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Rinsing the last cup, I turn to Bailey when I hear her footsteps.
“He’s sleeping,” she says with a silly smile. “He’s exhausted. Poor boy doesn’t know what hit him.”
She was worried that he might miss his mother and siblings, so we kept him busy all day. If I knew a puppy would be so much work, I might have thought twice before buying him. Maybe…
“Finally,” I mutter. I put the cup in the drying rack, and then I stalk towards her. I’ve been on edge all day, desire shimmering just under the surface, and I’m done waiting. I grab her waist and lift her onto the counter, pressing myself forward till I’m standing between her legs.
“Did you miss me?”
“More than anything,” she says, a slight tremble to her lips.
“Really?
“Really.” She slides her fingers over my cheeks, tracing my jaw, her eyes following their path. I haven’t shaved for a few days, but by the darkening of her eyes, I don’t think she minds. “Every second of every day.”
“So many seconds,” I say, moving my head closer so that we’re breathing each other’s air.
“Too many seconds,” she breathes, and then I’m kissing her. Or she kisses me. I’m not really sure who initiates it, but our lips crash, connecting in a way it was always meant to.
Sliding my hands beneath her, I lift her off the counter. Four months disappear as I carry her to the bedroom, my focus on the here and now, on the anticipation of finally,finally, having the right to worship her the way she was meant to be worshiped. And so help me, Tuk better sleep for a long time because this isn’t going to be quick.
I reluctantly tear my lips from hers when I lower her to the ground, but I don’t have time to mourn the loss of them before we’re undressing each other, and holy shit.
The moonlight was made for her, bathing and caressing her body in an almost ethereal glow. I want to fall at her feet and worship her for the goddess that she is. For so long, I despaired that I’d ever get this chance. I’ve been starved, and she’s a feast that’s been laid out for me.
Picking her up, I lay her down on the bed, switching on the lamp before settling on my knees between her legs. It’s fast becoming my favorite place to be.
Finally, I allow my eyes permission to wander, taking in every valley. Every dip. I go slow, drinking in every inch of her, committing her to memory. The slender column of her neck. The jutting of her breasts. The dip of her waist flared into softly rounded hips. The shadowy valley between her legs. My eyes catch on the freckle interrupting the smoothness on her breast, and I want to lean in and lick it. Soon. After I’ve looked my fill.
Her eyes stay fixed on me, taking in my every expression, the almost defiant vulnerability in them squeezing my heart. They’re waiting for me to find fault with what I’m looking at, preparing herself for the rejection that will surely follow. Doesn’t she know that she’s perfect? I’ll have to work on that. Show her that she’s the most beautiful fucking thing in this world. Inside and out. I want to kill that fucker for making her doubt herself.
My senses are on overload, and if I don’t do something soon, I’m going to explode from the pressure. But I need to take my time. I know our first time will be blazed in my memory for as long as I live, and I want to make it last.
Fuck, I ache.
The compulsion is overriding, and I reach out, running my hands down her neck, lingering to take in the motion when she swallows. I smooth them over her shoulders, continuing my journey down her arms, slowly caressing her pebbling skin, stroking my fingers between hers. I want to touch every single inch of her. Commit every touch to memory before I go any further. I move my hands back up her arms, over her shoulders, and down the front of her chest. I keep my touch feather light as I stroke down the slope of her breasts, to the sides, around, learning the shape of her. I realize I’ve been quiet for too long, too lost in her. But fuck, I’m in sensory overload.
Leaning forward, I cup her cheeks, looking deep into her eyes. I want to let go completely and drown in them. I never want to come up for air.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” I keep my voice soft. I don’t know if she sees it in my eyes or hears it in my voice, this reverence I feel for her, but the widening of her eyes, the moisture pooling in them, tells me she’s finally starting to get it. How fucking lost I am for her.
“Thank you,” she says, her breath leaving her in a shudder. She shouldn’t be thanking me. She should be demanding it as her due.
“Neverthank me for telling the truth,” I whisper, my stare burning into her eyes, waiting for her agreement. It’s as if my words release shackles imprisoning her, and her eyes positively smolder, eclipsing the intensity in mine. Grabbing fistfuls of my hair, she tugs until our noses are almost touching.
“Kallan? You said you’ve spent a lot of time thinking of everything you want to do to me. If you don’t start showing me right now, you’ll never get a thank you from me. Ever.” Her voice lowers, the last word a breathless hiss, and I grin at the demand in her voice. That’s my girl. Fuck, it feels good knowing that she wants this as much as I do.
“You want my fingers on your pussy, Bailey? I whisper against her skin, kissing my way down her neck and pausing to lap at the freckle.
“Yes, please, yes,” she groans.
I stroke my fingers down her sides, my nails dragging along her skin. Her back arches, her breasts thrusting in the sexiest way, a mouth-watering offering I’m helpless to resist. Bending down, I suckle a nipple into my mouth, my fingers gliding over her sex, where I’m met with smooth, wet skin. Stroking and swirling my thumb over her clit, I ease a finger inside her, shuddering at the breathy noise that slips from her parted lips.
I’m so hard it’s painful.
“Fuck, if you keep making that sound, I’m going to come before I’m ready,” I groan, thrusting shallowly.
Adding another finger, I curl and pump them both inside of her, picking up speed when she moans, bucking against my hand.
