Page 27 of Mine to Love
I groan and run my fingers through my hair. I’ve never felt so weak. I’m a depraved lost cause. And, to make matters worse, I’ve had to stop sleeping naked because I kept cumming in my sleep to thoughts of her. I’ve sneakily washed my sheets three times this week, so she doesn’t have to see what she does to me. Ican’t tell you the last time I washed my sheets before she moved in—probably never.
Frustration and self-loathing riling inside, I know what I need. It’s the only way to release this tension inside me, both the good and unpleasant. I need her. Or, at least, I need to imagine… Though I dreamed of her tonight, I didn’t find a release before waking. My pajama pants are too restrictive to reach a full erection.
Giving in to my desires, I strip naked and pinch my eyes closed, focusing on the sound of water rushing through the pipes. The echo is a roadmap to my love. The pipes lead to Darcy. The water they carry coats her naked body just a few feet and two plywood walls from where I lay now. Hot and steamy, the water calms her mind. It eases the tension in her muscles. She closes her eyes as it rains down on her, soaking her hair. She inhales the sweet aroma of her body wash as she massages it into her skin, fondling her breasts with the soapy mixture, gliding her fingers over her slit, caressing her ass. Her skin is plump and tender to the touch after all her efforts. Her moans of relief fill the small room. A shower is the perfect foreplay. But it seems she needs a little help finding a true release, as do I.
My mouth dry and my appendage fully erect, I get out of bed, drape a sheet around my lower half and walk the short distance to her and Delilah’s room. Twisting the doorknob, I enter quietly and avoid eye contact with the bed where Delilah still sleeps. The door to the en suite bathroom is cracked open, though no light pours out. Knowing Darcy’s bathroom is a mirror of mine, I presume she’s showering with the help of only the moonlight. Even better. There will be other times for me to examine her body more closely. But, tonight, the moonlight will be our guide—delicately showcasing her curves, her freckles, her scars. I will kiss each one.
As I enter the bathroom, I shut the door behind me and lock it. Darcy turns at the sudden sound. She stares at me wide-eyed through the glass-paned shower. I meet her gaze with a certain confidence, a stature, and state of mind that can only exist here in my fantasy. At least, for now.
With her wet hair sticking to her skin, draping down her back and across her chest, the surprise on her face fades and she meets me with the same demeanor, letting me know our desires are mutual. She opens the door to the shower, and I let go of the sheet concealing just how badly I crave her.
Her eyes drift down, taking in my erection as I walk toward her, while mine trace her body as if I plan to sculpt her from memory alone. She backs against the tiled wall as I step inside. Though she does not cower. She meets me head-on, her eyes not leaving mine as I close the glass door behind me. There are no words spoken between us. Perhaps because I cannot imagine what she’d say if this moment was truly happening.
As I lay in bed, stroking myself to these lustful thoughts, my fantasy feels so far out of reach. Similar to the time I touched myself to thoughts of her in the gym, there is an ache in my chest and wrinkles of confliction etch into my forehead. She doesn’t want me in this way. She doesn’t want my touches. This isn’t real. This isn’t?—
My balls burn with unrelenting pressure. I know I need this. I just…I don’t know if this feels right. But I don’t want to think of anyone else. With that resolve, I do my best to return to the place in my head where Darcy and I live as a couple, the place where we are happy, captivated by one another, and able to explore each other with the utmost curiosity. It’s the place I created so that I may exist here with her in the present, giving her what she needs—time, patience, gentleness—without asking for anything in return. Here, I give myself permission to explore, permission to be deviant, permission to take.
Without delay, I bring my hand to Darcy’s neck and take her mouth with authority. I kiss her and bury my tongue inside her. All the while, I tease her nipples until I feel her body tense beneath me and her lips quiver with the moans she holds inside. She may be wet from her shower, but I want her wet in a different way—from the inside out.
Continuing to edge her, I lower myself to my knees and take her left nipple in my mouth, sucking and teasing her with my tongue. Our height difference is perfect for this. “God, I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” I hiss. Though, in my fantasy, I remain silent. With Darcy’s nipple perfectly positioned between my teeth and my eyes focused solely on hers, I give her a gentle bite and tug before returning the favor to her right nipple. I’ve got to keep things symmetrical.
Darcy gasps, moans, and writhes with pleasure as I continue to repeat the process. As her legs begin to shake and she attempts to press her thighs together either to intensify or relieve the building sensation on her clit, I slip my hand between her thighs, disabling her. Darcy looks at me, desperate. My dick throbs as a salacious grin curls my lips. “I’m nowhere near done with you. Spread for me, angel. It’s time for your tongue lashing.”
Darcy quivers with pleasure and obeys my command. “Good girl.” I press my hand to her stomach to hold her in place. As I do, she intertwines her fingers with mine, and I take a moment to admire her body from this glorious angle. Her rose-hued nipples are perfectly peaked. Her large, round breasts hang heavy on her chest. Her wide hips and soft stomach are so inviting. I want to kiss every inch. But I know I’ve been neglecting her most tender body part.
