Page 94 of Late Bloomer
I don’t answer her with words. I couldn’t even if I wanted to; the pang of need that slices through me is so sharp, I have to move. Have to get closer, closer,closerto this soft, wonderful woman and her terrifying words and too-big heart. I need her against me and around me and in me and on me.
I need her.
And nothing is going to stop me.
I kiss her so hard, her head rocks back, but it doesn’t matter, my palm is there, cradling her to me, my other hand tracing up her stomach, across her breasts, pausing at the beat of her heart, to curl around her throat, feeling her pulse beneath my skin.
Opal’s just as desperate.
She undresses us in a blur, hands sure and needy as she strips away every layer until it’s skin against skin. We gasp at the contact. Sigh in relief. The want is quick as a flare but steady as a glowing ember. Hot and bright and vital.
Lying side by side, I arch against her body, twisting my hands in her hair and bringing her closer still. I hold her steady as she traces wild paths across my skin—the curve of my hip, the notches of my ribs, the shell of my ear. She makes every inch of me feel stunning.
It’s impossible to stop kissing her, feeling those soft lips against mine, catching every moan and whimper in my mouth. Feeding them back to her. Our legs tangle together as we each slip a hand between our bodies, exploring the other, mirroring movements and strokes until we’re a closed circuit of pleasure.
Opal nudges me to my back, then hovers over me, smile so radiant, something in my chest cracks. She presses a kiss to the tip of my nose. My temple. My eyelids. My neck. She kisses me like I’m something precious to her, and my throat clogs with so many emotions trying to get out. I bury my face against her chest so she doesn’t see, so I don’t scare her with every emotion sitting in my eyes.
She laughs softly at something, then sits up, gentling a hand down my thigh. I fall open for her, sucking in a sharp breath as electricity dances across my skin.
“Fuck,” Opal mumbles, pinching the fabric of my wet underwear and rubbing it between her fingers. She pulls them down my legs, tossing them behind her, then hums in satisfaction as she touches me some more. I throw my arm over my mouth and bite back a sob.
Kneeling between my legs, she spreads me, holding me open. I look down my body to watch her studying me with hungry desire. She licks her lips and the want radiating from her tense body makes my hips buck in response, greedy for more.
She laughs again.
“I’m not sure what could possibly be funny,” I gasp out, trying to twist away as a heavy throb echoes through my center.
She holds me still, smiling. That grin is sugary sweet withsatisfaction, like a lioness sizing up her next meal. “You’re just so fucking pretty when you want me.”
She drapes my legs over her shoulders as she lies flat against the mattress. Gripping my hips, she jerks me forward, mouth hot and hungry against my clit, pulling a sharp cry from me. I press even closer, gripping her hair at the roots and pulling her against me as my hips thrust in a disjointed rhythm.
“That’s it,” she says, lifting her head to look up at me, lips wet and full and red. “Show me how much you like it.”
My hips grind even harder, and her smile sends a sharp jolt of pleasure straight down my spine.
She bites my hip bone, sucking the skin, then kisses the spot. Her mark leaves a perfect maroon stain, and I have the ridiculous and disarming thought that I never want it to fade. I want to remember Opal’s lips on my skin, her head between my thighs, until the day I die.
She returns to my clit with unparalleled focus. My toes curl into the sheets as she licks and sucks me, jaw clenched tight, every muscle poised to snap.
“I’m so close,” I pant out, gripping her head, riding her tongue. I feel her hum of encouragement against me, rough and desperate and so fucking excited, it pushes me over the edge, wave after wave crashing through me, and I cry out her name as I come.
She works me through the aftershocks, somehow tender and dirty and so achingly wonderful I’m worried I might do something humiliating like cry or ask her to never leave me. Instead, I tug on her hair again, pulling her up.
Opal comes willingly, kissing me hard and deep as I throw my arms around her neck, pressing our chests together.
After a few more languid kisses, she readjusts our position, back on top of me as she slots her hips against mine. We stay like that for a moment, feeling each other, watching the other breathe. She’s so beautiful it almost hurts.
Then she gives a tentative roll of her pelvis.
And I’m absolutely gone.
We both groan, Opal gripping my hips so hard I wonder if I’ll bruise, little marks like violet petals along my skin to show how much she owns me.
I watch her face, the way she tilts her head back, eyes closed as she bites down hard into her lip. Color rushes across her cheeks, down her throat, across her chest. I reach out, cupping her full breasts in my hands, rolling her nipples between my fingers, then giving them a sharp tug. She cries out, and I soothe the spot with the pads of my thumbs until she’s arching into me, then pinch them again. I feel her pussy clench against mine and I moan.
She’s so slick and wet as she grinds against me, crude sounds of flesh against flesh mixing with our pants, kicking my desire higher. She moves faster, harder, little stars dancing in my vision as I stare at her.
“Right there,” I gasp out. “Just like that. Don’t stop.”
