s always an option, though I wouldn’t advise it. I intend to make this a wedding night to remember.”
I tilt my head. “That sounds like a challenge. Are you sure you’re up for it?”
His hand guides mine to the rock-hard bulge in his trousers. “I don’t know. Am I?”
“I mean … if you haven’t done this before, I’m not sure you should be making any promises.”
He throws back his head and laughs. “I believe I know what I’m doing.”
“But you said—”
He cuts me off with a kiss. Then his lips move over my chin and down my throat as I lean my head back, eyes closed, luxuriating in the soft tickle as his lips move down over my collarbone.
The kisses circle one breast and then the other before his tongue does the same to my nipples, taking each in his mouth, pulling gently, tongue teasing as I arch up.
He moves on far too soon for my liking, but considering where he’s heading, I suppose I can’t complain. Bishop continues at that glacial pace, tasting and tickling and kissing, over my stomach and then my thighs and then my inner thighs.
When I sigh and spread my legs, he chuckles, and I feel that laugh vibrate through me.
He keeps on with what he’s doing, though, taking his time and finally reaching where I want him to be.
His tongue teases, barely touching as I squirm.
I keep waiting for the deep kiss, the searching tongue, but it stays light, and I finally relax and enjoy what he’s offering.
Lovemaking. That’s what he’s offering. Taking time and care, and slowly igniting each inch of my body. As his tongue flicks and his lips move, his hands do, too, down my thighs, up my belly, exploring me as I’d done to him.
I sink back into the bed and spread my legs wider, fully opening myself to him and closing my eyes to enjoy the tease and tickle of his tongue as it slides in, excruciatingly slow, his face pressed against me as his tongue goes in, deep as it can reach, and then flicks inside, the sensation making my fists grip the sheets as I moan.
His tongue moves in and out, fucking me slowly, and then his teeth graze my clitoris, and I think it’s an accidental touch and whimper softly, but he only chuckles and does it again, knowing full well what he’s doing of course, until it’s all too much and I come, crying out in ecstasy and relief.
His mouth moves back the way it came, over my inner thighs, up my stomach, pausing at my breasts before rising to my ear.
“I love you,” he says. “This is nothing I ever expected, and it is everything I ever wanted. You’re everything I ever wanted.”
He slides into me then, excruciatingly, tenderly slow, letting me feel him filling me, feel the want and the need and, yes, the love.
Then he’s in me, all the way in me, and it’s not like the first time, where it was all delirious sensation, rising to a quick crescendo.
I can feel him inside me, and I arch my hips, opening more, and then there is more, the last inches that he’d held back, making sure.
He pulls out and pushes in again, and it is incredible. Each time he thrusts, he picks up speed, only to try checking himself, to slow down, but I push up against him, urging him on, telling him I love him, want him, need him.
“My Delia,” he says as the crescendo builds. “My wife. My mate. Mine.”
“Yours,” I say. “Forever yours.”
And that does it. For both of us.