“Slow,” he says, gripping my hips. “Wait!…p…preggo” He mumbles, making me smile.
“We’re good. I have an implant, remember?” I move experimentally, pushing down, taking a little more, and he chokes.
Fascinated by the pained expression on his face, I watch him as I lift up and push down again, loving the way he hisses through his teeth. The muscles and veins of his neck are exposed, his whole body tight. Even the grip of his fingers on my hips is firmer than they’ve ever been.
Usually he treats me like something delicate, breakable. He’s losing a bit of control, and for a woman with my history, that would normally be terrifying. But I’ve seen him look this way, like he’s going to die, and not once, in those other times I touched him, did he ever force me to do anything. I am safe.
I know it at my core.
He lets me set the pace, rising and falling slowly as I take him deeper and deeper, marveling at how slick my passage is, and how easily I’m taking him, despite all my worries. A wave of pride fills me as I realize my body works perfectly, easing the way for him.
No lube required.
Finally, my bum comes to rest on his legs. I’ve taken him all. Our mouths are pressed against each other as we gasp, sharing air. I take his mouth in a passionate kiss, pouring all my desire, and hope, and happiness into it. Soon it’s too much, and I have to move, rocking my hips in an instinctive rhythm. I’m climbing higher and higher, but can’t seem to tip over until Micah adjusts our angle and presses against my clit with each stroke.
I shudder and moan through my third orgasm of the night, then lay limp, breath heaving, letting him hold me up. As I calm, I feel him still hard within me. Urging my limp muscles to work, I pull away, kissing away the hint of disappointment on Micah’s face.
Unwrapping his arms from around me, I climb off, sitting on the bed beside him. Then slowly, watching his face as I do, I slide down the pillows, spreading and lifting my knees. “Fuck me,” I order him, refusing to blush as I use a word always forbidden to me. I’m flying high, feeling so absolutely in the moment that I want to wash away one more bad memory. I want Micah to take control. I want him powering over me.
I see the last threads of his control unraveling as he studies my face and sees nothing but want and need. Then he’s over me, lining us up, ready to push home. He spreads his legs, cocking one knee up so my leg rests on top of his, and plants his elbows at my sides.
“It’s your turn.” I whisper against his lips. “I want to watch you take your pleasure.”
A small grin briefly touches his mouth before he pushes into me in one thrust. I gasp at the fullness, rubbing the side of his face reassuringly, showing him I’m okay. He starts a slow push and pull, watching me carefully, so I show him how much I love him. How much I love us together, and how unafraid I am. The last thread of his control breaks. Shifting his arms to cup my shoulders, he speeds up, setting a punishing pace, racing to his finish.
I thought I would just feel, and watch, and enjoy him falling apart, my body spent. Enjoy the fact that Brent is banished. Because he is. The magic of being with Micah, his love and patience, has wiped away seven years of marriage. Being with him, feeling how good we are together, makes me sure that this is exactly where I’m supposed to be.
But as his strokes speed up, he also changes the angle of his thrust, pressing against me in just the right spot. And I light up all over again, forcing myself to keep my eyes open so I can watch him fall apart too, until our shudders get so strong they force them closed.
Micah’s breath is hot and damp against my throat, his grip still tight, like he’s afraid I might leave. I tighten my arms and legs around him, loving his weight over me, still in me, turning my head to press gentle kisses against his ear, cheek, corner of his mouth, anywhere I can reach. Our lips connect again and we drift into the simplest, smallest kiss. But it feels monumental to me. Parting our lips I whisper, “I’ve never done this before,” I tell him.
“What…before?” He asks curiously?
“Lay in bed, holding the man I love. It feels…” I frown, unable to put how monumental this moment is to me.
He takes my mouth in another lingering kiss and I feel the heat rising between us again. He pulls back, loving eyes raking over my face with a smile. “Feels…like…everything.”
“Yes,” I murmur. “Everything.” I trace his heavy brows with my fingertip. “Thank you for not giving up on me. For loving me through the fear and doubt. Through the pain.”
His eyes are glassy. “Never…stop…I…promise.”
Our lips meet again, our connection a living thing, growing with each touch, each kiss, each whispered word. It’s a promise.
It’s everything.
32
MICAH
Itighten my hands around the steering wheel, imagining they’re wrapped around Brent’s neck instead. I don’t want her anywhere near him, and it’s fucking killing me that she’s going to go in there. She’s been talking about this for weeks, how she wants to march back in there and get her divorce. Prove to him that he’s got no power over her. Ultimately, I know she needs to prove it to herself more than anything.
But I still hate it.
That need I have to protect her, shelter her is a raging beast in my chest, louder and stronger now that she’s officially mine. Now that we’re in that big bed together every night. She’s absolutely everything, and it turns out she’s also fucking fire in bed, and more than a little bossy. I am her willing slave, and we love every second of it. The last two months have been magic. The only dark spots are Holly’s worry over her friend Evie, and still being legally tied to Brent.
Her soft hand covers mine on the wheel. “Are you ok?”
“No, I hate…this. Go home.” She smiles, just like she does every time I make an effort to speak longer sentences to her. I’ve been working with a speech pathologist, and turns out my case isn’t as hopeless as I thought it was. My speech will probably never be anywhere close to normal. My brain damage didn’t magically go away, but apparently I can make new neural pathways, whatever the fuck that means.
