Page 58 of Another Story

Immediately, his shirt clings to my skin, the fabric wrapping around my mid-thighs. As if he can read my mind, he runs his thumbs along my skin, from the sides of my knees up to my hips, peeling away his shirt from my body. All while he peers down at me, not kissing me, not blinking.

Is he afraid to scare me?

“You don’t have to be gentle with me,” I murmur, my gaze on his lips before settling back on his eyes. “I won’t break.”

“I might,” he whispers just before he yanks his shirt over my head. And maybe I knew we’d be here because I didn’t bother with a bra or panties. I had no desire for that kind of barrier.

So when he pulls my naked body against him, I sigh just as he presses his mouth to mine, breathing life into me.

I just want to know you, Eloise.

Had anyone else ever known me so keenly?

Wordlessly, he uses two fingers to press me back against the tile wall, sinking to his knees before me. I watch as he reaches for my foot, kissing the inside of my calf as his eyes never leave mine. He hitches my knee over his shoulder, and before I have a moment to catch my breath, he steals it.

His lips and tongue and touch all meet at my center, causing me to cry out. Had it ever been like this?

“Gimme your eyes,” he murmurs before running his tongue against my slit. “I want to see how good I make you feel.”

Greedy man. He wants every piece of me he can get.

And in my desire to wrap myself in this pleasure, I try my hardest to oblige.

It’s a fight to keep my eyes open but I do as he says.

And after I come, when he slips inside of me, my legs wrapped his waist, I sink my teeth into his shoulder.

Anything to keep from whispering the words sitting on the tip of tongue.

He doesn’t just make me feel good.

He makes me feel love.

I’ve just spent almost the entire day naked,I remind myself as I pull into my driveway, a sore heaviness settled between my thighs that is both unfamiliar and the source of my smile. The lights are off in the house and the guesthouse above the garage. My phone has been turned off, and for all I know, the bookstore could’ve burned to the ground.

But I needed this. I needed time to stand still, even if it couldn’t ever again. I needed to give in and let go.

Little snippets of the pleasure-filled day accompany me as I walk toward the front door, keys in my hands.

“Your body is so beautiful to me. It belongs in beautiful things.”

A white box, left on the bed for me after brunch, filled with frippery and laces and satins. He asked me to try them all on for him as he laid on the bed, heavy lids over green assessing eyes.

And then we did things I’d never experienced outside of literature.

Garters weren’t meant to keep wrists banded together. Stockings weren’t meant to muffles cries of pleasure.

Then again, men like Ezra weren’t meant to exist outside of the pages of the books I’d read.

“Get on your knees.”

Those commands of his no longer make me pause and wonder. Because I know the reward is far greater than the risk of feeling silly.

I unlock the door, smiling to myself. Smiling at how utterlyspentmy body feels.

“What would you like me to do to you?”

There’s a spark of fear that power gives you. And I worry that once these moments are over, I’ll never know them again.

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