THE FIFTEENTH pt2
My eyes well up at Taylor’s words which so closely echo my mother’s. Putting it that way makes me think about myself in a slightly different light. I’m not ashamed of my scars; they are a sign that I’m a survivor so why should I be ashamed of my belly? It’s been Bean’s home for the last nine months. It has sustained her and kept her safe. How can I be ashamed of that?
“You always seem to know just what to say to make me feel better,” I tell Taylor. Pulling his head down to mine I gently place my lips on Taylor’s. The kiss starts off gentle, an intimate exchange of caresses. But then something changes and urgency takes over. Taylor pulls at my nightdress, his hands finding the hem and dragging the silky material up over my belly so that it bunches beneath my breasts.
As his mouth plunders mine, his hands move across my skin in long, languid strokes that are a direct contrast to the fierceness of his kisses. I submit to his caresses, revelling in the sublime feelings that his touch is eliciting. Taylor works his way down my body, peppering my skin with open-mouthed kisses that have me squirming beneath him. He tugs at my panties and I find myself lifting my hips up to give him access without any coherent thought.
I’m lost in the sensations building as Taylor sweeps his tongue over my clit, the fire in my core threatening to ignite into something so much more. Fisting my hands into Taylor’s hair, I buck underneath him as my body takes on a will of its own.
“More please, Taylor,” I rasp out.
“I will, baby,” Taylor murmurs. “You just need to be patient.” The growl that erupts from my throat has Taylor chuckling and the sensation of his mouth on my clit sends waves of pleasure through me.
Taylor continues to control the pace, despite my protestations, until I’m writhing beneath him. I’m an incoherent mess existing in a sphere of pleasure with moans and groan erupting out of me until Taylor is forced to hush me with a reminder that we are not alone in the flat. Biting my lip in an effort to control myself, Taylor brings me back to the brink of my orgasm yet again. It’s a cruel game he’s playing with me, working me up until I’m just on the cusp of the wave and then drawing me back down. Cruel, but delicious nonetheless.
The muscles in my belly are clenching wildly as Taylor nibbles and teases my clit, the small little nub sending epic jolts of electricity through to my core. It’s like fire and water all at the same time; white hot and ice cold until I’m trembling uncontrollably. Only then does Taylor put his fingers inside of me, pumping slowly and crooking his digits so that the tips rub across my G-spot.
My hands fist the soft sheets as I try to get a purchase, my back arching off the bed as my orgasm consumes me. It is like night and day all at once, bright light flooding the darkness as I clench down on Taylor’s fingers. As the waves begin to subside each of my muscles seems to unlock one by one until I am lying on the bed limp and spent.
As I try to catch my breath, Taylor crawls up my body. I taste blood in my mouth and realise that I have bitten my lip so hard in my efforts to remain quiet that I’ve broken through the skin. “You okay, baby?” Taylor murmurs into my ear as he strokes the hair from my face.
“Hmmm,” I mumble in response, unable to form any proper words.
I’m barely aware of Taylor pulling out his phone until I hear the snapping sound of his camera and realise that he’s taken a picture of me.
“Taylor,” I moan. “Not fair. Don’t take pictures of me when I look like crap after what you just did to me.”
Turning to me he holds the phone out to me so that I can see the picture. “This is how I see you, Abs. Every time I think of you this is the kind of image that pops into my head. This is you at your most elemental, raw and pure. Maybe you see something else, but all I see is beauty. My beautiful wife who makes me the happiest man on earth.”
The picture that captures my face and shoulders has an ethereal quality that makes me gasp. My head is turned slightly to the side so that the line of my profile is contrasted with the stark white of the pillow. My red hair is splayed around my head like a fiery crown. My eyes are hooded, dark lashes giving me a demure look, while my lips are plump and swollen as they curve into a half-smile. I look like a woman who has been fucked well. I look like a woman truly at peace with the world. I look beautiful.