I lift up on my elbow and gently roll her onto her back. Sunlight bathes her face in amber, painting her lashes as shadows on her cheeks. Her mouth is extravagant, the bow finely sketched, the bottom lip juicy and kiss-swollen because I can’t ever stop kissing her once I start. The stubble from my jaw and chin left faint marks on her collarbone, the slope of her shoulders. I pull the sheet away, searching for more evidence that I’ve been there, claimed her last night. She wanted it hard and I gave it to her. It was by turns feral and tender, rough, right. So damnright.
“You just staring all day?” she asks, reaching up to trace my eyebrow with her thumb. “Or you doing something about it?”
I trail a finger down her chest, over her stomach, ending between her legs, parting her, rubbing her. I slip one finger in, finding her hot and slick. Give her another. She licks her lips and twists her hips, coaxing me even deeper. I brush the underside of her breast, sending my hand on a slow journey down her rib cage. Dropping my mouth to her breast, I set a rhythm of licking and sucking that has her grinding onto my hand.
“Si, it’s so good.”
I can’t stop watching her get hers. The way her pretty face goes slack and she bites her lip and sometimes, when it’s really good, a tear might slip down her cheek. Sometimes I wish I could cry as easily. That’s one release I haven’t experienced in years. Having this again when I never thought we would—yes, it feels hot and frenzied and wild.
But it also feels like a gift.
I can’t help but wonder…when will it be taken away from me?
It’s like she’s mine again and I don’t know what to do with that. Shouldn’t trust it. Do I feel like hers? Is she turned the hell out? Because I am, and I have no idea where this is going or how it ends any way other than me wrecked like I was when she left me the first time.
She’s loud when she comes. She grips my wrist, winding her hips, dropping her legs open when I brush my thumb over her in rapid strokes that push her over the edge. I’m transfixed watching her, wanting to stretch it out as long as I can, despite the urgent demand of my own body. Her laugh is husky, her chest heaving with the last of her orgasm.
“What are you looking at?” she asks.
“You.”
I pull my fingers out and paint the silky skin inside her thigh with her essence.
“Don’t look too close.” She chuckles and pulls the sheet to cover herself. “Morning light is harsh.”
“You’re as beautiful as you’ve always been.” I tug the sheet away, exposing the long, curvy, brown length of her body again.
“You do see the lumps and stretch marks, right?” She grins, and it’s the perfect mix of confidence and modesty she’s always had.
“Know what I see?” I ask, kissing between her breasts and down to her belly.
She looks at me through her lashes, cupping my head and caressing my neck. “What?”
I kiss her hip, brushing my lips over the small rings of Saturn etched into her skin by her first pregnancy. “I see Deja.”
I lick at the concentric sunburst around her belly button. “I see Kassim.”
I caress the slightly raised C-section scar stretched between her pelvic bones. “I see Henry.”
When I look up her eyes have sobered, saddened a little, but still burn hot watching me worship her.
“This body gave me my children,” I tell her, sliding down to lift her knees over my shoulders. “And it will always be beautiful to me.”
I drop my mouth to her, losing myself in her taste, her wetness on my lips and cheeks, clutching her ass to bring her closer. She’s a luxury I can’t bring myself to sip. I slurp, uncouth and uncivilized in my need for as much as I can get.
“Jesus, Si.” Her hands frame my head, urging me closer. “Baby, I already came.”
“Come again.” I chuckle, sucking her into my mouth, gripping her thighs, torn between spending the whole morning here pleasing her and pushing into her right now to satisfy myself.
When she’s limp, head scarf off and tossed across the room, I kiss my way back up her stomach and find her mouth, feeding her the taste of her own pleasure. She opens greedily, sucking my tongue into her mouth, nails digging into my ass, urging my hips between her legs, reaching between us to pull on me.
“Want you on top,” I mumble against her lips, shifting until I’m lying on the bed, pulling her up to straddle my hips.
“You just wanna watch my titties bounce.” She laughs, cupping them, pushing them together because she knows it drives me insane.
“You ain’t wrong. Now stop playing.”
She widens her legs over me, holding my eyes with hers as she guides me inside. It’s a tight, hot, slick channel. I bring my knees up to her back. She presses her palm to my chest and rolls her hips, twisting me in deeper.