Page 41 of Rectify

With two hands, I begin to undo the buttons on his shirt. His Adam's apple bobs in his throat, as he watches me. His eyes are liquid desire as I push his shirt off his shoulders.

Gripping the bottom of my tank, I lift it over my head and throw it to the side.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

I bend one arm behind my back to unclip my bra, while the other sits across my chest.

“You’re apologising,” I tell him as the black straps loosen and drape down my arms. I release my hold on the material, exposing myself to him completely “And I’m forgiving you.”

Eager hands cup each breast, his thumbs skimming my already hardened nipples. “Are you sure, Pretty Girl?”

The question barely comes out, almost like he’s afraid of the answer. Nodding, I hold on to his broad shoulders for support and lower my mouth to his, my intentions clear.

Gripping the back of my neck, he pulls me to him, my time in control short-lived. Our mouths collide in a rush of longing and fervour, all the words we’ve shared, too much, and yet not enough.

He kneads my breast before his mouth leaves mine bereft and feasts on the other one. He alternates between bites that sting and licks that soothe, the fusion of sensations travel straight to the pit of my stomach and in between my legs.

He stops his ministrations and brings my head back down to his. His eyes are wild, the eye of the storm brewing inside them. “I’m not fucking you in a doorway,” he growls. “If this is the only time I get to have you, I need every inch of you naked and spread out.”

I ignore the spasm in my chest at the mention of my body never feeling his near me again, and choose to get lost in this moment instead.

“Is that so?” I quip.

“Get yourself on that fucking bed, and I'll show you.”

I kiss him before adhering to his request. Slow and wet, my tongue tangles with his until the need for more is all consuming.

With locked lips we fumble, desperation spurring us on. When he’s on his feet, he wraps his arms around my stomach and carries me, his steps getting us to where we need to be quicker.

His feet come to a halt as we reach the bed. With one last quick peck, he playfully throws me on the mattress, and I quickly wrap my arm around my chest.

“Don’t cover them,” he says disappointedly. “I wanted to see them bounce.”

Smirking, I move my hand and lean back on my elbows; appreciating my view as much as he does his.

He was always good looking. The untouchable bad boy that all the girls wanted to take hold of, make him theirs, and change him forever.

Now, he stands too big for my space. His body a formidable presence with every muscle sculpted like a Greek god. Every dip and contour, perfectly carved from stone, waiting to be traced by my tongue.

My eyes dance down his stomach, following the light smatter of hair that makes its way into his pants. The outline of his hard dick, pressed against his slacks has me rubbing my legs together aching for some friction.

“You done looking?” he interrupts with a raised brow.

I flick my gaze to his and bite the corner of my mouth. “You sure grew up.”

He chuckles. “Like what you see?”

I shrug nonchalantly. “It could be worse.”

“Is that fucking so?” His grin is wide, and the predator is back. Each of his movements feel slow, as both his knees hit the mattress and his hands land on either side of my face. His naked chest arches above me, a titanium necklace with an “L” shaped pendant hangs between us. “Want me to show you just how much I grew up?”

Our eyes lock as I caress the piece of jewellery between my fingers, another reminder of how much this man has changed, and how much I want to know why.

Delicately I finger the chain and pull him toward me as I whisper. “Please.”

11

Sasha

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