Two Weeks Later #3
She looked up at me, and whatever shyness she’d carried before was nowhere in that room. Her eyes were steady. Her hand was sure. Her mouth curved with a little bit of nerves, a little bit of mischief, and a whole lot of I know exactly who I’m loving.
When her hand wrapped around me, my fingers dug into the couch.
Not because I wanted her to stop.
Because I needed somewhere to put the part of me that had started shaking.
She lowered her mouth over me, and the first warm pull stole every word I thought I had.
My head fell back.
My eyes closed.
My toes curled hard against the rug, and a sound left my throat that didn’t have language, manners, or a single ounce of church decorum.
“Jesus.”
She hummed.
My whole body jerked.
The sound went through me like a live wire, sharp and sweet, and my hand found her locs before I could pretend I had control.
I didn’t pull. I held. I needed the anchor; she had my breath breaking, my thighs tensing, and my hips trying to lift into the rhythm her mouth kept finding like she’d been studying me in secret.
She eased back just enough to look at me.
Her lips were glossy. Her eyes were bright. And the satisfaction on her face almost took me out worse than her mouth had.
She liked it.
She liked seeing me lose my mind.
That truth moved through me low and hot, and my jaw clenched as another shudder worked its way down my spine.
“Baby.”
That was all I had.
No sermon.
No smooth instruction.
Just her name caught somewhere between a warning and a prayer while she took me again, slower this time, deeper, with her hand working what her mouth didn’t cover and her eyes lifting to mine like she wanted to see every second of what she was doing to me.
My chest rose fast.
My shoulders pressed into the couch.
I tried to breathe through my nose and failed.
She hummed again, bold as she pleased, and my grip tightened in her locs while my stomach pulled tight.
“Celeste.”
My voice broke on her name.
She didn’t stop.
That woman had spent weeks learning how to receive love without running from it, and now she was on her knees, giving it back with her hands, her mouth, her eyes, and a confidence so sweetly dangerous my soul started looking for a safe place to sit down.
My foot flexed against the floor.
My hips lifted once before I forced them still.
She noticed.
Of course she did.
Her eyes darkened, and she did it again.
A rough groan tore out of me.
I looked down at her, breath ragged, vision blurred around the edges, and saw my Red glowing in the power of being wanted, trusted, and free.
“Come here,” I managed.
She gave me one last slow pull that made my whole body lock.
I caught her chin with a trembling hand and guided her up before she had me repenting to Big G and apologizing to the furniture.
“Come here, baby.”
She rose with a smile that said she knew exactly what she’d done.
I kissed her with all that heat still on her mouth, and when she moaned into me, the last bit of restraint I’d been holding slipped clean out of my hands.
“Bedroom.”
“No.” My brow lifted. She reached into my pocket and pulled out protection. “Here.” I stared. She smiled. “You said bring the truth.”
“Red, keep this up, and I’ll need a praise break and an ice bath.”
“Later.”
I stood with her in my arms. She wrapped her legs around my waist, laughing as I carried her down the hall. By the time we reached the bedroom, she had my shirt halfway off, hands everywhere like she was reclaiming lost time.
I set her on the bed.
She tore the packet open, hands trembling, eyes steady. She rolled it on slow enough to make me grip the headboard and breathe like I was training for ministry.
“You’re dangerous tonight.”
She looked up. “I trust you.”
That hit deeper than anything else.
Trust.
I moved over her, but she pressed her palm to my chest.
“On your back.”
I held her gaze.
Then I obeyed.
She climbed over me, took me in her hand. Had us both breathing hard. She lowered slowly, inch by inch, choosing it.
“Look at me.” Her eyes found mine. “Keep them on me. I want you to see who’s loving you.”
She sank down fully. We both stilled.
“Josiah.”
“I know.”
Her hands flattened on my chest. When she moved, slow at first, the room narrowed to her. Her breath. Her courage. Fear losing every argument.
“That’s it.” I gripped her hips. “Take what you need.”
She whimpered, rolling her hips again.
“Good girl.”
Her body tightened.
I felt it.
Saw it.
Used it.
“You like that?”
Her head tipped back.
I sat up, wrapped an arm around her waist, kissed beneath her jaw. “Ride me like you missed me.” She cried out. “Slow down. Stay with it.”
“I am.”
“Stay with me.”
Her hands slid around my neck. Her pace deepened, careful at first, then hungry, then raw. I let her lead until her thighs trembled, until her control cracked, then I met her rhythm with force that pulled my name from her.
“There you are. I got you.”
Her nails dug in.
“Josiah.”
“Say you love me.”
“I love you.”
I thrust up, steady.
“Again.”
“I love you, baby.”
That nearly finished me.
I turned her beneath me before I lost control. She laughed, then moaned when I pushed back into her, harder, one hand braced, the other gripping her thigh.
Her eyes widened.
“Too much?”
“No.”
“Use your words.”
“Don’t stop.”
So I didn’t.
I gave her depth, pressure, heat, want wrapped in love. Her body opened, her hands pulled me closer, every sound hitting somewhere sacred.
“Talk to me,” she whispered.
I leaned to her ear. “You feel how much I love you?” She nodded. “Say it.”
“I feel it.”
“You feel how bad I wanted you? How hard I prayed not to mishandle you?”
“Yes.”
“You chose me. I chose you. God put you in front of me, and I knew.”
Her eyes filled.
Even here, something holy found us.
I kissed her temple and kept moving.
“I love you, Celeste.”
“I love you, too.”
Her release hit hard, pulling my name from her. I held her through it, telling her she was beautiful, safe, free.
“That’s it.”
“Let go.”
“I’m here.”
When I followed, my face buried in her neck. I said her name first, then thanked God under my breath.
For a while, we didn’t speak.
I cleaned us up with warm cloths, gentle hands, soft kisses. She watched me with heavy eyes and a stunned smile.
When I climbed back into bed, she came to me.
I wrapped her in my arms.
“Josiah?”
“Yeah?”
“That was . . .”
I kissed her forehead. “Use your words.”
She laughed weakly. “A lot.”
“You asked for spicy.”
“I asked in my spirit. You answered in paragraphs.”
I laughed hard enough to shake her.
Then she grew quiet.
“I love you.”
My arms tightened.
“I love you too, Red.”
She tucked into me. I looked at the ceiling, her warmth pressed close, her locs brushing my shoulder, vanilla lingering in the sheets.
“Thank You, Big G,” I whispered.
For her.
For the words.
For the love growing in a house that used to feel too still.
Celeste’s breathing evened out.
And for the first time in a long time, my future didn’t feel like something I was waiting to build.
It felt like something already growing.