Chapter 66 The Vera from my dreams
CHAPTER 66: The Vera from my dreams
Silas
She hadn’t moved.
She lay exactly as I’d left her. Her eyes latched on me the moment I returned, watching me, tracking my every movement. The sight of her waiting exactly as I had left her…exposed…obedient, sent a fresh, vicious bolt of excitement and desire straight to my groin.
I reached the bed and just looked at her.
I wanted her to see me looking. I wanted her to see the naked hunger I’d spent the last couple of months trying to bury.
And she did see.
Her breath caught. Her thighs shifted slightly, a subconscious, telling movement.
“Dr Caleb says it’s safe,” I said, my voice low. “He says to be gentle.”
There was a flash of surprise across her face.
“Oh,” she breathed, swallowing heavily.
She didn't expect that I had taken a break to get clearance from her doctor.
I tossed the phone on the nightstand and placed one knee on the mattress, then the other, slowly crawling over her. I haven't touched her yet. I let my shadow fall over her, let her feel the smuldering heat radiating from my skin.
“But I don’t feel gentle, Vera.”
She blinked wide-eyed, biting on her lower lip. “I d-don’t feel…delicate,” she said slowly. She stared at me, pointedly. “I don't want gentle,” she whispered.
A ghost of a smirk tugged at my lips as my control, already in tatters, shredded completely.
I lowered my mouth to her neck, not kissing, but inhaling, drinking in that scent I couldn't get out of my head, as if it was my only fix. The scent of her skin and of my soap on her, along with something else that was uniquely her, filled my head.
I kissed and licked the path from her collarbone to her jaw, tasting the shower water…tasting her.
She shuddered, a full-body tremor that made her pebbled nipples brush against my chest.
My hand found her breast. My palm covered it, the weight…perfect. They fit perfectly into my hands, almost as if they were meant for me, the peak hardening more against my skin.
I squeezed, not too hard, but with definite possession. She gasped, her back arching, pushing herself into my hand. “Silas.”
A thrill ran through me. I lowered my head without taking my gaze off of her, then I took one of her nipples into my mouth.
I sucked, lapped, nipped with my teeth until she was crying out, her hands fisting in my hair, holding me to her. I gave the same attention to the other breast, my hand roaming down her side, over the delectable curve of her hip.
My fingers traced the line of her stomach, that firm, beautiful curve. I kissed it. My lips pressed to the soft skin just below her navel, and I felt her jolt, trembling slightly.
My hand slid lower, till I found her heat. She was soaking. Dripping. My fingers deftly slid through her slick folds, and she moaned, long and low, her hips lifting off the bed.
“You’re wet,” I murmured against her stomach. “Already soaked and dripping, just for me.”
“Yes,” she sobbed, eyes tightly shut.
I pushed one finger inside her. She was tight, and clenching around me, impossibly hot. Vera gripped the sheets, tightly, her breathing getting heavier. I added a second finger, stretching her, my thumb circling the swollen bud at her apex.
Her cries tore out of her throat…ragged, and broken. Her legs fell open wider, an invitation, a plea.
I couldn't contain or hold on for much longer. I pulled out my fingers and moved up her body, lining my hips with hers. The head of my member nudged against her hot, dripping entrance, slick with her arousal.
I looked down at her, and I was sure I was never going to forget that picture. Her face was flushed, her lips swollen from my kisses, her eyes glazed with a need that mirrored my own.
It was the Vera from my dreams.
The woman who took everything from me. This was the woman I couldn’t stop wanting.
“Look at me,” I commanded.
Her eyes focused on mine.
I pushed inside.
An inch. A stretch. A burning. A perfect fullness that made her eyes roll back before they snapped to mine again. Her mouth dropped open as a soundless moan tore out of her throat.
I held there, my entire body trembling with the effort. I badly wanted to surge in and pound heavily into her, but I had to heed to the doctor’s words.
It was almost a difficult task because she was impossibly tight. So tight, so hot, her inner muscles fluttering around me.
I watched her face as I sank deeper, another inch, then another, until I was fully sheathed, buried to the hilt in her.
Finally, it was done. Our bodies were joined. The line was not just crossed; it was incinerated.
“Oh, God,” she choked out, tears sliding down her eyes and disappearing into her hair as her nails dug into my biceps. “Please…please…”
The desperation in the way she rolled her hips against me spoke what she couldn't.
I began to move. A slow, deliberate withdrawal, then a hard, deep thrust back into her devastating heat.
Her head tipped back, a loud cry tearing from her throat. Someone must have heard her, but I didn't care.
I set a rhythm, not gentle, not brutal, but relentless. Each stroke was a confession of my own depravity. Each gasp from her lips was an absolution I didn’t deserve.
The vulgar sounds of our bodies meeting filled the room. The wet slide of me moving in her. Her ragged pants. My own guttural groans ripped from deep within me filled the room. I dropped my head, my forehead resting against hers, our breath mingling. I was losing myself in her, in the feel of her, in the rightness of this wrongness.
“Do you feel me?” I rasped.
She could only nod, tears streaming down her temples.
“Touch yourself,” I gritted out. “Let me see you come.”
Without any word or resistance, her hand slid between our bodies, her eyes never blinking or leaving mine. I watched her face as her fingers found her clit. Her eyes squeezed shut, then flew open, locked on mine.
It was like a scene from a pornographic movie.
Her breath was coming in sharp, frantic little pants. The coil inside her was winding tight, I could feel it in the way her walls clamped and clenched rhythmically around my hardness.
“That’s it,” I murmured, picking up my pace, driving into her harder. “Come for me, wife. Let it go.”
That was the tip over the edge. Her back arched violently. A silent scream shaped her mouth. Her inner muscles convulsed around me, a hot, milking pulse that ripped my own control to pieces. My thrusts became erratic, desperate. I was there, right on the edge, chasing something, the pressure building at the base of my spine, ready to break.
I pulled out of her.
Her eyes flew open, shocked, bereft. “Silas—!”