Page 88 of Finding Hope

That ink I saw glimpses of at the club winks at me, a garden that almost looks alive. The flowers and musical notes interweave, creating a dizzying pattern, and script winds its way in and out of the ink to make the whole garden look almost three-dimensional.

My eyes come back to hers. “You’re so beautiful.”

Tracing my chest with shaking fingers, she follows the linework of my ink, then skims ever so gently over a long, jagged scar.

She doesn’t ask, but she must know.

Lifting her fingers to her lips, she presses a gentle kiss to the tips, then places them back over my biggest scar. “So are you.”

Lowering over her until our stomachs touch, I let out a groan of pleasure, a pleasure I swear I feel in my soul. My broad chest dwarves hers, but the softness of her skin, the plush feel of her lace covered breasts, cushions me better than any billion-dollar mattress ever could.

Leaning down, I wait until her eyes flutter closed, then I slide my tongue along her bottom lip, dip inside, and try not to compare this to the first time we were intimate.

Gentle now, where I was rough six months ago.

Slow, instead of rushed.

Loving, instead of angry.

The differences are like a giant canyon.

Before, we were hungry, wild, uncaring, and in a rush. This time, I want to savor her. Taste her.

Begher to stay.

Pulling back only half an inch, I study her waiting lips. “I wanna tell you something, but I’m scared of being judged. I never had to do this before, so…”

Her eyes lazily flutter open. Frowning, she watches me. “Okay… I won’t judge you. I promise.”

Nodding, I lean into her hand. “I have a crush on you. That’s not a joke. I’m crushing on you so fucking hard it hurts my chest.”

Smiling sweetly, she lifts her head and pulls me closer. “No judgment. I have a crush on you, too. I think about you way more than I’ll ever admit.”

“Good.” I press my lips to hers. “Think about me often.” I kiss her again. Then a third time. “Think about meallthe time, then maybe we’ll be even.”

“I liked our last times together.” Purring, she arches her neck as I slide my tongue and teeth along the warm skin. “Best sex Ieverhad, I promise. But this right now, your sweet words, this vulnerable stuff… this is nice, too. Makes you more human. Makes you not famous. Makes you just a boy I ate hotdogs with at Lookout Hill.”

I smile against her skin. “We’re going slower this time, Bambie. I’m gonna savor you the way I should have the first time.”

Nodding, she lies back and allows my tongue to glide along her flesh. Sliding my hand along her ribs, I take her breast in my hand and squeeze.

“Perfect, Bambie. So fucking perfect.” Gliding over her collarbone, then over her chest, I hover for a breathless moment, and when the air pulses between us, I take her lace covered nipple between my teeth and smile at her tiny little scream.

Her back arches impossibly high, feeding me, begging for more, and her hands slide into my hair and hold me captive.

Grazing over the hard metal of her piercing, I lift my eyes and wait. “Can I? I wanna taste the real you.”

Nodding and lifting her back from the bed, she makes room for my hands to go around to the clasp on her bra.

Peeling her top off and tossing it aside, I send the bra immediately after it, then come back to look at the beauty of her flesh.

Creamy white skin, perfect pink nipples,singleshiny barbell – because she was too scared to do the other – and a cluster of freckles in the valley of her breasts.

Leaning forward, I press a kiss to each and every single freckle. Licking, laving, memorizing.

Perfection.

She moans softly, re-threads her fingers in my hair, and holds my body against hers. Tightening her legs around my hips, she crosses her ankles and holds me close.

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