Proving Paul's Promise

“What are you thinking?” she asks.

I brush her hair back with my thumbs. “Are you sure you want to know?” I’m not sure she’s ready for shit to get real.

But she nods. “Yes.”

“I was thinking about how I want to climb on top of you when we get old and do awesome things to you.” So, I edited. But who cares?

“What if I don’t want your old ass crawling on top of me?” she asks. I freeze, because I’m suddenly scared. But she takes my face in her hands and forces me to look at her. “What if I want to get on top, instead?”

I chuckle and bury my face in her neck. The scent of her almost overwhelms me, and I lift my head and kiss her. “You can get on top anytime you want.”

“Except today,” she breathes.

“You want to get on top today?” I ask. Hell, I’ll roll over and pull her on top of me. Won’t hurt my pride at all.

“No,” she whispers. “I want you to carry me away. Take me with you where you’re going.”

“Don’t want to go without you,” I say.

She points between us. “Then you better get busy, big guy. You got some work to do.”

God, she makes me laugh. I look down at her boobs, and she’s put her piercings back in so I wrap my lips around her left one and roll it with my tongue. She pants and palms the back of my head to pull me closer to her. My dick is sitting right at the apex of her thighs, and I can feel her heat all around me, so I notch it in her cleft, where my piercing will thrum against her clit, and she nearly comes up off the bed. I kiss her breast and lick over it and under it and around it, and goose bumps rise along her arms and neck, and I f**king love that I can make her come apart like this. She has fine lines up both sides of her stomach, probably from her first pregnancy, and I tongue them gently. I like that I get to see this part of her because it’s all the scars that make up a good part of who she is.

“Paul,” she says quietly.

I lift my head and look up at her.

“I’m officially afraid,” she says.

I stop what I’m doing. “Of me?”

She snorts. “No, I’m afraid you’re never going to get to my pu**y with all that licking you’re doing everywhere else,” she cries, and she shoves my head toward her heat with an impatient hand.

“God, you’re so f**king bossy,” I say, but I slide down, wiggling until her thighs part so I can settle between them. I rock from side to side and push her open wide. “Give me some room,” I say. “I have broad shoulders.”

“I’m not a contortionist,” she huffs, but she pulls her legs farther apart. Her pu**y is wet and glistening, and I can see the little piece of gold sticking out from between her folds where she has her hood pierced. And she has labia piercings, too. I have honestly never kissed a pu**y with so much metal on it. But good God, I’m willing.

Since she’s giving me a hard time, I don’t even go easy on her. I suck her piercing into my mouth and give it a tug.

She cries out, and she rocks into my mouth. I hook the piercing with my thumb and very gently hold it out of the way, and then I suck her clit. She fists the sheets in her hands and closes her eyes and bites down on her lower lip.

She’s already close, so I slide two fingers into her heat and tip them up, making a come-hither motion against that spongy little spot inside her that I hope will make her go crazy. She stills. “So it does exist,” she breathes.

I laugh against her clit, and she growls.

“Do that again.”

I hum, sucking in gentle strokes, and suddenly, her body bows. She grabs my head and pushes my face into her pu**y, and I lick and suck until I can barely take a breath, until I get every quiver from her arching body. I pull my fingers from inside her, and she watches as I stick them in my mouth and lick them clean. She’s so f**king wet that there’s a puddle under her on the sheets, and I love that I just did that to her. I wipe my face on the sheets and climb up her body until we’re nose to nose. I’m just going to rub noses with her because I just ate her out, but she takes my lips and kisses me solidly. Her tongue slides in my mouth, and she touches me in ways no one else ever has before.

“Fuck me,” she says. I look into her eyes. I want to correct her and tell her that I want to make love to her, but I know that will get me nowhere. She fists her hands in my hair, and I’ve just about had enough of that. I made her come buckets already, so I deserve to have a little of what I want. I take her hands in mine and anchor them against the bed sheets with my weight. She struggles for a moment, and then she whispers, “Okay.” She stills beneath my weight.

“My way,” I say.

She shivers. “All right.”

Her gaze lands on my chest, and she sees the butterfly. “When did you get that?” she asks.

“Today.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you and want to keep you close to my heart.”

“The butterfly is not broken.”

“Neither are you.”

Her breath escapes her in a huge rush, and tears fill her eyes. I don’t let her wipe them away. I hold on to her hands and press against her slick hole, nudging just barely inside.

“You’re so f**king tight,” I say, my voice guttural and harsh.

I kiss her, just because I can.

I push and meet resistance. “Relax and let me in.” She’s so f**king wet that she’s slippery. “Let me in, Friday,” I say.