Page 70 of Light Up The Night
I search myself once more and find only that answer. "Yes."
"Thank fucking god," he growls. "Been dying to see your tits, Cadence."
"I am afraid you will not like them. I am afraid they are not big enough. Or—or not the right shape."
He laughs at this—I know by now that when he laughs at me, I must remember not to assume ill intent. "I'm not laughing at you, Cadence, I just—"
"I know that now," I whisper.
He keeps hold, still, his eyes on mine. "There's absolutely, positivelyzerochance I won't find your tits as perfect and incredible as the rest of you. I promise.”
"But you have not seen them."
"Don't have to."
I swallow hard. "Explain, if you would. Please."
He sniffs a laugh. "Makin' me work for it, huh?" He nuzzles the tip of his nose against mine, grinning at me. "Easy to explain, sweetheart. One, they're part of you, and you're gorgeous. Just objectively, regardless of how I feel about you, you are fucking breathtaking—and even if you had no boobs at all, like mosquito bites or whatever, you'd still be hot as fuck and I'd still be just as desperate to get you topless."
"Desperate?" I breathe.
"Completely."
"Oh." I gnaw on my lip. "And the other reason? You said number one, which implies the presence of a second reason."
He holds my gaze, and I feel him very gradually releasing his hold on the closure. "Number two? I'm lookin' at 'em, sweetheart, and they're fuckin' perfect."
"They are still almost entirely covered."
"And even so, they're fucking epic, Cadence. Absolutely perfect."
"Let go now, please," I breathe. "I cannot bear the suspense any longer."
He spreads his fingers apart, releasing the cups. They fly apart, and my naked breasts spill out. "Fuckme," he groans. "See? Perfect." He licks his lips, and his eyes are locked, rapt,on my breasts, which heave with my almost frantic breathing. "God…damn, Cadence. Even more gorgeous than I'd imagined."
“You…imagined them?"
"Fuck yes I have. Frequently. And the reality iswaybetter than anything I could have fantasized about.”
He slides his hand over my belly, covering my navel, and then up and up until the undersides of my breasts touch the upper edge of his hand. My breath catches, then. My nipples are peaked and hard and aching and I am shaking all over, searching his face and waiting for him to touch me there.
"You are the first and only man to see me like this," I whisper.
It feels important to note that, for some reason. I do not know why.
"Thank you for trusting me with this privilege, Cadence." He cups my face, kisses me softly. "Please believe me when I say that I'm not taking this for granted."
His lips move ghostly-soft on mine as he speaks, and I lift up, mate my mouth to his, open my lips, and sweep my tongue in his mouth to elicit that growl.
Yes, there it is—his chest rumbles with the sound, which sends a searing pulse of heat and pressure billowing through my entire body—my fingertips tingle, my scalp tingles, my toes. My nipples stiffen so hard and so tight that I find myself arching my back in a vain attempt to relieve the ache somehow.
His rough palm scrapes my belly as he caresses upward…and this time, he does not stop.
He gathers the weight of my breast into his hand, cupping it. I whimper through clenched teeth at the feel of his hand, where no hand save mine has ever touched. The whimper becomes a shrill gasp when he strums my peaked, throbbing nipple with his thumb—a sensation like a bolt of electricity sizzles through me, rocketing in a hot line from my nipple to my privates. I archagain, this time pressing my breast into his hand. The ache is not relieved, however; rather, it worsens.
As does the pressure behind my sex—the throb and pulse of blood rushing and pooling and pounding in my clitoris is all-consuming.
This is arousal.
