Page 41 of Bartholomew
“Both, yeah. I think both is good,” I laughed in return. Her laughter sputtered off until she took a deep breath, refocusing once more. “Whenever you are ready.”
Her hands were timid, almost shaking as she reached for the top button of my shirt. One by one, she slipped the buttons from each hole, revealing my chest to her. Her eyes stayed focused directly on my sternum. Not looking me in the eye and not letting her eyes wander.
As she released the last button, I took her hands in mine, pressing her palms to my abdomen just over my navel.
“Touch me, Delilah,” I encouraged, helping her to slide her hands up my chest as she pushed the shirt off of my body. Her hands, slightly cold and small, moved of their own accord, and I moved my hand back to my side.
“Like this?” God, those eyes, looking up at me again. It almost stole my breath.
“Just like that.” I could hear how my voice had lowered again. It took every ounce of willpower I had to not reach out and touch her; to not reach out and take control like I wanted to so badly.
“When you speak like that — when you say words like that — it makes me feel all strange,” she professed reluctantly. Her hands moved back down my chest, this time of their own volition and I could have done a happy dance were the moment different. Let’s be real, were my dick not standing at full attention and were my hands not ready to fill themselves with her glorious curves.
Her hands fell to the fly of my jeans and then stopped, pausing with hesitation.
“Take them off, beautiful girl. I want to be bare to you; for you to see me completely. I want to see you completely,” I encouraged. Only a moment later, she fussed with the button, pulling the brass piece from the hole, and lowering the zip.
“Oh mercy,” she barely breathed as she felt the hard length of my cock pressing against the fly.
“For you. Because of you. Only you,” I promised. Her hands shook as she pushed the stiff denim material down my hips, leaving me in nothing but the thin boxer briefs and a pair of socks.
“Why am I so nervous? It’s not like we haven’t done this before,” she whispered. I took hold of her hands, helping her to divest myself of those boxer briefs.
“Because we haven’t done this before, Delilah. This is just you and me. This is us, in a safe place, making a choice of our own volition. And that is powerful. That is meaningful. That matters.” My words came out disjointed. The boxers hit the floor. I cupped her face in my hands, tilting her chin up and forcing her to look at me. “You matter.”
This kiss I pressed against her lips was full of every emotion I felt in that moment. Fire, passion, kindness, and comfort. Her lips parted beneath my own and I indulged myself in her taste, flicking my tongue against her lips as I sought hers out. The small whimper of surprise she released made my cock harden to the point of pain. I pressed a hand against my length, hoping to dull the ache for a moment.
“Just don’t stop kissing me,” her voice trembled against my lips.
“Wish granted.” My lips claimed hers, tugging her lower lip into my mouth and sucking as I fingered the collar of her dress. My hands moved down her curves again, up and down. Her own hands continued moving over my chest, exploring me. Her fingers bumped over the flat of my nipples, making me shiver in response. Her touch felt electric.
I slowed my kiss, pulling away from her only long enough to guide her to turn around once more. My fingers found the zipper of her dress, grinning at the little shiver that ran through her body at my touch.
“I thought you were going to keep kissing me,” she chastised with nervous humor.
“Oh, the night is young, beautiful girl,” I promised, leaning down to kiss that spot on the back of her neck once more; the one that made her gasp. “Plus, I never said where I would place my kisses.”
A low groan followed her unstifled gasp, and, Christ almighty, it was sexy. I pressed kisses along the back of her neck, moving them down along with the zipper until I reached the middle of her back.
“I find that the back is a widely underappreciated part of the body. Especially along the spine,” I murmured, letting my tongue flick out against her soft skin.
“Ollie,” she whimpered.
“Just feel, Delilah. Just relax and feel.” My words stopped as I pulled the dress from her arms, letting it fall to the floor where my own clothes were left forgotten. My fingers traced over the skin of her back, noting the little marks on her body. A freckle here, a stretch mark there. All marks that made up this beautiful woman before me.
“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” I murmured against her skin, pressing kisses onto her neck, and tugging at the clasp of her bra. I kissed along her shoulders, letting myself taste her skin as I pushed the straps down her arms slowly.
“Your skin is so soft, Delilah. So incredibly soft, it’s like silk beneath my fingertips,” I whispered. I nudged her shoulder, helping to turn her back to face me. I smirked when I saw her eyes clenched tightly shut. “Look at me. Open those beautiful eyes.”
My eyes stayed on hers, refusing to dip lower to see her fully just yet. After a brief moment, and one long, deep breath, she opened her eyes.
“You are exquisite. Just as you are,” I promised. Then I let my eyes lower.
“Sweet, merciful Jesus,” I cursed. She was glorious. “The need to take you, to consume you, is almost impossible to resist.”
I watched as the blush bloomed over her face, but I barely noticed it. The freckles that only lightly dotted her back spread down her chest, just slightly. They were so faint you would miss them if you weren’t looking for them. Silvery lines stretched down towards her large, rosy nipples, showing where she had grown, and her body had changed. Her stomach was soft, supple, and beautiful. Those same silvery lines almost sparkling in the soft light of the bedroom.
I placed a soft kiss along her collarbone as I knelt before her. I took her stomach in my hands, and immediately she stepped back, trying to push me away.
