Page 121 of Light Up The Night
I find a grin spreading across my face. "Truly?"
His eyes shimmer again. "You're…I…I didn't know it could be like that,” he repeats. “I really didn't. I didn't know I could feel so…" he shakes his head. “I dunno—one. With you. With anyone."
"'Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh.'" I quote. "I never understood what that meant until now. Not really."
He rolls to his back and wraps me in his arms; I lose him from inside me in the process, whimpering at the loss. I cling to him, tangle myself as tightly around him as I can, legs twined with his, arm across his waist, breasts against his ribs, cheek on his chest, hearing his heart pounding, still.
We drowse, then. I feel Riley drifting into sleep, and though I am wrenched utterly limp by our lovemaking, I cannot seem to join him in sleep.
I look out the window and see heavy gray clouds drifting across the sky, and then I watch fat, thick flakes of snow swirl, a few at first, and then more and more, until the air occludes with snow, wind driven and wild.
Already, I crave Riley again. Now that I know what it is to be loved by him, to be his, to have him inside me, I crave him. Yet when I twist to look up at him, I see his face cast into innocence by sleep, and I can only smile to myself, filled with a love beyond words.
A love I can only express with my body.
It seems I shall have to wait for him to wake up.
I do so impatiently, yet contentedly—aching and sore yet needing more.
Eager to learn.
Eager to take him inside me again.
I wonder if he understands what my being hyperfixated on lovemaking with him is going to mean.
Good thing he is a powerful, virile man. He will need every ounce of stamina he has to satiate the ravenous hunger for him I feel.
Chapter 20
RILEY
Iwake gradually and then all at once—gradually drifting up from a deep, content sleep, and then all at once as I become aware of Cadence's soft, hot, naked body tangled up with mine.
I'm still shaken to the core by how intense that was. It wasn't just sex. It was making love—seems obvious, but to a guy like me, it's abigmotherfucking deal.
I feel her eyes, crack mine open and glance down at her. She's smiling up at me, her face radiant with happiness. "Hi," I murmur.
"Hi." Her voice is soft, quiet, shy. "I have never felt so happy in my life. Thank you for giving that to me, Riley Crowe of Three Rivers."
My heart swells to bursting, as if I can contain no more love, no more joy—so full it hurts. And yet, when she passes her palm over my belly and cranes her neck to press a kiss to my cheekbone, I am filled further yet.
"Never been this happy, either," I say. I shift and feel the condom drooping heavily. "Gotta get cleaned up."
Cadence pushes on my chest. "Stay. Please. I would like to do it."
"Um…okay?” I relax against the pillows, pile them higher behind me so I’m reclined rather than lying. "If you really want to."
"I do."
I sure as fuck don't mind the view as she wriggles away and rolls out of bed, her lush curves swaying as she moves. I feel my cock stirring at the mere sight of her as she wets a washcloth in warm water, wrings it out, and then comes back to me—her tits bounce and jiggle and sway heavily with each step, and her thighs brush around her pussy, and fuck, that pussy is so goddamned tight and wet and I want to be inside her again.
Now.
Cadence crawls onto the bed and kneels beside me, tugs the blankets off of me. She has a folded length of toilet paper in her hand, and she lays it across her thigh, slowly easing the used condom off of me and wrapping it up in the TP. And then she has my cock in her soft, small hand and she's wiping me clean with it, her touch so tender and gentle and loving it takes my breath away. She lifts it this way and that, dabbing and wiping until I’m clean. But she seems to want nothing more than to just play with me, using the washcloth to caress me.
"You do know what's gonna happen if you keep doing that, don't you?" I murmur.
Her answering smile is all the confirmation I need—she knows exactly what she's doing. "Yes, darling," she whispers. "I am quite well aware." She tosses the washcloth underhanded into the bathroom, sets the neatly folded square of toilet paper containing the used condom on the bedside table. “One might even venture to say that I not only know what will happen, but that that is my aim."
