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“What’s so funny?” I demanded, unable to stop myself from kissing her.
“Nothing,” she said, laughing into my mouth when I tickled her sides. “Okay, okay! I was just thinking about how you seem to be trying to show off all those muscles you have.”
My dick hardened at the sultry timbre of her voice. “Is that a complaint?”
She stroked my bicep with one hand, my jaw with the other, smiling as she rubbed our noses together. “Not at all.”
“Good.”
I made our way to our bedroom, finally making it after several stops to kiss her. I lowered her to the bed, immediately returning to my task of getting her leggings off. She lifted her hips to aid the process, and with a flourish, I took them off, along with her panties and socks. I threw them over my shoulder without looking to see where they went. All I could see was Ciara.
I stopped to admire her. Her hair, which she had kept down, fanned out around her, her body glowing in the light of the sunset. As I watched her, she bit her lip, smiling up at me.
“You’re beautiful, you know that?” I murmured. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”
She wrapped her arms around my shoulders, pulling me down on top of her. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“For what?”
“For seeing me.”
Her words pulled at me, bringing me deeper into the abyss of feelings I’d been working to control. How could I resist falling for her when she said things like that? When it seemed like we were so in tune with each other, seemed to feel the same way about each other?
I pushed those thoughts from my mind, focusing on the task at hand. As I continued to take in the sight of her, the feel of her soft, warm body beneath mine, my dick strained against my pants, threatening to rip the very seams that held them together.
Ciara noticed my clothes at the same time I did, ceasing her movements. “It’s your turn,” she said suddenly, pushing at my chest. “Lift up.”
Confused, I sat on the bed next to her. “It’s my turn?” I repeated. “What does that mean?”
She started on my shirt buttons, undoing them with slightly shaky fingers. “Last time, you took care of me,” she mumbled, finally getting the last button undone. She tugged on the sleeves, and I helped her, pulling in the opposite direction as she pulled on the cuffs. I took my undershirt off for her, only catching the end of her sentence: “...My turn to take care of you.”
She tapped my thigh, tugging on my undone pants; I lifted my hips so she could pull them and my boxer briefs down my legs. When she did, my dick sprang free, standing tall and proud, bobbing from the motion of removing my underwear. Ciara watched it with wide eyes, and it was almost enough for me to call the whole thing off. The last thing I wanted to do was scare her with my dick.
But then she looked at me, a determined glint in her eye, and I thought better of it. I had never seen that look on her before, and honestly, I wanted to see where things went.
She took it in one hand, bracing her other hand against my thigh. And then, she slowly, gently, put the head in her mouth.
Pleasure zinged down the length of my spine. I reached for her, cradling her head in my hands. My eyes slammed closed as she slowly took more of me in her mouth. Jumping at the warm, wet, tight hold of her mouth, I felt like I was going to pass out from the ecstasy of the feeling.
“Lord Jesus, Ciara,” I panted. “You’re gonna kill me.”
She took me out of her mouth with aPOP!“Am I hurting you?” she asked, concern coloring her voice. “Should I stop?”
I opened my eyes, brushing her hair back from her face. “No,” I responded. “Keep going.”
Her eyebrows still pinched together with worry, she resumed. I scrunched her curls in one hand, leaning back on my other hand for support. As she bobbed up and down, swirling her tongue at the head, I fought to keep my eyes open. Watching her heightened my arousal, made my dick harden and threaten to burst.
When she looked up at me and we made eye contact, my heart stuttered. Bathed in the warm light of the sun, I felt connected to her. My sweet, kind Cinderelly, who saw me as I was, rather than who I aspired to be, or who the world wanted me to be. Who saw my flaws and still wanted me to desire her.
And I did desire her. But I could no longer deny—to myself, at least—that I also loved her. I loved her despite the messiness of it, despite our agreement. And though I wasn’t ready to tell her, I wanted her to know by my actions.
I dropped her hair from my hand, gently stroking her face. “Come here, beautiful,” I said, my voice gravelly with feeling. “Let me make love to you.”
When she joined me on the bed, I gently pushed her back onto it. I fingered her curls, sought to etch the memory of this moment, of her face, in my mind forever.
Bending down, I kissed her softly. Her breath hitched, and then she was kissing me back with an urgency that mirrored mine. I slid my hand between us, rubbing quick circles on her clit, matching what our tongues were doing to each other. She whimpered as I dipped one finger, then another, into her. Soon, the sounds of our mutual pleasure filled our room.
“I think I’m gonna—” She squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip, moving her hips in time with my fingers. I felt her clutching my fingers, and I slowed my movements. There was no way I was going to miss out, again, on an opportunity to be inside her, to have her come apart while I held her.
