AARON

I respected her body. It wasn’t just there for my pleasure or for work. It wasn’t something to use or manipulate. It was a vessel, the vehicle that carried her.

Her breasts fell apart, just so, and without the support of her top they relaxed to their natural places. Beautiful places. Sacred places. Her nipples were hard, and I’d make them harder, but first I couldn’t tear my eyes off her. Couldn’t help but let them wander and chart her body.

She was bared to me and I mapped our first adventure.

Two more knots held the fabric around her waist and I glanced at her face, just once, before I dared to touch them. I needed her permission, needed the green light. Needed her to know I was giving and not taking, and that whatever it was she needed I could deliver. That started with her consent but didn’t end with it. Not only did I want her to be willing, I wanted her to hunger for me. Need me. Demand me.

So with steady hands, I played with the strings and waited. It was no burden.

Faith watched me, almost curiously, as I leaned in near her breast. Then her breath hitched, watching me grow steadily closer. Her chest filled, and the fullness brought her pinky-peach nipple to my waiting tongue. I didn’t close my mouth around her. I wouldn’t rush.

It wasn’t even dark yet, and as far as I was concerned, she had me all night if she wanted. My two-way radio was off and somewhere in the house. The whole damn world could be on fire, but that night I was all hers and she would be my fire. I’d stoke her then douse the flames just before she exploded. I’d tend to only her, and when she was ready, I’d let her blaze out of control because some fires don’t need to be put out. She just needed the air to breathe and the room to burn like hell.

I offered the other side of her chest the same attention. She purred when I finally licked. Hummed when I circled her skin with my tongue. Exhaled with a heavy sigh, nearly a moan, when I finally sucked.

Glancing up, I found a slack face, her mouth open and eyes closed.

Yes, I’ll take care of you.

Her fingers found mine and like I’d prayed they would, she helped me loosen the knots on her hips.

She made the choice.

That’s right. Come to me. 

With the fabric loose, her legs fell apart and she leaned farther back on her palms, hovering over the cushion behind her.

My pulse quickened. She gave me the flood of urgency I loved. I would stay calm though.

I didn’t expose her the first chance I got but left the untethered bottom part of her suit stay where it was. I’d make damn sure she felt everything. Experience all the pleasure she deserved. The world revolved around the precious body in my hands. 

My eyes battled, wanting both to watch her face for clues and see the landscape as I explored her body. She was captivating, and I was lost to her unique details.

The softness of her tummy. She was a mother, and her body cataloged how life-changing it had been for her. There were faded stretch marks, like sets of parenthesis flanking her navel, proof of her femininity. They were hers and probably neglected, so I kissed them.

My fingers splayed, I caressed her neck and chest, and when I felt her heart thud underhand, between her breasts, I left them there.

The water cooled my body as I sank deeper, tasting new flavors of her and coveting the feel of her skin on my lips. She adjusted, and the thought of her bare ass scraping across the rough cement sprung me into action. I wrapped my arm around her back, lifted her off the ground, pulled the soft float underneath, and then set her back down.

Faith was malleable, pliant in my arms. Her blinking was slow, and she reclined more, slowly spreading her legs wider—for me.

Another choice had been made. An invitation.

I kissed her inner thigh, just above her knee, and her foot gently caressed my side.

Thank you, Foxtrot.

“Aaron, it’s been so long. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

I didn’t mind; besides, her body language said otherwise. Her hips rocked toward me. Her foot stroked my ribs. Her hands reached for me.

My mouth ascended her left thigh.

“Aaron, what about you?” she panted.

What more did I need?

There’d been nights upon nights I’d thought of her, of this, and I’d survived just fine on that. I was finally with her and felt wealthier for each real second that passed.

My mouth was on a mission, and it headed to her center.

“This is what I want,” I requested, a breath away from the fabric covering her middle, and she jumped. 

I paused and my eyes met hers.

“I’m ticklish there.”

What a fun secret.

In some ways, I wanted to torment her, but not like that. Some other time. What I wanted wasn’t a laughing matter.

I pressed my lips against the nylon suit and it was warm. Her fragrance filtered through me. Clean laundry, chlorine, and her. Through the fabric I immediately felt a deliciously swollen spot, a new place to call my home, and I kissed her there.

Enlisting my thumb, I caressed her from the outside of her bikini. She’d ask me in when she wanted me there, which wouldn’t take long if I was on the right track.

Arching her back, she pulled the last piece of her bathing suit away and sat perched before me naked.

I wanted inside her. My tongue. My fingers. My whole body.

She shivered, but it wasn’t likely that she was cold. She was anticipating me. Waiting for me. Fostering her need for me. And that made her tremble under my purposeful gaze.

“You’re beautiful.”

She watched me with hungry eyes. I licked my fingers, made them slick, and unhurriedly, ran them down the seam and up both sides of her.

“You’re better than my dreams.”

