Page 4 of Worth the Wait

“I think it already is,” he states, then he takes me in his arms and kisses me.

**Peter**

Nothing has felt as good as holding Bellamy and putting my mouth on hers. Not even getting home after a yearlong deployment.

Needing to be clear, I let her know I didn’t come here expecting this. “Then it’s a surprise for both of us.”

We fall back on the bed, my shirt coming off and landing on the floor with hers soon joining it. I have to take a minute to draw on my control after seeing her breasts encased in dark blue lace and satin. A color that perfectly matches her eyes. Whether that’s intentional or a happy coincidence, I don’t know. All I know is as beautiful as it looks on her, she’s even more so once it’s removed.

Because it means there’s nothing between us in this aspect when it feels like there’s a plethora of it in others.

Resolved to find a way around those, I vow to put all my focus on them later.

Bellamy deserves the entirety of it now and I want to give it to her.

So, I do.

Pressing my lips to her chest, directly where I estimate her heart to be, I try to imprint every emotion I’m feeling for her into it.

When she gently places her hand on my head and indicates she wants me to move, I take it as consent to do what I’m craving.

Taste her.

I unbutton her pants and pull the zipper down, my gaze fixated on her breasts as they jiggle while she lifts her ass, allowing me to yank them off.

The worry I’m feeling this more than she is evaporates upon seeing the center of her panties and the proof of her desire for me.

She’s about to see mine for her.

After she fills my mouth.

**Bellamy**

Peter pushes the gusset of my underwear to the side and begins tracing the crease with his tongue. Slipping it inside, he explores me and I’m soon at his mercy, begging for release while simultaneously trying to stave it off.

Even if this is all I have with him, I’ll be thankful.

While praying for more.

**Peter**

“Bellamy,” I groan, hating like hell what I have to say. Her eyes are dazed as she gives me her attention, her chest still heaving from her climax, and the pride it gives me is a helluva thing.

I did that to her.

“Peter,” she pleads, clearly ready for me to continue.

That makes two of us, baby.

“I don’t have protection.” If only I’d been a boy scout growing up. “Haven’t needed any in years.”

“Me either,” she shares. “I’m uh,” she exhales. “We’re covered.”

We should’ve had this talk earlier. “I’m clean,” I assure her. “Get checked regularly due to my job.” Not that I’ve told her what that is. Something she needs to know if this goes where I want it to.

“Me, too. I get the shot. With all the traveling I do, it’s easier.” My experience would be considered limited giving my age, and how a certain group view those in a uniform, but I’ve never gone sans condom.

Never wanted to.

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