“Yeah, sweet thing?”
“Can we go to your place?”
Her words steal my breath away. “Yes,” I manage to whisper.
I drive past her apartment to Main Street, feeling joyous. I don’t ask her why. I don’t force an answer. I simply steer us forward, tires whispering on the asphalt.
When we pull into the narrow driveway where I park my truck, I kill the engine and climb out.
I open the door that leads upstairs. She goes ahead of me. The wooden floorboards creak under her weight, and for a heartbeat, I see the flicker of memory in her eyes—of the last time she stood here, when everything splintered.
I wait.
She keeps going. I’m in awe of her bravery.
“You want something to drink? Tea?” I offer, moving toward the kitchen.
She trails after me, then lifts a hand to my arm, warm fingers against my sleeve.
“I don’t want tea,” she says. Her voice is low and certain.
My pulse drums at my temples. I turn to see her step into my space, the hush of the house pressing in around us, cocooning us.
Her eyes meet mine without wavering. “I want you.”
The simple confession echoes. I’ve pictured this moment a thousand times since I lost her, but reality is richer than any daydream.
She goes on tiptoe and kisses me—slow, exploratory, as if mapping the curve of my lips. When I wrap my hands around her face, she grips my shirt, and something inside us both gives way.
“Come.” I take her hand and lead her to my bedroom. My bed. The one that has been empty for so many months. The bed I lay in, missing her.
We undress each other with reverent slowness, peeling off layers like petals falling from a flower—he loves me, he loves me not, whispered between heartbeats, not lips.
Her skin is warm under my fingertips, each inch alive with soft goosebumps.
I press my lips to her shoulder and she exhales—a soft surrender—as though she has finally come home.
She leads me to my bed, sits at the edge, pulls me closer. My cock is close to her lips. She looks at me, her beautiful, honey brown eyes full of desire.
“You want to taste me, sweet thing?”
She licks her lower lip. “Yes.”
She’s so sexy. Her breasts sway.
“Then take me inside your mouth.”
She wraps her fingers around the base of my erection and squeezes gently.
I groan. Precum seeps from my tip.
She licks it and then the underside of my cock.
I hiss in pleasure. My hands dig into her silken hair. I let her keep pace. I don’t demand anything. This is slow pleasure.
Pristine beauty.
I bump up against the back of her throat.
