Page 43 of Burning Embers
“I’m nervous…it’s been a while,” she repeats, her cheeks glowing.
I reach for her hands and pull her towards me. “I’m nervous, too,” I reply, honestly.
“You are?”
Nodding, I bend my knees, so we’re eye level. “Of course.” And it’s the truth; I don’t think I was ever this nervous, except for when I lost my virginity. “Listen, you don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”
I’m ready to turn around and leave her alone to shower when her trembling hands reach for the fly of my jeans. Speechless, I stand frozen, afraid to move as I watch her fingers slide the zip and unhook the button. Then she pushes them down enough for my dick to spring free. She lets out an, “Oh.”
I clear my throat. “Yeah, sorry, I don’t usually wear underwear with these jeans.”
Licking her lips, she reaches out and touches the tip, causing me to shiver. I try to stifle my groan, but it’s impossible.
The mirror has already begun to steam up, and as I reach for the hem of her t-shirt, she raises her arms and pulls it off over her head. She’s in a white lace bra, and my breath catches. “Beautiful,” I whisper.
She goes to cover her stomach with her arms, but I grab them gently and shake my head. “Please don’t hide from me.”
She swallows, the nerves present, but doesn’t try to cover up again. I lean in for a kiss and pull her into my body, flesh on flesh, a low mewling sound leaving her mouth.
I step back, pushing my jeans the rest of the way down, and kick them out of the way. Her hands go to the waist of her leggings. She pauses, swallows, and then slides them down. They join mine over to the side.
I reach my hand in and let it settle under the spray to test the temperature before stepping into the bath and beneath the showerhead.
When she joins me, I step back, then pull her close, kissing her before my eyes roam her luscious curves, my fingers trailing all over her skin. I gently usher her under the water, spinning her so her back is to me. Peppering her shoulder blades with kisses, I smile against her skin when her body shivers in response.
I squeeze some of her shower gel on a sponge before rubbing her back in small, circular motions.
“Ah, that’s nice,” she says, her shoulders relaxing.
I wash every inch of her bare flesh before turning her to face me. Water trickles down her face, her eyes squeezing closed. I repeat the same course of action on her front and savour every moment, committing her to memory, my erection becoming more pronounced as I do.
Her fingers reach out, and she grabs me, pulling me closer to her as she works the length of me in her palm. Losing grip of the sponge, I slide my hand between her thighs and stroke her soft mound. When I slip a finger inside, her pupils dilate, her lips parting.
Unable to resist, I kiss her with abandonment. Her movements become jerky as her hand continues to work me into submission. I insert another finger, and then twist my hand so my thumb can circle her clit. It’s not long before she’s panting into my mouth, and I feel the friction between us building. I move faster as she does, and then together we find a release.
She bends down for the sponge I dropped, then lathers it up before wiping it all over my body. I return the favour, taking my time to wash her hair, massage her scalp. Every noise escaping her lips is pure torture.
“I think we’re clean,” she says, biting her bottom lip.
“All I can think about is getting you dirty again.” I nibble her chin. At that moment, her stomach growls, and she bursts out laughing. “Okay, maybe after we’ve eaten,” I say, turning off the shower.
I wrap her in the nearest towel before grabbing one for myself. She steps out and rummages in a cupboard for another, tipping her head upside down as she bundles it over her hair.
“Why don’t you go dry your hair while I order dinner?”
She smiles and kisses me on the lips before slipping into the bedroom.
While she’s busy, I place an order for Chinese, then enter the box room to see what it was she was painting before I arrived.
My jaw drops.
The eyes staring back at me from the canvas are so familiar, I’m momentarily mesmerised. They’re mine. The flecks of colour are vibrant, and I’m totally blown away with it. I can’t believe she painted this. I let out a whistle in awe of just how talented my girl is.
I hear the hairdryer switch off and return to the kitchen just as she’s coming out of Molly’s bedroom.
“Sorry, I wanted to see what you’d painted,” I say, embarrassed she caught me.
She bites the inside of her cheek. “I hope you don’t mind. It was hard to paint from memory…”
