I nuzzled his palm. “I’m scared of hurting you.”
“You won’t. I’ll tell you if you do. I promise.” When I didn’t respond, Bartholomew arched and kissed my lips. “We don’t have to, Honey. If you need more time, we can wait. Remember, it’s only good if we both enjoy it.”
I lay on top of him, and he held me tight. Bartholomew pressed gentle kisses to my ear, his tongue flicking out to play with my earrings. “I’m here,” he whispered. “Sex or not. I’m here.”
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, but I was terrified of doing something wrong. I’d had a small taste of what life would be like without him, and I never wanted to go back. Also, my very cells revolted at the idea of causing my mate pain. I couldn’t do that.
He rocked beneath me, and our cocks brushed, sending sensations through my limbs. I gasped, hips canting toward him instinctually. He ground against me, rubbing, chasing the perfect friction.
Bartholomew moaned. “Honey. Oh, fuck, that’s nice. So nice. Don’t stop.”
I met him thrust for thrust, dragging our cocks against each other. I bit my lip, chest rumbling. Bartholomew trailed his fingers over my back and sides. When he hit my scent glands, I lurched, moaning. He smiled against my cheek.
“Right there, huh?”
“Yes, Flower. More. Please.”
His fingers massaged the spots as we gently rutted against each other. Bartholomew planted kisses over my cheeks, eyes, and the tip of my nose. “You won’t hurt me, Mindy. I need this and you. I want to feel you inside of me. I want to feel that connection with you. And I’m pretty sure you do as well.”
“I love you so much.”
“I know,” Bartholomew said, catching my chin and forcing me to look at him. “I know, Honey.”
He was so calm—he was always so calm, my Bartholomew, even now. I was terrified of injuring him, and he just wanted me.
I sealed a kiss to his lips, tracing them with my tongue. He arched beneath me and clutched my back, fingers raking over me. I groaned when his mouth opened and his tongue twisted around mine.
Every cry, moan, and whimper I uttered was swallowed by him while his hands dragged over me. My lips broke from his and moved to the column of his neck. I licked the tight tendons, nibbling. I loved leaving little marks all over him—subtle claims that he belonged to someone, to me. I sucked and bit as Bartholomew stroked my back and brushed his fingers throughmy long hair. Soft whispers of encouragement came from his lips and made me writhe with happiness.
My mate was taking care of me.
I nuzzled the hair on his chest. I loved it. We didn’t have body hair, and I was fascinated with his. I dragged my nose through the strands. “You are so perfect.”
Bartholomew chuckled. “I’m glad you think so.”
I kissed the sparse hair, dragging my tongue over it, and savored the taste of him. My mate. Taking one of his nipples into my mouth, I sucked.
“Mindy,” he called, breathless.
My tongue laved over the nub, and he grunted, hips arching. His cock wanted attention. I smiled, sucking on him softly. I made sure to take it slow. My mate had never been with someone else, and this was all new. This needed to be good for him. The best.
I brushed my fingers through the wetness gathering on his cock, spreading it before I pumped his shaft from base to tip. He whimpered. I shifted to his other nipple, giving it the same treatment as the first as I stroked him. My own cock was rock hard. My breath was rough and needy, but I was going to make this amazing. Bartholomew deserved the best, and I planned to give it to him.
I licked down his chest and stomach. My tongue circled his navel, and he gave a breathless moan. A line of hair went from right below his navel to the patch of hair above his cock and I dragged my tongue over it, but he didn’t cry out. Curious. I went back up, kissing. Latching onto his navel, I licked and bit the skin.
His breath turned rougher the more I attacked it. Bartholomew fisted my hair, panting, and his hips canted, cock searching for friction. I grinned as I licked his navel. My mate cried out. I’d found something he liked—clearly a lot. Itucked that knowledge away for future use and continued to pay particular attention to it, licking, sucking, nuzzling, until he writhed.
“Honey,” he said, not quite begging but close. His hips were bucking beneath me.
Dragging my tongue over the line of hair to his navel, I asked, “What?”
“Mindy. I need more.”
And I was happy to provide him with that. I pressed gentle kisses to the sharp bones of his hips. “I will make you feel amazing.”
Bartholomew panted and shakily brushed my hair behind my ear. “You always do.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he covered my lips. “I mean it, Serlotminden. I have never been this happy in my life. Ever. I want to stay with you for the rest of my life. I want to have kids with you one day. I want to grow old looking into your eyes. I love you, Serlotminden.”
Tears gathered. “Do you mean it?”
