He knew my skin, my hair, my fingers, where to kiss me.
But I wanted all of him. I wanted his skin.
I twirled in his grasp, facing him fully and fisting the fabric of his shirt, tugging up.
“Off,” I demanded, and when he quirked a brow, I sweetened the command with a soft, “Please.”
He chuckled, kissing me as he worked to pull his shirt over his head. “Yes, ma’am.”
Trey stood before me in his black briefs, pulling me toward him. I let my finger pads trickle across his chest, travel down the valleys and hills of his large, warm arms.
His intense, heavy stare followed my every move, my every caress along his skin, but his hands and body were still. He let me do my own amount of feeling and exploration of him. I kissed, I admired, I touched and learned the body that I loved, the body I knew.
It was different now, though.
The intimacy between us was warm, buzzing with the infatuation of my crush from before. From when I only adored from afar, and my deep resounding love for him after,now.
“I love you. With my whole heart and soul, I love you,” I gasped.
All my life, I’d been running away, trying to escape. But as he pulled me in tight, I never wanted so badly to stay. To be kept by this beautiful, safe man.
He laid me out on the bed, and he kissed me.
He kissed my knees, my inner thighs, the places that we both wanted to touch and be touched. He wasn’t timid nor cautious. He was praising, driving, consuming.
He was home.
I was home in his arms, engulfed by his touch. He hovered over me, deliberate and gentle, as he loved me to the pinnacle point of sensation. As I free-fell from the heights we’d flown together, Trey lowered himself to my ear.
His heavy breathing was a welcome constant as he whispered, “I need you too, May. You are my whole heart and soul. You’re my end game.”
43 Peace
Trey
I had died and gone to heaven.
That was the only explanation for the angel that laid across my chest in the morning sunlight. Maybelle’s golden curls were a fluffy mess across her bare back, her skin glowing and freckled.
My body melted into the mattress with relief and gratitude that my girl was home, safe in my embrace. She was no longer alone, and neither was I.
I prayed that I could stay here, watch her sleep. A wish I never ever thought would tempt me. But seeing her like this, in this bed, in my arms, snoring only slightly—it was all I could ever want.
I’d gotten so close to losing everything. So, fucking close it made me sick. After this hellish week, I doubted I could ever breathe normally outside of her presence again.
Maybelle’s nose scrunched. She sniffed, then blinked as her arms stretched out. Blue-green framed by a curtain of thick, light lashes was all I could see.
“Hi,” she huffed, and it was officially the loveliest thing I’d ever heard.
“Hey, Mayhem,” I breathed, and to my surprise, hercheeks pinked. My eyebrows rose and she quickly averted her gaze. So, I pinched her chin between my fingers and brought her focus back to me.
“May, sweetheart, are you embarrassed?” I teased, and her cheeks got redder.
Her smile was tight and coy as she whispered, “I just really like that nickname.”
I chuckled, pulling her up my body so we laid nose to nose with her still atop my chest. “Good. I don’t plan to stop using it.”
She nuzzled into my neck, and I tangled my fingers through her curls.
