Chapter 9 #4
“The physical shell is only a covering for what’s inside.
What the masses consider the most beautiful woman means nothing.
Mistaking beauty for connection—absurd. Why would I settle for a delusion if I could experience a real spark?
And you have one in you. I can taste it.
It’s never what you look like, Marietta, it’s what you choose to show. ”
His fingers combed through the hair at my nape, pulling my head back.
“Show me that spark. Feel it and return it. That’s what matters.”
The heat that had cooled pumped again. “And if I’m disappointing?”
“Then we will be disappointing together. Would you be happier to know that you are not the only one with uncertainties?” He nipped my ear and laid me back. “Know then that I’m scared witless.”
Somehow I couldn’t believe him as his mouth covered mine, his hands moving down my body to soothe the tremors.
“Let me have you. I’ve known the want of it since we first kissed. Since you first released that passion. I want to draw out every pearl.”
His words, his hands—I was the snake and he the charmer. “Yes.” I released it on a moan as something hard pressed against me, right where I needed it most. He rocked against me and I rocked back, wanting the pressure, the heat. My body was restless, agitated, needing something I couldn’t name.
“That’s it. Don’t hold back any response.” His voice was deep, primal. “There’s no one here. Just the two of us. I want you wet and burning all over my sheets.”
I didn’t understand, but my body seemed to. It kept trying to press closer to his, and the heat was turning damp. He had his shirt undone and tossed to the side. He crouched over me, bare-chested and perfectly formed.
“Show me what you feel, Marietta.”
My head tipped back and my mouth opened in a silent scream as he tugged my nipple into his mouth and sucked. Like it was his mission, his life’s work—he didn’t stop until the heat became unbearable, the dampness grew.
He moved to my other breast and I arched into him, trying to make full contact with his body again. My nipple appeared with a pop and he smiled dangerously at me. Green eyes rakish and daring. Hair mussed and charming.
Without a doubt, I had never felt more powerful—or undone.
He stood and undid his trousers. Perfectly formed, watching me with a hungry stare. Curiosity. Fear. Power. Here was what all the ladies tittered or dithered about. I wanted to touch him. I wanted to hide. I wanted to offer myself as tribute.
He lifted me and threw the covers back, laying me out. “Do you ever touch yourself, Marietta?” His fingers caressed my stomach and ran farther south. “Here.” His fingers stroked between my legs. I jumped. Shifted. The heat was calling me there.
He turned me toward him, so we were lying on our sides, facing each other.
“Watch what I’m doing.” His fingers parted me, lightly teasing.
“Easing the way. Preparing you so that everything feels good, nothing feels bad.” One finger dipped and caressed just inside the edge.
“To make it so we slide together perfectly.”
I watched the top part of his finger disappear.
My breath caught as it moved inside of me an inch.
He pressed closer. “Keep none of your lovely songs unheard. Tell me exactly what you feel, with breaths, with words, with whatever comes out. You don’t know how much I wish that finger was a different part of my body right now. ”
I looked between our bodies at the portion of him that was much larger than a finger. I hesitantly reached out to touch him. Silky, hard. His finger curled inside me and something rocketed through my core. My grip tightened.
He laughed, somewhat less steadily. “Don’t hesitate to touch whatever fascinates you. The best feedback goes both ways.”
I stroked, watched as he strained to my hand. He took my other fingers and placed them on top of his, dipping them inside of me. My eyes closed and he kissed me, quick and hard.
“Look and feel. Move them where you feel the burn, where you want it most.”
His middle finger joined his first as he delved inside me, the hard pads of his fingers stroking my soft interior, increasing the heat. Right there. My eyes grew heavy, and I pressed my fingers into his as his curled deeper inside me. Hitting something that made my body twitch.
He pressed his thumb there, stroking the same spot. Heat shot through me. I arched into him, pulling along his length.
“Shhh.” His voice was heavy and strained. “I know. You’re perfect. Just a little more.”
More fingers disappeared inside me. Doing something, some dance within. The heat wanted to explode, needed to explode.
He was an exceptional dancer.
His mouth returned to my breasts. Spirits. I arched forward, into his mouth, into his hands. The butterflies beat a mad staccato. His fingers withdrew and he framed my face with his hands.
“I’m going to have you now, Marietta.”
I leaned forward and kissed him, my body arching into his. Any uncertainty had been obliterated by the trust he had engendered with his slow movements and running dialogue.
He wouldn’t hurt me.
I felt a nudge against my curls, even though his hands were still touching my cheeks as we lay on our sides, face-to-face. “Rest your knee on top of mine.”
I did as he suggested, opening a vee between my legs. The tip of him pushed against me, just as his fingers had. Heat swirled.
“We’ll go a little bit at a time. Push against me every time you feel able.”
I gave a little push and felt some resistance. I paused. He kissed me.
“Sweet and slippery. Your body needs to adjust,” he whispered against my lips.
He pulled the tip of one nipple between his fingers. I arched toward him, the heat demanding satisfaction. Another inch inside.
“Shhh, love. Hold yourself there for a second. Try not to move.” He continued to play, to drop kisses on my neck and chest, and I gritted my teeth to keep from moving. He pulled out an inch, then pushed back in. A wave of heaviness passed over me. Anxiety grew—to move, to reach something.
“Halfway, love. Which—”
I grabbed his head and pulled him toward me, kissing him hard. Breaking his touch on my breast and dragging him more inside me. His eyes were bright green and triumphant when he pulled away.
He flipped us so he was lying on top of me, his hands braced on either side of my head.
He pulled out and gave a short thrust and then another, the promised slide materializing as he pushed farther in.
My feet scrambled on the bed, trying to find purchase to push up, to reach that heat that everything to this point had promised.
“Keep pushing, that’s right. Wrap your legs around me. Follow everything your body tells you and let go of the rest.”
He pulled back and thrust all the way. My head fell back, the feeling too much, and I moaned, deep and loud. I was too far gone to feel embarrassment. I just wanted relief.
“Don’t forget to breathe, Marietta. Deep breaths. Moaning is good. That’s right.”
He thrust in again, the long length of him spearing me and lifting me an inch off the bed.
Wrapped around him, my legs trembled, trying to press up, trying to get him to touch the place that he had just rubbed.
He pulled back, and when he thrust this time, I lifted my hips to meet his.
He slotted into a place where only he belonged.
The edge of my vision went hazy. Sparks of flint ignited, my mouth caught in a silent scream.
“Sweet and lovely. Let go, love.”
He thrust again and again and I followed his direction and let go of everything. Moaning and gasping against his shoulder, I burst apart in his arms, butterflies scattering to the four corners of the room.