Page 122 of Embody

Forty

Bellamy

I WAKE UPearly with a smile on my lips and a fire in my belly. A tangible flame, burning so hot and determinedly, that my mind wouldn’t allow me to sleep any longer. Because whileIslept, my subconscious had not, hard at work, feeding me the information I wake with a full knowledge and understanding of—and a readiness to act upon accordingly.

Last night, the red-blooded, virile man currently wrapped around me like a pretzel— territorial even in sleep—had given me exactly what I needed.More.He’d listened, heard things I hadn’t even said, and seduced mementallyandemotionally.

He’d bathed me, with slow, tender hands, murmuring sweet words of adoration. He dried me off, taking care to keep his touch gentle and reverent despite his inner struggle, obvious from the veins bulging in his neck, every tense muscle…and appendage. Then as we’d laid in bed together, both naked, our bodies wound together tempting, he’d continued to forego his male instincts and simply held me close, caressing my skin with love, not lust.

He slowed his roll; surpassing my expectations, to ensure my fairy-tale. Because he loves me…beyond. Beyond “for now,” my body, pleasure, flesh, and the surface.

Jefferson Tate Kendrick loves me soulfully.

And because he’d shown me exactly how much he cares, and lengths of self-torture to which he’s willing to go,for me…I’m about to shift my own “roll” into high gear.

IfI can untangle myself without waking him.

Very slowly, using a series of tactical maneuvers I have no idea where I learned, I free myself from the limbs of the sleeping beast and slink beneath the covers. With a feather light touch, I skim a fingertip up his thigh, and it works—rousing him just enough to reposition, giving me room to crawl between his legs.

Damn. Okay, I’m a little taken aback by his huge, hard cock. I’ve heard about “morning wood,” and there’s no muted lighting this time, so yeah…damn. Not to mention, I’m on my own now, about to try my hand at pleasuring him without any of his guidance or encouragement.

I grip him at the base and he stirs, so I freeze, mid-somnophiliac attack, until he settles again. Once I’m confident he’s back in a deep sleep, I take my time studying him. Testing the limits of my small hand around his thick girth, tracing a finger over every engorged, blood-filled vein, and finally lowering my head to glide my tongue up and down him in exploratory strokes. His taste is musky, manly, and inebriating. Hungry for more, I linger at the tip for a moment, then go for it, taking as much of him as I can in my mouth.

First there’s a sexy, sleepy little hum, as if he probably thinks he’s dreaming, so I suck harder, forcing my throat to open and relax, taking him deeper. His dick swells bigger in my mouth and his hum turns into a rough, throaty groan thickened by sleep and desire. The sound is mesmerizing,and very empowering, so exhilarated by my brave control…I love him with my mouth, hand, tongue and hints of teeth in a sinful, fevered combination.

Even through the fog of my porn-worthy playtime, I feel the draft—he’s lifted the covers and is now watching. I cast my eyes up, and sure enough, see a smoldering, smoky chestnut pair locked on the sweet spot where my mouth holds his dick.

I suck harder, lick faster, reaching down to fondle his balls in one hand, using my pointer finger to massage the sensitive skin behind them. He pulses against my tongue, throws the covers completely off the bed and drives a hand through my hair.

“Goddamn you’re good at that, baby,” his rumbled approval provokes me to new heights, my solitary need in this enraptured patch of time—to please him beyond his wildest dreams. “You like that, Bellamy? Sucking my cock? Hmm?”

I hum ‘yes’ and bob my head, which bumpshishead against the back of my throat, and on reflex, I swallow around it.

“Fuck,” he bellows, digging his fingers into my scalp. “So good, baby. So. Fucking. Good. Get up here, woman. I wanna turn, too.”

I release him with a wet “pop” and jerk my head up, shocked.He wants me to stop?

He laughs and grabs for me, hauling me up his body. “Nuh uh, no little scowl. That felt amazing and was the best wake-up I’ve ever had. Seriously, your mouth just kicked the ass of every Christmas morning when I was little. But I want to play, too,” he dips his head and takes a breast in his mouth, slinking one hand down between my legs.

My head lolls back and I keen in pleasure. His fingers tease, caress and slide inside me, setting off bursts of technicolor behind my eyelids. My breasts grow full and heavy with an ache of neediness. And…within that exact moment, I change. Irreversibly. No longer and never again will I be the Bellamy Jill Morgan of the last almost twenty years. No, from here forward, I’ll be the version of myself that laid in wait until Jefferson found me and tempted me out of my shell—to bask, flourish and grow in the sunlight. Spin around and dance in the rain, splashing in every puddle. And reflect, love, and follow my womanly instincts in the moonlight.

Finally living.

“What the,” he sputters in disbelief when I jump off him in a single bound. “Where the hell are you going, woman? Somethingbetterbe on fucking fire!”

“Be right back,” I giggle from the bathroom. Just to be safe, although I know it’s okay to take them at the same time every day, I pop a pill in my mouth and duck my head for a gulp of water from the sink. That takes care of that.

I walk back out slowly, but with confidence, keeping my head up and eyes on his. I climb on the bed and move to him on my hands and knees. “I love you, Jefferson. Not a young love, or a new love,” I take a deep breath, “ameantlove. An utterly consuming, undeniable respect, trust, appreciation and acceptance of everything you alone, and the two of us together,are, andare not. You give me more than I ask for, unselfishly, and knowing you’rewithme, for whatever may come, fills me with a peace and happiness that nothing of this world can ever take away. I’m yours.”

Reinforcing everything I just said, he stares into my eyes, silently telling me heknowswhat I want. He doesn’t give me a return sonnet, doesn’t say anything, but rather, gently guides me to lie on my back and moves to hover over my body.

His fingers trace my lips, loving gaze on mine, before he lowers his head to take my mouth in tender leisure. More of his body weight comes to rest on me, skin on skin, and I wrap my arms around his back. I spread my legs, welcoming him into their cradle, swallowing his groan when the most intimate parts of our bodies finally come in contact for the first time.

“Bellamy,” he tears his mouth from mine and husks my name on the skin of my neck. Raining kisses and slow laves of his tongue everywhere—up to my ear, back to my mouth, across my chest, on my breasts—he primes my body into an eager inferno. Smoothing a hand down my belly, then lower, his fingers explore my wetness and he growls, in careful question, in my ear. “Baby?”

“Yes,” I answer what I know he’s asking in a passionate whisper.

“You sure?” His voice is strained as he slides one, then a second, finger inside me and spreads them, stretching me.

---