Thick & Thin (Thin Love, #3)(86)
I made a meal of her flesh—biting her nipple with my mouth, while my hand cupped and moved her free breast against my palm.
“Ransom, please…” Her breathing had become labored, erratic and when I slid my hands down her stomach, over her hips, I understood the urgency. She was ridiculously wet, definitely ready.
Before I even had my fly down, Aly tugged against me, using her heels against my ass to get me close and keep me there. And then, with the twist of my hips, and the achingly slow brush of the head teasing against her clit, she jerked my hips forward, eyes on mine, something I recognized as raw need swimming in that bright green color, and I was finally inside her.
It took a moment for us to acclimate our bodies to what was familiar. That joining, the sharp feel of her soft, wet sex around me, tighter than I remembered, was simple enough. And it felt so right, somehow, even after all this time, being inside her felt like coming home. I moved slow, at first, gazing at her, watching her expression as she moved her fingers up my stomach, my chest, holding my face still as we watched each other moving together. Then our bodies became frantic, a desperate commotion of thrusting movement that burned and blistered and felt so damn good. But our gazes, our expressions were like the quiet after a storm—steady, soaking in the things we’d missed, the way it felt to be together like this, to feel this needed and wanted and greedy all at the same time.
Finally, when it seemed she couldn’t keep from it another second, Aly pulled me forward, taking my mouth, moaning over my lips when I doubled the movement of my hips.
I wanted to strip her bare. I wanted the night to go on and on, to treat her body like it was a topographical map and my hands, my mouth would search her, would look under the planes and valleys and know the geography of her. Mostly, I wanted to break inside of her, free the small but momentous things she kept hidden from the world. The things like the memories she never liked to recall or the fears she kept locked away, because she was too scared for anyone to know her deepest fears and greatest sins. But loving Aly, loving anyone, means seeing all it is they keep from the world. It means taking apart the gray and shadowy places because beyond that there is light and beauty and colors so vibrant, so rich that the shine blinds you and you are happy despite that blindness because for one brief moment you experienced real, honest beauty.
I wanted all of these things from her. I wanted a million more and I wanted the past to be forgiven, erased and to hold what was once mine and give her all the shadows and light within me too. The things I had never shown anyone. The things that Aly had only caught glimpses of. Now I wanted her to see it all.
We’d never danced like this. Not really. It was rush and frenzy and the tilt of the world all coalescing around us. I didn’t remember how I got free from my clothes, but suddenly there was nothing between us, nothing at all, and there was only me in her and her open to me.
“Wi, cheri. Ah, shoushou, wi.” Her voice lifted like music around us, invading the air, the heat that moved between us and then, she cried out and clenched around me. Tighter, grip on my shoulders digging in and her hot, wet heat massaging me so that I had to lift up, grab the metal headboard to sink deeper into her, anchor myself as I pushed inside her and let go of everything that I was holding back. Her response was instantaneous—Aly arched up, shoulders coming off the mattress and I watched her break to pieces and shatter all over me. It was beautiful, my ke aloha makamae losing herself to sensation, watching all those strongly constructed barriers she used to keep hidden, crumble with each throb of her cresting body on my still thrusting cock, and the steady rhythm of my body moving inside hers.
I did not let her fall gently from her orgasm. Before she came down completely, I kept at her, lifting her lazy leg over my shoulder, urging her on, whispering for her not to stop, to keep giving herself to me, loving the noises she made, the soft cries that sounded like pleasure and pain all at the same time.
But eventually she settled, and then my beautiful Aly, my beloved warrior, my champion of all things, moved on me and told me that now it was my turn. She would give as much as she got.
Even with me on top, she worked me, eyes smiling, staring as I moved deep inside her, pulling almost all the way out before I slammed back in. Aly loved it, ate up the sensation like chocolate and then she pulled on my face, making me open my eyes, scratching her thumb nail over my nipple.
“Slow down,” she said, tongue peeking out to wet her dry lips, one eyebrow arched in a dare. “Shoushou, go slow for me.”
“I don’t…I don’t...” I was slipping—my control growing thin as the pressure on my nipple tightened and Aly squeezed against my dick. “Ah…”
“Slow, cheri. Slow and deep, nnmourèz mwen.”
In that moment, I’d give her anything, everything she wanted—my body, my heart, my life right then, to exist in that moment. Right then I existed only to please Aly, to let her please me. I would become less than myself, and so much more just to live in that moment with her.
Aly heightened the rate of my heartbeat, leveled up the heat and friction moving between us as she sat up, shifting me to my back, climbing on top of me. She kissed me, breathless, silent and then slipped her hand to my dick, stroking me once before she eased down on me, tightening her muscles with the slow descent.
“Slow,” she said, kissing me again, tongue teasing. “Slow because I want this to…to be the first moment of many. A million, cheri, a billion to make up for all the time we wasted apart from each other.”