Chapter 9 #3
He was as flushed as I was, and his blue eyes were blazing with passion impossible to hide or misinterpret. “I’ve got to make sure it’s good for you.”
Feeling swelled up in my heart. “It will be good, Gideon. Just being with you will be good. Let’s not aim too high our first time.”
He shook his head. “I’m not aiming too high.
” Then he lowered his face to suckle my breast again before he kissed a line down my belly.
I shifted my hips as desire pulsed strongly between my thighs, and more so as his mouth got even lower.
He slanted his eyes up to me with an obvious question. “May I?”
I hadn’t been expecting it, and I was immediately uncomfortable.
But it wasn’t the rising of demons or the flash of dark memory.
It was a vaguer discomfort—self-consciousness and anxiety and uncertainty and confusion.
But none of that was strong enough to make me say no.
I nodded silently and watched as his mouth trailed even lower.
I gave a soft little cry when he brushed his mouth against my arousal through my panties. He teased and nuzzled until I couldn’t hold myself still, and I reached up to fist my hands in the pillow on either side of my head.
“Oh, God,” I mumbled, arching up and spreading my thighs farther apart.
“Do you like that?” His mouth was muffled by my flesh, but I could understand the words clearly.
“Uh huh.” I hissed through my teeth as his tongue darted out to stroke a quick line. The fabric of my panties was damp now and not just from his mouth. “Oh, yeah.”
He grabbed the sides of the waistband and gently pulled my underwear off. I was more self-conscious as he stared at my completely naked and exposed body.
No one else got to see my body. No one else would ever get to see my body. And even with Gideon, I felt like I needed to cover back up.
“Everything about you is beautiful,” he murmured, finally resuming his activity without the layer of fabric between his mouth and my flesh.
I cried out at the intensified sensation.
“Good.” He was making halting little murmurs, muffled by my body, as if he couldn’t help but say the thoughts out loud. “So good. Let me make you feel good.”
Now, I’d never before been a particularly noisy lover. I was always afraid it would be kind of distracting and obnoxious. But I felt completely out of control, and I couldn’t seem to restrain the sounds.
He found my clit with his tongue and teased little circles around it.
I made a sound like “eh” every time he gave it a hard jab.
Then he moved his mouth a little lower and found a different spot to attend to.
He slid his tongue in and out around my entrance with a rhythm that made me pump my hips and groan loudly.
“That’s right, baby,” he mumbled, trying to hold my hips steady enough to keep up his ministrations. “Don’t hold back. Don’t hold anything back.”
When he moved back to my clit, I was choking on helpless exclamations of pleasure. He seemed to recognize my condition because he closed his lips around my clit hard. I broke, my back flying up off the bed as my whole body shuddered through a hard climax.
He kept suckling my clit, extending the orgasm until I fell back, gasping and limp.
“So beautiful,” he murmured, lifting his head to gaze at my face. “You came so beautifully.”
I’m not sure I came beautifully, but I certainly came hard. I was just starting to catch my breath when he slid one finger inside me, spilling the moisture and stroking my inner walls.
I made a strangled sound and arched up again. When he joined the first finger with another, he started to pump rhythmically. I was so far gone from the first orgasm that I didn’t need any buildup.
I reached my arms out to clutch at the sheet as a new pressure tightened between my legs. When he teased my clit again briefly with his tongue, I cried out loudly.
He raised his head to stare hungrily up my body to my face. “That’s right, baby. Come again for me. I want you to feel as good as I can make you.”
I was definitely going to come again although I wouldn’t have believed it was possible. I made soft little grunts and pumped my hips against his hand.
My voice was hoarse when I reached climax again, but I couldn’t hold back the verbal response. My body clenched around his pumping fingers as the pleasure swept through me.
“That’s right. Good, baby. Ride it out for me. Just like that.”
This time, when I finally went limp, I felt completely wiped out. I gasped out some silly words, “So good. Thank you. Oh, God,” and then tugged on his shoulders until he raised himself up and repositioned his body between my legs.
He was still fully dressed, but I could feel the bulge of his arousal against my hip.
“Thank you,” I said again, sliding my fingers through his hair. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He kissed me, lightly at first and then even deeper. We kissed for a long time, and the closeness I felt in the kiss distracted me from any potential anxiety.
I could feel in his body that he needed release though, so I finally pulled away. “It’s time to take off your clothes too.”
He smiled, although I could see that he was holding himself under rigid control as if he was worried about letting loose the extent of his need.
Together we managed to fumble around until he was as naked as I was.
I reached down for his erection and stroked it gently, feeling strange and anxious and tender all at once.
I really liked how he huffed in response to my touch, and I also liked how he gave a little jerk of his hips into my hands, a small sign of his faltering control.
“Are you really okay with this?” he asked hoarsely, settling himself between my legs.
“I am. I’m more than okay.”
“Do you want me to get a condom?”
I shook my head. “No. Just you.” I’d started birth control last month when it was clear we would eventually get to this point. So there was nothing left to do now but for him to carefully guide himself in.
I sucked in a breath as he entered me, my body both tight and pliant around him. He groaned when he was finally sheathed inside me and dropped his head momentarily into the crook of my neck.
“Are you okay?” I asked, tugging at his head.
He raised up to smile down on me. “A little worried about embarrassing myself.”
I pulled him down into a kiss, and he met it with equal passion. It was unexpectedly tender, the lingering kiss while we were joined in this most intimate of ways, and neither one of us seemed inclined to break it.
Eventually he started to rock his hips, matching the stroking motion of his tongue in my mouth. But the rocking was slow, gently, rhythmic, and it made me groan at the back of my throat.
It went on like that for a long time, kissing and rocking together. I was totally wrapped up in Gideon—in his strength and gentleness and passion and generous heart—and nothing about it felt scary or dirty or traumatic.
Finally, though, he started to lose control. He lifted his head and began to grunt softly as his motion became more urgent. He moved harder between my legs, and the bed shook slightly from the motion.
It sent little flickers of familiar fear into my mind, but I made myself instead focus on Gideon’s face. It was tight with effort and suppressed pleasure, but his eyes were nakedly needy and overwhelmed. He was starting to say my name on each instroke, and perspiration had broken out on his face.
I wasn’t going to come, but I loved, needed, to see his pleasure, his satisfaction, his slow breaking of the restraints on his body and heart, his letting the rush of desire free.
He needed this—needed me—so much, and he’d had to wait so long. Nothing could match the pleasure of giving him this. I loved it so much I made helpless little sounds to match the grunts he was making.
I stroked his back and then down to his ass, digging my nails in as his motion became choppy. He choked on my name as all the tension in his body tightened and then released, as the pleasure shuddered through him, all of it reflected on his face.
I pulled him into a hug as his body relaxed, and we lay tangled together, hugging and gasping. It was a long time before he found the energy to pull himself up, but I didn’t mind.
When he finally did, he gazed down at me, and I saw something as clearly as I’d ever seen anything else.
I’d always assumed that, if I was able to have sex again, it would be a clear victory for me, a sign that I’d reached a certain level of healing. But I could tell—there was no way I could fail to see—that this was also a victory for him.