Page 125 of Delta

A moment later, Bryn appears in the open doorway, the rising sun backlighting her. She's wrapped in a red, white, and pink floral knee-length kimono-type thing, her feet bare and dusted with wet sand. Her hair is loose and wild and windblown, her lovely, rich brown skin sun-kissed.

"Hey, you," I say, smiling at her. "How was the girls’ night sleepover?”

She shrugs. "It was fun. Ren was there, too, of course, so we decided he could be an honorary girl for the night. He got his fingers and toes painted blue. He's a sweet kid." She leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest, her gaze lingering on me—I'm in nothing but a pair of rather short shorts. "You?"

"I'll never be a hacker like Lear, but I’m a decent hand with simpler computer stuff."

"How are you feeling?"

"Sick of that fuckin' question," I growl. "Fine, mostly. Ready to get rid of that thing for good." I fling a hand at the oxygen canister. "I only need it now and then. It’s an improvement."

She pushes off the frame and prowls toward me, gaze lingering hungrily on my chest, flicking to my bare shoulders, my abs, my arms. "Do you need the oxygen right now?"

“Not anymore." I pull the cannula out and toss it onto the canister, stop the flow, and move to push up out of the chair.

She reaches me first, pressing her hands onto my shoulders, pushing me back down onto the chair. "Ah-ah-ah," she scolds. "Stay where you are."

I relax into the oversized easy chair, letting her take over. "As you wish, my love."

She levers the footrest down. Braces her hands on the arms of the chair, nuzzling her nose and lips across my cheek, huffing a hot, teasing breath into my ear. "I've knotted this robe too tight," she breathes. "I need help untying it."

“Is that so?" I say, trailing my fingers up her thighs, lifting the hem of the robe as I go; I reach her hips, and discover she's not wearing any underwear.

"Get me naked, Rush," she whispers. "Now. I need you inside me."

A thousand responses, each dirtier than the last, rampage through my brain. My idiot tongue manages none of them. "God, please," I whisper, overcome by need, by desperation, by love.

I fumble at the tie of her robe—the little minx has barely knotted the thing at all. One tug and the knot comes apart, the edges of the robe draping open, revealing her nude, perfect body.

"God, Bryn, you're so fucking gorgeous." I ghost my hands over her shoulders, brush the robe off. It flutters to the floor in a pool, and the sun glistens off her lush brown skin, slivers and shines through her dense black curls. Her curves tease and tantalize, all trim hips and tight waist, strong thighs and heavy breasts. We never did find any time alone in the hospital, not even for any handsy sort of fun. Too many doctors and nurses coming and going, or Richard, Evelyn, and Eliza, or the A1S crew, or I was too fucking exhausted, honestly.

But now…

It's been fucking weeks since I’ve done more than chastely kiss her lips or cop a greedy feel as she curls up in the bed next to me.

I'm absolutely ravenous for her.

"You're pretty fine yourself, Mr. Bellamy." She pushes her hips between my thighs, rests her hands on my shoulders. "You should do stuff to me."

I grin up at her, letting my hands carve up the backs of her thighs, a groan escaping me as I fill my hands with the plump, taut perfection of her ass. "It's been so long I’ve forgotten what to do. You may have to teach me, Miss Harris."

She looms over me, hips pushed forward, back arched, chest high and proud, chin tucked to gaze down at me, hands in my hair. "Just keep touching me. Everywhere. Please, Rush."

Up her back, over her shoulders. Down her arms. Scoop the weight of her tits into my hands, pulse pounding at the glory of her body, my whole body thrumming with anticipation. With joy. With love.

"Like this?" I breathe, rolling my thumbs over her nipples.

She gasps. "Yes."

I lean forward and lift up, suckle her nipple into my mouth. "And that?"

"Perfect." Her fingers dimple my scalp, trail through my hair and down my nape. "Keep going."

I kiss her belly, her navel. Feather a finger down her seam—she's wet for me. Fuck, I need to taste her. "Turn around and bend over for me, Bryn."

"Rush, you—"

I cut her off. "I'm not an invalid, sweetheart. And if you think anything is going to stop me from tasting the sweet sugar of your tight little cunt, you're greatly mistaken. I’ve dreamed of the taste of you for weeks." I slip a finger inside her channel, coating my finger in her slick, wet essence. Withdraw my finger and pop it into my mouth. "Turn around. Bend over."