Page 74 of Silas

“He’s not my husband,” she cuts in. “And I don’t want to talk about him. Not right now.” She ducks her head. “I’m sorry. That was out of line. Forgive me.”

I touch her cheek, tilt her face to mine. “No, Naomi. Don’t apologize. It wasn’t rude or out of line, it was the truth of how you feel. You’re allowed to express yourself. I want you to. I expect you to. No matter what it is or how it comes out.”

“Then…” she leans her head on my chest, and I feel her eyes on my cock. “I don’t want you to…” she pauses, “I don’t want you to take care of yourself, alone in the bathroom. I don’t want this to be only about me, about what I want, or how I feel.”

She traces the shape of my chest, from shoulder to shoulder, over my pecs, down over my abs.

“Is…is this a…a relationship, Silas? Between you and me, I mean.”

“I…honestly, I don’t know what it is. I don’t think I’ve ever had a relationship, not really. I don’t know how to be in one.”

“I don’t either.” She touches my abs, tracing each block and the grooves around them. “What I had wasn’t a relationship. It was…it doesn’t matter what it was. It’s over. I just want…” another pause, a long silence as she looks for the right words. “You. To be with you. I want to…be free to have what I want. I want to explore what I like.”

“That’s what I want for you, Naomi.”

She touches her lips to my jaw, presses and holds there, breathing, thinking. “Then will you let me…” Her hand wanders further down my abs, hesitating just above my navel, inches from the weeping tip of my hard, begging cock. “Will you let me explore things…with you?”

I cup her cheek. “Look at me, sweetheart.” Her chin rests on my shoulder and her eyes meet mine. “Anything you want. Ask. Or just take. We can explore this together.” I rub my thumb over her lips. “Start by telling me what you want.”

“I want to…” She swallows hard, and I can see and feel her fighting against the conditioning. “I want to touch you. Like you touched me. I want to know what you feel like.”

I tilt my head to rest it against hers. “Whatever you want, Naomi. I’m here for you. Whatever you want.”

“I don’t…” She swallows hard. “I don’t know what I’m doing. Not like you do.”

“That’s okay,” I murmur. “You don’t have to. There’s no wrong thing, honey. All that matters is what you want.”

“I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel.”

“You will. No matter what you do or don’t do, if you’re touching me, it will feel amazing.”

“Is it weird to you that I’m not a virgin, but I still have no idea what I’m doing?”

“No, it’s not weird. It pisses me off for you, but it’s not weird. It’s a symptom of how you were treated.” I skate my hand over her back, down her spine, and cup her tight, soft, round, beautiful ass. “We can talk about that later, if you want.”

“Yes,” she agrees. “Later. I don’t want to think about any of that right now. All I want to think about is you.”

She shimmies a little higher, and her lips quest against mine, seeking with delicate, hesitant eagerness. Her tongue flits daringly against my lips, and I open for her, and she hungrily kisses me, her tongue diving into my mouth and tangling with my tongue.

My cock, having softened a little during the conversation, hardens all over again. Her hand rests on my belly, less than an inch from my cock. I desperately want her to touch me, to wrap those small soft strong hands around me. But I don’t move, don’t speak, don’t do anything but kiss her back.

She moans into the kiss, pauses, gasping against my lips, and then delves back in for more.

I growl, unable to hold back—I grasp the delicious weight of her beautiful ass in my hand and squeeze it, knead it, caress it, pull her tighter against me. She writhes against me, her taut, perky tits rubbing against my chest.

Fuck, fuck, I’m so hard it hurts again. Yet, I dare not move, other than to kiss her back and fill my hand with the beauty of her ass.

She breaks the kiss, resting her forehead against mine, panting deeply.

Her head twists to direct her gaze down my body, and I feel her whole being tighten.

“It’s so BIG, Silas,” she breathes, wonder lacing her tone.

I laugh. “You really know how to make a guy feel good about himself,” I say.

“It is, though. It’s huge.” Her fingers trace across my skin, over my hipbone and down my thigh, making my cock dance and jump with anticipation; I doubt she realizes she’s teasing me. “It looks…soft, yet hard at the same time.”

Her fingers hover over my shaft, and I’m not breathing. Not moving.