Page 82 of Broken By Silence
Her hands weave into my hair, tilting my head toward hers. I press a soft kiss along her jawline, linger at the curve of her neck. Her breath hitches, a quiet shiver running through her. I trace her collarbone with my lips, fingers gliding down her side, careful over bruises from Claire’s training. She shivers, pressing herself to me. I kiss lightly over each mark, reverent.
Her hands slide down my chest, over my shoulders, fingers mapping like words. I follow her lead, hands exploring the curve of her back, memorizing her form. Lips find the nape of her neck again, teasing, slow. She arches into it.
She signs again, almost shyly this time, “I love you.”
My chest tightens, warmth flooding me. I brush my thumb along her cheek, whisper against her skin, “I love you too.”
I trace the letters against her skin with gentle pressure, letting her feel my answer.
She shivers, presses closer.
I kiss along the line of her collarbone, tracing over sensitive skin, lingering over bruises. She arches, letting me map her fully, fingers gripping my shoulders, pulling me toward her. Every touch is dialogue, every shiver a sentence.
Her hands roam lower, teasing, guiding. I respond, brushing my lips along her side, over the bruises, leaving soft kisses and gentle pressure. She presses into me, guiding my movements, letting me know she’s ready for everything I can give.
Her hips tilt, pressing against mine. I let my hands roam, tracing along her back, over bruises, letting her feel every reverent touch. She presses closer, hands sliding along my shoulders and down my arms. I respond in kind, brushing along the bruises on her ribs again, lips lingering, letting her know she is safe.
I brush my thumb along her jaw, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Forever,”I sign back, letting the words carry the weight I feel. She shivers, presses fully into me, her warmth a tether, grounding me.
I move her, shedding our clothes as we go, pushing her until she falls onto the bed, and then lean down, lips brushing her shoulder, over the soft, tender bruises. She arches, pressing closer, fingers threading through my hair, guiding me. Every movement is deliberate, slow, intimate. We move together like this, synchronized, a rhythm that requires no sound.
Her hands sign again, barely moving, brushing against my chest, “I want you.”
I lean in, lips pressing to hers, slow, deep, hands holding her like she’s the most precious thing I’ve ever touched.
She presses back, fingers tangled in my hair, hips tilting, pressing, guiding. I let my hands explore her, over her back, sides, leaving kisses along every tender spot, then I push into her.
We break for air, foreheads touching, breaths mingling.
The world goes quiet when I’m inside her. Not that it’sever loud for me, but this is a different kind of quiet. A focused quiet. Agoodquiet.
Everything narrows down to the feeling of Lottie’s thighs wrapped around my waist, the soft weight of her ankles locking against the small of my back. My hands are buried in her hair, fanning out across our pillow. Her eyes are wide, locked on mine, and her lips are parted. She’s saying something. I don’t need to hear it to understand.
Her chest rises and falls in a quick, shallow rhythm I can feel through my own. I watch the words form on her mouth, the shape of my name. “Oscar.”
I push into her again, a smooth, deep stroke that makes her head press back into the pillows. Her eyes flutter shut for a second. A soft sigh escapes her, a puff of air I feel against my cheek. This is our language. The grammar of skin and breath.
I lower my head, my lips finding the pulse hammering at the base of her throat. I taste salt and the faint, clean scent of her soap. Her hands slide up my back, her nails tracing faint, electric lines over my skin.Look at me, I think, willing her to understand. I want to see it all.
She does. Her eyes open, dark and full of something warm and liquid. Her hips lift to meet my next thrust, a small, eager movement that tells me everything.More. Don’t stop.
I shift my weight, planting my forearms on either side of her head, caging her in. This close, I can see every detail. The tiny flecks of gold in her brown eyes. The way her lower lip is caught between her teeth. The faint sheen of sweat making her skin glow in the low light.
One of her hands leaves my back, her fingers coming up to trace the line of my jaw, my bottom lip. Her touch is feather-light, almost hesitant. I turn my head and press a kiss to her palm, and her expression softens into a smile.
My rhythm changes. It’s not just pushing and pulling anymore. It’s a deep, rolling grind, a circling of my hips that presses me againstthat spot inside her that makes her lose all sense of words. I know it by the way her back arches, a sharp, beautiful curve that lifts her breasts toward me. I know it by the way her mouth forms a perfect, silent ‘O’.
I watch a shudder work its way through her, from her core all the way out to her fingertips, which dig into my shoulders. Her other hand fists in the sheets beside her head. Her eyelids are heavy, but she keeps them open, staring right into me. She’s letting me watch her come undone. It’s the most intimate thing I’ve ever seen.
I feel the first ripple around me, a subtle, fluttering tension that makes my own control fray at the edges.God. I drive into her, harder now, my own breath coming in ragged gasps, I can’t hear but can feel burning in my lungs. The bed frame gives a soft, rhythmic creak against the wall, a vibration I feel through the mattress, through my knees. It’s a bass note to the symphony of her body.
Her heels press into me, urging me on, holding me tight. She’s so warm, so impossibly wet and tight around me. Every nerve ending is screaming, my world reduced to the slick, hot friction of our bodies moving together.
Her free hand slides between us, her fingers finding herself, circling that sensitive nub. I watch her face as she touches herself, her expression shifting from focused concentration to pure, unadulterated bliss. It’s the trigger.
Her body seizes up, tensing like a bowstring pulled too tight. A full-body tremor shakes her, and a silent cry is torn from her lips, her head thrashing back and forth on the pillow. The muscles inside her clamp down on me, a series of intense, rhythmic pulses that rip a groan from my own throat. The sensation is everywhere, all at once, and it’s all her.
Seeing her peak shatters what’s left of my control. My hips stutter, my rhythm breaking into a frantic, desperate pace. I bury my face in her neck, my own release roaring through me, a white-hot wave of pleasure that empties my mind of everything but her name.Lottie. Lottie. Lottie.
