Page 79 of Silas

I feel his cock pulse once, and a hot stream of viscous white liquid spurts out of him, laying in a thick stripe up his belly. I feel it hot and wet on my fingers wrapped around him.

It’s every bit as beautiful as I hoped it would—and more. It’s erotic and arousing and makes me boil inside, like I could come yet again, just from watching the way he lets go, knowing I’ve given this to him.

I’m doing this to him because I want to. I choose to. That choice makes all the difference in the world. I’m giving my body to Silas, I’m giving him my sexuality. We’re sharing this incredible, intimate experience together.

I caress him again, slowly now, and he releases another jet of come. It pools on his belly, coats my fingers.

More.

I shift so I can use both hands, cupping his balls and stroking his cock at the same time, and he groans, his spine arching in a bow, heels scrabbling at the bed as he comes yet more, and more. By the time he’s finally done and settling down on the bed again, the pool of come on his belly is like a small white lake, and my fingers are messy with the sticky substance.

I nuzzle against his throat. “Thank you, Silas.”

He’s panting. “For…for what? I should be thanking you. That was…it was fucking incredible, honey. I’ve never come like that in my life.”

“Thank you for sharing this with me. For letting me touch you like that. It was beautiful. Silas. I feel so incredibly lucky to have this experience with a man like you. You make me feel…” I shake my head, emotions I can neither contain nor stop nor understand running rampant through me. “You make me feel truly beautiful for the first time in my life.”

He inhales sharply. “I’m the lucky one, Naomi. That you would trust me with your body? After what you’ve been through? I’m the luckiest man on the planet.”

I shake my head, but I can’t seem to stop the onslaught of emotions.

Tears leak out of me. I sniffle, fighting them back, but they escape anyway.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“It’s okay, honey,” he whispers. “Feel what you feel. Let it out. Don’t fight it.”

“I’m not sad or upset. I’m better than I’ve ever felt. I just…I don’t know why I’m crying. I guess I’m just overwhelmed.”

He holds me close, kisses my temple, the top of my head, and then tips my face to his and kisses my lips.

“Never apologize for how you feel, Naomi.”

“I don’t want to ruin this by crying,” I whisper, my voice wet with tears.

“You’re not ruining it, honey. You’re being vulnerable. You’re sharing yourself with me. It’s a privilege. I’m honored that you feel safe enough with me to let me touch you, and to cry with me after.”

“That’s just it, I think. I feel safe with you, Silas. And that…it means everything to me.Everything.”

My fingers trail through the sticky, cooling mess on his stomach.

“I should get cleaned up,” he murmurs. “Be right back.”

I press on his chest gently. “Stay. Let me.” I leave the bed, and I feel his eyes on my ass as I walk away. I fetch a washcloth and wet it with hot water, wring it out, and bring it back to the bed. I’m conscious of my breasts swaying bouncing, my thighs brushing together. I’m conscious of the stickiness on my fingers. I stare at him as I approach him, soaking up the masculine beauty of his body—the thick slabs of muscle on his chest, the blocks of his powerful, defined abs, his massive, hard arms, huge powerful thighs. The comma-curled length of his cock, now no longer hard, but just as beautiful to me.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Naomi,” he growls. “You take my breath away.”

I feel shy all over again at his words. “Thank you.” I meet his eyes. “I think you’re beautiful too. Or, handsome. I don’t know.”

I wipe away the mess on his belly, using the washcloth with as much gentility as I can, folding it twice before I’m satisfied he’s clean. I still have it on my fingers, and I remember how thrilling and daring and wild it felt when I sucked my essence off his finger.

I wonder what he tastes like.

He’s watching me. Sensing, perhaps, that I’m considering something.

Before I can reconsider, I put my index finger—the one most thickly coated with his essence—sideways in my mouth. His essence is not quite sweet, but almost. It’s a thick taste, slightly musky, very salty, sort of tangy.

“Fuck me,” he snarls. “Naomi, Jesus.”