Page 49 of Tiny's Testament
“Scared?” I ask quietly.
She nods, just once. “Not of you. Of what this means.”
“It means we’re still alive,” I say, and kiss her again, slower this time, so she can feel every word I can’t say.
She stands, tugging me up with her. The blanket falls away completely, and moonlight spills across her shoulders, pale gold on skin that looks too fragile for the world we live in.
We move inside quietly. The hall is silent except for the sound of our boots on the floorboards and the soft hum of the music below. Her room glows faintly from the bedside lamp. Peanut lifts her head from the chair, blinks once, then curls back into sleep, as if she knows better than to interrupt.
Syvannah turns to me, eyes searching. “You sure?”
“No.” I take a breath, step closer. “But I’ve never been sure of anything that mattered.”
Her laugh is quiet, nervous, beautiful. “Good answer.”
The door shuts behind us, and the rest of the world fades.
What happens next isn’t rushed. It’s slow. Measured like the space between thunder and lightning. We move like two people learning each other’s language, one breath at a time. The air hums with heat, memory, and something dangerously close to peace.
When she finally leans into me, there’s no hesitation left. Only warmth and the steady rhythm of two hearts finding the same beat. I lift my shirt over my head, and Syvannah watches with rapt attention. She does the same, revealing her silky, beautifully flawed skin.
I lean down and drag my lips and tongue against the sensitive flesh where her neck and collarbone meet. Syvannah shudders under my tongue, and a deep moan vibrates up her throat.
Her hands grip the back of my neck, pulling me in closer. I wrap one arm around her waist, tugging her against me. Syvannah lifts onto her tiptoes to reach the bottom of my chin, and throws her head back as my mouth lavishes her breast.
“Don’t stop.” She moans, tightening her grip against my head.
I don’t rush. My hands move slowly, giving her time to pull away if she needs to. I unbutton her jeans, unzip them, and she kicks them off, throwing them behind us.
Her small hands tremble when she reaches for the button of my jeans, but I halt her progress, remembering the trauma she went through with Lattimer and Josiah.
“Wait.” I pant against her mouth.
“What?” Syvannah’s cheeks turn pink from embarrassment.
I cup her cheeks, making her look me in the eyes. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I ask.
“Yes, Tiny. I’m sure.” Her eyes drift down my chin and focus on my chest, hesitancy in the golden depths. “But I’m also afraid.” Syvannah drags her eyes back up to meet mine. “Afraid I’ll freak out. I haven’t been intimate with anyone since the whole ordeal.” Her bottom lip trembles. I want to resurrect Josiah, just to kill him all over again for putting that fear in my girl’s eyes.
“You control this,” I kiss Syvannah on the lips before grabbing her hand and leading her over to the bed. “If anything feels wrong, we stop.”
I unbutton my jeans and let them fall to the floor. “My body is for you to explore, handle, touch, lick, and kiss. Whatever you want to do to me, you have my full permission.”
Syvannah’s eyes widen. “Are you serious?”
“Baby girl, when it comes to you and your safety, I’m dead serious,” I say, kissing her again before sitting on the bed. Syvannah removes the rest of her clothes and straddles my lap. “I’m yours, baby girl.”
Syvannah presses her lips to mine, grinding against my growing erection. She gently nudges me back, and I tumble, causing the covers to flutter around us. Peanut darts for the chair in the corner, giving us an evil eye. I’m a big guy in more ways than one, and I’m pushing the limits on this bed.
Syvannah releases the kiss and gradually kisses her way down my chest, paying close attention to each of my nipples, biting and sucking them into her mouth. Fuck, my body is on fire. She slips lower until her hot breath strokes across my boxers.
“Can I remove these?” Syvannah asks.
I place my hands behind my head. “My body is yours.”
She carefully removes my boxers and tosses them onto the floor. She explores me slowly, carefully, and curiously, and my control starts to fracture.
“Syv. Fuck.” Lost in the intensity of her mouth and hands, I grip the back of her head, and she freezes. Shit. Fuck. I release her head from my grip and gaze down at her. “Shit. I’m sorry. Are you ok?”
