Page 103 of Silas

“Silas,” she gasps. “What are you doing to me? Oh god, it’s…oh god. I like it. I like it. More, more.”

I tug my finger out a little bit, and then back in, only as far as the first knuckle. Her cry, then, is ragged, guttural.

“I…” She can’t keep her feet much longer. “I’m gonna…oh god. Ohfuck, Silas—SILAS, oh god.”

“I love it when you swear,” I whisper. “Not sure why, but it’s fucking hot as hell.”

She’s bent double now, head hanging, fingers flying over her clit; as her climax builds, she lifts helplessly up onto her toes, arching her spine to push back into my touch. I use my free hand to play with her tits, which sway pendulously as she drives back into my touch.

“Oh!” She screams, her knees giving out, legs pinning together as her orgasm rips through her.

I catch her, twisting her in my arms, holding her slippery, soft wet skin and kissing her temple and her jaw and her chin and then her lips as she shudders helplessly in my arms.

Minutes pass before she regains enough muscular function to find her feet and stand up straight. She still hangs onto my shoulders for balance, gasping and panting.

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod,” she whispers. “Wow. Just…wow.”

“Thank you for trusting me,” I tell her as I use the bar of soap to wash my hands.

“Of course I trust you,” she answers. “Anything you want to do, I’ll trust you. I know you’d never do anything to hurt me. I know you only want to make me feel good, and I…I want to learn, with you.” She laughs. “That was…wow.”

I laugh with her. “Glad you liked it.”

She takes the soap from me, retrieves the washcloth from the shower floor, and lathers it up, wrings it out, and lathers it up again.

“Now it’s my turn,” she says.

She takes her time soaping me up, scrubbing the washcloth over my skin and muscles. It’s incredibly validating to see the obvious appreciation for my body in her eyes, feeling it in the way she moves her hands over me. She washes me everywhere except my groin. Finally, she washes me there, too, reverently and gingerly cleaning my cock and my balls and everything around them.

Then, she makes sure the suds rinse away, dropping the washcloth to the shower floor with a wet PLOP and letting her hands soar over my clean wet skin.

“I want to erase the past, Silas,” she says. “I want the only thing I remember to be you.”

“That’s what I want, too.”

She holds my gaze. “There’s only one thing that I’ve been avoiding, because of the…not-so-good memories I have attached to the act.”

I know what she’s talking about. “Naomi, honey, no. There’s no rush. We have all the time in the world.”

“But I am in a rush. I want him out of my system, out of my mind. I don’t want to think about him or any of the things he ever did to me. And the more we do together, the more that happens. YOU erase the past for me, Silas. When you make love to me, I forget all the trauma. You touch me, you kiss me, you give me orgasms, and you let me take my time figuring out what I like and what feels good. And in doing so, you erase the past and replace it all with beautiful, amazing memories of us.”

“That’s what I want to do, sweetheart. I just…I don’t want you to do anything you’re not ready for.”

She cups my cheek and kisses me. “I’m ready for all of you, Silas.”

I press my forehead to hers. “You make your choices in this life, Naomi. I’m here for whatever you want, whatever you need.”

“What I want is to make you feel as incredible as you make me feel.” She gazes up at me as she cradles my dangling manhood in her hand.

“Naomi,” I whisper, as she sinks to her knees. “Are you sure?”

She fondles my cock, and it begins to harden in her hand. She cups my balls, massages them, and I burgeon to full erection in a matter of seconds, despite having come so hard I saw stars only a matter of perhaps twenty minutes ago.

She presses her nose to the side of my shaft, inhaling. “You smell clean,” she whispers. “You smell good.”

The hot water beats on my back, spattering. Steam writhes in the shower stall, obscuring and wreathing our bodies. She rests her mouth against my hipbone, my shaft along her cheek. Her hands rest on my belly. It’s hard to breathe, part of me desperately eager to feel her mouth on me, the other part of me fearful of causing her pain or flashbacks.

She leans back on her heels, her gaze on my cock, straining upward. “I love your cock, Silas,” she says, looking up at me as she caresses it with both hands. “I love touching it. I love the faces you make when I touch you.”