Page 28 of Breathe Again

Oh, thank God. My shoulders drooped in relief.

I closed and locked our bedroom door, my eyes cast down to avoid his gaze. Sliding into bed on my side, I rolled into his open arms. He held me tightly for a moment, kissed the side of my neck, pushed his heavy thigh between mine.

The tyrant arrived right on cue.

Do you actually think he wants this? How could he? Look how hard he has to work to get his leg between your tree trunk thighs.

No, you’re okay. He loves you.

I flattened the palm of my hand against his hard chest, flexing my fingers into the crisp hair and toned muscle, flicking a nail across his sensitive nipple, listening for his breathing to change, sliding my palm across his abdomen, enjoying the feel of his hair bristling against my palm, over his naked hip, a favorite spot of mine, and down to find him hard and ready.

See? You’re okay, he wants this, he wants you.

It’s a biological need. You could be anyone. Probably wishes you were anyone else.

I focused on him. I loved the feel of him, the warmth of his skin, his small sounds, his beautiful face. I wrapped my fingers around him, and he thrust lightly into my hand, his hand smoothing acrossthe skin of my back and down to cup me under my ass and pull me closer to his heat.

I concentrated on the feel of him under my hands. I thought about the pleasure he only gets from me, slapped my fears away and gave as much of myself to him as I could. The tyrant temporarily muted as a sensual storm rose to muffle her voice.

Oh, God, the relief.

I lost myself in the pleasure that I gave, lost in the pleasure he gave me. I needed to lose myself. I needed to be consumed, before I consumed myself.

He made short work of getting our clothes off and rolled me onto my back, giving me his weight. Barely nudging the entrance to my womb, my thighs spread wide in entreaty, he gave me his mouth, his tongue. I was parched and could not get enough.

I held onto his head, holding his lips to mine, not wanting to let him go. His weight, his cock, his mouth on my mouth, on my throat, his whiskers scraping over my sensitive skin on his way to my breast, pain and pleasure, angst soothed as his hands and his mouth danced across my body, sweeping every other thing away.

Lost in him; lost in him, lost in me.

My favorite place to be, my only escape, the only place I was free.

With his forearms braced on the bed on either side of my head, his lips on mine, he spread my thighs wide with his and entered me with one thrust, quickening both our breaths. Lips clinging, bodiesstraining, waves of pleasure peaked and engulfed me, my soul released its held breath and my body unwound.

He carried me along with him once again as he ramped up and I heard him grunt softly, and I felt that he loved me, with his face pressed to my throat, as he emptied himself inside of me.

I wrapped my legs and arms around him, not wanting to leave this space. He tried to lift off me.

“No, please, one more minute.”

I could feel him exercising patience to stick with me, but he took no pleasure in the extended embrace and the shame slithered in. I wanted only for him to get up, and I prayed he wouldn't look at me when he left our bed to clean up. I couldn’t go into the bathroom with its bright light while he was there.

I waited.

The tyrant arrived with the receding of the waves.

You’re disgusting. He can’t wait to get away from you.

The reprieve was welcome while it lasted.

He walked back from the bathroom, his easy, rolling gait a pleasure to watch. Tanned, olive skin, black hair, sculpted shoulders, wide chest, long muscular legs, and that face that I loved so much. I watched him walk toward me. A beautiful man. Inside and out.

He slipped under the covers and extended his arm to invite me close. I lay down, aligning the front of my body with the side of his,my foot on top of his, and I tucked my head into the indentation between his shoulder and his right pec, my right hand over his heart, where I assured myself of its steady beat. He pressed his cheek against the top of my head.

“I’ll be a better man, baby,” he whispered. “I’ll be more of what you need.”

I said nothing, my throat locked up tight. I didn’t want to cry tonight. I squeezed him tight and pushed my face harder into his chest.

I needed to tell him.

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