Page 50 of Bartholomew
“You’re so soft,” he murmured a moment later. My eyes closed, snuggling deeper into him.
“That’s one thing I am: soft everywhere,” I agreed, refusing to let the negative thoughts take hold of my mind while I was so blissfully happy.
“Soft skin might just be my new kink,” he muttered, more to himself than anything else. That caught my attention.
“What is a kink?” I asked, curiosity taking hold despite my exhausted state.
“Oh, little firefly, that is a conversation for another day. But the truth of the matter is that pleasure is my kink, and the softness of your skin beneath my touch is now a new kink unlocked,” he explained, which honestly explained nothing at all. It was likely just my enervated, befuddled state.
“That raised more questions than answers,” I scoffed with a smirk. His skin was smooth and soft beneath my cheek, his heartbeat lulling me to sleep.
“Save your questions for another day, love. Sleep.” And once again, I obeyed.
* * *
For the first time in, I couldn’t say how long I did not wake with the early morning light. No, I woke up sometime when the birds were already chirping, but that was not what woke me from what was likely the best sleep of my life. No, it was the feel of Ollie’s kisses pressing against my shoulder blades. His long lashes fluttered against my skin like butterfly kisses, stirring me awake with sensual feelings and deliciously sordid reminders of last night.
“Good morning.” I inwardly groaned at just how croaky my voice sounded, thick with sleep. Such a sexy way to start the day.
His fingers roved over the curve of my waist, down over my hip as I lay on my side, facing away from him. Now, that is a much sexier way to start the day. I bit back a giggle at my own internal monologue.
My mind wandered over everything that had happened in the last twelve hours.
“Is it always like that?” I whispered, half afraid to even voice the question. His lips moved up my spine, a shiver of desire following in its wake.
“No, Delilah,” he answered, his breath fanning over the sensitive skin at the nape of my neck. “It’s not always like that.” I could barely think straight as his lips lazily roved over my skin, goose pimples erupting over my body as the sleepy brain fog lifted and my thoughts fixated on the man who held my desire in his hands. Literally, it would seem, as one of those very hands snaked around my waist and down over my body until his fingers slipped between my already wet folds.
“Ollie,” I pleaded. How was I already so desperate for his touch? His fingers found that little nub with unerring accuracy and within only moments, my orgasm racked my body.
“Jesus’ tits, I could watch you come apart in my arms for hours on end, nay — days!” he proclaimed.
“Did you just say Jesus’ tits?” I shot him an incredulous look.
“That is just the tip of the iceberg of the verbal lexicon of cursing, babygirl,” he said, raising an eyebrow as he rose from the bed. “Now it’s time to get up.”
“Ugh, you’re right. I need to get to work on my daily chores,” I groaned, throwing back the covers and immediately regretting it as the morning chill sunk into my bones. The cold weather could hurry right on out of here. Spring could not come soon enough, and that was still months away.
“Hang on, hang on, hang on.” He rounded the bed, his hands on my shoulders as he stared down at me. His dark blue eyes were mesmerizing. They looked even better as he buried himself inside of me. Merciful heaven, Delilah. I scolded myself internally for my own wayward thoughts. One night of lovemaking and I was as corrupt as could be.
“This chores business has got to stop. This is our home. Ours. Not mine. But ours together. You do not have chores to do here like you are a child trying to earn their weekly allowance. You are a co-owner of this home, and we are two grown adults who can clean up after themselves and work together. Today, there will be no chores, no cleaning. Only spending time together as husband and wife.” His eyes were completely serious as he spoke, but my mind planted itself firmly back in the proverbial gutter.
“You want a repeat of last night? Already?!” I exclaimed in disbelief.
“First of all, yes. Always. Second, that’s not what I meant. I meant that I just want to spend more time together today as us. Just you and me.” His hands moved down my arms until he grasped my hands in his. I nodded my head in agreement, though the thought of not having chores in a home was a completely foreign concept.
“So, how about this? I will go cook us breakfast while you go take a bath or a shower. Whichever is more to your liking. And not a quick one. Take your time and indulge yourself a little, Delilah. You deserve it.” With a kiss pressed to my forehead, he turned to leave, throwing on a pair of pajama pants and a tee-shirt on his way out of the door.
I made the bed quickly, unable to help myself, and then decided a nice, long, hot shower sounded quite nice. Turning the spigot to the hottest setting, I let the water warm and billowing steam fill the room as I looked in the mirror. I looked over my form, still naked from the night before. How was it I had just stood in front of Ollie, completely naked, without a single thought crossing my mind to cover myself? Perhaps because the night before he had touched, kissed, and licked nearly every inch of this body.
I took my time looking at myself in that nearly full-length mirror next to the double sink. Mirrors. He had a ridiculous amount of them in this house. Like he had chosen it as a decorating theme of the house. I had never seen so many in one home before. Don’t get me wrong, it was a beautiful esthetic — for anyone other than me. Me with my lumps and bumps. Me with my oddly dotted freckled skin. My too thick thighs and my too large breasts. Me with my nipples that just didn’t seem to want to point in the forward direction. Me with the scars and stretch marks.
The stretch marks he had kissed and loved on. The lumps he had grabbed in his hands like they were the most beautiful, soft, and sensual parts of my body. The freckles he had feathered kisses over.
If there was one thing made abundantly clear in the last twelve hours, it was that the body that stood before me — no, the woman who stood before me — was not that same woman who had stood here not one day ago.
I smirked into the mirror, choosing, just for a moment, to maybe, just maybe, not hate the skin I was in. Just for this one moment.
I shook my head, moving away from the mirror and chiding myself for my silly mirror moment before stepping into the steaming shower stall. The hot water sluiced over my skin, soothing the deep ache in my muscles I was only now realizing.
