He crouches in front of me and places a hand on either knee. I try to think of the reasons why we shouldn't do this, but all I can think about is the pressure of his hands on my legs.
His hand trails up my thigh, and even through my thick sweatpants, I feel it all the way to my core.
There are a hundred reasons why we shouldn't do this: the kids, the adoption board, the timing.
But as his fingers inch closer toward the top of my thighs, none of it matters.
I lean forward on the bed, cup his face in both hands, and kiss him hard. His lips are firm and sweet and the sensation crashes over me like a wave, making me wonder why I've denied myself this for so long.
"I have to tell you something."
Amos peers up at me with concern. "What is it?"
"I've never done this before."
His eyes widen and his hand stops, grasping the inside of my thigh. "Are you a virgin?"
I bit my lower lip and nod my head. How do I explain that I'm twenty-six and still a virgin?
"When you grow up in foster care, you don't have many things that are your own. There were plenty of times I could've done it, when I was way too young to understand what it was all about. But even then, I knew this was one part of myself I could keep. So I pushed away all the boys who tried. And then, as I got older, I got into this line of work. The kids always came first. Always. I didn't want to be with a man when a child might need me."
He takes my hands in his.
"It's okay to put yourself first sometimes, Alana. It's okay to give yourself pleasure."
I raise an eyebrow. "I know how to give myself pleasure. Don't worry about that."
His eyes darken, and he pushes me gently back on the bed. "I want you to lie back, Alana. You've put everyone else first for too long. Tonight, I'm putting you first."
He sits back on his heels between my thighs. I sit up on my elbows so I can watch him as he peels off my sweatpants.
"You're a fucking saint, Alana. You deserve to be worshipped. And tonight, I'm going to worship every part of your body like you deserve. Now lie the fuck down and enjoy it."
As he says it, he slides my sweatpants down my thighs. His fingers trail over my calves, then over my ankles.
The cool air makes the hairs on my legs stand on end. His mouth presses to my thigh, and the contrast of heat and cold makes me shiver.
His mouth moves up my leg, searing every part of my skin he touches. He pushes my legs apart as he gets to the top of my thigh. His lips press to my damp panties, and I suck a breath in between my teeth.
"Amos..." My hands reach for him, and I get a handful of hair.
"Let me take care of you, Alana."
No one's ever taken care of me before. I learned at a young age to take care of myself. My head comes up to watch this man between my thighs.
He peels my panties off, excruciatingly slow. Then kisses up my legs again, moving from my thighs to the most sensitive place between my legs. And then he's licking me in places I've never been licked.
I gasp at the contact—his rough tongue against my softest places. He slides a hand under me and lifts my leg and places it over his shoulder, opening me up like a flower. I've never been this vulnerable for anybody.
I sit up on my elbows, watching as this powerful man makes me feel so good. One hand slides between my legs, and his palm strokes me as his tongue flicks and kisses my sensitive bud.
Then his fingers are inside me, and I cry out at the sensation. My hips buckle. I want more. I want more of him. I want more of everything.
I clutch the sheets and press my lips together to stop from crying out.
Amos doesn't relent. He keeps licking and stroking and thrusting until my world explodes. I bite my lower lip, trying so hard not to make a sound as my body convulses.
When I sit up, Amos's eyes go wide.
