“It’s okay,” she assured him, twirling her fingers through his hair, “I want this, I'm ready for it. I wasn’t last time because I hadn't been honest with you. It’s been a really long time since it happened, almost six years, I know most of that time I was being kept prisoner, but I'm ready for this. I need it. I need you. Please.”
The whispered plea was obviously the straw that broke the camel’s back because Matthew pulled her closer, and when his lips met hers again the kiss was possessive. She liked the idea of that, belonging to Matthew, but only because unlike with Emmanuel she knew that Matthew would belong to her too. This wasn’t one sided, this time the balance of power was even, they would be partners in this relationship.
When her hands went to unbuckle the jeans he had changed into somewhere between them fleeing the bedroom and arriving at the safehouse, his hands caught hers, stilling them. “No.”
“But I thought …”
He cut her off with another possessive kiss. “Not here, not like this. I want our first time to be special, and for that we need a bed.”
Since she couldn’t argue with that, she allowed him to gather her up, and carry her up the stairs. As he did, she touched soft kisses to his neck, his chiseled jawline, his face, and finally as they entered the bedroom, his lips.
Matthew set her on her feet, and both of them made quick work of stripping out of their clothes, and then he was standing before her, his hands and his gaze roving her body, leaving trails of the sweetest fire everywhere they went.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.
“I have scars,” she reminded him, suddenly self-conscious of them.
“The story of your survival,” he said the leaned down to kiss one on her shoulder. “I want to touch every one of them, replace their pain with pleasure.”
He did just that, kneeling before her and working his way down her front touching his lips to each of the scars on her chest, her stomach, her arms, and then the ones of her breasts, finishing off with the lightest of kisses to her pebbled nipples.
“Turn around,” he ordered, his voice husky with a sexiness that had her growing wet between the legs.
As though sensing her growing need as he turned her and began to kiss the scars on her back, including the still healing wounds from Emmanuel’s last punishment, he circled one arm in front of her and let his fingers get busy between her legs. By the time he had soothed some of the mental anguish that the wounds that caused the scars had brought her with his kisses, her legs were quivering, pleasure shimmering just out of reach.
“I want to taste you, Grace, may I?” he asked as he stood, his mouth millimeters from her ear.
She shivered at the heat that curled around her skin, somehow finding its way inside her, and fanning the flames of her growing pleasure. “I've never done that before.”
“If you don’t like it, I’ll stop, I promise, but I've been dying to taste you since I saw you in that bikini.”
His hand resting low of her stomach he guided her to the bed, turned her around, and laid her on her back so she was lying with her knees hanging over the side of the mattress. His dark head went between her spread legs as he knelt before her, and she almost unraveled just from the heat of his breath against her most intimate area.
That first sweep of his tongue had her gasping, her hips rising of their own accord.
“You like that, huh?” he asked with a wickedly sexy smirk that did weird things to her insides.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Watch me, Grace. Watch and see how much I love tasting you.”
Like her eyes were glued to his, she watched in fascinated wonder as his tongue swept along her center before his lips surrounded her pulsing little bundle of nerves and suckled on it. His hands curled under her bottom, lifting her slightly and then his tongue was stabbing at her center, then lapping at her before circling her hard little bud.
It didn't take long before the world began to shimmer in a mass of colors that looked brighter than she’d ever seen, and then she was screaming his name as those colors exploded in a fiery display of ecstasy that fired through her, leaving no part of her untouched.
She was still riding that high as he moved her so she was laid out on the bed, her head on the pillows, and settled between her legs. “Are you sure, Grace?” he asked as he slid on a condom.
“Yes, I'm sure.”
Grace cried out as he speared into her in one thrust, stretching her, filling her. There was a moment of pain as her body acclimatized to the feel of his huge length, but it quickly faded, replaced by a pleasure she couldn’t even put into words.
“You okay?” he asked, unmoving.
“I'm perfect,” she said, reaching for his hands and linking their fingers together.
Their mouths joined, tongues clashing as Grace met Matthew thrust for thrust. Pleasure built anew, growing until it was almost painful, almost unbearable before shattering her into a million pieces when the wall broke and it crashed over her like a tidal wave.
She knew Matthew reached his own peak because his whole body shuddered as his thrusts increased, spurring on her pleasure until she was almost dizzy with it.