Page 75 of Leviticus
"More what," came his reply a mere breath of a second later.
"More of this. More time. More of you. More..." I trailed off, the words escaping me as tears welled up in my eyes. Why was I sad? I was married to this man and I should be happy. I was happy I just wasn't ready for this time to end.
"What can I give you?" He spoke solemnly, his hands on my arms turning me towards him. "I want so much more, too. So, tell me. Tell me what would fulfill you tonight, on the last night of our honeymoon."
His words were like a balm over the worry and the anxiety that swirled deep within me.
"I don't know how to ask for what I want," I admitted, frustrated with the lack of words presenting themselves to me.
"Try," he urged, with no pressure whatsoever.
"I want more of this," I tried to explain, gesturing between our two bodies. "More connection."
"Like this morning," he offered, but I shook my head.
"No. This morning was incredible. Every time is incredible, but I don't want that. Not exactly. I want..." Again, words failed me. I made gestures with my hands, trying to find the right words. I didn't want lovemaking. I didn't want to call it that. No words of love had been spoken between us. I was not sure if I should say such things, especially when I was not sure if they were true or not.
He stayed quiet, letting me find my words, letting me gesticulate awkwardly.
"Ugh," I groaned in frustration. "I want something that's in between."
"In between what,?" The way he just let me take my time and accepted me only made me want him more; made me want to savor this time even more.
"In between this morning and that night in the office," I finally rushed out in exasperation. I looked up at him, watching understanding reach his eyes and his own passions flare to life.
"If I'm hearing you correctly, you're wanting the connection we had this morning, but the passion and rawness of the day I took you against the wall in my office. Is that correct?" he asked for clarification. I smirked up at him somewhat coyly before answering.
"And the desk. You can't forget how you fucked me on your desk," I corrected. There was a breath of silence between us, the sexual tension building and rising in that quiet.
"Jesus, woman," he groaned before his hand moved up to my neck, circling around it and pulling me into him for a kiss.
But it wasn't just a kiss, not in the slightest. This was rough, just like that night in his office weeks ago. I met his passion, kissing him back, my teeth catching his lower lip and biting, harder than I had intended, but his reaction had wetness pooling between my thighs.
His hand moved back around my neck, to the front, wrapping around and squeezing just enough to make me gasp. I had no fear; I knew he wouldn't harm me. He had shown me as much, every single day in all our interactions. He wasn't like my father. He wasn't like my brother in law.
"Ruth," he growled, his tongue slipping into my mouth, tasting me, our teeth clashing as the kiss grew in passion.
"Oh god!" I cried out as I was pushed backwards against the cabinets.
"God is not the one giving you this pleasure, my little temptress. Only I touch your body like this." His words washed over me, making me clench deep within my core, desperate for the way he filled me, for the pleasure he gave me. His hand tightened again around my throat as his other hand reached beneath my skirt and found me wet and waiting, reading and wanting for him. "Don't you forget it."
His eyes peered into mine as his fingers found my clit and swirled over it with a learned finesse. I fell into his words, I let them carry me away. Only he could do this to me. Only he touched my body. Only he could —
"Levi!" I cried out as his fingers slipped into my heat. No, not slipped. They speared inside of me, the slickness of my arousal easing his way. My body opened for him, clenched around him. Only him.
Only him.
"Please,” I barely breathed out past his hold on my throat. I could breathe. But the pressure was exquisite. I felt slightly light-headed and more on fire for him than perhaps I ever had been.
"Mine," he growled against my ear, releasing my throat and hoisting me up roughly by the waist until I was sitting on the edge of the counter, right on the sink's edge.
"I'm going to fall in!" I exclaimed, breathless.
"I don't care." His voice was all smoke and gravel, heat and passion. And I was addicted to it. His hands grabbed me roughly, pulled me tightly to him. Every touch, every kiss, every graze of his teeth against my skin felt like a need I had never known existed and all I knew was that I could not live another day without it. Not a single one.
"Levi," I breathed, teetering on the edge of the counter, my legs wrapping around his waist as his fingers found every spot deep within me that made me cry out for him.
"Trust me, Ruth. Trust me?" The first had been a statement. The second, a request. I nodded my head. He growled again, his eyes alight with passion. His hands fisted at the neckline of my shirt.
