Page 56 of Take Me to Church
Christian’s mouth slips from my breast as he hisses between his teeth.
I freeze. "What's wrong?" I glance down, worried I've done something terrible like bent him in half, but everything looks right. Fascinatingly right. Right enough I watch as I sink a little lower, eyes glued to where our bodies meet.
"Fucking hell." Christian’s hands grip my hips tighter, not trying to shove me onto him, just holding. "You're fucking killing me, Sweetheart."
I glance up, looking over his strained expression. "Am I hurting you? Am I too tight?"
I don't know if that's a thing, but maybe it is. Maybe I should have moved past my discomfort and touched myself. Used the vibrator Piper bought me instead of leaving it in its box and hiding it away in a drawer.
"Not too tight." Christian releases my hips and fists one hand into my hair, pulling my mouth to his in a hard kiss that drives my aching need higher and sends me sinking deeper over him as his lips drag across my jaw. "Just so fucking sweet I can hardly stand it."
For some reason his words don't sit right.
"I don't want to be sweet." I drag in a breath and sink the rest of the way down, completely impaling myself even though it’s slightly uncomfortable. "I want to be sexy."
I've been sweet. Way longer than I should have. I may not ever leave that part of me behind completely, but now I want to be more. I want to be the kind of woman Christian wouldn’t question when she’s offering herself up. But to do that I have to get past the overwhelming fullness stretching my insides to their limits.
I pull in a steadying breath before rocking forward, mimicking the motion I've witnessed during shame-filled nights in the comfort of my own bed. But I don’t feel ashamed right now. As I sink back over Christian, watching him as his expression tightens and his nostrils flare, I feel powerful.
Just as in control as I should want to be.
I rest my hands on his shoulders, using them for leverage as I work to find a rhythm. The pinching stretch subsides a little more with each move of my body, only to be replaced by a familiar ache. I move faster, trying to ease it. Trying to soothe the throb pulsing deeper and deeper. But no matter what I do, no matter how I move, there’s no relief.
“Christian—” I almost sob his name as frustration makes it more and more difficult to chase down that feeling he creates so easily. “Help me.”
The words are barely out of my mouth when the whole world tilts and I suddenly find my back against the plush rug softening the hardwood of Christian’s office. I gasp, shocked at the sudden and marked change.
“Legs wide, Sweetheart.” Christian catches me behind one knee, pushing it out in the most exposing and suggestive way. A way that also brings his body flush against mine. I shove my other leg out the same way, spreading wide for him as he slowly starts to thrust.
Where my own movements were focused only on the task of penetration, Christian’s hips work in a way that rubs parts of me with shocking accuracy. Each roll of his body into mine is also against mine, teasing my clit with pressure and friction that offers blessed relief.
“That’s what you needed, wasn’t it?” Christian’s fingers lace with mine, lifting my hands over my head as he continues to fuck me.
“Yes.” It barely sounds like a word, more like a moan, as he dips his head to suck at my nipple. I buck against him, but the press of his weight keeps the movement from being more than a wiggle.
And I like that too. I like that I’m pinned down. I don’t have to worry about how to touch him. How to move. How to act. I don’t have to try to pretend to be something I’m not.
I can just be.
Christian’s mouth pulls from my nipple, teeth dragging gently across my flesh. His forehead comes to rest against mine, putting us palm to palm, face to face, and body to body. For the first time the moment feels intimate. Like this is about more than just sex. More than just freedom. More than the past and more than what we used to be.
Like maybe it’s about what we could become.
It makes me consider that maybe I’ve been wrong about a lot of things. Who I thought I should be. What I thought I should want. How I thought I should live.
Christian’s thumbs stroke against mine, eyes locked on my face as everything inside me begins to crumble.
I wasn’t failing. Wasn’t wasting the life I finally had. I was simply trying to be what I’m not.
Unfortunately, I’m not completely sure what I am.
Christian tucks his chin, eyes focusing between our bodies. “Look at how well you take me.” One of his hands pulls free of mine and curves around my breast, fingers rolling the nipple as he drives into me a little harder. “How perfect my cock fits your sweet little cunt.”
I’m not sure how it happens but suddenly my hand is gripping Christian’s face, dragging his eyes back to mine. “I’m not sweet.”
I’m frustrated. Confused. Caught between what I should be and what I am. And for the first time in my life, I’m not worried a man will be mad at me for what I’ve said. Not because I no longer care what men think, but because I know this particular man well enough that the smirk he shoots my way is completely unsurprising.
“You are sweet, Lydia.” He adjusts his body, pressing his pelvis tight to mine as he drives into me harder, each thrust rubbing my clit in a way I can’t ignore. “You’re also sexy as hell.” He grips my ass with his free hand, angling my hips up so there’s no escaping the maddening friction, and within seconds I start to come.
