Page 95 of Silas

I was so wrong, beautifully wrong.

It's...home.

He’shome.

There is no fear, no pain. As I lay on him, kissing him, touching him, wearing only the diamonds he bought for me, I know what I want:

I want to be complete with him.

There is no doubt, no hesitation. I'm not afraid. He isn't taking or demanding—he's only ever given. I know if I told him I'm not ready, he would wait...forever, if necessary. He would never rush me, never pressure me.

His touch heals. His kisses burn away the stains of the past. The beautiful, incredible, mind-altering orgasms he’s given me show me what intimacy is meant to feel like, what sexual touch should feel like. What affection truly is. What real desire means.

Laying on his hard strong body, his hands on my curves making me feel wanted and beautiful, sexy and desired, I know, without a doubt, that I want nothing more than to make love with him.

It is mine to give, I know as well. And that makes all the difference.

I shake above him, not hesitating but rather savoring the moment, imprinting this moment onto my very soul.

I clasp the hard shaft of his cock and bring him to my sex, and pause again. To say there aren't nerves would be a lie, but they're nerves of anticipation instead of fear. I want this. I want him. I know, down to the root of my soul, that he will make this experience the most beautiful of my life.

I smell him, taste his skin. His body is hard beneath mine, all lean powerful muscle. He throbs in my hand, pulses at my entrance. He's waiting. Barely breathing.

I feel his heartbeat pounding in his chest, slamming in his throat against my lips. He’s nervous too, anticipating, wanting—but patient and selfless, giving me the choice at every turn, guiding me without pressuring me. Accepting me as I am, treasuring everything I am. He builds me up, shelters me, protects me, confides in me. He’s shown me the most vulnerable parts of him. He’s given me his fears, his secrets.

Now.

I want to be one with him.

A soft cry escapes my lips as I take him inside me, my eyes clenching shut, my forehead resting on his clavicle. I delve my hips down against his, accepting him fully within me, and my breath lodges in my throat as wonder overtakes me.

He fills me completely, but there’s no pain, only perfection. He stretches my womanhood to the point of a beautiful, delicate, burning ache—our hips bump together and our thighs crash together, our bellies brushing, chest to chest, mouth to mouth now. I’m stretched out on his body and I am replete with him.

“Oh god…Silas,” I gasp, his name a prayer on my lips.

I have to wait, have to allow my body time to adjust to him. His breath is a rough growl in his chest, a low moan I don’t think he’s aware he’s making. His fingers dig into my bottom, gripping hard.

“Naomi, fuck, fuck,Naomi…” He snarls. “My god, my Naomi.”

He feathers a soft thrust upward against me, nuzzling deeper, sending a hot wave of ecstasy searing through me. I whimper at his thrust, shuddering all over.

I feel myself clenching around him, and he groans again.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he breathes. “Never, never felt anything like this before.”

I have to move. It’s an instinct that takes over, a need. I need more of this, more of him.

I bring my forehead to his, and I feel our souls joining. “Silas,” I breathe. “You feel…”

I tip my hips inward and his cock slides through my sex, slick and hard and huge and perfect; he trembles with the effort to be still, to wait, rendering total, absolute control over to me, no matter what it costs him.

I sink down, filling myself with him once more, and a shrill cry shivers from my throat, my head throwing back.

“Silas, oh god Silas. You feel…” I can’t find the words.

I can only claw my fingernails into the unyielding plates of his pecs, pushing my torso upright, letting need and instinct take over. Rise up, feel his cock—I love that word, love the crudeness of it, love the way the word tastes as I think it, feel it—slipping through me, pulling nearly out of me until only the plump round head of him is notched between my nether lips.

His strong callused hands are gentle and reverent as he cradles my breasts. “I fucking love your tits, Naomi,” he murmurs. “So perfect. All of you is perfect.”