Lowering my eyes to Darcy’s pink pussy, I find her clit is so engorged I know a single flick of my tongue may drive her over the edge. But my angel deserves more than that. I’ll have to teachher that patience leads to the best orgasms. Leaning forward, I stop just an inch from her swollen clit and inhale her sweet scent. As I exhale, Darcy throws her head back as the air dances across her sensitive skin. My sweet angel. I can’t decide if I want to make you beg or not. But, one thing is certain, I want to make you feel good.
I place my tongue on the underside of Darcy’s throbbing center. I let it rest there, savoring the warmth of her skin. And then, slowly, delicately, I flick my tongue upward, electrifying the nerves inside her. Darcy squirms and cries out in pleasure. I pause to admire her while stroking my sensitive, erect appendage. She is perfect, too perfect, an angel to be certain. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve the opportunity to kneel before her and pleasure her. But I’ve never been more thankful for anything in my life.
Gently, I bring my tongue to her once more, repeating the process of pressing and flicking. By the third instance, her legs shake and she brings her hand to my hair. Gripping the strands, she pulls so intensely I may end up bald if I don’t grant her a release soon.Very well, my dear.I return my mouth to her clit and this time, I don’t hover, rest, or tease. I envelop, suck, stroke—matching the intensity of my tongue lashing with the speed of my fingers pressing and curling inside her. “That’s it, baby. Give me everything. I want to see your cum dripping out of your pussy, down your thighs. Show me what a good girl you are. Show me what a good job I did.”
As cumshoots from my dick, covering my thighs and the sheet draped over me, I find my release in the present just as the Darcy in my head found hers. Eyes closed, I allow the rush of hormonesthat always follow an orgasm to calm my mind. I savor it, tempted to let my newly reinstated sense of calm pull me into a restful sleep. Though, the cum drying on my abdomen keeps me from truly giving in to it.
Rolling out of bed, I head to the bathroom and quickly shower to freshen the area. It occurs to me Darcy could’ve been doing the same thing. Why else would she be showering at three in the morning? It’s an interesting thought, one I’ll probably ruminate on in the morning. But, for now, sleep.
Quickly, I put on a fresh pair of black pajama pants and then toss my comforter to the side and rip the sheets off the bed. If I throw the sheets and pants into the wash now, the evidence of my nighttime deviousness will be gone by the time Darcy wakes. Though, as I exit my room, I am caught red-handed as Darcy, hair still wet from her shower, steps from the stairwell into the common area between our rooms holding a hot cup of tea.
She is dressed in something I’ve never seen on her before. Though, considering the mounds of clothes we bought, that fact isn’t surprising. The sexiness of her outfit is. It’s not lingerie, but it might as well be. Deep maroon in color, satin in fabric. She wears a thin-strapped tank top with a tiny bow in the center of her chest, as if she is a present needing unwrapping. The top is paired with a set of matching satin shorts with black lace trim around the hem. Definitely Ana’s doing.
“Uh…” I find myself at a loss for words as I glance between her and the laundry room just to her right. How am I supposed to explain myself? All I know is I’m thankful for my recent release because without it, the sight of her would be my undoing. The slight edge of sleep in her eyes, the redness clinging to her freshly washed skin, the way her shirt strains over her nipples. I wonder if she only wears the granny pajamas outside of the bedroom because of me. Not that I have a problem with hertypical look. She looks amazing in anything, butthis…this is ravishing.
As if feeling me undress her, she looks down at herself and crosses her arms semi-gracefully over her chest while still holding on to her teacup. “I ran out of clean pajamas,” she offers. “Tomorrow is laundry day.”
“I’m not complaining,” I admit. The sheets suddenly feel heavy as my arms beg to be near her, wrapped around her.
“Is there something wrong with your sheets? Were they not clean enough?” she asks.
“No, they’re perfect. Or they were. I just…spilled something. I was going to put them in the wash myself. No sense in bothering you with this, especially since tomorrow or today is Sunday.”
“It’s no bother,” Darcy says, taking a step toward me. “I can?—”
“I’ve got it,” I assure her, moving toward the laundry room.
“Alright, well, I’ll get started on redressing your bed.” I could say that’s unnecessary as well. I could insist she head to her room and enjoy her cup of tea. But perhaps some of the salacious energy from my dream still lingers. The sight of her in my bedroom, near my bed inthat outfit, that’s a view I can’t pass up. Not to mention, she’s far too awake at this hour for my comfort. I wonder what’s keeping her up? Though my thoughts originally considered a similar reason to mine, with her past, it could be several things—nightmares, even. Perhaps her offer to help me is just an excuse to not be alone. With that in mind, I continue to the laundry room, dump the sheets and pajama pants in the washing machine, and set it to the correct cycle.
When I return to my bedroom, Darcy has already pulled the spare set of sheets from the armoire and is changing the pillowcases as well. “I just thought it best to keep the set together. It’s more aesthetically pleasing and just better organization,” she says.
“A wise thought.” I move toward the bed. Darcy’s drifting eyes as I approach remind me I’m not wearing a shirt. While it isn’t the first time she’s seen me without one, I hope my presence in this setting doesn’t make her uncomfortable. Noting my gentlemanly concern, I let out a sigh of relief.Okay, I’m back.
