Releasing her hands, I trailed kisses to her other nipple and massaged the breast I'd just licked. She was so soft, so smooth, and she tasted like pure fucking heaven.
"Lots … that's-"
"Perfect," I murmured, continuing to lick, kiss and suck.
Her fingers dug into my scalp when I flicked my tongue rapidly and sucked as much of her breast into my mouth as I could, repeating the process, over and over until her chest couldn't arch toward me any further.
She relaxed and fell back onto the bed, pulling on my hair and yanking my head back enough to separate my lips from her skin. "We have to stop," she pleaded through heavy breaths.
My eyes found hers. Desperate. Panicked. Soaked in lust.
"Do we?"
She nodded.
"Okay." I crept kisses down her stomach to the seam of her underwear, smelling just how wet and aroused I'd made her. "Are you sure?" I asked, pressing my nose against her clit and licking the material covering her pussy.
"No," she moaned, bucking her hips, wanting more.
So I gave her more, swiping my tongue over her the material again, and again.
"Yes, yes. I mean yes!" She scampered back and out from underneath me, her chest puffing, her eyes wide and blinking. "Yes. Please stop. We can't. I … I don't want-"
She looked about ready to dive headfirst through my window just to escape, and it scared the ever-living shit out of me.
"Okay. Okay," I said, interrupting her while holding my hands up in surrender. "No fucking. I promise, no fucking."
Her body relaxed just slightly.
"But you should know that doesn't mean I don't want to, Danielle."
A pained expression drifted across her face.
"And I know you want to as well. But I won't push. I'll never push."
Getting up from the bed, I walked around to my side and pulled back the covers before climbing in and lying on my back with my arm outstretched, an invitation for her to rest her head upon my chest. "I'll wait till you're ready."
She sighed, slid under the covers as well and cuddled into my side. "Lots, I may never be ready."
I hugged her tightly and kissed her head. "You will, so I'll wait."
Lying there, with Danielle in my arms, I felt like pinching myself. She was where she belonged and I had every intention to make her see that.
Every intention.
I'd only ever waited for her - twenty-two years, in fact. Another day, month, year or two wouldn't matter, because I'd wait forever if that was what it took.
Placing her hand on my heart, I could feel her uncertainty as if she knew my heart was hers but just didn't know how to accept it.
It made me smile
… because I knew that one day she would figure it out.
I'd always hated those initial moments of waking up, when your brain computed reality from make believe and you realised what you'd just experienced never happened. Some days that realisation was a good thing, like when I'd wake from a nightmare fuelled by my memories of being trapped in the drain. Those mornings were terrifying and, thankfully, few and far between. Then there were the times when it wasn't such a good thing, like when I woke with a sated smile on my face because I'd just experienced the world's greatest orgasm or sweetest gesture. Regardless, I still hated that split second before reality hit, where I'd have to decipher which morning I was to encounter.
Squinting my eyes, I swear my heart forgot to beat, as I experienced that moment I hated so much before quickly realising the smile forming on my face was the result of Elliot's two, strong, warm arms encasing me from behind. Oh my God! Elliot Parker is hugging me … in bed … in HIS bed.
I slipped my hands down the front of me, feeling for my knickers. Yes, they're still on. Thank fuck for that. The presence of my underwear confirmed what I'd just experienced before waking was a dream, a really good one.
A safe one.
Wanting to get back to my subconscious bedroom jockey skills, I closed my eyes and willed the scene back to the forefront of my mind but with little success, mainly because Elliot's rock hard proximity made leaving reality far too difficult.
He's so warm, and hard, and he smells so good.
I could honestly say that not many people smelled pleasant in the morning; it was basically when we were at our worst. But Elliot … he smelled like clean sheets, firewood, pine needles, and man. Dirty, raw, clean man.
Slowly rotating in his arms, I was extra careful not to wake him, holding my breath and biting my lip each time he moved. When we were younger and he was allowed to stay over one time, I'd woken before him and watched him sleep. Back then, it was perhaps a little creepy … unlike now, because I was just rolling over in bed and keeping my eyes open. It wasn't my fault that he was in my line of sight.