Page 142 of Dream House
I want to tell her what it means to me to be here with her. To be trusted. To be allowed in. I want to tell her that I will never take this for granted. I want to tell her that it makes me feel different. Not worthy. Because I’m not. But honored.
Tell her that I want her to know me. Like no one else has known me. But these words are so bald. They ask so much, I can’t speak them. I’ll sound like a fool.
So I put all this unspoken longing into my touch. Into giving.
And this I can say.
“I want to make you feel good.” I speak against her lips.
I want to learn. I want to know what pleases her.
I run my hand up her bodice and palm her left breast, squeezing gently. Her hiss of breath is pure pleasure. My thumb finds her nipple through the fabric, and it’s only then I realize that under this dress, her breasts are perfectly bare.
I moan and take her one peaked nipple in my mouth, drenching the thin fabric as she gasps.
“Oh, God—”
She grinds against me as she arches her back, and I swear, I see stars. I shift my hand to her perfect bottom and cinch her tighter against me. Judging by the sounds we make, it’s torture for both of us.
I thought I could take my time, savor her like an afternoon in the sun, but I can’t resist her desire. With clumsy fingers, I tug at the knot of her bodice until it gives and then fuss with the laced up front until my hand slips easily under the fabric.
“Yes,” she whispers, her eyes closing, bliss painting her soft smile as I massage her nipple. I know how lucky I am not only to be here, touching her, but to be able to see this. See all of her. She was beautiful in the moonlight the first time, but in the golden glow of the lamplight, her beauty is intoxicating.
I kiss her neck, her mouth. Her sweet tongue is eager, playful and urgent at the same time. One of her hands holds my cheek as the other roams over my back.
Why does her kiss feel so good?
I know I don’t deserve this, and yet, her touch makes me feel like I am enough.
When I take her breast in my mouth, Stella gasps and her hips buck. She hooks a leg over mine and the hand at my back skims downward. She slips that hand beneath the drawstring of my pants and grabs my ass.
The urge to thrust is maddening.
I release her breast. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“No,” she says, panting. “I’m trying to get you out of these.”
A deep chuckle rumbles through me. “No way. Not yet.” I reach back and gently clasp her wrist.
“When then?” As I guide her hand away, her fingernails trail over one ass cheek, making my balls tighten.
Holy—
I’d like nothing better than to strip us both, but—“Patience is a virtue,” I manage.
She blows out a huff that teases my hair. “Clearly, you don’t know how long it’s been since I had actual sex.”
I bring our hands up between us and massage her palm with my thumb. “How long?”
Stella narrows her eyes at me, her look a mixture of coyness and vulnerability that stirs something both tender and protective in me.
“Two years.”
It’s hard to quantify how this statement makes me feel. One the one hand, I’m selfishly pleased that she’s bestowing this honor on me. On the other, it’s a crying shame no one has been taking care of her.
I want to change that.
I release her hand and let mine dive under the hem of her baffled skirt. Her breath hitches when I settle it on her bare thigh. With almost no pressure at all, I press against it until she rolls onto her back.
