I slip the sweater over her head and dive in to her ample cleavage with my hands and mouth. Avery has perfect breasts like they were made solely for my hands. I pull down the lace to expose one little rose bud nipple. It’s already peaked and begging for my mouth. I lean down, licking it slowly, and drawing it into my mouth with just a little bit of suction. Avery lets out another moan, and rests her head against the door. I take the opportunity to release her other breast and shower it with the same attention I gave the first one.
“Please,” she says through parted lips and heavy breathing.
“Please what?” I growl.
“I need you.”
“What do you need, babe?”
“I need you. Just you. Inside me.”
And just like that, I’m setting her back down on the floor. She sways a little on her feet so I grab a hold of her hips to help hold her up. I squat down in front of her to remove her boots. I slowly slide the zipper down her calf, inching closer and closer to the ankle. After I remove that boot and set her foot back on the ground, I pick up her other foot, giving that boot the same attention. With both boots off, I make quick work of removing her socks. She’s staring down at me with a look that conveys just how bad she wants this. Wants me. I’m still kneeling in front of her, eyes locked on hers, as I reach up and unbutton her pants. I slowly pull down the zipper and glance at the black lace peaking out of the opening of her jeans. Fuck me! She’s wearing matching black lace underwear. I slide my shaking hands down her hips, removing her pants as I go. When I get them down to her ankles, she steps out of them. Avery is standing there, breathing heavily and leaning against my bedroom door in a damn black lace bra and underwear set. I could die right now and be happy. Well, almost.
I stare straight ahead at her bare stomach. Avery looks down and notices my eyes burning into her flesh, and she instinctively covers her belly up with her hands. “My stomach isn’t as pretty as it use to be,” she says in a whisper laced with her insecurities.
“Move your hands,” I tell her. It takes her a moment, but she eventually drops her hands to expose her belly. Even in the dark of my room, I can see the faint lines of stretch marks. I lean forward and lay tender kisses along her stomach, running my tongue along the marks. “Your belly is sexy as hell. These marks are beautiful and represent your daughter. I’d rather you have these and that beautiful little girl of yours than have a completely perfect stomach without her.”
I look up and can tell that my words have put her at ease. But, they were the truth. These stretch marks are beautiful on her body.
As if they have a mind of their own, my hands snake around her calves and slowly slide up her legs. They seem to go on forever; miles and miles of gorgeous bare, smooth legs. My hands continue to explore her legs, creeping up her thighs, heading towards the junction of her legs. I graze my thumb lightly over the wet material of her lace panties. She moans and slightly spreads her legs, encouraging me to continue my exploration. I draw her panties to the side so I can get a look at her beautiful body. She’s so damn wet. I slide one finger inside of her and she bucks hard against my door. I can’t believe how tight she feels. I slip the second finger in and continue the assault on her clit with my other thumb. She’s panting and moaning with each thrust of my fingers. I feel her insides tighten around my fingers as she starts to convulse. Her orgasm rips through her, the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard, and I don’t let up with my fingers until I know she’s starting to come back down from the intense orgasm.
As she starts to relax, her legs practically give out from under her. I stand up quickly and grab a hold of her, bracing her between my body and the door.
“We’re not done yet, sweetheart.” She opens her eyes and gives me a little smile that is full of satisfaction. A look that I put there on her beautiful face and damn if that doesn’t do something to me. Pride fills me like nothing ever has. I grab the hem of my shirt and rip it up and over my head. Her eyes drop to the tattoos on my chest and arms. She reaches her hand and traces the tribal ink on my upper arm, the one I got right before I went into the military after high school graduation. Then I see her eyes roam over the one on my chest, right over my right peck. She traces the dark black ink of my Marines tattoo, causing my peck to jump with her touch. The words and numbers of the tattoo represent our bond and brotherhood. I got the tattoo with all my squad brothers after we got back home to the United States from our first tour of duty. Her brother has the same one right beside his heart, too. It hurt like hell but was well worth the pain.