She's fucking art... the most exquisite thing I've ever seen. And she doesn't take her eyes off me the entire time, watching me even as her eyes flutter when the pleasure ripples deep or the intensity of my touch overcomes her. It's like she, too, is afraid that if we stop, or look away from one another, that it will all be over, that she will wake and this will all have been some crazy, eggnog-fueled fever dream she'll never be able to recapture.
Her stomach dips with the intensity of her breaths as I skim my hand lower, grazing along her thigh and wrapping around it to find her center. Again, I scan her face for any sign of uncertainty, any hint of fear or pain, but she lifts her hips for me, her chest swelling with the impact of a nervous breath.
"Take me." She assures me. "I'm yours."
She's mine.
She always has been. In life, in death, in whatever the fuck this is.
A whimper slips past her quivering lips as I brush the pad of my thumb along her slit and up to the treasure between her thighs. I have watched her fall apart a hundred times, and I was the cause of all of them until this last one, when Nick forced it on her. It was one too many, a pleasure I need to unwrite and cover with something better.
Our love is boundless; so is the pleasure. As I stroke between her legs, she whimpers, the neediest sound I've ever heard, and it sinks deeper than my flesh. It brands my fucking soul.
"Noah..."
I know her body better than she does... the exact speed, the right amount of pressure, the cadence to keep her on a slow build to a climax that will be more earth-shattering than anything she's ever felt. My name turns into a prayer, and suddenly, I don't care where we go from here.
We spent a life planning for an eternity of riches... but she is the riches. We were warned not to take another idol, to worship only one God... but right now, there's only one thing on this earth that's worth worshipping, and it isn't the figure on the cross staring down at us.
It's a slow walk to the edge, leisurely, because we have all the time in the world, and I'm enjoying every miniscule reaction, every breath and flutter. And when we get to the edge, I keep her there, my beautiful hostage, so brave in giving me her body, so vulnerable and raw and so damn willing to accept me making her my playground.
We've made each other real in every sense of the word, the pleasure pulsing through us so acutely that it demands release soon.
I watch her lips form words that never make it off her tongue, and I watch as I bring her to a crescendo that crashes around us in the most exquisite symphony as the bells chime in their tower somewhere in the distance, setting a pace that I workher through. And as the final bell tolls, I release her from the pleasure, dragging my hand from her body just long enough to free myself of my pants.
Her eyes are locked on mine when I line myself up with her entrance, waiting for another little nod of permission as she licks the sweat from the top of her lip, assuring me that she wants this as much as I do.
I imagined what being sheathed inside of her would feel like. I've explored her with my fingers so many times and admired the silky warmth, the way it made me feel so encompassed by her. But I never could have imagined the exquisite pleasure of pushing into her wet heat, feeling her convulse around me as her heavy breaths shake her whole body.
I wonder if it hurts, or if pleasure is all we're capable of now, as she expands to make room for me, letting me sink slowly deeper than I've ever been before. And when I'm fully seated, when I can go no further, I grab beneath her knee, lifting her to me and sliding further in, testing how deep we can go. I'd crawl inside of her if I could, and I don't know if that's love or obsession, but it doesn't fucking matter. It's the truth.
"Noah..." She cries for me, pleads for me, in the sweetest fucking voice, her eyes fluttering closed and her lips pressed together, holding onto whatever it is she isn't letting out.
"Open up for me." I tell her, pressing a kiss to the thigh still draped across my forearm. "Give me everything and take all that I give."
"I... can't..."
"You're doing so good," I praise her, soaking in the feeling of her walls clamping around me, desperately urging me to do something... anything.
"I can't... I need you to... Noah!" Her pleas turn to a whine as I retreat, easing back so that I can push in again, deeper this time.
"Relax, sweetheart. I've waited an eternity for this... I'm not going to let it end in a single stroke."
She laughs—actually laughs— and her body welcomes me in again before she grips the back of my neck, her nails digging into the flesh.
"Don't stop."
I didn't plan to.
Chapter 9
Noah
It'sthegreatestnightof my life, and I recognize the irony.
Not only am I dead, but she died too. That should make this night horrible, because she deserves to live. But having her here with me again? There's no greater promise for the afterlife than to spend it with those you love. I loved other people, people who can come join us in their time, but none like this. Not the way I loved her in life, and even more in death.
We lay in the light of the melted candles and the Christmas strands, her head on my chest as I run lazy fingers over her spine, afraid that if I stop touching her even for a second, she may slip out from beneath my touch and I'd lose her again.
