Chapter Twelve #2
"Jesus," he rasps, sinking a hand into my hair. His lips come down on mine, his kiss as wild as it is healing. "You're perfect, Hattie. So fucking perfect."
"Show me," I breathe. That's what I need right now. I need him on top of me. I need him inside me. I need the whole world to disappear while he loves me the way only he can.
I don't have to ask twice.
He tumbles me backward, his body covering mine. His lips brush my eyelids, and then each of my cheeks, before he kisses me in that way only he can—the way that says I'm his and he's mine and nothing else matters to him.
I'm not sure he stops kissing me at all as he strips me bare, his calloused fingers running over every inch of my skin. I strip him too, my fingers stiff and awkward and eager as I help pull his shirt off and then his pants.
"You're so fucking stunning," he breathes, kissing his way down my body, reverence in his voice. His lips seek out every single place my mother ever taught me to be self-conscious about, pressing fervent worship over the wounds her words left behind.
I don't feel shy or exposed or like I'm not enough. With his words ringing in my ears and his sincerity washing over me, I don't feel anything except whole and perfect.
"Sidney!" I sob, my thighs clamping around his head when he dives between them, worshipping there too. He eats me in long, slow strokes that make me writhe, and then in relentless, greedy strikes that leave me babbling his name.
I come again and again, caught in a web of pleasure so intense, I don't ever want it to end. I want to die right here, with this man on his knees between my legs, eating me like he's addicted.
His tongue dips lower, circling my back entrance, and I'm pretty sure I do die. I scream as I shatter, falling to pieces. My lungs cease to function. So does my brain. I'm just pleasure and cum and moans beneath him.
"Damn, butterfly," he groans, crawling up my body with this satisfied look on his face that sets me on fire all over again. "If I knew eating your tasty little asshole would make you come like that, I'd have been doing it days ago."
"Sidney," I groan, my cheeks heating. I try to cover my face, but he just chuckles and pulls my hands away.
"Don't hide from me. Nothing we do in this bed or any other should bring you a second of shame. I'm damn sure not ashamed of making you come all over me," he murmurs, stroking my cheeks. "I plan to spend the rest of my life playing out every filthy fantasy you've ever had."
"Every single one?"
"So long as they don't involve anyone else," he amends, hitching my leg over his hip. "I will kill a motherfucker for touching you."
"I don't want anyone else to touch me, Sidney. Just you."
He groans, snapping his hips forward. I writhe as he stretches and fills me, my eyes rolling back in my head. God, that first thrust is always so damn perfect.
"Say that again, butterfly," he growls. "Tell me that I'm the only man for you."
"You're the only man for me," I gasp immediately, willing to give him anything. "I only want you."
"Fuck." He presses his face to my throat, breathing deeply. "I love you."
"I love you, too."
His lips slide across my cheek, seeking my mouth. He kisses me breathless as he makes love to me, every thrust slow and deep, like he plans to stay just like this all night long.
I lose track of time. I lose track of everything except the way our bodies move together as he drives me higher and higher, whispering sweetness and filth in equal measure. One minute, I'm the best thing that ever happened to him. The next, he loves the way I strangle his cock.
I'm not sure if I like his sweetness or his dirty side more. I think I like them both equally, especially when he unleashes them on me all at once. It's impossible to feel anything less than perfect with this man on top of me, inside of me, rattling my bones with the strength of his devotion.
He rattles my entire world when his pace quickens, his hips slamming against mine. He's so deep, I feel him everywhere. He fucks me so hard, I can't catch my breath. And still, his hands are gentle and loving as they run across my body, igniting new fires everywhere he touches.
"You gotta come for me, butterfly," he groans, sweat rolling down his chest. "I need to feel you falling apart all over my cock."
"Please," I gasp. "I need…"
He slips his hand between us. I expect him to play with my clit, except he doesn't. His hand slips lower, spreading my cheeks. His thumb presses against my back entrance.
"This?" he asks, his voice dark and gritty. "You need me to play with this little hole until you're screaming the fucking roof down, baby?"
"Yes!" I shout, raking my nails down his arms.
The way he chuckles will haunt my favorite dreams for the next decade.
"Maybe I'll do this instead," he whispers, his eyes locked on my face as he applies gentle pressure to the tight ring of muscle. Little by little, it gives way, his thumb slipping inside me.
I choke on his name, my eyes rolling wildly. It's pleasure and pain, my body full in a way it's never been. "Sidney. Oh, God…"
He slams into me again, his thumb working me open at the same time.
I lose my damn mind, coming so fast and so hard the whole world goes black at the edges. The only thing left is his green eyes locked on mine and the way he watches me like he's never going to look away.
"Hattie," he groans, planting himself deep. "Christ, Hattie. I love you!"
His big body shakes as he empties himself inside me, coming until I'm so full of him, he drips down the crevice of my ass. I go limp beneath him, shaking and shuddering. But he's insatiable.
He slides down my body, throwing my legs over his shoulders. I sob as he licks up the mess he made, snarling like a beast. By the time he's done, I'm no cleaner, but I have come again.
He crawls up my body again, falling beside me.
"I love the way I taste on you," he murmurs, tugging me into his arms. "Maybe I shouldn't, but I fucking love knowing that I'm the one who made the mess I get to clean up.
It's proof that you're mine and I'm yours, and not a damn thing will ever change that. "
I whimper, burying my face in his throat. "Feel free to do that anytime," I pant.
He chuckles, palming my ass. "Plan on it, butterfly."
We lay in silence, tangled together as we come down. Neither of us says anything for a long moment as his hands drift through my hair, untangling the strands.
"What happened with Tye?" I finally whisper into the silence.
He tips my head back, looking at me. "You worried about it?"
"A little bit," I admit.
"It's all good, butterfly," he says, his eyes locked with mine. "Just like I told you it would be."
"You two didn't fight again?"
"No, we didn't fight again," he promises. "We talked."
"Is he…mad at me?"
"Hell no," Sidney growls. "He's not even mad at me, butterfly. He wasn't thrilled about walking in on us, but he's mostly just worried." His hand runs down my side. "He knows how much you hate being the center of attention. He's afraid being with me will make you a target."
"I've always been a target," I mutter. "Whether I'm with you or not, that won't really change, not until people do. But you know what?"
"What's that?"
"I don't feel like a target with you," I whisper.
"For the first time, I feel like I belong.
Nothing anyone says matters. I don't care if they think I'm good enough for you or if they make fun of me.
I feel like enough." My eyes sting as I stare up at him.
"You make me feel that way, Cranky Bear. You and the way you look at me."
"Jesus," he rumbles, kissing me breathless again. "You aren't a target, butterfly. At least, you won't be. Not if I have anything to say about it."
"It might not be up to you," I remind him gently. "You're a public figure. You can't control what other people say or think or write."
"Watch me, Hattie baby," he growls.
I just smile at him, shaking my head. Maybe he can control what people do, I don't know. But it doesn't matter because they don't matter. The only one who matters is right here, right now, holding me like I'm his world.
Screw what anyone else has to say. For a lifetime of this, it'll be worth it. This is worth anything.