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I slide my fingers through his hair, loving the feel of the thick strands. “As long as I’m with you, there’s no way I could be anything but happy.”
I loosen my legs around his waist when he sits up and gets off the bed. He grabs the waistband of his briefs and slowly slides them down his legs. Almost every inch of his body is covered in beautiful ink. I could look at him for days and never get tired of the view.
My gaze gets snared on his erection when it bobs free. He’s long and thick, the head flared wider than the rest with a bead of clear liquid at the tip.
Anxious jitters form in my stomach, and I bit my lip.
“Rella,” he calls, and my eyes jump to his worried ones. “If I ever hurt you, it would destroy me. Sex isn’t a necessity. I can wait for as long as you need, even if that means forever.”
I get to my knees in front of him, resting my hands on his lower stomach. His abs ripple beneath my touch.
Embarrassment heats my cheeks as I stare up at him. “It’s not that. I just….” My eyes slide away from him, but he doesn’t let me off the hook.
“Talk to me.”
“Can I….” I lift my eyes. “Can I touch you?”
His groan is deep and kinda growly, and I find I really like the sound.
He grabs my hand and wraps my fingers around his length. In the shower earlier, I only got to touch him for a moment before he pulled away. Now, I take my time as I slide my palm up and down his erection. Smooth like silk, but hard like steel.
He tips his head back, his eyes closed and his lips parted. I love the pleasure on his face, knowing it’s because of what I’m doing.
I slide my hand from the base all the way to the tip, then back again, my knuckles bumping his testicles.
“Your touch is like fuckin’ magic,” he rumbles gruffly, tipping his head back down. He gently takes my hand off him. “This will end in only seconds if you don’t stop.”
Blushing, I smile, his words making my insides squirm.
“Lie down, beautiful.”
I do as he says and lie back on the covers. He crawls up the bed until he’s hovering over me, his erection bobbing between us.
The first time we took a shower together, I was surprised by my lack of embarrassment at him seeing me naked. Other than my childhood and my time with Marco and Gabriela, no one has seen me without my clothes on. The only explanation I can think of is because it’s Aziah. He makes me feel so safe I’m able to do things I normally wouldn’t feel comfortable doing.
Unconsciously, my mind wanders to Aziah’s concerned words about me having flashbacks. If I’m honest with myself, a part of me worried too. My only experience with sex has been painful. Would my mind go back to those horrible times in the Hall? Would I see his father’s face? Would my body freeze with terror as I thought about what Gabriela and Marco did to me?
Surprisingly, none of that has happened. My mind is firmly planted in the present. It’s just me and Aziah in this room right now. The ghosts of our pasts are exactly where they should be; in our pasts.
I don’t know why God has made it possible for Aziah and me to experience this part of our relationship so soon, but I’m grateful.
He rests on one elbow, his fingers skimming down my ribs. My breath hitches when he
makes it to my hip and moves south to the crease of my legs. My heart beats loudly in my ears, and my stomach does somersaults as I wait in anticipation.
“Keep your eyes on me,” he requests, his jaw muscles tense. His fingers don’t move again until I nod.
Feather-soft and unhurried, his fingers graze the outside of my lower lips. I want to close my eyes and toss my head back in euphoric bliss, but I keep them open on Aziah. I know he needs to see my reaction, to ensure himself I’m okay.
His fingers hit something that has my breath catching and my hips jerking in shock. I’ve never felt anything like it and I want more.
“Oh, God,” I pant. “That feels…. More. I need more.”
If possible, his eyes darken, filling with something I can only call profound pleasure. He swirls his fingers against the same spot, and it sends sparks of electricity through me.
I almost whimper when he removes them, but then he dips a finger inside me and it makes me forget what he was doing before. It feels foreign, him pushing his finger inside me, but no less amazing. I never in my life knew you could feel so much pleasure from someone touching you intimately. Of course, my painful introduction to sex probably skewed my views on it.
He pulls his finger out and replaces it with two. As he works them in and out of me, his thumb moves to the same special spot as before. I cry out, my eyes widening. I shift my hips, needing more of whatever he’s doing.