“You dream about me?” she whispered back, thick and wanton.

My mouth was headed for her center, but first, against precious skin that I’d never touched before, I answered, “Every goddamned night.”

She made an ah sound and bucked against my lips. I moaned, sampling her welcoming flesh and wetness. The Promised Land. She was the sweet taste of freedom I’d waited for over the long, lonely years.

The flat of my tongue spread her and lapped her arousal, quenching a carnal thirst I’d always had for her body. It was then I realized I’d underestimated my need to please. To fulfill her desires. To lay claim to her, and be everything she needed.

When my mouth was on her, my eyes fell shut from the excruciating deliciousness. Then, when I’d break away, they’d open to take in the sight of her glistening skin.

I tasted her until it grew dark outside. Two times she’d quickened and held back. I felt it, heard it in her whimper that she was trying to fight her pleasure.

The thought of prying eyes and ears, witnessing her like that urged me out of the pool. I gathered her limp body in my arms. As I carried her to my room, she kissed my mouth, still damp with her on my thankful lips.

I placed her on my bed and kissed my way down her stomach. She tried to halt my descent, and her hands clutched my shoulders.

“I’m just getting started.” My words landed on the breast I palmed. I sucked at her and continued down her shivering body, committed to drowning in her pleasure and drawing it from her for the first time with my mouth.

“What if I can’t?” she asked, but she opened herself to me.

“You will.”

“But usually...” Her words fell away as my fingers traced her entrance, slick and warm. Her muscles trembled around my tongue and hand. As slowly as I was capable, my index finger slipped inside her.

I’d never, in all my life, been that hard. My back arched, and I ground against the mattress losing a war with my need for her.

My hips flexed.

My patience wore thinner.

I throbbed.

I needed to be inside of her more than I needed the blood in my veins, but she’d let go first. There was no other way about it. She would come on my tongue, around my fingers, in my bed, and the first time she’d do it alone.

I had to please her selflessly, or otherwise I didn’t deserve her. She was all that had mattered to me for so fucking long, and I had to prove to her—and to myself—that I was man enough to put her first.

In all ways. Her safety. Her happiness. Her time. Her life. Her pleasure.

And if she wanted an orgasm, I wouldn’t fucking stop until she got it. The effect she had on me was powerful. It made me powerful.

It was likely I’d find a release, myself, in the process. I didn’t care. Who gave a fuck if I came? It would probably be in my wet trunks, which I hadn’t even bothered to take off yet, against the bed, with my face buried between her legs.

She was first. I’d do anything to help her get there.

Again, after some time, she trembled, gasped, and grew close. Closer. Hastened, and then tensed. She halted and the rhythm of her breathing paused. Her hands balled and her spine came off the bed, but she was holding on too tight. Fighting it. Keeping it from me.

“Faith, let it out.”

She panted. “It’s too much.”

I pulled my other hand from under her waist and laced our fingers together. “You can handle it.”

If she was overwhelmed then I’d charm it out of her slowly. I’d do whatever was necessary. For her, not me.

Finally she relaxed, like she was sinking into a cloud, gently.

“Just breathe.” I set another tempo, less intense. Tuning myself to what she needed. Reminding myself to really pay attention. Learn her. Have patience.

I began again. This time, when she got closer, when her reactions and movements became less voluntary, I let her lead. She moaned, rubbed herself against my tongue, and rode my fingers.

I accepted that was what she liked, and then gladly gave it to her, without hesitation. In return, she climaxed with her hand in my hair, gently twisting her body in my sheets. Her orgasm made her wetter, tighter. She made the faintest, most delicate sounds, and I listened.

It was the most gratifying few moments.

When the rolling of her hips came to a stop, and the quaking inside her ended but for random squeezes of my finger, I withdrew from her and crawled up her side.

Faith turned in my arms and faced me, nuzzling my neck. Her leg climbed my hip, and I pulled her closer. She held my cheeks in her hands and locked her eyes on mine. Although it was dark in my room, I saw determination.

“I don’t want to stop,” she insisted. Then she kissed me, saying against my lips, “I don’t ever want you to stop.” She guided me on top of her and I rolled with her, holding my weight above her so she wasn’t crushed.

I needed to protect her, and that also meant not being another person who didn’t think about her well-being. Her life.

“Let me get a condom.”

“We’re both clean and I have an IUD. No condom. Please, just me and you. I’m sick of there being things between us.” Hungry for more—for me—her hand snuck between us and guided my erection where she wanted. She slid me through her wetness, three times, and then led me home.

“Foxtrot,” I groaned, entering her. Past all of our obstacles and over the hurdles.

I pushed.

She met me.

I ground.

She ground back.

I lost myself that night inside the woman I’d craved every day for as long as I could remember. I held back, and sometimes I couldn’t. But when my instincts got the better of me, and I gave her all I had, she took it and asked for more.

She writhed.

I swore.

We went up in flames.