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MICAH
How long canI get away with watching her like this? With thin lines of sunlight highlighting her hair and skin. With soft blonde lashes fanned out just above her cheekbones. And champagne wavy locks spilled over my pillow.
I don’t dare move or breathe too heavily. Don’t reach out to brush to wayward strands out of her face and tuck them behind her ear. Don’t trace my fingertips over her skin and write secret messages only I can decipher.
That would disturb this moment. And this is solely mine.
Instead, I bask in the sight of her. Her fair skin and peaceful expression as she sleeps. The soft snores from her lips as she dreams, hopefully, of me or us. Relish the memories from last night. Every line and curve of her body under my hands. How she reacted to my touch—the bow of her back, quiver of her muscles, moan of my name. How we exhausted ourselves, yet it was nowhere near enough.
In the early morning hours, we collapsed in a pile of loose limbs and sated souls.
For more than a year, I have yearned for Peyton. Watched her from the sidelines while I took my frustrations out on nameless and faceless women. Taunted her so I had her attention. Because every second she paid me attention, she gave it to no one else. Even if the attention was negative, I wanted it all to myself. Her irritation and poutiness was, is, such a turn-on. In the beginning, I craved something strictly carnal with Peyton. To blow off steam and get her out of my system. Fulfill a need clawing at my insides.
But now… my need for her is so much more. An unquenched hunger. A deep, primal demand. A vital component of my existence. She floods my veins and occupies my marrow. Spins an endless web beneath my sternum that encases my heart and refuses to relinquish its hold.
It steals my breath and awards me life simultaneously.
My fingers twitch beneath the sheet. Itch to feel the warmth of her skin again. But softer this time. Delicately trace the arch of her brow, the bridge of her nose, the swell of her lips. Twirl her soft hair around my finger and toy with the strands in the sunlight. Kiss her until her our lips or tongues tire, whichever happens first.
Her nose twitches, followed by her lips. A gentle pinch of her lashes as she slowly stirs awake. I train my eyes on every tweak her face and body make as she leaves the land of dreams.
Damn, she’s gorgeous.
Lucky doesn’t begin to describe how I feel as her violet eyes flutter open and lock with my blues. Countless breaths pass and neither of us says a word. She tucks a hand beneath her cheek as a soft smile brightens her face. Waking up with Peyton in my bed, her angelic features the first thing I see in the morning, is the best way to start the day.
“Morning,” I whisper and reach for the fallen hairs on her cheek. Her eyes close at my touch. When they reopen, gray flecks dance against the violet backdrop and render me breathless.
“Good morning.” Her voice raspy and soft and sexy as hell. Another trait to add to the long list of characteristics I like about her.
Morning breath be damned, I want to kiss her. Feel her beneath and above me in the early morning hour. Well, early for us.
I quit resisting my need for her and eliminate the space between us. Press my lips to hers, light and tender. Skim a hand down the side of her breast, her waist and stop when I reach her hip. The subdued kiss turns hungry as she throws her leg over my hip. Rocks herself against my cock as her fingers comb my hair and fists the locks.
Within seconds, she has me on my back and straddles my waist. Long champagne locks curtain us as the kiss turns ravenous and she coats my erection with her arousal. On the next circuit up, she shifts so the tip of my cock presses between her lips.
Up and down and up and down. She teases the head of my cock over and over. As I open my mouth to tell her to quit being a tease, she pushes back and fills herself to the hilt.
“Dear god, woman.” I fist her hips and keep her in place. “You give religion new meaning.”
She sits up, tosses the hair from her face and plants her palms on my chest. “Won’t stop you from worshiping me,” she says with a rock of her hips. Her hooded eyes look down and pull me into her orbit. “Welcome to heaven.”
Peyton rides me like the goddess she is. Head thrown back, tits pushed out, lips parted as her whimpers mingle with the slapping of our bodies. Nails bite my skin to mark me as hers. Marks I will gladly own and flaunt whenever possible.
When her moans and whimpers escalate in pitch, I tighten a hand on her hip and wrap the other around her throat. Piston harder into her sweet, tight pussy. Groan when her walls tighten around me and her claws dig deeper. Revel in the blotchy flush that decorates her breasts, her neck, her cheeks.
And the moment she can no longer hold herself upright, I flip her on her back, hook her legs over my shoulders and drive into her. Skin slapping and grunts echo off the walls as I grip her shoulders and pound her pussy. The violet of her eyes a thin rim around her glassy dilated gaze.
A hand claws its way up my chest and wraps around my throat. Her grip slight as she tugs me down to her lips. Kisses me until her body climbs, climbs, climbs back toward that delicious peak and she gasps for breath.
My pace kicks into fifth gear as I all but slam her body into the headboard. Slide one hand from her shoulder to her throat as I beat her clit with my pelvic bone.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
Her pussy slowly tightens around my cock. Sweet, stuttered cries of pleasure spill from her lips. Nails dig so deep, I swear she pierces my flesh. And it all just adds to the intensity of the moment. Wakes the beast inside me.
Tingling manifests in my balls. Liquid fire slithers up my spine, then winds its way back down. Converges low in my abdomen. Immense pressure and the need to come makes me dizzy, breathless, a slave to the act.
But I hold off. Wait until Peyton gets there first. Wait until her body convulses and milks me.
Hand still on her throat, I lean down and lick her chin, her lips, her cheek. “Let go, hellcat.”
I crush my lips to hers. Slam my hips forward and adjust my angle to hit her sweet spot better. Annihilate her clit with my pelvis. Her nails dig deeper. Our bodies slick and hot and on the brink.
Then her walls fist my cock with ferocity. A lyrical staccato of moans echoes in my ears as she trembles beneath me. My next thrust forward ends in a detonation of euphoria as my balls draw up and I release inside Peyton.
For a split second, I feel invincible. On top of the world. Atop the tallest mountain peak, howling at the moon. An incomparable high. A high that dissipates much quicker than Peyton’s; her eyes rolled and back arched as her body continues to grind and writhe.
When both our bodies settle, I lower her legs and massage her hips. Then I kiss the fuck out of her. Aggressive at first, then almost submissive and more emotional. She tangles her legs with mine. Wraps me in a full-body embrace. Lightly runs her nails up my back and into my hair.
This single moment more intimate than any other. And it is in this exact moment a warmth builds beneath my sternum. Expands and contracts, conforms and comforts. Takes me prisoner and sets me free.
Much as I want to keep her in my bed all day and night, I can’t. Much as I want to kiss her for hours and never release her, I can’t. Although early, she needs to start her day before work. And I have to learn how to not be selfish and hoard her from the world.
“C’mon.” I break the kiss, slowly sit back on my haunches and offer my hand. “Let’s shower. Then I’ll make you breakfast.”
Peyton takes my hand, scoots off the bed, and holds on to me as her noodle legs give out on the way to the bathroom. She walks all wobbly like a newborn giraffe and I bite back laughter as I crank the shower and we step under the spray.
After soaping each other up for longer than necessary, we rinse and towel off. I hand her a pair of my sweats and a T-shirt, and don the same.
